#i just need to keep book louis' appearance in mind as i read this

[bozhenkamoya]

#notmylouis

[camaelczarka]

I reread the end of TVL last night and pulled out some of Lestat’s account of the trial for anyone who hasn’t read the book. I tried to keep out any direct spoilers but obviously we don’t know how the show will adapt this part. Anyway I thought it was worth a refresh on what Lestat says happens leading up to the trial and the aftermath of it. This is kind of a long post but it’s interesting even if you don’t plan on reading TVL. Under the cut for length/spoilers-

Here he describes the period of time after his ‘death’. He needs blood from a strong vampire to recover but is alone now:

But without more of that healing blood, without a fresh infusion, I was left at the mercy of time to heal my wounds.

And what Louis could not describe in his story is what happened to me after, how for years I hunted on the edge of the human herd, a hideous and crippled monster, who could strike down only the very young or infirm. In constant danger from my victims…

The wounds I'd suffered affected my very spirit, my capacity to reason.

With no one else to turn to, he eventually goes to Armand for help. I’m curious about this in the show because the coven tries to contact him via his bank dude but it could be that Lestat is actually already nearby/came to Paris on his own. He may even be trying to find Louis and Claudia before the coven does.

When I had recovered sufficiently to make the long voyage to Europe, I turned to the only one that I could turn to: Armand. Armand who lived still on the land I'd given him, in the very tower where I'd been made by Magnus, Armand who still commanded the thriving coven of the Theater of the Vampires in the boulevard du Temple, which still belonged to me.

Armand plays innocent and gets Lestat to tell him what happened to him:

Once again his eyes moved over me caressingly.

And there was thinly veiled excitement in him, a fever that I could feel like the warmth of the nearby fire. I knew he was trying to read my thoughts.

"What's happened to you?" he asked.

My scars were puzzling him. They were too numerous, too intricate, scars of an attack that should have meant death.

Armand had told Lestat earlier in the book that his fledglings would always hate/resent him, echoed in that bit in the show where Louis is talking about turning Madeline.

But it was the story of Louis and Claudia that came rushing out, in stammering and half truths, sans one salient fact: that Claudia had been only... a child.

I told briefly of the years in Louisiana, of how they had finally risen against me just as he had predicted my children might. I conceded everything to him, without guile or pride, explaining that it was his blood I needed now. Pain and pain and pain, to lay it out for him, to feel him considering it. To say, yes, you were right. It isn't the whole story. But in the main, you were right.

This could be where Armand gets such a detailed account of their lives for the play. Between Lestat’s account, Armand maybe reading his and Louis’ mind and Claudia’s diaries, they have a pretty complete if biased picture to work off.

Was it sadness I saw in his face then? Surely it wasn't triumph. Unobtrusively, he watched my trembling hands as I gestured. He waited patiently when I faltered, couldn't find the right words.

A small infusion of his blood would hasten my healing, I whispered. A small infusion would clear my mind. I tried not to be lofty or righteous when I reminded him that I had given him this tower, and the gold he'd used to build his house, that I still owned the Theater of the Vampires, that surely he could do this little thing, this intimate thing, for me now. There was an ugly naiveté to the words I spoke to him, addled as I was, and weak and thirsting and afraid. The blaze of the fire made me anxious. The light on the dark grain of the woodwork of these stuffy rooms made imagined faces appear and disappear.

"I don't want to stay in Paris," I said. "I don't want to trouble you or the coven at the theater. I am asking this small thing. I am asking ..." It seemed my courage and the words had run out.

A long moment passed:

"Tell me again about this Louis," he said. (!!!)

The tears rose to my eyes disgracefully. I repeated some foolish phrases about Louis's indestructible humanity, his understanding of things that other immortals couldn't grasp.

Armand is likely already seeing Louis at this point, keep in mind.

I saw something in him quicken. A faint blush came to his cheeks.

"They have been seen here in Paris," he said softly. "And she is no woman, this creature. She is a vampire child."

I can't remember what followed. Maybe I tried to explain the blunder. Maybe I admitted there was no accounting for what I'd done. Maybe I brought us round again to the purpose of my visit, to what I needed, what I must have. I remember being utterly humiliated as he led me out of the house and into the waiting carriage, as he told me that I must go with him to the Theater of the Vampires.

"You don't understand," I said. "I can't go there. I will not be seen like this by the others. You must stop this carriage. You must do as I ask."

"No, you have it backwards," he said in the tenderest voice.

Armand then traps him under the theater and starves him until he is forced to drink dead blood. I’m imagining this or a similar version of events is going on while Armand is dating Louis and Claudia is an active coven member. Remember Louis asking Armand if all this was happening while they were together in his flat?

I scarcely remember being forced by him out of the carriage and stumbling along the broad pavements as he pushed me towards the theater doors.

…

And finally starvation as I lay on the floor of a brick-lined cell, unable even to shout curses at him-

Sometime in the dark, I discovered a mortal victim there. But the victim was dead. Cold blood, nauseating blood. The worst kind of feeding, lying on that clammy corpse, sucking up what was left.

Armand tells Lestat about this trial when he’s very ill:

And then Armand was there, standing motionless in the shadows, immaculate in his white linen and black wool. He spoke in an undertone about Louis and Claudia, that there would be some kind of trial. Down on his knees he came to sit beside me, forgetting for a moment to be human, the boy gentleman sitting in this filthy damp place. "You will declare it before the others, that she did it," he said.

Armand then gets him all dressed up for the trial so he looks fashionable and not like he’s being tortured-

"Get clothing for him," Armand said. His hand was resting on my shoulder. "He must look presentable, our lost lord," he told them. "That was always his way."

And then Armand makes him testify against Claudia- don’t know how this will work with this being a play that was rehearsed. But I feel it’s likely that Lestat was coerced more than we’ve seen.

—and Armand saying:

"You will say what I have told you to say." It was a mob tribunal of monsters, white-faced demons shouting accusations, Louis pleading desperately, Claudia staring at me mute, and my saying, yes, she was the one who did it, yes, and then cursing Armand as he shoved me back into the shadows, his innocent face radiant as ever.

"But you have done well, Lestat. You have done well."

Armand then brings him to Magnus’ tower:

And then we went up and up through the old tower to the roof.

I had Claudia's bloody yellow dress in my hands. I had seen her in a narrow wet place where she had been burnt by the sun. "Scatter the ashes!" I had said. Yet no one moved to do it. The torn bloody yellow dress lay on the cellar floor. Now I held it in my hands. "They will scatter the ashes, won't they?" I said. (Upsetting :/)

"Didn't you want justice?" Armand asked, his black wool cape close around him in the wind, his face dark with the power of the recent kill. (Lestat in fact, never said he wanted “justice”)

Armand then tries to convince Lestat that Louis is dead. I think they might be shifting this part to Louis’ 1973 suicide attempt.

Armand's eyes were red.

"Louis—where is he?" I asked. "They didn't kill him. I saw him. He went out into the rain ..."

"They have gone after him," he answered. "He is already destroyed."

Liar, with the face of a choirboy.

"Stop them, you have to! If there's still time..."

He shook his head.

"Why can't you stop them? Why did you do it, the trial, all of it, what do you care what they did to me?"

"It's finished."

…

This part here explains that Armand really would side with his coven, but also attempt to keep Louis:

"And you don't mean to help me, do you?" Despair.

He leaned forward, and his face transformed itself as it had done years and years ago, as if his rage were melting it from within.

"You, who destroyed all of us, you who took everything. Whatever made you think that I would help you!" He came closer, the face all but collapsed upon itself. "You who put us on the lurid posters in the boulevard du Temple, you who made us the subject of cheap stories and drawing room talk!"

…

"We had our Eden under that ancient cemetery," he hissed. "We had our faith and our purpose. And it was you who drove us out of it with a flaming sword. What do we have now! Answer me! Nothing but the love of each other and what can that mean to creatures like us!”

Then Armand pushes him out of the tower-

“You don't understand anything. You never did." But he wasn't listening to me. And it didn't matter whether or not he was listening. He was drawing closer, and in a dark flash his hand went out, and my head went back, and I saw the sky and the city of Paris upside down.

I was falling through the air.

And I went down and down past the windows of the tower, until the stone walkway rose up to catch me, and every bone in my body broke within its thin case of preternatural skin.

————————

Now 2x08 showed a very different version of the tower scene- for one, Louis was never supposed to be there- but I am not convinced whatsoever that it’s what actually happened. It feels way too much like an Armand version of events and since this portion is so importantly clarified by Lestat, I don’t think we’ll see what really happened until Lestat tells it. Obviously it will be different and Louis may still be present for it, but im curious to see how this part is handled by season 3. I think there will be some big changes to fit with the show canon, but I also think it’s still going to have elements of Lestat’s version. Especially because when Louis sees Lestat finally in 2022, Lestat is still not mentally recovered from this event after 80+ years.

[welcometololaland]

wip wednesday

y'all - i feel like i've been so fucking annoying lately but i'm here to request one thing of you - give me some juicy snippets to read because i'm finally on top of my shit. and i've always wanted to start wip wednesday (for all i know someone has already started it but don't rain on my parade! let me live in denial) and now i maybe can. This is from ALTA which is (omg) so close to being posted. 10 days. fuck. i'm not ready (i am).

“She’s really gone, isn’t she?” TK asks, his voice breaking as his head remains burrowed into Carlos’ shoulder. He’s stopped shaking now, which Carlos takes to be a good sign, but he’s cried so persistently that the whole front of Carlos’ jacket is wet. 

He pauses, leans back and cups TK’s face in his hands, using his thumbs to brush away a few errant tears. He briefly considers making a passionate speech about TK’s mother being dead but not gone – living on in his heart – but then he decides for pragmatism. He thinks TK will appreciate that more, anyway.

“Yes,” he says simply. “But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to accept.”

TK sniffs, his glazed eyes staring helplessly into Carlos’ own. “What do I do now, Carlos?”

Carlos sighs, brushing away another of TK's tears. “I’m not really sure, TK,” he admits. “But right now, I can take you home. It might be nice to cry somewhere that isn’t your high school computer lab.”

A tiny, hesitant smile appears at the corners of TK’s mouth. “I think my dad will be relieved,” he says. “He keeps asking why I haven’t cried yet, like it's some kind of crime.”

“Well, he’s definitely going to be pleased to see you,” Carlos points out, as TK nods tearfully. 

“Could you— Do you mind coming with me?” TK asks as Carlos steps back and drops his hands. “I don’t really want to be alone and my dad is driving me nuts. My other friends…they wouldn’t understand.”

“I hope they do understand, TK,” Carlos replies solemnly, collecting his books and following TK out of the darkened classroom. “I think everyone will do their best to support you.”

TK makes a non-committal sound as they walk down the empty hall – devoid of students – amplifying the sound of their sneakers on the linoleum. “Not like you,” he says, after a pause. “I know we’ve only been friends for a little bit, but you’re different.”

“Oh yeah?” Carlos asks, pushing open the front doors and following TK down the steps. “In what way?”

TK pauses, looking back up at Carlos as he descends the stairs, a pensive look on his face. “You’re good, Carlos,” he replies simply. “You’re good for me.”

Open tag for anyone to share but also some targeted attacks under the cut (with insane requests, feel free to ignore me)!!!

@theghostofashton (need some exes to lovers PLEASE), @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut (boxing AU boxing AU!), @goodways (got a tasty treat shannon?) @reyesstrand (food fic???) @strandnreyes (please don't hurt me but you can if you want) @rmd-writes (just because i love you) @heartstringsduet (FIRST AID?!) @carlos-in-glasses (what's next up CIG?) @birdclowns (your wip snippet game has me blurry eyed, i must know more) @fitzherbertssmolder (any comic progress?) @louis-ii-reyes-strand (been loving your snippets) @lilythesilly (fighter pilot AU?!) @kiloskywalker (tarlos fighter pilot AU????) @sanjuwrites (soulmates????) @three-drink-amy (teacher AU teacher AU teacher AU!!) @chicgeekgirl89 (any yachts about?) @lemonlyman-dotcom (some music fic for my ears???) @wandering-night19 (4 x 18 coda???) @thisbuildinghasfeelings (cross stitching update??!!!) @freneticfloetry (something from the soulmates timer fic???) @alrightbuckaroo (summer parisian au my beloved!!!!) @cha-melodius (you've got mail AU????) @redshirt2 (anything you would like to contribute, i'd just love you to keep feeding me!) @iboatedhere (how are those prompts???) @orchidscript (lovingly bullying you to keep writing) @marjansmarwani (i know the words are hard but also i am lovingly bullying you as well <3) @morganaspendragonss (has angst queen got anything this week?) @lightningboltreader (THAT ANGSTY ONE BED THING I AM SCARED BUT I WANT)

[raraeavesmoriendi]

Hey, I haven't read the books, I love Lestat tho and thanks for pointing out the books where he gets more emphasis. Can you tell me about the other ones, tho? Is every book just the POV of one character or do they have multiple POVs? And who gets the focus on the other ones? I know IWTV is mostly about Louis and The Vampire Armand says it all, but I want to know what to expect from the series before I read them. Do they have more books focusing on them? What about other characters that haven't appeared on the show yet? I want to know who has the potential of appearing in future seasons as a main character hehe. Anyway, I hope the question made sense because English is my second language and thanks. :)

Sure, no worries! And it made perfect sense, babe, you nailed it 🖤

so what I used to double-check a lot of this (bc I did most of my Rice reading as a teen and it’s been a hot minute; my memory is kind of fuzzy and people are welcome to chime in with corrections/additions if need be) is the Vampire Chronicles Wiki, but it’s run by Fandom the company and they can be kind of scummy, so you might try an Anne Rice fansite or regular wikipedia if you want to read more about the books in depth before you start them.

putting these descriptions below a cut for some broad but light spoilers

The Queen of the Damned is a group POV book, where Armand, Louis, and Molloy are three of the narrators, along with other characters you haven’t met yet but likely will next season. Lestat is in it but he’s kind of in a weird hostage situation, it’s complicated

The Vampire Armand is exactly what you expected, yes! That’s his spotlight book. Just keep in mind, book!Armand is a ginger guy from 15th century Kyiv, so he’s going to be different from show!Armand in certain specific ways. It should still be fun to read just to see where they could adapt it to fit show!Armand though

Merrick has Louis and Lestat in it, but it centers on a descendent of the Mayfair Witches from the other show, as well as a man named David who some people are wondering if Molloy will get one of his plotlines from another book, so idk how much he’ll be involved. Louis has sought the witch Merrick to ask about resurrecting Claudia somehow, which is the most significant thing for our lot, but most of the book is about Merrick and David’s adventures for the Talamasca, who appear more in Mayfair Witches and are apparently getting their own series at a later point IIRC

Blood and Gold is the spotlight book for Armand’s maker Marius, but we meet him all the way back in Queen of the Damned so it’s not like he comes out of the blue. We hear about his life in Rome, his mortal wife Pandora (who shows up frequently throughout the series in earlier books and later gets her own spotlight book in “The New Vampire Chronicles”), and eventually his side of turning Armand.

Blackwood Farm is another crossover with Mayfair Witches, this one featuring a handsome young Mayfair man who’s looking for Lestat to help him get rid of a spirit that haunts him. Merrick also shows up, and they have a Time doing magic and stuff.

I hope that helps, nonny! These aren’t very in-depth, but there are quite a lot of books, so I hope you don’t mind that lol. keep in mind that these books have been coming out since the 1970s, so some things might not have aged well in the decades since, and they definitely won’t be as diverse as the show. I will also be the first to say that Rice’s prose can be hellaciously flowery, and not always in the fun way. but if you want to get into the series, they can be fun and even kinda wacky at times with all the weird shenanigans. I tell my friends a phrase I cribbed from Cleolinda’s livejournal Twilight recaps, “[Vampire Chronicles] means never having to say you’re kidding.”

have fun, and I appreciate you taking the time to ask! I’m always happy to help a fellow fan 🖤🦇

[uozlulu]

As always, I’m a messy bastard so I’ve been keeping track of AMC’s IwtV even though I’m not watching it anymore and thus my brain is throwing a fic at me.

Which is inconvenient because 1) I don’t think I actually know the characters well enough to write anything for this series, 2) I am of a certain age and know better, 3) this is basically an AU with no ending and I don’t have time for something long and involved, and 4) wtfffff brain what

So I’m just sitting here with a handful of scenes running through my head going “Why? “

Anyway, I’m going to empty my brain of this fic I never plan to write and then watch the finale for Atlanta

Around the time Daniel develops a headache, he begins to truly note the set up around him, how Louis has restricted access to both books and nature. Daniel now knows that Rashid is Amand and while Louis hasn’t started talking about Europe, there’s a lot to be gleaned from memory and what’s going on in front of Daniel’s own eyes.

But this is a dangerous game because Amand can read both of their minds. [How this is handled is a little ??? because like I said, I’m not super confident in writing these characters]. Anyway, Daniel begins to wonder if Amand is controlling part of the narrative, if perhaps it was Amand who ripped the pages from the diary, etc... When he thinks these thoughts, Louis interrupts them.

Something happens but I’m not sure what but eventually it leads to Daniel out on the streets of Dubai as the sunsets. The coughs rattle his body and he feels like he’s on fire like one does when their whole entire system is inflamed. His eyes close but he feels someone catch him.

When Daniel wakes, he’s in another fancy apartment somewhere in a different high rise in Dubai. At first he thinks he’s hallucinating a popular singer from the 80′s but after a long moment, he realizes his headache, fever, and inflammation are gone along with the tremors in his hands and other Parkinson’s symptoms. He’s also wearing new clothes and feels better no wthan he ever had in life. He realizes he’s staring at Lestat.

Lestat heard Daniel’s thoughts and couldn’t help but appear. He knows that Daniel is the reporter from the book decades ago.

And that’s kind of where the fic idea falls apart. There’s a vague sense of helping Louis but also I waffle about because open relationships, etc...

Kind of want at some point  for Lestat to point out to Louis that it’d be weird if they hadn’t tried to murder him.

Idek. Like I said, I don’t think I’m the person to write this, I barely know what AU I’ve got here, let alone how it’s supposed to end. I just needed to let it out of my system.

[therealvinelle]

Hi, love your metas and your fic. I think you mentioned somwhere that at the end of BD Aro was trying to prevent the fight. What were his motives? According to Edward, the Volturi are cowards, but I didn't get this feeling. Caius was begging for a battle, the guard vocally proclaimed willingness to die for the cause... hell, Jane had to be restrained from running to Bella and punching her in the throat. And I find it unlikely that their leader is less brave than them. Explain Aro's brain pls

Thank you so much! That’s really nice of you to say. And sorry for the late answer.

And explain Aro’s brain, whew. That is a very big question with a very long answer and this post will be a manifesto by the time I’m done. But you wanted Aro’s brain explained so manifesto it is.

So, before we go anywhere I have to make the distinction between Aro of the books and Aro of the movies. Those two are different people.

Starting with appearance, because casting does a lot for me and if a big deviation is made it better be like Ruth Wilson as Marisa Coulter, which is to say it better fit the character. Also, disclaimer, I think most of Twilight was miscast, and especially the Volturi. I’m forever dying at Caius looking like Lucius Malfoy. However, this is an Aro post, so we’re highlighting Aro.

Aro of the books is a twenty-something Greek with skin that has petrified and eyes covered in a milky sort of film, which totals to him looking perfect, as all vampires do, yet frail. When he walks it looks like he’s gliding. This is an otherworldly, ancient, inhuman being. He’s energetic and excitable, yes, but if anything that should add to how very other he is. Casting Michael Sheen is a clear signal that the movies were going in a completely different direction with Aro. Sheen is a great actor who played what he was given perfectly, but what he was given was a very different character.

In New Moon the book, Aro first rejects Edward request because this is Carlisle’s gifted son, and more, this is not what the Volturi do. They are not hitmen. It’s just a big no all around.

Bella enters, and the Aro she meets is a very polite and gracious man who’s delighted to see the human still alive, and pleased Carlisle’s son won’t be suicidal anymore. However, Edward fully intended to step into the sunlight in the middle of Volterra, specifically to provoke the Volturi, and he has broken the law with Bella. Further, Edward makes it clear that he fully intends to walk out of Volterra with his human still human, and that she’ll die of old age if he gets his way. Edward’s contempt of the law could not be more clear. However, Alice shows Aro that Bella’s fate is sealed, she turns or she dies. The law will be upheld. Aro is glad to hear it, and lets the Cullens all go home.

All in all, it’s a very tense occasion where Edward has put Aro in a difficult position, because he’s trying to force him to kill his best friend’s son, and Aro goes “YES THANK GOD” when Alice finally gives him an out.

New Moon of the movies was not this. Starting with the flashback (because I’m being thorough), Aro executes a lowly criminal himself.  I object to that, I think that’s a menial task and Aro doing it himself made the Volturi look less regal, not more. Cut to the present day, Aro rejects Edward’s request because he doesn’t want to waste his gift. We get the whole meeting with Bella, and Aro… well I don’t know why he does any of the things he does. This guy never mentions his friendship to Carlisle, tries to kill our plucky heroes three times in the space of one minute (one, gives Felix the order to kill Bella, stopped by Edward. Two, moves to decapitate Edward, stopped by Bella. Three, he’s about to eat Bella, stopped by Alice), and when he lets them go it feels terribly convenient.

This was a guy written to be the villain of the series, and it showed.

Cut to Breaking Dawn part I’s ending scene, and while I love the song choice for the scene, and fully agree that Aro considers misspelling Carlisle’s name to be a capital offense, the scene itself… we are presented with a villainous, power-hungry megalomaniac who’s just waiting to strike against the Cullens.

We then get Breaking Dawn part II, and I haven’t seen that movie in years but I remember the fight scene well enough. Aro kills Carlisle with the biggest grin on his face, and gives the go-ahead to his Volturi to kill the surviving Cullens and their witnesses.

Contrast that with canon, where Aro’s first words to Carlisle are «Nothing would make me happier than preserving your life today». Now, he’s making it very clear that this meeting will most likely end with Carlisle’s death, but he’s not happy about it. He’s certainly not going to kill him with a smile on his face and laughter in his heart.

The movies needed a hammy villain, and that’s what Michael Sheen played. It is not who Aro is, at all. And he’s not the only character this happened to, but again, this is an Aro post so I’m not going to start raging like Don Corleone about what they did to my boys.

So, with the movies firmly expelled from the post, let’s look at the Twilight series from Aro’s point of view.

Or, rather, we’ll have to start earlier because Aro’s decisions throughout the series are pretty clearly motivated by Carlisle. And that means considering, “why is Carlisle so important, anyway?”

Consider these things: one, Aro is gifted with the power of knowing every single thought a person has ever had. He knows your soul. Two, Aro is the leader of the supernatural world, he has been for over a thousand years.

How many friends does a person with that power and in that position have?

Three, who does Aro even come into contact with?

Starting with number three, for Aro it’s going to be 1) criminals, 2) Volturi guard hopefuls, 3) Weirdos like Laurent who are wasting Aro’s time.

(“But what about the guard!” Well, while we observe close interpersonal relationships between Aro and Jane, and Aro and Renata, and one can assume Corin to be close to the wives, the distinction between Volturi coven and Volturi guard remains. The guards are servants, in some cases beloved servants, but servants nonetheless. It would be inappropriate and weird for Aro to start slumming it with Demetri and Felix)

So, Aro doesn’t get out much, which brings us to point two. The people he does meet, and who are willing to entertain a friendship with the Volturi leader, are going to be people who want something. And that might work for some rulers, Louis XIV built Versailles specifically to make his subjects do this for him, but he had something to gain politically from that. Aro does not, his power is supreme without a need to tolerate brown nosers. More, with his own and Marcus’ gifts, he’ll know right away that he’s being used for power. He would get nothing out of it.

Finally point one, Aro’s gift. Say that we have a vampire who’s not a weirdo and who thinks Aro’s a cool dude. Well, the question now is, who would ever want a person in their life who knows all there is to know about them? I wouldn't want anybody to know every thought I've ever had, I certainly would never seek out a person to know me that deeply when I could just go find normal people to be friends with instead. Not to mention how incredibly unequal such a friendship would be.

In short, I don’t think Aro has any friends.

Enter Carlisle a very amiable person who cherishes Aro for his personality, and doesn’t mind having his mind read. Aro just found a unicorn. Carlisle on his end likes Aro so much that he lives with him for decades. Even if you want to read their relationship as platonic, that’s still a very strong friendship.

Point being that Carlisle is unbelievably precious to Aro, and so very unique. Aro has lived for over three millennia, and never met anyone like this before. There won’t be another Carlisle.

This in turn makes him willing to stretch as far as he can to preserve that friendship and, as the plot thickens, keep Carlisle alive.

Fast forwards to 2006, and Aro is sitting in Volterra minding his own business when Carlisle’s son walks into town demanding his own execution. He has not committed any crimes. Not only is assisted suicide not something the Volturi even do, but this would ruin Aro’s friendship with Carlisle. Even if Carlisle was miraculously understanding of Aro killing his son (which I can’t imagine he would be), this would never leave the air between them. Carlisle could never be around him again after something like that.

So, Aro turns down Edward’s request. “Stupid Volturi man ruining my dramatic suicide, I’ll show him who’s boss!” Edward replies, and runs shirtless into the sunlight. I’m sure Aro was just dying, you had “The Sound of Silence” playing as he stared into nothingness because how is this happening to him. A whiplash of an hour later, Bella is alive again, Aro is happy, we can be done with this now, right? Right?!

No, Edward says, we cannot be done with this. He’s still refusing to turn Bella.

And so we get that whole New Moon exchange where Aro very tellingly shoves the part where Edward WALKED INTO THE SUNLIGHT IN VOLTERRA under the carpet and out of the conversation (for comparison: Irina is executed for false testimony and Bree for breaking a law she didn’t know existed), and he even allows Bella to leave human when he could easily have bitten her himself to keep the Cullens honest. This guy went out of his way to be lenient and show the Cullens good faith.

And then a few months later Irina walks into Volterra, bearing memories of what is unmistakably a Cullen immortal child.

Aro may care for Carlisle, but this is the guy who killed his baby sister so he’d still have Marcus’ gift. He will bend far, very far, for those he cares about, but he will not break. It’s duty above love, Volturi above Aro’s personal preferences. An immortal child is not an offense that can be tolerated, and so it’ll be Didyme 2: Aro Kills Someone He Loves Boogaloo.

By now I think it should be quite clear why I think Aro was trying to prevent the fight. Battle would have meant Carlisle’s certain death.

(And that’s even assuming the Volturi won the fight. With Bella there, there was a chance the Volturi wouldn’t prevail. But even before Bella started showing off, Aro was very much hoping this wouldn’t be another Didyme situation.)

[i-want-my-iwtv]

Do you think it will really be possible for AMC to adapt all the books? I honestly don't see the need, it's a personal opinion bc my favorites are the first 3 books, and I feel that there won't be enough public support for this to happen, and it's clear that it won't be like the books, they buy the books rights to use the characters and change your story, can it be interesting changes? Sure, but it's hardly going to be like in the books.

I also have doubts about Louis' future in the series, I heard that Jacob's contract is only for IWTV, that is, after he will be discarded? In the following books Louis has short appearances, so is it likely that he will no longer be a part of the series? And just focus on Lestat and his other companies? It discourages me, I know it's in the books but I like Louis so much :(

So, @elisaintime is my IWTV AMC/film industry authority, I don’t even want to try to speculate, since it’s more her area of expertise! I think she answers these questions really well, so please check out some of her responses! She goes into very good detail, especially from a film industry perspective. Here are some of her posts, I recommend you explore her tag #AMC INTERVIEW WITH THE VAMPIRE:

Anon asked: I just checked out IMDb and it says Bailey (Claudia) is only in one episode...

Anon asked: Damn, I’d be quite disappointed if Louis ends up being pretty much dropped from the show. Here’s hoping the writers change their minds.

Anon asked: Wait so IWTV (the show) is only going to be about the first book and the other books are going to be a separate show??

Anon asked: U said u don’t think they have Louis and Lestat as endgame in the show but didn’t they said they want to do all books? 

Anon asked: I think nowadays it’s actually impossible to plan a series beforehand even if you have a solid plan....

So for my response, I think AMC/Rolin Jones & Co. ARE planning on the first 3 books, bc of what I’ve read, talking about keeping Lestat’s origin story the same, etc., but with the Mayfair series also happening, I can see AMC/RJ & Co. intending to crossover those at some point in the future, as the books did.

I also have doubts about Louis' future in the series, I heard that Jacob's contract is only for IWTV, that is, after he will be discarded? In the following books Louis has short appearances, so is it likely that he will no longer be a part of the series? And just focus on Lestat and his other companies? It discourages me, I know it's in the books but I like Louis so much :(

I would hope that Jacob can give you what you/we adore about Louis in however much screentime he gets, and already being in multiple episodes should give him more screentime than Brad Pitt had as Louis, and Louis wasn't even IN the '02 QOTD movie! And since the interview is occurring during modern times, I suspect we’ll have different time periods that include Louis (possibly hopping around in flashbacks like the Good Omens episodes did), depending on the fan reactions to his performance.

Anon, what is it about Louis that you love? 

During one of the waves of VC criticism about Louis in the books, I had a tag #we appreciate and love louis in this house, for collecting things people wrote about him. At least for me, I don't need hours of screentime to appreciate him, whatever canon gave us or the show will give us, we’ll have that to expand on and discuss. 

...We’re also getting an healthy influx of fanart of Jacob Anderson’s Louis, and I’m sure there’ll be other fanworks, as well. So a character’s official screentime can be considered the appetizer! 🍴 

Here’s an excerpt from an awesome post by @sangcreole-archived, in which they cite just one line from Louis from Queen of the Damned that’s so heartbreaking and beautiful in just a short paragraph, and sangcreole’s analysis hits me right in the feels 💗, I’m hopeful that this, and other lines like this, will make it into the TV series:

When we first meet Louis, he is the personification of guilt because of what happened with his brother, but that guilt sticks with him throughout his transformation, and it becomes incredibly important as he attempts to navigate the new world as a transcended being. He is conflicted as hell, and insists on punishing himself via starvation because he is so heartsick and guilty and full of grief both for his brother, and for his humanity. When he is first turned, the empathy that he possesses doesn’t exactly work in his favor. He is overly empathetic, and refuses to take life because he empathizes too much with everyone (this is doubly hard considering that he does not have the mind gift, so he cannot weed out the bad seeds from the good ones; he tends to assume most people are innocent, or at least undeserving of death). But as he grows older and begins to figure stuff out, I think he is finally able to sympathize and empathize with humans in a gentler way, and I really admire that. He eventually learns to exist in the world and admire the human beings that he walks amongst, and I love that about him. In fact, one of my favorite moments in the series is when he stands up to Akasha and says: 

“Then kill me! I wish that you would. But don’t kill human beings! Don’t interfere with them. Even if they kill each other! Give them time to see this new vision realized; give the cities of the West, corrupt as they may be, time to take their ideals to a suffering and blighted world.”

He is fiercely attached to the human race, even though he is no longer a part of it, and he’s even willing to risk his life for them. 

🔥 😭

(EDIT: Added the link to @sangcreole-archived‘s post!)

[writingsweetroll]

**Summary: Louis has worries for his one year old, and Clementine soothes them by opening up about her own issues.**

Louis tried his best to not toss and turn, he really hated these beds. They were so springy, you do anything on it, so much as lay a hand on the mattress and it would make a springy noise. The noise wouldn’t annoy him as much if Clementine wasn’t laying beside him, he quickly found out she was a very light sleeper. It broke his heart that she wasn’t born a light sleeper, she just adapted to being one due to all of the trauma she faced. He wanted to make sure she got as much sleep as she could- so tossing and turning would definitely awaken her and that was the last thing he wanted.

So, he lay stiff as a board. Looking above to the mattress above him. He anxiously counted the number of bars holding the bed above him, distracting his mind to the best of his abilities. Because every time he couldn’t sleep at night, his mind went to dark places. *You have no idea what you’re doing.* He would think. That main thought spiraled out of control to other thoughts. But, that one main thought started from the time he was child, to now. It adapted to whatever situation he was in. As a child, ‘You have no idea what you’re doing’ related to the spelling bee, now, it is related to parenting his one year old daughter.

He grabbed the chair next to the desk, and placed it near the bed. He sat on it and watched her sleep soundly. A warm feeling was felt in his chest, unknowingly smiling ear to ear. He examined her features, and the midnight moon shone upon her face. She mainly had Louis’ features, his freckles, skin color, and eye shape. But, her lashes were full and her eyes were as golden as Clementines, her hair was also kinky just like Clementines. She was a perfect mix between the two.

*You don’t know what you’re doing, do you?*

Louis furrowed his brows as the thought entered his mind. No matter how many baby books he read, or conversations with Clementine he had about how to raise a baby into childhood, his mind was never satisfied with himself.

*To put your girlfriend through so much pain during her pregnancy, so selfish to bring a kid into this world, you’re a monster.*

That wasn’t true. Louis knew it. It wasn’t a mindless decision or an accident, it was multiple conversations and respectful debates about when or if they should start a family. After weeks, they decided together that they wanted a family, and they had enough resources to do so. And the pregnancy went better than expected, minor pain here and there, and the delivery had no scares. Thankfully, whenever Louis would remember this, it seemed as if thoughts grew quieter, and instead he imagined a world where the apocalypse wasn’t here. He wondered what her parents would think of him, or Lee, even Kenny. He didn’t know much about them, but he knew enough to know she cared deeply for them.

Suddenly, his daughter sniffled, causing him to go into panic mode. He calmed himself down once she went back to her normal state. It was spring, and it was just allergies but he was still terrified of her getting sick. Louis sighed, slouching against the chair now.

Although Louis truly thought he didn’t know what he was doing, he knew one thing. He’ll never be like his parents. His father, manipulative and a gas-lighter. His mother ignored it and was just focused on her public image instead.

*“Chin up, baby.” His mother whispered down to him. “Play your little piano and smile.”*

*His mother’s tone was sweet, and caring. But Louis wasn’t stupid. He knew his family milked his skills during fancy business parties like these ones. But, he played the piano nonetheless, because this was the only time he could truly feel like he had an audience that enjoyed his talent, his dream.*

*“My son! Ladies and gentlemen!” Louis’ father widened his arms towards Louis playing the piano. Families of prestigious wealth clapped for him. In this moment it was bitter sweet, should he feel happy that people enjoyed his music, or should he feel angry that his parents only supported him if it benefited them? Louis brushed off the confusing feelings and instead put his emotions into his music, making it authentic and oddly charming.*

*“Beautiful, Mandisa.” A woman patted his mothers shoulder. “You’ve raised a wonderful son.”*

Louis slightly groaned in irritation. ‘*They raised a horrible kid.’* Louis thought to himself. Now that he was older, he realized that he shouldn’t have beat himself up as much as he did when he was 17. Guilt had always occupied his mind when he thought about what he did, how he broke up his parents. But in reality, they raised him like that. They raised him to think of yourself first, not others. Survival of the fittest.

*“Please, I have a family William!”*

*Louis sat on the couch with his mother, they were just chatting when they heard the commotion coming from the office room. His father opened the door and held his hand out. “You’re not needed anymore, Mark.”*

*“I-I’m not needed?! Are you serious!? I helped you start this business, what the fuck man?!”*

*“But- Mark. You seem to forget. People like me. People like my beautiful ‘exotic’ wife, people love my son. What do you have Mark? A regular housewife, who’s pregnant and unattractive? A son who doesn’t excel in school? He doesn’t even have a talent to show off. You’re dragging me down. You understand, don’t you?”*

*“Excuse me?! The fuck did you-” Mark gulped as a security guard walked up behind him. “Fine.” Mark muttered.*

*The guard escorted the man out. Louis’ father looked at Louis with a smile, as if he didn’t just ruin someone’s life. “See son,” he started. “-sometimes, we have to make the hard decisions to get what we desire. It’s just business. Nothing personal.”*

Business came first, passion and feelings came last. That way of life ruined his childhood. He believed from a young age hurting others to get what he wanted was ok.

He gently stroked Willows head, *‘I’ll never teach you that.’* He thought to himself. No matter what, he’ll always make sure she knew it was ok to express herself, to talk about her feelings. He wanted her to know that no matter the situation, she was loved and *accepted.*

“I promise.” He whispered. “I promise I’ll give you a better life than mine.”

Suddenly, he felt slender arms wrap around his neck, a semi-heavy weight on his shoulders. He smiled, hearing Clementine mumble something out of exhaustion.

“What was that, darling?” Louis asked, holding her forearm.

“You’re doing great.” She yawned. “You don’t have to keep worrying Louis. You love her and that’s—“

“The bare minimum, Clem.” Louis cut her off.

“-not really. Not anymore.” Clementine said sadly. “Even back then, dads used to run out on their kids, unable to either provide a stable life or love. You could’ve ran out so many times, so many opportunities and you didn’t.”

“Why would I ever do that?” Louis replied, almost offended.

“I’ve seen it happen before. Of course I knew you wouldn’t but…there’s always that lingering exit you can take, and the urge is probably there for you-“

“Clementine.” Louis said sternly, waking her up a little. “I would *never* do that. Do you really think that?”

Clementine stayed quiet. In reality, no. Of course she knew Louis would never leave. It was just her inner insecurities popping out, she’d hidden it for years but it came out eventually. The *constant* fear that she would be alone again lingered in her mind. Louis noticed her silence and sighed. He got off his chair, and then hugged her tightly.

“Isn’t it crazy?” Louis chuckled.

“What?”

“How we only started dating a month into knowing each other.” Louis started, caressing her arm a bit. “Now, we’re in a family together. Clementine, I didn’t fight a war with you, fell for you in the middle of it, wrote songs about you, spent literally almost every second with you for the past 4 years to just leave.” Louis reassured.

“But now we have a kid.”

“Even more of a reason to stay. I mean *who* can actually say they have a kid with the most beautiful, bad-ass woman of the apocalypse world? Only me! I’d be a fool to run from that.” Louis joked.

She shook her head, a big smile on her face. Louis kissed the top of her head, pushing her slightly towards the bed, there he dropped her on it. She got into a comfortable position, and Louis lay next to her.

“I was serious.” Clementine broke the silence. “When I said you’re doing great. It’s not only the love you have for her Louis. You don’t even go to sleep before she does. Even though I tell you I got it. You care deeply for her and that *is* enough.”

Louis sighed, twiddling his fingers with one another, only staring at the bars above him. “I know. Thanks. Sometimes it just feels like I’m not enough, even before Willow.”

“Louis…” Clementine muttered sadly. The thought of him degrading himself saddened her. She sat up, grabbing his curious glance. Clementine took off her oversized sweater, a tank-top underneath. There was enough moon-light to see the faint, pink branded mark on her arm. She slid her fingers over it slightly, a grimace appearing on her face.

“You finally gonna reveal the meaning behind that?” Louis chuckled, over the years, she’d always refuse. ‘*The past doesn’t matter.’* She’d say.

Although he was joking, she wasn’t.

“I got this when I was 13.” Clementine started.

Louis shifted himself upwards, a frown shown on his face as he eyed the scar.

“I only did it to make sure AJ was safe. But, then he got ripped apart from me in the same group. After that, I had nothing more to lose. And when you have nothing to lose…you do scary, stupid things. I was horrible, Louis. I wasn’t the same person you know today.”

Louis nodded, taking in her words to the best of his ability. Trying not to react negatively in anyway.

“After I got AJ back—I only had *him.* If anyone ever—and I mean, *anyone* tried anything to hurt or kill him, I wouldn’t hold back. Yes I love AJ. I really do, but that feeling of hopelessness for your own self is so damaging.” Clementine opened up. After a brief moment of silence she continued. “I didn’t have hope for my own life, only for his. I didn’t mind if I got bit, as long as he was safe, I didn’t care. Not because I was sad or anything but because I just felt like this world wasn't for me. When I was a kid, I loved to be social, playful even. I've changed so much, I was forced to. I used to be innocent. Now, I'm finally getting some sort of my old self back."

Clementine grabbed Louis’ hand and squeezed it slightly. “You saved me.” She said, her tone hoarse. Louis squeezed back on her hand.

"I'm glad to be of service." He smiled at her. “I love you.”

She smiled, and kissed his cheek. “I love you too, Louis.”

[terrainofheartfelt]

FIC: All my days were rearranged to say ‘I love you’

For Dair appreciation week, Day 6, Fave Romantic Moments

In my heart, nothing can ever top the 'I love you so much that I secretly wrote your fiance’s wedding vows to you’ like, that is some next-level pining, my dude, I love it.

This little ficlet below is Vows-inspired, and is excerpted from an (eventually) upcoming installment in Mouthful of Forevers - it’s basically an imagining of these two actually communicating about that moment, and what it means for them. I hope you enjoy!

The title above is from “Swing Low, Sail High” by The Wailin’ Jenny’s

A week after Blair jokingly suggests it, a handwritten letter appears in her mailbox on the Rue de Moussy. She scoffs when she first sees it, because honestly, what a sap.

But, she melts when she opens it, when she reads the salutation of Dearest Blair at the top of the page. It’s the medium his writing is meant for, she thinks, ink and paper and cursive and intimacy. And it’s all for her, evidenced by the Yours in the closing, scrawled by his hand.

She sends him a proper stationary set with her response, deciding that he should commit to the full aesthetic. She leans into the aesthetic too, girlishly loving the 19th century romance feeling it inspires (Austen and the Brontës have always been her favorites after all). Blair saves half the letters, keeping them in an antique box she found in Montmartre, but the other half she sends back along with her replies, marked up with revisions and suggestions.

When Dan gets home after his book tour to find a pile of his marked-up letters, he sends her text with a photo of a red-inked page attached.

DH: “You wound me, Waldorf, what gives?”

BW: “What if someone decides to publish these like the Brownings one day? I will not have you posthumously embarrassing me with poor grammar, Humphrey.”

DH: “Should I have Dr. Kingston proof before I send them?”

BW: “Do what you think you must.”

He retaliates in his next letter, recounting the time they were caught in the rain in Munich, and he’d had her underneath an archway in Englischer Garten. It is so disarmingly and delightfully filthy in the way only Dan can be, his lines waxing about her eyes, her sounds, her taste, making her blush from 300 miles away. Blair is so turned on she completely forgets about their text exchange the week before, until she gets to the postscript: No need to worry, I did not submit this to my advisor for proofing.

She still teases him with her edits from time to time, but that particular letter she keeps for herself.

They still keep up all of their regular lines of communication—the facetime, the texts, the sexts—but the letters serve as a special space, to share the things that feel too deeply intimate for a phone call or an email, or even the conversations they have face-to-face when one or both of them can get away for a weekend. Things that are meant to be shared with ink and paper and cursive. Which is why Blair finally works up the courage to ask about the vows.

I have to admit, part of it was selfish. I was so in love with you, even then, and I had no place to put it, so when Louis asked me it was almost a relief. Almost. I still knew that he would be the ones saying them, and that you would hear them with his voice, not mine. But I told myself that it would be worth it, if they would make you feel loved, if they would make you smile, even for only a minute.

You ask me whether or not I meant what I wrote: of course I did. What’s that line by Neruda? “I lived in the prairies before I got to know you.”

At the beginning of sophomore year, in those months before I really knew you, I was caught in a cycle of hurting the people I cared about, hurting myself even. I loved and lost Milo, and then I hurt both Vanessa and Serena because I was too heartbroken to make up my mind. And then there was your birthday. I should apologize again for showing that video, but let me state here, for the record, on this paper, that I thought it was charming. Adorable, even.

But—I know it was wrong, and after all that, I did not like the man that I was, the man I was becoming.

And then, you.

Do you remember driving back from Connecticut? You asked me when was the last time I wrote anything. I couldn’t give you an answer, it had been so long ago that I couldn’t remember. And you, in typical Waldorf fashion, goaded me about it.

Seeing you over the holidays, spending time with you (however reluctantly at first), you reminded me of the person that I wanted to be. The writer. The art and French documentary enthusiast.

During those weeks, during that winter, you reminded me of who I was, who I wanted to be, and I fell in love with you for that. And now, I love you even more than I did then. You ask me whether or not I mean what I wrote in those vows now: of course I do.

If not for you, I know that I would have happily whiled away my time here at school completely holed up, burning in the curve of my loneliness, never venturing beyond the Camera walls. And then, like a miracle, you became my friend again, and pulled me out of myself and into this world I had always dreamed of seeing. Through traveling with you, discovering new places with you beside me—I’d say that I fell in love with you all over again, except that I never really stopped falling from the first time.

I know it is probably too early to talk of vows and forevers—truthfully I’m not entirely sure if I am ready to. I am enjoying taking my time with you, of having a love that sets no deadlines, no race to the finish line. But please know: when I think of the future, of what I want the years ahead to look like, Blair, you are all I see.

Yours (for as long as you’ll have me),

Dan

She reads and rereads the letter over and over, unable to formulate a reply for two days. Eventually she does sit down to write, and she tells him about the night of her bachelorette party, when she found those vows, copied in Louis’ hand.

I promise you then, it was worth it. Because in that moment, it was the most seen and most loved I had ever felt. And it was all because of you. And now you make me feel that way all the time.

Sometimes I wonder if I even deserve it, the way you love me. But, I am getting better at not questioning my extremely good luck.

Besides, after everything that’s happened, this—the way that I love you, the life that I want to have with you—feels earned. So, just in case I haven’t told you enough lately:

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Yours (who plans to keep you for a very long time),

Blair

PS: You are all I see, too.

[ericsonclan]

A Romantic Holiday

Summary: Clementine and the others get ready to celebrate Valentine's Day with their significant others.

Word Count: 1000+

Read on AO3:

Start from the beginning:

“All I’m saying is that a movie and cuddling is a totally valid way to spend Valentine’s Day,” Brody looked back at her friends who all nodded in agreement.

“Yeah, it totally is,” Clementine walked up beside her auburn friend and gave a smile.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Louis jogged forward, immediately intertwining his fingers with Clementine’s. With a gentle sway their joined hands began to move back and forth. Louis’ bright smile faltered when he saw the look on Brody’s face. “Unless you don’t want that to be your Valentine’s Day evening.”

Brody’s eyes grew large for a second before she looked down at her shoes. “It’s stupid. It’s not like Mitch or I have the money to blow on a fancy Valentine’s Day,” Brody gave a sigh. “But I would be lying if I said I didn’t want something more romantic.”

“Then tell him,” Violet’s eyes met Brody’s when she glanced up. “Mitch is a dumbass but he also really likes you so he’d want to make you happy,”

“Violet is right,” Prisha smiled over at Brody. “If you communicate with Mitch then perhaps you can find a romantic date idea that isn’t pricey,”

“Yeah, you guys are right,” Brody gave a shaky sigh then proceeded to take a few deep breaths. “So what are your guys’ plans for Valentine’s Day?”

“A carriage ride through a park. With the snow and each other it will be magical!” Louis pressed a kiss to Clementine’s cheek then spun her around once as a surprise before the two rejoined the group who stopped to wait for them.

“Violet and I are recreating our first ever date and going stargazing with tons of blankets of course,” Prisha wrapped her arms around Violet then looked down at her with a loving smile.

“That all sounds amazing. I just wish I had an idea of what I wan-”

“Well if it isn’t Prisha!” a voice boomed from a short distance in front of them. Brody looked as well as the others, curious who had cut the conversation short. A fairly tall man with a thick, gray, full beard walked forward with a happy smile. Based on his uniform and hat it was clear that he was the sheriff. His jaw was set in such a way that it gave him an aura of sternness but based on the crinkle of joy in his eyes it was clear that he was a good man. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Sheriff Kenny! What a pleasure to see you. What are you doing on campus?” Prisha smiled over at Kenny before a realization struck here. Violet was still within her arms, a sight she wasn’t sure how Kenny would take considering that the only ones who knew of her orientation were the group of friends she had now. Kenny studied Prisha and Violet for a moment. Violet’s grip on Prisha’s arms remained as constant as always as she shot over a pointed look at the sheriff who remained quiet for a few seconds. Violet continued to look at the sheriff with a protectiveness in her eyes until he spoke up.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend. Good for you,” Kenny tipped up his hat and gave a casual smile.

“Thank you,” Prisha held Violet closer. Violet noticed that Prisha’s tension had lessened quite a bit before it flared up again. “My relationship with Violet, my father...” Prisha’s voice trailed for a second.

“Don’t worry, I won’t go shooting off my mouth about anything. I’m just glad to see you happy. Damn, you sure have grown. I remember the days you would run around the station and pretend to find clues with a copy of some Sherlock Holmes book tucked under your arm,” Kenny’s recounting made Prisha grow embarrassed as she listened to the sheriff share story after story. Louis, Clementine and Brody seemed to be enjoying hearing all these stories that Prisha was sure would be brought up again and she noticed that Violet was also having fun hearing stories about Prisha from before they met.

“Anyways, I’m talking your ears off and I haven’t even asked for any of your damn names.” Kenny sighed apologetically before his eyes focused on Louis for a second as if he had recognized him somehow. “My name’s Kenneth Callaway but you can just call me Sheriff Kenny.”

“Nice to meet you, sir. My name’s Louis and this lovely gal beside me is my girlfriend, Clementine!” Louis smiled over to Clementine who returned it.

“Guess I’m next, I’m Brody,” Brody had a nervous expression on her face, likely due to a mixture of it being a first meeting and that the person she was introducing herself to was the sheriff.

“Nice to meet you all. I picked up on your name already,” Kenny looked over at Violet who gave a short nod.

“Well then, I shouldn’t be taking up any more of your time,” Kenny tipped his hat then turned to leave until a voice called out to him.

“Dad! I didn’t know you’d be on campus!” A young man with short brown hair strolled forward, his pinky intertwined with a person with hazel eyes.

“Hey there, Duck! I was just here to take a look around campus since so much has been going on here lately. Then I ran into Prisha and-”

“Prisha is here!” Duck’s eyes immediately lit up and slipping his pinky free he ran forward. In an instant Prisha was wrapped into a tight hug. “I was hoping I’d see you around campus ever since I started this semester.”

“Duck, you’re hugging me a bit too tight,” Prisha wheezed out before giving an appreciative smile once Duck had let go.

“So, still being a great detective as always? Are you working towards that degree to become a superhero?” Duck smiled brightly at Prisha.

“Well, I’m just becoming a lawyer, not a hero.” Prisha looked away, slightly worried that her eyes or her friends’ would show some sort of sign that they were in fact superheroes.

“Eh, it's basically the same thing!” Duck placed his hands on his hips before a flicker of realization appeared. “Oh, that’s right! I’ve never introduced you to Oakley before!”

Duck ran back and stood beside the person that had been walking with him. They seemed to be completely lost in the simple joy of letting snowflakes fall on their tongue. A small smile was on their lips as a snowflake right on the tip of it.

“This is Oakley, my paramour!” Duck grinned brightly as his pinky wrapped around Oakley’s once more. Prisha’s eyes grew large at that word while Kenny gave a tired groan.

“Son, you could use another word,” Kenny looked over at Duck who shrugged.

“It works for us,”

“But you’re referring to Oakley as your illicit partner. Do you see the issue with that?” Prisha looked at her friend who brushed it off.

“It would be an issue if someone else used it like that but this is different. Anyways, wanna say hi, Knox?”

Oakley stopped in their task for a second then moved their eyes to look at the group. “Hi,” Without another word they soon returned their attention to the sky. Duck didn’t seem to mind though and instead began to get everyone’s names. Soon it was his turn to share old tales involving Prisha: how they would pretend to be heroes around the station and such until one day she had left for Chicago and the two hadn’t really kept in contact until now.

After a while Kenny cleared his throat. “Well, we should be getting out of your hair,” Kenny patted Duck’s back to make sure he got the message too.

“Alright. See you later, Prisha!” Duck gave one final wave then walked off, happily talking with Oakley who listened as they intertwined their fingers. The group watched them for a minute longer before continuing down the path and picking up the conversation that they were having prior to the Sheriff showing up.

Prisha glanced at her phone for a moment. She had some time to kill before she had to start on assignments. Her thumb instantly wandered over towards the Discord app logo and with a quick tap she opened it. As luck would have it the channel she had last been on had begun to pick up with a brand new conversation after Brody and Ruby had finished up their tea talk.

Sing-us-a-song: Wee woo wee woo

BREAKING NEWS

Violet just told me that im her beast friend

Best

Best friend

OrangeuGlad: Congrats!

Bro: wait

Aasim: You are already best friends

Bro: Aren’t you already best friends?

Yeah

Sing-us-a-song: Its official now

Best friends :3

Knife2meetU: Louis

Stop sharing stuff from our private convos in DMs

Sing-us-a-song: Oop

Sorry bestie <3

Knife2meetU: No heart

Sing-us-a-song: Sorry bestie!

Knife2meetU: And no bestie

You’re this close to losing your best friend rights

Sing-us-a-song: Are you sure? Smirk face

There’s no take backs

Knife2meetU: Wanna bet?

Sing-us-a-song: Vi waig

Wait

We’re Bffs!

Thats forever

Prisha watched the conversation continue with amusement when all of a sudden her attention was drawn away from the chat and towards the door. Therissa walked in with a tired groan. Her feet dragged on the floor before she fell onto the couch.

“If I committed murder, would you represent me and get me off scot-free?” Therissa looked over at her roommate with a tired smile. A few strands of her dark brown curly hair fell over her face, covering her eyes.

“Oh? What got you so heated? You’re usually fairly level-headed,” Prisha placed down her phone and walked towards the kitchen area to start some tea.

“I am, but this professor is a total ass. First he praises my writing in his Creative Writing 103 class saying that it’s great but then when the second semester starts and I take Creative Writing 205 then he basically starts telling me it's shit now. It makes no sense and he keeps acting snarky and pissy with me. So now on Valentine’s Day I have a day full of classes, work and a writing tutor because I need to pass this class,” Therissa groaned and sat up when Prisha walked over with two cups of tea.

“Would you want my help on any homework?” Prisha smiled at her friend who accepted the tea gratefully.

Therissa took a long sip before answering. “No, you’re super busy as is. You’re always studying and when you’re not in class you’re rushing around everywhere. I’m surprised you haven’t been passing out recently.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” Prisha’s expression was hidden behind the cup as she took a sip of tea.

“Wasn’t a compliment. I’m trying to point out that you push yourself too much. It’s a good thing Valentine’s Day is the day after tomorrow. Maybe you can finally relax for a day with your girlfriend. Speaking of which, you better have a nice outfit that you're wearing for the date.”

“I am!” Prisha smiled brightly. “In fact, after this tea I can show you it!”

Therissa returned the smile. “Good, then after Valentine’s Day we can return to plotting murder.”

“Sounds good to me.” Prisha took another sip and soon she got caught up in a conversation with Therissa.

“Shit, fuck, shit on the- fuck!” Violet ran over to the heart-shaped bowl that was over a simmering pot of water. The bowl was starting to slip due to the condensation from the heat and the fact that it had been placed poorly over the pot. Luckily Violet had caught it before most of the contents fell into the water. Violet gave a frustrated groan that turned into a hiss when her fingers brushed against the hot metal of the pot. Jerking her hand back, Violet ended up spilling the rest of the chocolate into the water. “Fuck, no!”

“Violet! Are you alright?” Prisha walked forward, the concern clear in her eyes when she saw Violet clutching her hand.

“I’m fine,” Violet could see that Prisha didn’t believe her. Silently Prisha guided Violet over towards the sink and started to run cold water over her fingers. Violet stared at the water for a moment then up at her girlfriend. “This was a fucking stupid injury,”

“It wasn’t. You were just trying to save the chocolate. It’s a shame that you got hurt in the process though,” Prisha noticed Violet’s face fall. “Don’t worry, I’ll help patch up your fingers and you can give the process of making chocolate one more go.”

“I don’t know. I fucking suck at it,” Violet mumbled, her eyes sad until she felt a kiss being pressed to her cheek.

“I beg to differ.” Prisha smiled lovingly at Violet who returned to look until Clementine’s voice drew both of their attention away from each other.

“Why does it look like there’s a pile of shit in the pot?”

“Oh horsefeathers! Did we lose another batch?” Ruby bustled over and huffed with annoyance as she began to clean up the mess.

“Sorry,” Violet’s quiet voice made Ruby glance over, her eyes softening.

“Aww, Sug, don’t worry about it. Luckily Brody had been as worried as ever and overbought on supplies,” Ruby nodded over to Brody who was working on preparing another batch.

“Seems like my anxiousness paid off this time,” Brody smiled at her friends then looked down at the ingredients that would soon make milk chocolate. “Do you think Mitch and the others will like this?” “Are you kidding? Of course they will! Louis is a sucker for sweets and so is Mitch,” Clementine placed a hand on Brody’s shoulder and gave a smile.

“Aasim loves all things romance and besides two of the people that are getting chocolates are with us and both of them have been all worried about making the perfect chocolate,” Ruby sent a teasing look over to Prisha and Violet.

“Well, ‘perfect’ is a strong word. I just want to make good chocolates for Violet,” Prisha messed with her braid for a moment.

“Yeah, what's wrong with not wanting to fuck up?” Violet crossed her arms and looked over at Ruby.

“I don’t think Ruby said it was bad, just sweet,” Brody gave another smile then took a deep breath. “Now let's kick this chocolates’ ass and surprise the guys!”

Clementine and Ruby cheered at that and soon all the girls were working on chocolate once more. It took a few more tries but soon the chocolate was being poured into the molds. After being placed in the fridge for twenty to thirty minutes the chocolates were done and the girls moved to the next step. Each of them worked to put the chocolates into little homemade heart boxes that Brody and Ruby had spent the night before making.

Violet swore under her breath while she worked on her box; Brody seemed to be in no better a boat. Meanwhile Ruby and Prisha had mastered putting together boxes of chocolates. Both of them were tying picture perfect bows on the boxes to seal them. Prisha hummed a happy tune to herself as she finished the final touches. But as soon as the others noticed that she was singing she quieted down. Lastly Clementine gave it her best effort and got a middle of the road result; she didn’t seem to care though. She knew that Louis would love it. Just as that thought had finished a knock came on her front door. Brushing her hands on her pants, Clementine walked forward. Her eyes grew large when she spotted Louis, Mitch and Aasim at the door. “Louis! What are you doing here?”

Clementine’s exclamation made the other girls poke their heads out of the kitchen to see the boys standing in the doorway. Each of them had a clip-on bow tie and a rose in their hands.

“Hello, my darling,” Louis leaned forward and planted a kiss on Clementine’s cheek. “We are here for our early Valentine’s Day surprise!” Louis grinned back at Mitch and Aasim. Mitch felt like his nerves were all over the place as he pulled on his shirt collar. Meanwhile Aasim seemed to be practicing something in his mind, his eyes focused elsewhere. Louis quickly snapped his friends out of their mindset and led the way inside. “We are here to serenade our lovely girlfriends with a barbershop quartet!”

“But isn’t a quartet made of four singers?” Brody walked forward, leading the way for the girls who all filed out to see what song the boys were about to sing.

“Right you are, Bro! Prisha, mind switching sides and completing our quartet?” Louis smiled over to his music confidant.

“I’d love nothing more,” Prisha smiled confidently as she walked forward and accepted a clip-on bowtie and rose.

Louis quickly gathered the three others and played a note for them all to be the same key. Soon the four of them began to sing Just in Time by Frank Sinatra. It was an older song that Violet was sure Prisha had pushed to be the choice for today.

“Just in time, I found you just in time

Before you came, my time was runnin' low

I was lost, the losing dice were tossed

My bridges all were crossed, nowhere to go,”

The four of them sang, each of them using their natural singing octave. Prisha and Louis were by far the best singers while Aasim wasn’t bad by any stretch of the imagination. That left Mitch in last place who clearly couldn’t sing as well as the others but that didn’t stop him from powering through and singing loudly.

“Now you're here and now I know just where I'm goin'

No more doubt or fear, I found my way

For love came just in time

You found me just in time

And changed my lonely life that lovely day,”

The four walked forward towards Violet, Ruby, Brody and Clementine. Each of them looked at their girlfriends with loving smiles. Even though the song wasn’t sung the strongest, the girls could tell that Prisha and the boys were pouring their hearts into the performance despite it being obvious for some this whole thing was overwhelming.

“Now you are here and now I know just where I'm goin'

No more doubt or fear, 'cause I've found my way

For love came just in time

You found me just in time

And changed my lonely life that lovely

Lonely life that lovely

Lonely life that lovely day,”

As the four hit the final note they held out their roses to their respective girlfriends. Louis gave a playful wink Clementine’s way as she accepted the rose before all of his confidence melted away into dorky happiness when Clementine stole a quick kiss. Ruby accepted the rose, her rosy cheeks growing rosier as she got on her tiptoes and showered Aasim with quick, soft kisses. Meanwhile both Brody and Mitch were blushing messes as Brody took the rose and gave Mitch a compliment that made him even more flustered. Both of them tried to find the right words as they held each other’s hands. Soon they each decided it was better to just let their actions speak louder than their words and shared a strong kiss. Lastly, Violet took the rose and knew that her face was as red as the flower.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the quartet,” Prisha smiled at Violet who gave a short nod. The two were silent for a moment before Violet snuck a kiss. The romantic action made Prisha freeze in place for a moment.

“Oh!” Ruby’s voice made everyone look over at her. “We should give the chocolates!”

“Chocolates?” Louis’ eyes danced with excitement at those words and it only grew as Clementine disappeared and reappeared with a box of chocolates.

Soon all of the chocolates had been exchanged to which all of its recipients were extremely happy. Mitch wrapped his arms around Brody from behind and pressed a kiss to her cheek before he grew almost as overwhelmed as Brody by the action. Aasim was happily talking about how much he appreciated Ruby and all the thought she had put in this early Valentine’s Day surprise. Ruby  blushed and quickly told him that he had been just as thoughtful if not more. Violet watched nervously as Prisha took a bite of the chocolate and was relieved when Prisha’s eyes sparkled with happiness. Clementine watched her friends for a moment then looked back over at Louis who was gushing about how lucky he was to have a girlfriend like Clementine, especially on Valentine’s Day. Clementine smiled softly and held onto Louis’ hands.

These Valentine celebrations were already going great and it wasn’t even the holiday yet. All of them had knocked it out of the park so far and after hearing the plans for the others Valentine Day dates Clementine was sure tomorrow would be a fantastic day for all of them.

Clementine’s eyes wandered over the map of Ericson University one last time. She had to be sure that there were no rifts opening up. If one appeared while she was busy getting lost in the joy of a date… It couldn’t happen. Luckily when she checked it for the sixteenth time it was the same as it always was. Blank and void of any shimmering blue or red dots. Clementine gave a shaky sigh of relief and tucked it away in her winter coat. Lee and Carley had already headed out, both of them looking giddy at the thought of starting their Valentine’s Day date. Soon after they had left, a babysitter showed up for AJ who was waiting to work on his second Valentine’s card that he wanted to give to Telulah as soon as he could. His foot tapped impatiently as he waited for Louis so that he could say hi before him and Clementine headed out. A few minutes passed of awkward silence and of the babysitter wanting to get AJ to focus on games instead of staring at the door when a knock appeared. Jogging forward, Clementine opened the door and found her boyfriend smiling brightly at her, in his hands a dozen roses.

“Happy Valentine's Day, my darling!” Louis leaned forward and captured Clementine’s lips in a soft kiss.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Clementine reached out and took one of Louis’ hands in hers.

“Are you ready for a magical carriage ride?” Louis smiled at Clementine who gave a short nod.

“Yep,” Clementine glanced back at AJ. “Okay, we’re going to be heading out now,”

“Wait!” AJ scampered forward and skidded to a halt in front of the pair. “You better keep her safe!”

“Will do, little dude!” Louis gave a huge thumbs up at AJ who beamed.

“Oh! And get her back by curf- curvs-”

“Curfew,” Clementine helped her little brother who nodded firmly.

“Yeah! Curfew!”

“Of course! I will make sure Clem is back and safe by curfew. You have a gentleman’s promise,” Louis noticed the happy smile on AJ’s lips at his words.

“Good!” AJ placed his hands on his hips for a second then rushed forward and tackled Clementine with a hug before running back to get started on the fun.

Clementine and Louis shared a smile and quietly laughed as they walked out the door. Clementine looked over at Louis. He was wearing a long brown coat as well as a green scarf that seemed to only add to his adorable winter vibes.“You’re looking cute today,”

Clementine’s compliment made Louis look over with a dorky smile. “Why, thank you! I picked it out myself. Well, that's not entirely true. Marlon helped me pick out this scarf,”

“Well then both of you did a good job picking out your outfit,” Clementine smiled when she saw how happy those words made Louis.

“Awww thanks, but I don’t look half as cute as you,” Louis swung their joined hands then nodded over towards Clementine's outfit. It was a dark blue sweater covered by a black winter jacket that all complemented her fuzzy blue winter hat.

Clementine blushed lightly at the compliment. “Thanks,” She quickly leaned over and pressed a kiss to Louis’ cheek. The two walked happily towards the location of the horse-drawn carriage, sharing as many kiss as they could surprise the other with until they reached the spot.

“M’lady,” Louis held out his hand with a warm smile. Clementine returned the smile and took his hand as he guided her up the steps of the carriage. Soon he was right beside her, immediately handing over the dozen roses. “Are you ready for a romantic carriage ride?” “I was born ready,” Clementine gave a playful smile that made Louis’ nose crinkle with amusement. Sharing one more kiss, Louis gave the signal and the carriage driver flicked the reins, causing the horses to snort before moving forward in a slow trot. Clementine scooted closer and wrapped her arm around Louis’ waist. Louis’ face grew warm and he gently kissed Clementine’s forehead then pulled her closer. Nuzzling his face against the top of her head, he slowly leaned his head against hers and the two took in the beauty of the snow-covered world around them. Both of them commented here and there about how lovely the park was as the carriage moved forward. After a few moments Louis began to hum a tune that Clementine couldn’t place for a moment. It took her a few seconds to pick up what he was singing.

“Are you humming Jingle Bells? After Christmas?” Clementine looked up at her boyfriend with a smile.

“Yes, I am, and there is nothing wrong with that,” Louis grinned down at Clementine and stole a kiss before continuing to hum. Soon his warm tune was joined  by a softer voice. Louis glanced down to see that Clementine was joining him in humming. The two began to hum some more then quickly proceeded to sing the song out loud along with any other song that their hearts desired. Both of them looked at each other with joyful, soft smiles. This really was a magical carriage ride.

Ruby stood in front of the mirror and turned this way and that, causing her red dress to sway. Her brows furrowed for a moment before she looked back at Brody who was busy pacing.

“Brody, do you think my dress looks alright?”

Ruby’s voice snapped Brody out of her thoughts and she glanced up. “What? Are you kidding? Aasim is going to lose his mind when he sees you!” Brody stopped her pacing and gave a warm smile to her best friend.

“Yeah, you’re right. I think I’m getting into my own head.” Ruby looked back at the mirror. “Just like you are about your date with Mitch,”

Those words made Brody’s eyes grow large before falling. “It’s stupid. I was so busy the last few days that I didn’t even talk to Mitch about changing our Valentine’s Day plans. It's too late to change them now and besides, he sang for me yesterday which was a really nice surprise.”

“Brody, I don’t think you need to worry your head about this. I’m sure you’ll have a grand time with Mitch,” Ruby looked back at Brody through the mirror, a playful knowingness in her eyes. The sight of that confused Brody and she wanted to ask about it when suddenly a knock on the dorm room door appeared.

“Oh, that must be him!” Ruby bustled over and opened the door, revealing Aasim who was decked out in a suit with a red tie. Tucked in his left hand there looked to be a piece of love poetry based on the seal and the red bow around it.

“Hello, my dove,” Aasim leaned down and gently kissed Ruby. Ruby instantly cupped his face and deepened the kiss before giving two more quick ones.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Pookie,” Ruby took Aasim’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Are you ready to go to the tea shop?”

“I sure am! I heard the tea there is divine!” Ruby smiled up at her boyfriend then glanced back at Brody. “I’m heading out. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” Brody gave a quick wave and after Aasim helped Ruby get on her coat the two disappeared down the hall.

The pair walked in serene silence for a bit, enjoying the winter wonderland that their campus had turned into. They shared small kisses here and there as they walked, placing them on each other’s wrists and hands. Ruby’s rosy red cheeks turned even brighter in the cold of winter which made Aasim’s heart pitter patter happily.

Soon the two had arrived at Sarita’s Tea Shop where the owner welcomed them with a friendly smile. A large man stood beside the owner who they learned went by the name Tripp. He gave a quick kiss to Sarita before guiding Aasim and Ruby to their table. After placing their orders, Aasim and Ruby immediately held each other’s hands.

Aasim looked at Ruby with such tender love as he placed kiss after kiss on her hands. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that I found you. In fact, I tried my best to put into words my feelings for you,” Aasim slipped one of his hands free and held out the love poetry.

“Why, Aasim,” Ruby gently took the gift and slowly began to read it. Her eyes wandered from left to right, reading the words her boyfriend had so lovingly put on paper. With each sentence her heart grew warmer and warmer until she had finished reading. Silently she placed down the paper and leaned forward across the table, kissing Aasim softly. Aasim’s eyes widened for a moment then closed as he deepened the kiss. After a moment the two pulled apart and shared a soft look.

“I’m happy I found you too,”

The two smiled at each other, holding each other’s hands until the tea was brought forward along with the pastries. Tripp silently poured the hot water over a rose blossom in a clear teapot. Slowly the rose bursted open, blossoming and flavoring the tea. Ruby and Aasim stared in awe then shared another smile. This was turning into a truly unforgettable Valentine’s Day.

Brody sat on her bed and stared at the ceiling. Ruby had left a while ago and based on the haphazard text she got from Mitch he was nearly here. It wouldn’t be bad cuddling and watching a movie together. Feeling Mitch’s arms around her, stolen kisses.. Brody covered her face with a  pillow as she felt herself grow overwhelmed. Just as she was about to go on another spiral of thoughts, a knock showed up on the door.

Peeking out from behind the pillow Brody got up, quickly readjusting her t-shirt before walking over to answer the door. When she opened the door her eyes grew wide with surprise. There, standing in the doorway, was Mitch in an honest to goodness tux. The dark blue tie was sloppily placed and the suit was a bit too big on him.

Mitch pulled at the collar for a second before he noticed Brody. “Brodes! Happy Valentine’s Day!” Mitch’s voice boomed a bit too loudly as he thrusted out his arm which held a metal trident. Brody blinked in awe of the trident then took it. Slowly her eyes began to examine it. “I thought that a stronger weapon is never a bad thing so I made you one,” Mitch’s eyes were focused on the floor. “It’ll protect you way better than that prop one you had,”

“I love it,” Brody smiled up at Mitch who looked at her with shock then proceeded to pump his fist.

“Yes! Fuckin’ A! I actually didn’t fuck up on Valentine’s Day! Because look!” Mitch leaned over and picked up a soft yellow dress then held it out for Brody. “Ruby helped me pick it out because I’m shit at this sorta thing but you gotta dress up for our plans.”

“Plans?” Brody accepted the dress and held it close to her chest with a soft smile.

“Yeah, it took me fucking forever but I saved up enough money to take you to one of those fancy restaurants, one of those places where you have to dress fancy and shit,”

Mitch’s words made Brody’s mouth open slightly in surprise. She definitely wasn’t expecting this. Silently she placed down the items then got on her tiptoes and pulled Mitch into a kiss. Mitch instantly wrapped his arms around her waist and deepened the kiss. Once they pulled apart the two stared into each other’s eyes.

“I’m gonna go get changed,”

“Okay, I’ll wait out in the hall,” Mitch whispered. Both of their faces were super red as they squeezed each other’s hands and let them slip free. Mitch waited out in the hall, kicking his foot impatiently as he leaned against the wall. After a few minutes Brody emerged from the room in the short, soft yellow dress. Mitch’s mouth hung open for a second.

“Well, do I look okay?” Brody did a small spin.

“You look fucking amazing!” Mitch walked forward and stole another kiss from Brody. Brody hummed at the touch of the kiss then pulled back, her face a bright red.

“Thanks, you look pretty amazing yourself,” Brody’s hands wandered forward and held onto Mitch’s tux for a second.

Mitch had a confident smile on his face. “I borrowed this tux from my dad and he helped me pick out this tie,” Mitch’s confidence radiated off of him as he displayed his outfit before it faltered when he noticed his tie’s placement looked like shit. Silently Brody helped fix his tie then intertwined her fingers with his. The two shared a quick smile then after locking the door headed out towards the restaurant.

Both of them felt extremely out of place at this fancy restaurant. It was way out of their normal price range.

“Why the fuck do they have two forks?” Mitch looked at the table placement with confusion as he and Brody waited for their steak dinners.

“I don’t know. Maybe it's in case you drop one?” Brody shrugged, unsure of her own answer. Mitch stared at the forks for a moment longer before a mischievous grin appeared on his face. “Mitch, what are you thinking?”

Mitch was silent as he looked up at Brody before his elbow knocked off a fork. After a moment a waiter came forward and replaced his fork. Brody sighed which only made Mitch’s smile grow.

“Come on, Brodes, y’know you love me,” Mitch’s smug smile faded in an instant when he realized what he had just said. The two shared a look, both extremely red once more before looking away.

Brody was silent for a minute then answered. “Yeah, I do.”

Her answer made Mitch drop his glass of water directly on his crotch. “Fuck!”

“Mitch! Are you okay?” Brody pushed back her chair to check on her boyfriend.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. It just looks like I pissed my pants,” Mitch was silent for a moment, wondering if he should go for it. “I love you too,”

His answer shocked Brody who in her surprise knocked over a plate which slammed onto Mitch’s toe. This date was absolute chaos but both of them seemed focused on the positives of the moment, chaos and all.

Violet hopped up onto the back of her old, beat up, blue pickup truck, parked in the same spot that Violet had taken Prisha all those months ago on their first date together. Her hands worked to place the last few pillows in place before double checking that all the fake candles were on. After frantically checking once more Violet got off the truck and walked towards the door. Opening it, she saw that Prisha still had her eyes closed.

“Okay, it's ready. Here, take my hand,” Violet instructed and Prisha immediately held out her hand which Violet grasped. Silently she led the way towards the back of the pickup truck. After getting Prisha in the right spot, Violet took a few steps back beside the truck.”Okay, open your eyes.”

Prisha’s eyes slowly fluttered open before growing large in awe. The back of the pickup truck was covered in blankets and pillows. Along the edges of the truck were fake candles as well as two vases filled with violets, baby’s breath and forget me nots.

“I did my best to make it like our first date but, y’know, better,” Violet awkwardly scratched the back of her neck then hid her hands away in her front hoodie pocket.

“It's absolutely beautiful! Violet,” Prisha’s voice hitched in her throat and she ran forward, cupping Violet’s face and capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. Violet’s eyes grew large at the romantic gesture for a moment then she deepened the kiss. Prisha pulled back and looked lovingly into Violet’s eyes. “I love it.” “I’m glad,” Violet smiled at her girlfriend then intertwined her fingers with Prisha’s. “So, ready to stargaze?”

“Of course!” Prisha returned the smile, kissing Violet’s nose quickly before getting up on the back of the pickup truck with her. The two worked together to get under the blankets and snuggled close. Both of them soon became lost in the beauty of the sky when all of a sudden Prisha reached out and held onto Violet’s hand once more. Violet gave a soft laugh at that which confused Prisha as she looked over at her girlfriend. “What?”

“Nothing. It's just on our first date neither of us was even sure if it was one and we both kept accidentally dodging each other’s hands,” Violet’s eyes traveled over to Prisha’s. “I’m really glad that you held my hand that night,”

“I am too. I can't even express how much you’ve grown to mean to me, Violet. How deeply I care about you, how much I love you,” Prisha turned her body so that she was closer to Violet. Her eyes soon became lost in Violet’s.

“Me neither. To think I’d find someone like you,” Violet whispered and moved closer. “I’m really fucking lucky. So, thanks for choosing me,”

Prisha’s smile grew and she gave Violet a soft kiss. “I wouldn’t choose anyone else. I love you,”

“I love you too,” Violet snuggled up closer to Prisha and soon the two repositioned themselves. Violet’s head gently rested on Prisha’s shoulder as Prisha’s arms wrapped around Violet. The couple’s gaze slowly returned up to the starry sky. Violet snuck a quick glance at Prisha then looked up at the sky once more. Being here with her and the stars that shone brightly in the sky, in that moment Violet needed nothing more.

[bubble-tea-bunny]

even if you have no wings

[legosi x doe!reader]

author’s note: changed up the style w this one just to try it out. also played around w pov again. it’s still second person but... well you’ll see. i don’t want to spoil it. please forgive me if this seems rusty, it’s been a minute since i wrote anything T_T

word count: 1,628

you’re pulled from sleep at 7 AM by a grating alarm and begin your morning routine. you’re not sure what day it is because you stopped keeping track. you don’t see the point in doing that anymore when they’re all the same—wake up, go to class, attend to your duties with the drama club. eating is thrown in there somewhere. you’re a slave to the growling of your stomach and the bottomless hunger an egg salad sandwich or a soy burger will never be enough to satisfy.  

there’s a crick in your neck and it bothers you all day. it makes it difficult to pay attention properly in lecture and when jack asks if you’ve studied for that exam on friday (friday…is that two days from now?) you only offer a half-hearted shrug and a vague grunt. evidently it’s an answer enough for him as he laughs and says me too. maybe you both will score poorly. jack takes a bite of his veggie burger and he hums like it’s the best thing in the world but you wonder if deep down he feels the way that you do.  

the actors are discussing stage positions and you occupy yourself with setting up the lighting rigs. you yawn and your neck still hurts and it dawns on you in this moment how ironic it is, that you should be above the heads of everybody else, yet you’re obscured in shadow. you suppose there’s something symbolic to be said about it, but louis is calling to you from below and you need to pay attention now.

move the light center. keep it focused. tighten the edges. what remains is one lone spotlight, bold and dramatic and louis stands in it with broad shoulders and a confidence in his gaze because that is where he’s meant to be and he knows it. and this is where you’re meant to be too. behind the scenes, in the dark, where no one has to see you and you’re comfortable that way. yes, this is perfect, louis declares with a nod. you can’t tell if he’s saying that to himself or if he’s read your mind.

late at night, after most students have returned to their dorms, you traipse through the courtyard alone. but you’re not in any danger. not when you are who you are. and this is the time you truly feel free.

the iron bench is cold and the lamppost is dim. you sit in its meager light and listen to the gurgle of the fountain. your head tilts back, eyes on the sky. it’s mostly black. but you can see the moon, and it is unusually bright tonight. since when has it been like that?  

since when have the days bled together? since when have the stars disappeared?  

where are the stars?

the rustling of grass pulls your attention back down to the ground and you can’t help the hunter instincts which kick in as you pick up the scent of prey. no, stop. stop talking like that. stop thinking like that.

another student, a doe, is walking past on the concrete walkway. surely she can see you in her periphery because you are sitting by the lamppost, not trying to hide, and your heart jumps into your throat when your eyes meet. you expect to see uneasiness in her own and you get it. you wouldn't blame her for it. you won’t be mad if she turns the other way, clearly avoiding crossing paths. in fact, maybe you should just leave, to alleviate her worries. she’s coming in this direction, and you’d hate to be the reason she has to reroute herself.

but she smiles instead. a small one, a friendly one. despite the nighttime chill, it feels like a summer morning. it catches you by surprise, and despite it being the total opposite of your assumption that she would be frightened, you stand anyway and rush back to your dorm. your heart’s still beating rapidly and you don’t know if it’s predator instincts you’re trying desperately to ignore or shock that she had smiled at you like that. like what?

so kind, so sweet, so bright like the stars you couldn’t find.

friday comes and goes with a sigh and at lunchtime when jack asks what you got on question three, you’re being honest when you say you can’t remember the letter you circled. you think it was D. he groans and says he chose A. you smile sympathetically but your mind’s a mile away, stuck on thoughts of a doe you have hoped to see again but haven’t. your eyes scan the cafeteria but she is nowhere in sight and maybe you imagined her. maybe that night you’d been dreaming and you should just stop looking. stop trying.

maybe you’re still dreaming because the sun is unusually dark, faint like that lamppost, and it doesn’t make sense. you want to ask jack if the sun looks different to him too, but you know he’ll just say you’re imagining things (such as that doe?) and maybe he’s right. when the days all pass the same, who’s to say what was day and what was night? certainly not you.

you’ve felt tired lately. the neck pain you get from sleeping in odd positions doesn’t help either.

it means you’re a little more irritable as well, and this is magnified when you can’t locate the novel you’d been reading. you could’ve sworn it was in your bag, but after dumping the contents on your bed and there’s no book to be found, you speculate that you’d actually left it somewhere in the mess of your belongings. but the thorough search through your closet is a fruitless endeavor.

you drop down onto your bed, your butt landing gracelessly on the pens and pencils scattered on the mattress, and you groan as you lift yourself up enough to swat them away.  

you’re back in the courtyard that night. they say what you’re looking for will pop up the moment you’re not looking for it, so you decide to stop thinking about that book. you allow your eyes to slide closed because they are heavy from sleep that has escaped you. the drama club has been rehearsing the same few scenes the past week, intent to polish them before moving on to the next set of scenes. you’ve adjusted the lighting in the same way so many times that you can see it even now, behind your eyelids.  

a dimming of all the stage lights, until all that was left was a lone spotlight. focused, with tight edges. it shines down on louis, and follows him from one end to the other. it is his to stand beneath, to control, and he controls it well.

the compliments he receives are always the same. echoes of one another.

he was born for the stage!

he’s a star!

you can’t be sure which voice is yours, or if any of them even are.

you replay the order of the lighting (do it enough times and you might fall asleep right here on this bench), but louis isn’t standing in the center anymore. it’s that doe with the kind gaze and she is not staring out at the darkened theater chairs made of cushy red velvet. she is staring upwards, squinting against the intensity of what might as well be the sun. to other observers on the same level as she, it would appear as if she is staring into it. but you know better and you know she is looking past it.  

she is watching you, even though she can’t be certain she has met your eyes properly because you’re in the dark. and you smile, wondering if she can see it. she looks like she was born for the stage too. she smiles back. she says she’s a star. you agree, and your voice is loud and clear.

your eyes open as your ears pick up the sound of someone walking. the footsteps are light, but he easily detects the grass rustling, then the clackclackclack of heels on concrete. you’re surprised to see her there, real as ever and closer than you thought. she is coming towards you. she is coming towards you. you’re prepared to run away again, but the sight of your book tucked under her arm stops you short.  

still, you stand up because it’s awkward to remain sitting while she’s walking this way. briefly you debate whether you should meet her in the middle or stay where you are. standing in the same spot was no better than sitting, but your paranoia that you could scare her away prevents you from moving. it’s clear she’s not scared (why?) but you can’t help wanting to be cautious.

before you can decide what to do, she is standing in front of you.

though she is tall, you’re still taller, and you have to tilt your head down. it’s not unusual for you, given you tower over most. this certainly won’t help your stiff neck. but then she grins, and suddenly you don’t really mind anymore.

she holds up your book and asks if you’re looking for this. she’s still grinning; it’s amused and aware and you swallow nervously because being close like this, you notice her eyes are sparkling with a million little diamonds and you are dazzled.

there’s no room to breathe as you tumble down down down into the depths of her star-studded gaze and she is beautiful. when had she scooped them all from the sky? when had the bright moon and the dark sun become so magnificent?

where are the stars?

where are the stars?

where—

“actually,” you say, “i was looking for you.”

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Her Majesty. || 17

All For You.

A few months later

April

I walk the gardens, appreciating the crisp air and the morning fog, accompanied by the grounds’ quietness. For the first time since my father passed, the grounds are quiet, no civilians are waiting and paying their respects, the flowers have gradually decreased, and the palace is relatively untroubled— a little too quiet.

I haven’t seen Harry since he left my room at four this morning. Ever since Henry’s passing a few months ago, I haven’t seen much of Harry during the day. Harry has been pulled in one-hundred different directions and forced to balance everything.

He is handling things better than I ever could have. The Henry situation would have tipped me over the edge. Harry has been the one to deal with Pippa. She hasn’t had much to do with me; she seems to avoid me for the most part. I’m not sure why she would instead work with Harry, but she appears to be a fan of him.

Madeleine and Louis have stayed at the Palace, staying under the radar and staying out of the public eye. It’s probably the best option for now. I haven’t observed much of Madeleine; she has spent most of her time with Louis and walking the grounds, and finding various places to read and write quietly. Madeleine has always been the type to keep a journal, and when she gets stressed, she writes her thoughts down. I, on the other hand, let the ideas run wild until I break down and snap.

“Her Majesty?” Oliver breaks the silence.

“It’s Anna, Oliver,” I correct him.

Oliver nods his head. “Uh, sorry,” he nervously chuckles, “Are you ready to head inside?”

I nod my head, “I guess you and Harry don’t let me stay out long, huh?”

“It’s just protocol not to stay too long out here just because of how open it is, especially with people coming and going.”

“I know,” I sigh, understanding the reasoning behind things.

I’m hoping that come summertime. The restrictions won’t be as stringent. It would be delightful to be able to roam the gardens or sit outside with disturbances. If we were to move palaces, I would be able to have more freedom, but for right now, I don’t think Matthew will agree to travel, although I plan to ask Harry. A change of scenery would be nice, even if it’s to go to Kensington or the Palace of Holyroodhouse in Scotland, any of the crown estates would be pleasant.

A small smile forms on my lips the moment I recognise Harry marching closer to us, “Good morning,” I welcome him cheerfully, delighted to see him.

Harry kisses my cheek, “Morning… Did you give Pippa permission to announce our relationship to the staff?” Harry questions, his voice deep and far from impressed.

I shake my head, unsure of what he’s talking about, “No?”

“Well, she took it upon herself to announce things on our behalf. Since when does she have any say on what the fuck happens at the palace?” Harry’s voice sounds like bottled thunder, and his eyes are dark with fury.

“Harry, I do not know… She doesn’t, and she has no say at the Palace… When did this happen?”

“Just now, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to go strangle her,” Harry mutters, shoving his phone into his pocket before I grab his wrist and pull him back towards me.

“Calm down.”

Harry shakes his head, “I’ve had enough of her shit.”

“Harry, we had to tell them anyway. Let me handle this. Go back to the security room.”

Harry becomes speechless for a moment and takes a breath, “It wasn’t her business to tell. She doesn’t know if the staff will release it to the press. The press is always writing articles about us. One minute you’re dating Louis in the media, and the next minute you’re having an affair on him with me. I’ve had it.”

“You sound like you’re having a shitty morning. Just relax.”

“I am having a shit morning. I have shit to do. I love you,” Harry mutters, kissing my cheek before hurrying off.

“Pippa is about to get an earful,” I sigh, watching as Harry walks towards the palace. Oliver hums his response and continues to unobtrusively walk beside me, not giving me any queries, genuinely allowing me to wander the grounds at ease.

I am not sure who killed Henry, nor am I sure when the next attack will be or on whom it’ll be, but I do know that at some point, this will end. I can't point fingers on who’s to blame, and I wish I could. I wish I could say it’s Pippa or the government, but truth be told, I don’t know specifically who it is, and I don’t have much proof. For all I know, it could be one member of the staff who is in control of it all, one of the maids could be the mastermind of all the plans and running a circle of mass chaos. At this point, I’m starting to wonder if Harry and Matthew will ever figure it out, they’re not detectives, and all their leads seem to fail them, as do my own. I haven’t heard anything from Harry about the list of names I gave him. I don’t think he believes that it is anyone that works at the palace.

“Are Matthew and Harry working on who has killed everyone?” I ask Oliver, curious as to how much information he knows.

“Yes, Princess… That is why Harry has been hard to find lately.”

“Have they found anything?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you. I’m sorry,” Oliver shakes his head. “Please don’t threaten my job,” Oliver quickly emphasises, referencing the morning I threatened his job if he didn’t allow me to go to the security chambers. In my defence, it was the morning of my fathers funeral, and I didn’t want to be alone.

I wanted the comfort of Harry, and Oliver was not comforting me the way I needed.

“I said I was sorry about that,” I grant him a soft smile, “I really just needed Harry, nothing personal.”

Oliver nods his head and chuckles, “I know, Harry told me, but I am not letting you live it down.”

“Go figure,” I roll my eyes before I chuckle to myself.

There are days where nobody can fix the void that you feel, and the morning I went on a rampage and threatened to fire Oliver if he didn’t take me to Harry was a morning where I just needed Harry. Nobody else would suffice.

“We need to go inside. It is time for you to get ready for your coronation.”

I stop in my tracks and look at Oliver, “You and I both know it isn’t mine.”

“Anastasia,” Oliver begins, “For what it is worth, you will make a great Queen.”

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, “I will not be crowned Queen. Pippa will not allow it,” I respond, dreading today.

I am not envious of Harry for him being crowned. I am somewhat delighted that he has to handle the mess of the monarchy. But, I am disappointed that the monarch is binding and controlling.

This wasn’t the life I envisioned for myself, nor is it the life I envisioned for Harry and me. I never thought the monarchy would control us to the extent it does. I knew it would have its ties, but I thought it would be imperceptibly more manageable. I never imagined my husband would take my crown and the problems that go with it. I applaud Harry for being capable of handling things with such strides. I don’t think I could— Hence why Pippa refuses to permit me to have the crown.

Harry’s pov.

As with all royal events, coronation day accompanies its own sets of rules and regulations. Westminster Abbey has been the environment for every Coronation since 1066, and today it will be no different. I succeeded to the Throne when Anastasia should have succeeded. She will be the first successor to have not succeeded as rightfully anticipated. What a strange read in history books this will be when the public finds out about it.

We were escorted from Buckingham Palace to Westminster Abbey in the Gold State Coach – drawn by eight grey horses, selected by Anastasia and myself. The public is anticipating a closed ceremony for Anastasia to become Queen. What they don’t know is the scandal behind it all and how they’re accepting a King.

Everything has been precisely placed and designated to accompany all coronation protocols for the day to be impeccable. The coronation Bouquet was made up of white flowers – comprising of orchids and lilies-of-the-valley from England, stephanotis from Scotland, orchids from Wales, and carnations from Northern Ireland and the Isle of Man. Every little detail is intricated for a specific reason. It has meaning— all of which I do not understand, but I am sure Anastasia knows the reasoning behind every painstaking detail. The only thing that is not a part of the royal queue is Anastaisa’s dress. On coronation day, most Queens wear neutral colours for a coronation. Anastasia, however, came down the stairs in red. She looked beautiful, but her attire was not what was expected of a royal. Buckingham Palace housemaids, chefs and gardeners gathered inside the Grand Hall at Buckingham Palace to see Anastasia. 129 nations and territories will be officially represented at the Coronation service, and I have been more concerned about Anastasia’s dress.

I smile at the members of parliament, eager to announce to them my first order as King. Pippa is intrigued and waiting for me to reveal what she had planned. She told me what my first executive order should be. To her disappointment, I’m about to cause her whole world to crumble.

I clear my throat and take my position, “As reigning King, my first executive order to be signed will be reinstating Anastasia’s title. Anastasia will, as a result of this be titled, Queen. She will be the reigning monarch,” I instruct, watching Pippa’s eyes grow wide and parliament members’ jaws drop at my words. I wander towards Anastasia and her mother, who is trying to conceal her smile. Her mother nods her head towards me, granting me her approval.

“Harry, what are you doing?” Anna softly challenges me as I take off the St. Edward's Crown and place it to rest on her head. This is rightfully hers.

I delicately take off the purple robe of estate before I move to place it over her shoulders, “I believe these belong to you, my darling,” I beam at her, honoured to be the one to crown her. I kiss her forehead before taking my place beside her, “I give you, your Queen.” I place my hands behind my back, watching as an undivided room of officials gazes at me in utter silence.

There’s absolutely nothing they can do— I played the monarchy and successfully so.

The Archbishop standing before us who administered the Coronation Oath to me, steps forward with a smile, handing Anastasia the same bible I was delivered, “Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the Peoples of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Australia, New Zealand, the Union of South Africa, Pakistan, and Ceylon, and of your Possessions and the other Territories to any of them belonging or pertaining, according to their respective laws and customs?”

Anastasia takes my hand and arranges it on the bible before placing her hand over mine, “We solemnly promise to do so.”

Anastasia continues her oath to the bitter disappointment of Pippa. I accompany Anna to the alter before stepping back, enabling her to independently take the Bible’s oath. “The things which I have here before promised, I will perform and keep. So help me, God.” Anastasia speaks the oath's last words, and I take a glance at her mother, who winks at me. I nod my head— our duty is fulfilled.

The Queen, having thus taken her Oath, smiles over at me before I return her to her Chair, and the Bible is handled by one of the martials to be surrendered to the Dean of Westminster.

Anastasia turns to the parliament members, “Members of both Houses of Parliament are required by law to take an oath of allegiance to the Crown. I require you to do so formally… Pippa, you’re first.” Anastasia takes me by surprise when she halts the coronation to force the parliamentary oath.

Pippa leisurely steps forward and Anastasia stands to her feet, “What are you doing?” Pippa whispers, not charmed that we have transformed the entire plan.

Anastasia sincerely smiles and gestures for the archbishop to walk closer. “Swear her in,” Anastasia commands, and the man does as he is told. He holds the Bible out and proceeds to request Pippa’s hand. “Say the oath,” Anastasia presses.

“I, Philippa Louise Westbrooke, swear by Almighty God that I will be faithful,” Pippa trails off with a stutter before she clears her throat and composes herself. “And bear true allegiance to Her Majesty, Queen, Anastasia, according to law. So help me, God.”

Anastasia shakes her head, “And bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Anastasia, her heirs, husband and successors. So help me, God,” Anastasia changes the oath, adding the fact that Pippa is swearing under oath to be faithful not just to Anna as Queen but to our children and future successors.

I’m just as astonished as everyone else. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Anastasia has been planning this.

Pippa swallows hard and glances towards me for a saving grace— I view Anna with a first-class smile alternately. “And bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Anastasia, her heirs, husband, and successors, according to law. So help me, God,” Pippa repeats the oath.

“You may take your seat now. We can get back to the coronation now,” Anastasia views everyone else.

“Do you have any other requests or announcements?” The archbishop questions, appearing intrigued and finding the coronation humerus. I don’t believe he thought this day would go as it has— I don’t think anyone did. Madeleine Noelle Veil even appears to be somewhat bewildered.

Anastasia nods her head, “If there is to be an intermittent King or Queen, the spouse of royal blood can rule on the conditions the royal spouse is unfit or unwell, but only the royal blood can make the decision on the stand-in ruler. While I reign, Harry can sign on my behalf if only I give him consent— We rule the monarch— not parliament. Do you need that in writing?” Anastasia questions, causing my eyes to grow wide. I had no clue that giving her an inch of power would turn out to become this. “May I sign the declaration after?”

“That would be best,” George, one of the members of parliament, speaks up, the same man who declared that Henry was the new King once Anna’s father passed. The Coronation ring, known as 'The Wedding Ring of England', makes an appearance, slowly becoming placed on The Queen's fourth finger of her right hand following tradition.

I’m not sure what Anastasia’s plans are for the nefarious parliament members, but something tells me that she has some sort of devised method to execute her dynamism and shift them out of office. I am not sure if she can overthrow Parliament as she wanted to destroy the monarch and abolish it, but I feel she will try. Anastasia will be one charismatic woman, and I would hate to be the one that has stepped on her toes. She is coming into her power a lot quicker and with more intensity than I ever imagined. I am not sure what changed in her, but she went from the grieving woman who couldn’t get herself out of bed to the woman who is about to govern the monarch with an iron fist.

*** ***

The day has been long and eventful. The return route was designed so that the procession could be seen by as many people in London as possible. The 7.2 km route took us two hours to complete. I’m exhausted, and I know Anastasia is, but she’s currently wound up on adrenaline and awe. Anastasia stepped into her power today, and she has been humble about it all, but I can see the twinkle of excitement in her eye.

She has won. We have won.

Although we have won this small battle, we have more to go through, and as much as Anastasia is thankful for taking control, I can tell she’s anxious and unsure of how or what to do. Anastasia has self-doubt, and she made the obvious on the car ride to the palace when she asked me if she would make a good Queen. She wanted assurance that this is the best decision for the monarch and her. Nothing I do or say will convince her that this is one-hundred percent a good idea. She will always have doubts. After all, look at the people who have pushed her down and doubted her. For months she has been told she is unfit to rule and doesn’t deserve her fathers legacy, she has been beaten down to the point I wasn’t sure she’d manage to get back up, but she has.

“Anna, darling,” I gesture for her to walk closer to me. At first, she’s hesitant, unsure of what I want, but begins to step closer with gleaming eyes and that winsome smile of hers, “This… this is what you need to remember any time you have doubts about being Queen,” I instruct before I shift to open the glass windows, enabling the crisp air to flow into the room, along with the sweetness of her people cheering, “God save the Queen,” applauding her coronation. “Parliament might want to see you fail, but the people don’t. This is all for you; they believe in you, you better bloody believe in yourself, too.” I show Anastasia the stance she has and how she has the backing and endorsement of her people.

Anastasia grins and nods her head, “Would the King join me to express my gratitude?” Anastasia questions, taking my hand and beginning to wander to the large glass doors with the gold trim that only opens on exceptional occurrences. Anastasia stands at the doors, and I reach towards the handles, pushing down on them before gingerly opening the doors that lead to the balcony. Anastasia takes a breath and peers at me, “It’s my pleasure to greet the people as Queen formally, even more so do it with you as King, will you?” Anastasia signals towards the balcony that overlooks the people below. I swallow hard and stare at her, unsure of what to do.

If I step on the balcony with her, that’s it. That’s the end of our secrecy; our relationship will be in the public eye. “Anna, there’s no going back if I do this.”

“I know… but if you don’t want to—“

“Baby, that’s not what I mean,” I shake my head, “This announces us as well as a couple.”

Anastasia nods her head, “I know, it’s what we want, right? To no longer hide?”

I grow withdrawn for a minute. We are finally getting what we want, and somehow I’m still nervous and fearful—going public concerns me for various reasons. We aren’t just dodging the bullets of parliament. We will now be avoiding the people’s bullets if they disapprove of me. I’m still nothing but a simple man who fell in love with a woman with a royal title. No matter what has transpired or what will follow, I will never be royal. I may honour the title dubbed upon me, but my blood is not royal. I’m a commoner.

I kiss her forehead before taking a step back, “After you, Queen,” I smile, motioning for her to step out on the balcony and address her supporters. Anastasia steps out wearing the Imperial State Crown and the Royal Robes to greet the cheering crowds. I move behind her, in awe at how the people applaud her the moment she is regarded. I do not doubt in my mind that Anna is going to go down in history as an astonishing Queen.

Anastasia glances over her shoulder, and I step closer to her, placing my arm around her as she does an honorary wave, “Your Dad always said that you could tell a lot by the way a royal greets their people— But I think you can tell a lot by the way the people greets the royal,” I comment, still in awe at how welcoming and pleasant the crowd is towards Anastasia. I have never witnessed such an event. They love her, absolutely love and adore her. They approve of her reign, and I think that’s something Anna didn’t realise would occur. Although Parliament is against her, the people are living proof of where true loyalty and power lies.

“You can tell a lot by the person standing next to the reigning ruler,” Anastasia answers, leaning up to kiss my cheek, sealing our fate of publicly expressing our relationship. “I love you, Harry. I love you today, and I’ll love you tomorrow and the day after. The monarch, the people and parliament do not define that. They do not control us– we reign,” Anastasia informs me, “As quickly as we have gained this monarch, I’ll gladly give it up in a heartbeat for you. You once asked me to surrender the crown for us to be together, and I denied you… standing here, with the crown, I’ll happily give it up if you have second thoughts about this.”

Even at her highest moment where she should be proud of herself and what we have contrived to do, and even after how hard I fought to not only keep her crown but to hand it back to her strategically, she’ll still selflessly give it up for me. I shake my head, “This is your fathers legacy to live on. I don’t want you to surrender for me.”

Anastasia does not know, but I have fought Pippa for weeks to let Anna take her crown back. I have contended and pleaded until I broke and spoke to Anastasia’s mother, where we devised the plan to double-cross Pippa. I allowed Pippa to believe I would support her dream and take the crown officially today; I allowed her to think that I recognised that Anastasia was unfit to rule and that it should be left to me. I kept the crown and what the King worked for safe. I protected the palace against the media and spread of false rumours, I defended the castle from the backlash of Victoria and Henry’s murders— I worked diligently to be able to give Anastasia her rightful crown— I worked hard to provide her with the right to choose to do as she wishes with the monarch. I will stand by her with whatever decision she executes if she rules; I will stand by Anna and proudly watch her govern the country. If she abolishes, I will stand beside Anna and hold her as she makes the hardest decision of her life. If she chooses to overthrow parliament, I will stand beside Anastasia and grin as she takes back the control they have taken from her family. I will honour Anastasia as my wife, and I will protect her as her husband and security detail. Still, most importantly, I will love her no matter what decision she chooses to make regarding the crown.

The crown has broken her, but it has also made her who she is. It has challenged her to no ends, but she has perpetually come out on top. She’s a fighter and doesn’t back down from a fight, and I don’t think she’s going to back down from the monarchy now.

“I love you,” Anastasia breathes out.

“I love you, too,” I respond, straightening her crown that has fallen a little too forward. No matter what occurs in this life of ours, I will always be here to adjust her crown, literally and metaphorically.

Anastasia presents the people one last wave before she turns on the 'Lights of London'. Lights cascade down the Mall, kindling the tremendous cypher on Admiralty Arch and transforming the fountains in Trafalgar Square into flowing silver until all the floodlights from the National Gallery to the Tower of London have been enkindled.

The lights illuminate, as does her reign. Anastasia wanders inside, and I follow her, relieved to support the people on our side. Parliament and the monarchy’s dictates may disagree with our marriage. Some of the staff may not even agree, but possessing the people’s blessing makes things a bit more permissive.

I close the doors behind us and concede the sheer curtains to slide across so the people cannot see in. As this may be the closing of a chapter, it’s just the beginning for us and our story.

[chaoticowlpost]

helloooo if you’re taking prompts could i have drarry with babies ! like maybe they’re babysitting kids from the weasley family but none of the weasley members believe harry when he talks about the silly stunts draco sometimes pull to make the kids laugh

Hello I’m big dumbass and it appears that I’ve overestimated my ability to multitask so...im sorry ksdjfnfd also tHIS WAS SO CUTE AND FUN TO WRITE SO it’s getting multiple parts and nobody can stop me. Here’s day 1 <3

--------------------------------------------------

“And you’re absolutely sure that you don’t mind watching over the kids?” Hermione asked for the nth time that morning.

“I told you already,” Harry said, trying to calm his best friend down. “It’ll be fine. We’ve managed before.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t all the Weasley kids before, was it?” she asked smartly, raising an eyebrow at him. “And it’s not just you I’m worried about. I know this means taking up Draco’s time as well.”

“He absolutely loves the children,” Harry grinned. “And they listen to him well enough. Now, go and enjoy Romania with the others, and you’ll see that there was nothing to worry about when you come back.”

Her gaze softened just a fraction before she threw her arms around him. “Thank you so much for doing this,” she said. “I really wish you could come with us.”

Harry couldn’t join them in visiting Charlie on this trip because of work and, while he does see the Weasleys as his family, he knew that Charlie wanted to introduce them to his boyfriend and Harry didn’t want to make the poor bloke more nervous by adding to the audience. He accidentally slipped that little bit of information the last time he visited, and Harry had managed to keep it a secret until now.

“I’ll see you in 3 days, ‘Mione,” Harry said once she finally released him.

“Kindly refrain from staining my trousers, young man,” a voice that was just loud enough to hint that he was not in his calmest moment sounded from the kitchen. Both Harry and Hermione exchanged glances for a second before breaking into huge grins. 

“Now, Victoire, do not tangle your sister’s hair- yes, darling, I know how to do a braid.”

“I believe that’s my cue to leave,” Hermione giggled. “Say goodbye to Draco for me.”

“Will do,” he smiled, waving her off before closing the door. “Draco! Do you need any help setting out lunch?”

He walked into the kitchen to see exactly 10 children running around the kitchen and sitting room, because Teddy was also present. In other words, it was a mess.

“Some help would be appreciated, yes,” Draco glared, bouncing Hugo at his hip while holding Roxanne’s hand. In Harry’s mind, however, all he could think about was how parenting looked good on his boyfriend.

“Right, I’ll cook while you settle everyone down, yeah?’ Harry offered, watching how the older kids ran around the place, teasing each other, while the younger ones were more enamored with the telly or, in Rose’s case, a book.

“Please,” Draco breathed a sigh of relief. “I don’t think it would be such a great idea to have these ones near a stove.”

Their kitchen and living room were separated by a few meters of space and a counter top with some bar stools. This meant that Harry would still be able to keep an eye on some of them while he cooked in case Draco was distracted.

And really, how could you not get distracted when there were 10 small children running about the place.

First, he sat Roxanne down in front of the telly, next to Rose, and Louis. Fred, along with Victoire and Teddy, were running around and chasing each other in a game of tag, from what Harry gathered. Silently, he thanked Draco for talking him into buying the larger flat because he knew they’d have guests over.

And, luckily for his poor boyfriend, Lucy and Dominique were happy to sit around and just talk about some topic or the other.

“What would it take to get you to calm down before lunch?” It didn’t sound like Draco was pleading. In fact, it was almost comical the way he talked and bargained with them as if they were adults.

One of the children shouted a name of some TV show Harry’s never heard of.

“Yeah!” Louis agreed. “Mama never lets me watch that show.”

Harry watched as Draco raised an eyebrow at them, each with either sheepish or devious expressions. Then, contrary to what Harry expected to happen, Draco flicked over to the requested channel and eyed the cartoon skeptically before giving them an answering shrug.

“Looks fine to me,” Draco said before handing Teddy the remote. “Lunch should be ready soon.”

It was rather amusing to see a large group of children just staring wide-eyed at a TV screen, all enamored with the storyline. 

“Uncle Draco,” a soft voice said, making Harry look back over the counter. He saw Rose tug on Draco’s arm, grabbing his attention. Draco knelt down on one knee until they were at eye-level before asking what she needed.

“I don’t really like this show,” Rose admitted, looking down. “Can you read with me instead?”

“Of course,” Draco nodded, agreeing easily. 

“I read out loud, though,” the small girl frowned before throwing a worried glance at the rest. “They might get distracted.”

“Silencing charm,” Draco shrugged. “Besides, my mother used to always read to me aloud. When I was younger, she would read me stories while I acted them out in my bedroom. Sometimes with the house elves.”

“Really?” Rose asked with wide, curious eyes. “Can you act for my story, too?”

Without missing a beat, Draco responded, “If you’d like me too.”

They moved to the other side of the sitting room before casting a silencing charm. At first, it seemed that Rose was just reading shyly, but then burst into giggles once Draco said something, his mouth moving wordlessly through the charm, before giving her a deep, dramatic bow.

He began conjuring little sets and props around them as the story progressed, even making mini snowmen dance in their flat. Harry wasn’t exactly sure what the story was, but he was pretty entertained as well. At some point, Draco even handed her a toy sword - wherever he got that from.

“Woah,” Teddy gasped, looking at the scene behind him. More props continued to be produced while Draco acted his role proudly, almost as if he were a kid again. 

One by one, the children began to direct their attention towards what was happening behind them before finally deciding to make their way over and join the pair.

Harry was quite surprised they were willing to set aside their TV show so easily, but he liked that they were all doing something together nonetheless.

“I want to be the knight!” Louis called, taking hold of another toy sword. 

“Can I be the queen?” Victoire asked, waving her hand in the air.

“I’m already the queen,” Rose said apologetically. “She’s also the narrator.”

“You can be the princess that came to stop her,” Draco offered, producing a small tiara for her to wear. By the end of it, each had their own small prop that identified their characters.

If Harry were to judge, it felt like Teddy was more in it to poke the rest around with his sword, but he wasn’t going to judge. Not his problem. 

They repeated their lines after Rose read them aloud, perched happily on her own armchair. It was quite a mess to watch, seeing them argue about how some of the action scenes should play out and be melodramatic with their roles.

“Lunch is ready,” Harry called eventually, but his words were drowned out by Fred’s shout.

“Charge, soldiers!”

Perhaps lunch could wait, Harry figured with a small grin. 

-————————————————-

Masterlist

Send a Prompt

A/N: Okay, to the others who sent me prompts, chances are they’re in queue or I couldn’t help myself and it’s getting more than 1 part because there’s no fighting the inevitable. Sorry for the wait JHSBDFJSF ALSO day 2 and 3 of this will be posted alternating with the other stories in queue.

Thanks for reading <3

[liamloveslarry]

Baker! Harry & Primary School Teacher! Louis

so, a couple of weeks ago i made a little post about how i’d love for people to send me prompts/writing ideas and the lovely @louistsbravery sent me one based off her moodboard she so kindly made, here!

my brain kind of ran away with me and so i hope you like this, i tried to stick to the theme as best i could, enjoy! :)

Harry eyes the man from behind the counter. 

He watches him as his eyes scan the board above from where he’s standing, sleepy blue orbs blinking tiredly behind the square glasses perched upon his nose. 

His heart thumps something fierce when he notices the tufts of brown hair sticking out slightly from behind his ear, a noticeable trait he assumes from lack of sleep and too many early mornings.

It’s 6 o’clock in the morning and the sun is barely edging over cobbled streets and tall buildings, its shimmering waves casting a pale glow over puddles on the pavement and bouncing off lampposts. 

‘Babs Bakery’ is nestled between a small row of shops along the Northern Quarter. Its quaint, rustic exterior leads itself into a small tea room and peaceful eating area. Potted plants line the windowsill outside while the smell of fresh baked scones and coffee beans pulse and weave through the air, an atmosphere Harry’s prone to taking naps in.

He’s been here for about a year now, taking over from his Nana when she’d gotten too old to carry on the business, but he hadn’t changed a thing. It might be slightly old fashioned but it reminds him of his grandparents and how he used to sit at the table in the corner by the window with his colouring book and jumbo crayons, while being served hot vimto and iced fingers.

A small cough nudges Harry from his stupor and he blinks, realising he’s been staring. The man is smiling slightly, the last traces of sleep pull at his lips as he lifts his hand to cover his mouth while he lets out a yawn.

“Morning.” He says, his Northern twang is raspy and gentle, a higher pitched lilt whispering through words.

Harry wipes his clammy hands on his apron and steps forward, fingertips drumming along the counters edge. He can see the man’s wearing a light blue button up underneath a soft, grey jumper. Pale pink tie burrowed in between. A shoulder bag is situated over his left arm and there are textbooks, papers and pens bursting through the zip.

“Hey. G’morning.” He replies, fingers aching to touch him. “Find anything you like?”

The man squints one more time at the blackboard, eyes moving over loopy words and today’s specials.

“I think,” he says, dragging out the ‘I’. Harry finds it that endearing he has to grip the countertop and remind himself to keep breathing. “I think I’m gonna go for a latte and a cheese and ham toastie, please. Is that alright?” 

Harry nods and reaches for a paper cup. “Is that to go or stay in?” He asks.

“To go, please. Need to make sure I get to work before the little monsters. If I time it right, the caffeine rush lasts all day.” The man responds, smirking a little. “I swear I love my job, but sometimes they can be a handful.”

Harry nods and spins on the spot, turning the face the coffee machine and placing the cup underneath the metal nozzle. There’s a spurt and a groan before hot milk starts to pour into the cup.

“Am I right in assuming you’re talking about children, not animals, right?”

The man laughs and Harry blinks up towards the ceiling, whispering a quiet ‘fuck’ as his knees buckle. 

“Yep! Early years. I work at the Primary School just down the road. The only animal I have is Eden here, and she’s still asleep the lucky buggar.”

“Eden?” Harry asks, as he places the cheese and meat on top of the bread baked only this morning, crumbing bits of pepper on top and drizzling balsamic vinegar over the sharp cheddar. 

He places it into the small oven and turns the timer on.

“Yeah, heh. Sorry. She’s my pet rabbit and the kids go crazy when I bring her in. I hope you don’t mind me bringing her in here? She’s in her carrier so she can’t escape.” Louis looks sheepish, and he rubs the back of his neck while he flicks his eyes up to meet Harry’s; but the look is quickly dissolved when Harry dashes around the counter and asks if he can see her.

Louis nods and steps aside, giving view to the medium sized carrier sat next to his feet.

Harry crouches and sees through the bars, a small golden rabbit, tufts of white fur peeking through the strands. Her nose twitches in sleep and her soft whiskers brush Harry’s fingertips lightly where he’s resting against the metal bars. 

“Oh my, she’s so cute.” He whispers, not wanting to wake the sleeping animal. 

He peers up at the man from where he’s situated on the floor and realises he’s eye level with the fly of his work pants. He flushes and bends his knees, standing up. 

This only makes things worse as he’s now directly facing him, no counter in between their bodies. If Harry were to inch his fingers out, he’d feel just how soft his jumper is. He flexes his knuckles and reminds himself not to think about if his skin is as soft as his voice.

He coughs into his fist and steps back.

“Sorry – uh. I just love animals. And I don’t mind them in the shop,” he nods his head to where a small tank rests next to the till. “I have one of my own to keep me company, too.”

A plump goldfish swims happily from rock to rock, bobbing his tiny mouth as he scoops up the remaining pieces of fish food Harry had sprinkled in earlier.

Louis spins to face the tiny morsel, but only after his eyes drop down to where Harry’s biting his lip, a small bridge of pink scattered over his nose and cheeks.

“Nice.” He says, smiling at Harry once more. “What’s its name?” 

Harry walks back around the counter and scoops the cup from underneath the machine and presses the button on the timer, stopping the chirps that are signalling the food is ready. 

He places the items down in front of the man and bends to rest his elbows on the counter, reaching one finger out to follow the fish through the glass.

“Phillip.” He huffs, the sound sculpting into an embarrassed laugh. 

Louis looks at him with his eyebrows raised, a small grin quirking his lips.

Harry groans quietly and rolls his eyes.

“Please don’t ask – my niece named him and I couldn’t say no.”

Louis laughs and reaches a hand into his pants pocket, pulling out his wallet and sliding his card out of the slot. 

“Mate, you don’t need to explain anything to me.” He says. “I deal with 15 of them on a daily basis, why d’ya think I bought a bloody bunny?” 

He smirks as he places the card into the reader and enters his pin, and Harry stares at the way the sun is peeking its way in through the windows, causing the man’s hair to shine, highlighting his cheekbones and lightly freckled skin.

He stands there for another couple of seconds before the reader beeps and he pulls his card out. 

“Cool, well - I think that’s me.” The man says, slipping his wallet back into his pocket and gathering the items in his hands. “I guess I’ll see you around, uh?” he looks a little expectantly at Harry and smiles, a tiny quirk of his top lip.

“Harry.”

“Louis,” he replies. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around then, Harry.” 

Harry manages a wave before the man is out the door, smiling at him through the window one last time before he disappears down the street.

-

It isn’t until Harry’s shutting up shop and wiping down the counters that he spots a small folded piece of paper, wedged in underneath the till.

He frowns and drops the cloth, peeling open the sharp edges until scrawled black writing looks back at him, reading:

“Nice Buns!” 

Harry stares at the letters and the scribbly, rushed image of two iced buns smiling and feels a flush work its way from the top of his head to the bottom of his toes.

The thing is, is that Harry doesn’t know who could’ve done this. 

The bakery’s been busy non-stop all day and plenty of customers have been in and out over the last eight or so hours, and so he’s confused as to who left him the note.

He pockets the piece of paper and picks up his cloth, continuing to clean.

This time with a small smile etched onto his face.

-

The notes keep appearing after that. 

Once a day, in the same spot as before. 

Usually, Harry only notices them at the end of his shift, treating them as little surprises after his busy schedule.

Some days there are short sentences, wishing him a good day, and other days there are lyrics from songs that make him smile, every now and then there’s a cheeky one liner that makes him blush.

There’s a small glass jar that sits beside the toaster where he keeps them, day in, day out, the glass gets fuller. Sometimes Harry, after a bad day, will twist the top off and read through them one by one, curling up on the chair by the window and instantly feeling the stress of the day melt from his shoulders, sated happiness washing over him.

He hasn’t yet managed to find the person on the other end of the notes, always too busy to stop and look. And anyway, what would he say if he found out? Yes? Maybe? ‘No Jonathan, if this is you, I’m not into threesomes so stop asking me?’

He kind of likes there being an air of mysteriousness to them. 

But he guesses, it wouldn’t be so bad if it turned out to be a certain someone, now would it?

-

It’s after an unusually busy day that has Harry rushing around on his feet and trying to serve a long line of customers that seems never ending, flour dusted through his hair and balancing both dishing out food and cleaning up after people, that come 5 o’clock, he’s exhausted and practically dead on his feet.

He slumps against the counter and rests his head down between his shoulder blades, having a minute to himself and heaving a big sigh, when he hears the telltale sign of footsteps approaching him, shuffling he thinks, a little slowly.

“Hey.”

He whips his head up and sees Louis. 

His hair is a mess and there’s a line of purple felt tip staining his cheek. His tie is skewed and the top button of his shirt is undone, Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he swallows, lightly dusted with midnight scruff. 

“Sorry, I know you’re uh-technically closing soon,” he says, “I just wanted to pop in really quick for one of those chocolate chip muffins? My sister’s coming up for a few days and I need something sweet to get me through, long day ‘n all. Which I’m sure you can relate to.”

Harry huffs a laugh and nods his head, turning to face the cabinet full of pastries and frowns when he realises there aren’t any in there. He closes his eyes and sighs.

“Ah, sorry. It looks like we’re out, I have a fresh batch of blueberry in the back if that’s okay?”

Louis nods and smiles and Harry wanders into the back, letting the smell of bread and cookies sprinkle over him as he pulls out one of the trays and picks a particularly plump muffin, bouncy slightly in texture.

He finds Louis in the same spot as he was before, only this time he’s rubbing his eye with his fist, looking even more tired than when he first padded in. 

He waves the muffin at Louis who grins in response, arm falling back to his side and walking closer to the counter.

“Let me just wrap this up for you.” Harry says, and places the muffin in a small decorative box, closing the lid and taping it with a sticker.

When Louis’ walking towards the door a couple of minutes later, he looks over his shoulder and says,

“You might wanna check something over there,” nodding his head to a small counter display full of flapjacks, where a piece of paper looks to be slotted in between, sticking up as if waiting to be plucked, “looks like you missed something.”

And then with one last smile that’s bordering on slightly nervous, he’s gone.

-

Ten seconds later when Harry unpicks the paper, the words ‘you bake me crazy, wanna grab a drink sometime?’ look back at him.

He thinks back to the other day and presses his lips together, suppressing a smile and biting his lip.

He knows just what to say.

-

And then, three years later when he stares down at the ring and card with two pieces of bread on the front and reads, ‘I loaf you very much, shall we grow mould together?’

And he looks into teary blue eyes.

He knows just what to say then too.

[vcsecretgifts]

Snap shot in time

From: @auburnandamberangel

Merry Christmas @plopofcolour Qotd era Khayman and Armand interaction on the Night Island. Hope you like ^u^

~~~

Armand watched Khayman looking at his upper terrace garden, the plants benefiting not only from the sunshine but also the seaspray. The cacti, the large Saguaros with their armed tall appearance especially had captured the ancients fascination. The silhouettes classic to many a western. They weren’t indigenous to Egypt, effectively a new world plant, and certainly capturing this until recently slumbering vampire. Perhaps as they too were long lived, slow in maturing. He had his cameras slung over his neck and shoulder wanting to capture the bloom on one of them, a first. He recorded all of them on this island. Mementos.

Khayman was a very good guest, polite, and surprisingly unaloof compared to other vampires of a similar age. ‘Mr manners leaves their bodies after the first few thousand years!’ Daniel had observed dryly not to long ago as they say in said same garden, watching the waves. Sitting on the stone steps, snuggly between Daniels stretched out legs. Barely dead himself, so manys ways appeared rude by his modern standards. “Not all are…impolite.” Daniel had nodded, smiling almost as if he’d read his mind and knew he was thinking of the Egyptian. Which was impossible, he just people watched very well. And surely he was an expert in Armand observations by now.

“Ahh but Khayman was nice as a human, not many airs on him plus he’s sweet on you. So you’re the last person he’d be short with.” Interestingly not too much jealousy in that statement. A small possessive kiss to the top of his head, caressing of his arms about his waist. Their guests came and went, things were more peaceful minus some of their vampire brethren. Peaceful between them even. Born in a time of crisis, his home even invaded it wasn’t ideal for them even with a notorious nosey parker like his fledgling. He’d borne so much strain at his hands before being turned, it worried Armand. Sometimes they fought as he instinctually pulled back.

“The fact he’s easy on the eye doesn’t hurt much either does it.” Daniel added laughter in his voice. Teasing. Armand smiled despite himself turning his head. “But I’m famous for a penchant for blondes darling aren’t I.”

“Except Louis.” His beloved kissing his dimples. And others he’d best not mention. Not eager to quote that book at him right now.

“Hmmmm. Nice to not always be predictable then.” Kissing Daniels matching smile. It had ended up being a very good evening that night. Allowing himself to bask in the glow of the memory of it.

Khayman found the sea soothing, the air fresh and the garden a magical oasis. A small movement betrayed his hosts presence, rare to not have an exuberant Daniel or hesitant brooding Marius in orbiting attendance around Armand. Moths to this ’cherubs’ - seraphin now surely more apts flame- A ethereal beauty no matter the flowery language. In his time one destined to be blessed by the gods. A soul just as full of substance as his appearance. To think without her, the mother waking he’d probably not have crossed paths with this one. So artful at cloaking his presence. Deep in thought he was looking at him, but not really seeing him. Caught in a recollection. Unguarded he looked so young, in the eyes the depth and knowledge in them gave his age away. This was the way with their kind. Trapped in their making, the soul grew seen through the orbs alone. Somehow still warmth there, if the mood was right. A miracle considering the heartache had been through in so far centuries. He would do much to make sure he didn’t make those eyes cold. Watching this former coven master navigate so many vampires in his sanctuary, first love mingling with last. Struck by the poise. The former parents guardian, the Roman made said face light up and close down in equal measure. Not his place to intervene ofcourse, though tempting. Best to announce his presence, so Armand didn’t feel too exposed.

“Armand, good evening. Was there something I can aid you with?” Smooth heavily accented voice totally interrupting his reverie. “Did you want private time in your garden?” Previously observed vampire catching him unawares, hoping he hadn’t left himself open to scrutiny thoughts wise. His mind usually locked up tight, some of the first brood lacked finesse with the mind gift, it coming to them later. But what they lacked in finesse, could be made up by brute force alone. Being Marius’ blood line vicariously provided some civility that otherwise may not exist, for a not even five hundred year old former cult coven leader. Ageism was alive and well in their surviving group from Akashas cull. As if age always came with wisdom… Khayman had been gentle and respectful in his manner towards him. Armand appreciated this from his most recent friend. He saw him as he was, no judgement.

“No not at all. I take pleasure in seeing enjoyment from my garden. The cacti have you in their thrall I see.” Genuine smile to the ancient. Moving closer. The garden lit by coloured uplights here and there to make it appealing.

“They are exotic to my old eyes, yes. Beautiful yet dangerous. So like us I feel.” Small smile back. “Your a gracious host, I know it’s not in most of your nature’s to live on mass for long. You’ve been patient where you could have been firm. Silent when you could have spoken.” Khaymans turn to watch and enjoy the view that had nothing to do with the garden, but more it’s creator.

“Ah well, tact or diplomacy is something I’ve always had to have. Never to speak unless it improves the silence or my position in it.” Being quite open now in this admission. Unusually candid for himself truly. He didn’t think he’d regret it in this situation.

“The lone jackel is a hard role to break, though it’s served you well.” The ancient replied. Looking back at the cacti. “How old is this one then?”

“This one is around seventy years. It’s the first year it’s flowered, you’re lucky to have witnessed it.” Itching to take a picture of the flower, and perhaps Khayman too if he was truthful with himself. Just incase his stay was brief and centuries passed until another meeting of minds. “But they can live to around one hundred and seventy five perhaps even two hundred years. Not bad for a desert dweller.”

Khayman eyed the camera, that was the term wasn’t it. One of the magical picture capturers. “You’ll record it with this?” He hadn’t tried anything new in a while. Armand was patient, the best person to ask to try. “How?” He uttered before he had time to edit.

Inquisitive and open to instruction, not your average elder. Refreshing like the sea breeze. “I need a tripod, unless you can hold it steady as a rock. I’ll do both.” Zipping inside and then back out to get it. “I’ll need a long exposure to make the most of the moon light, and a flash for my close ups. The window inside opens for the picked time, the light hits the film and makes an imprint like an eye I suppose but in reverse, or inverse a negative. We can use the darkroom next.” Twinkle in his eye as he saw the ancients eyes widen. “The Polaroid develops as you shake it.” It must sound odd to the others ears.

“Witchcraft then. I’m an apprentice to a modern sorcerer.” Pleased by the laugh this comment brought from Armand.

“Usually I’m called bewitching. But I’ve been accused of worse.” Daniels words echoing in his head, pleased he didn’t blush as easily as said youngblood.

Gingerly taking the camera and going still, statue like as he could. A trick you learnt which came easily with age. Though it usually unnerved younger immortals. *Direct me as if I’m a tripod.* He said is the mind voice. Armands softer hands aiming the slr camera for a closeup. Physical contact was a luxury being a nomad rarely afforded.

Hearing the snap of the inner workings, turning of the spool. With each shot, the flash singing. Armand liked this process, methodical, practised yet still room for error and surprise. *Move back a little so I can get a portrait of it. Perhaps one of and for you to take with you?* Because people leave - eventually. This was always a possibility. Sentiment came with a cost, this he always knew.

A photo to keep. An anchor would be good for times Khayman felt unsteady. Stronger by the year, but wispy in his soul sometimes. A welcome light in the Night Island Villa, to concentrate on. *Yes. A portrait of plant, myself and it’s guardian even better.*

Warm glance, nodding his answer. “This also has a cable to take a photograph at a distance. A bellow balloon, a tube and a metal press.” Screwing it into the button. Then retrieving it from the taller elder. Fixing this on the tripod via it’s own foot. Let’s set ourselves up. Standing and leaning into the framing arms of the cactus, as if the plant was behind them, reaching to hold them close.

Khayman followed the younger ones lead. Moving in closer and realising he could smell Armands hair. Wondering if this was his shampoo or just his natural scent. Vampires sometimes exuded a odour that was unique to them, a spice in the blood perhaps. Marius had made him, imbued with donations by Akasha during his guardianship. Perhaps he had smelt like this in Venice as a mortal. Not something he could easily ask the child of two millennia. Nor share a want to share his blood to strengthen those below a thousand in their coven, truthfully only this one piqued his interest.

Armand had the cord behind his back to depress at just the right moment. Khaymans strong heartrate was hard to ignore so close. “Ready. One two three.” Not using cheese, referring to a dairy product as slang for smiling usually put older vampires in a spin. So a countdown better. Not flinching at the flash or the next long exposure. “Always take more than one for practicality.” Moving to replace the lens cap and concentrate on the Polaroid camera in front of him now. “Arguably this one is like magic.” He stated with a smile. “As Daniel can attest I took so many in our early years here.” Boxes and boxes of them, indulgent expression on his face. He was rich, but some things were priceless that had little monetary value in his collection. “Strike your next pose. Make yourself comfortable.”

Khayman liked Daniel. He was full of life, and hoped that energy didn’t turn downwards into madness. Knowing Armand was concerned with this too, any elder making a first fledgling would be - especially one as fond of forward planning as his host. Smiling nervous about doing something wrong. Hoping irrationally it wasn’t magic, as magic never bode well. Flash and snap. Painless. Wondering what the twins back in Sonomo thought of this new family, Mekare learning after her travelling the wilderness. Focus on Jesse, their link to Miriam.

Armand handed the Polaroid by its framed white bottom edge to the elder. “Now shake it, and you’ll slowly appear.” Charmed by Khaymans expression, bouyed one so old could still feel the wonder of the new. Despite intermittent sleeps. Hope for all of them surely. Watching Khayman watching the photograph as it developed. “What do you think?”

Bit by bit the image appeared - the dark background shading in firstly, the bright green cacti appearing next with its vibrant blooms. Then the paled by time figure, a smile all for the taker. Now one such photo of Armand with or without himself would be wondrous. “A fine picture.” So excited he placed kisses on Armands cheeks stopping before he daren’t put any on those rosy lips. Moving faster than he usually did, enveloping the younger vampire in a hug would perhaps be too much of a liberty. They had time. “One of us next, yes?”

Armand didn’t have time to start at the sudden movement of the ancient. Stealing himself to be squeezed, fortunate it didn’t come to pass. Khayman smelt inviting though, heady blood from their fount. Marius would be jealous no doubt. But he wasn’t here was he. Attending to Pandora, a promise of a return soon. As ever time would tell. Trying not to stare at Khaymans lips. “Yes. An instant portrait next.” Glad of someone who gave as much as he took.

[inkandpen22]

Time is Irrelevant (5/?):

Pairing: Eleventh Doctor x reader 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3.8k

Part Summary: Y/N and The Doctor arrive in their new destination, Philadelphia, 1778

Masterlist

When I open my eyes, my head is pounding, the feeling is all too familiar. My body rolls over and I feel the plush grass beneath me. A warm gust of airbrushes over me like a silky blanket. It’s warm on my face, the season must be summer or late spring. I hear someone moving about around me over old leaves and sticks. My eyes fly open and I swing legs to rock over whomever is walking around. I watch as The Doctor falls onto the grass with me. 

“Ouch!” He hisses, “what was that for?”

He rubs his tailbone like a pansy. I hardly knocked him down that hard, he’s being melodramatic.

“You couldn’t give me a warning before we poofed?!” I bark at him, rising to my feet, a tad wobbly. My head is still rattled.

“We couldn’t be seen!” He argues.“Besides, what difference would it make? You’d end up here anyway!” 

He stands and brushes off the leaves and dirt from his outfit. “Put these on,” he tosses a pile of clothes at me. 

I peer down and it appears to be corset and colonial dress, yet again. “Well don’t I get some privacy?” 

“Oh! Yes! Right!” The Doctor nervously turns his back to me. 

I huff, building up the energy to get ready. “I must say, I much prefer this attire over the French. At least I don’t have to wear a pannier skirt. That thing was dreadful! I can tolerate these heels for a decent color.”

Doctor finds humor in my bitter complaints. “My apologizes, they don’t have your usual sneakers in the 18th century.” 

“Where are we anyway?” I ask him as I spin in a circle to scan our surroundings. There’s simply woods for as far as the eye can see. A woods is just a woods to me, no matter the year.

“Just outside Philadelphia, June 5th, 1778.”

“Yes, thank God,” I release a sigh of relief. “Finally on American soil again! Well, soon to be America.”

Pondering over the information, location, and date, I narrow down the possible reasons we would need to land in Philadelphia during the American Revolution.

Especially, so early in the war. Then, it hits me. The lightbulb above my head switches on. It’s clear as the day. I squeal once I realize the answer. and Doctor is at a loss.

“Philadelphia! In June!” I jump up and down.

The Doctor nods his head slowly, still facing the opposite direction. “Yes… we are… why? What’s so significant about Philadelphia?”

I continue my celebration as I bop about like Tigger. “It’s Valley Forge! Hello!”

I finish getting ready and making sure everything is in its place. “Okay, all set!” 

The Doctor spins on his heels to face me and clasps his hands together. “Yes! Excellent!” He gestures toward a direction, I assume toward town. “This way to the road,” he explains.

We begin our hike. I first kick off my heels, can’t walk through mud in heels. The doctor does the same, one flaw of the colonial era, constant heels. There are many more but that one is the current dilemma. We come to a path after what seems like forever and Doctor appears to know exactly where we’re headed.

“Washington’s Army is at Washington’s home until the end of the month. They stayed there for the winter as headquarters. However, the conditions were terrible! About 2,000 men died this past winter.” I break the silence.

There’s a comfortable pause that falls between us. I can tell without having to look that the wheels in his head are turning.

His brows scrunch, together. “We’re in 1778 colonial America to visit a sad military campsite? Why would we need to come here?” 

I stifle my laughter. “No, no, it’s more than that! The Continental Army has just formed an alliance with France in May. This is a huge win for them! Marquis de Lafayette, a French officer, is a huge asset to Washington. If it weren’t the Franco-American alliance, the colonies would’ve lost the war. It’s a pivotal few months for the revolution,” I enthusiastically describe. “They just had major victories and this past winter has thus far been their greatest defeat. Of course, from the ashes rises a greater and stronger army. The suffering motivates the men more to fight for their independence.”

I glance over at Doctor and he expresses an admiring gaze with a grin. I cower out of shyness, warmth coats my cheeks.

“What?” I inquire, “what is it?”

He shakes his head, grinning wider “nothing, just looking.”

I direct my attention ahead but I can feel his stare blasting into my side. My cheeks only redden more under his stare. I’m not into him or anything, I just despise being the center of attention. Promise.

We continue down the path toward the city, the sun is beginning to set the breeze is becoming a bit nippy. The Doctor shakes to remove his coat and places it over my shoulders. He rubs his palms up and down my arms to warm me up.

“Thank you,” I say, wrapping the coat around me.

“No problem,” he assures me as he keeps an arm around me to radiate some warmth. I lean into his side, embracing the natural heat he gives off.

“I… I… I’m sorry about what happened in France,” he manages to get out. “I’m not entirely sure what occurred between you and the King but I’m sorry that you two didn’t have any time to say goodbye.”

I remain quiet, listening to he speak and feeling his chest vibrate as he does.

“I did read the book on the French Revolution, by the way. I read about what happens to King Louis and all of them. I understand why it was so hard for you to let go considering the circumstances. The most important thing to remember while we travel Y/N is we can’t fix history. Things happen for a reason and we can’t change that… will you be okay?”

Bringing in the crisp winter air, I hum. “I understand the importance of maintaining the timeline. I feel sorry for Louis but as you said, things happen for a reason and we can’t change that. What happened between Louis and I was merely an understanding for one another. If my time was 1778, he and I would’ve had a great friendship but the universe doesn’t work in our favor. We can’t manipulate time so there’s no point discussing the topic any further.” I declare, finding it too hard to speak of it.

I could have saved a life and walk away. I could save all of them and I did nothing. The doctor can tell me repeatedly that none of what will or has happened will be my fault but the guilt will never disappear. I rest my head on his shoulder and he rests his over mine. I glance up at the sky, the sun is fully set and the stars make their first appearance. When I look up at the stars, I see and think of only him.

“When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars. And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun,” I whisper Shakespeare into the air.

The doctor rubs his hand up and down my back “what was that?”

“Nothing,” I reply simply and admire the stars for their beauty.

We went further back in time but there isn’t a doubt in my mind that Louis looked at the stars. He may not know it yet but someday looking up at the stars will have a meaning.

An hour later and we’re sat in a tavern that smells of stale beer, burning wood in the fireplace, tobacco, and unshowered men. The owner's wife slams the mugs of beer on our table and some spills over-explain the stickiness. I must seem uncomfortable because The Doctor laughs at me.

“You stand out when you do that,” he waves his finger at me.

“What do you mean?” I question defensively. 

“You're as stiff as a board! Relax a little,” he rolls his shoulders to demonstrate. 

I huff, finding the task impossible. “How do you like it here? It’s unsanitary and has a hundred different smells!”

He chugs half of his beer to finish it.  “I’ve been in worse holes in the wall. Be thankful that the floor is actually a floor and not dirt. Also that the beer is semi-decent and not sour wine.”

Taking in my surroundings, I notice the owner going through a back door leading out to an alleyway. He rolls in a new barrel of this liquid bread. In the distance, church bells signal the clock striking the hour. I steal a sip from my mug and it makes Natural Light taste high-end.

“I need to go.” The Doctor tosses back the remainder of his drink and pushes back his chair.

“Wait, what? You’re leaving?! To go where?!” I hate it when he does this! It’s like leaving me in a foreign country and I can’t speak the language. 

He waves the owner’s wife to our table. “Yes, I need to gather a few things. Stay here!” He orders, strangely searching the tavern frantically.

“So basically you’re going to steal again? Is that what all our so-called “trips” are about, you stealing historical artifacts? If so, I’ll have nothing to do with it! You’re always preaching about not altering history yet here you are doing just that!”

He rolls his eyes as the owner’s wife comes up to our table with some pitchers of ale.

“What can I getcha?” Her thick Scottish accent catches my attention more than her question. The doctor ignores her and addresses me again.

“Stay here, don’t go anywhere and do anything reckless like last time,” he demands, referring to my close encounter with Louis. He heads to the door of the dim-lit tavern, ready to leave me alone with a swarm of men. He stops to look over his shoulder before departing.

“And no,” he says with a melancholy expression, “that’s not what this is all about.”

In a blink of an eye, he disappears into the night to who knows where. Disapproving of his behavior but unable to do much about it, I simply chug the rest of my nasty beer. Slamming it down onto the table, I order another from the woman.

“Coming right up Miss.” She goes back to the bar to fill her pitchers.

The time alone is rare. I suppose I should be thankful. I’ve been gone for nearly a week now. I wonder how my family and friends must be feeling. I fell off the face of the earth practically. Granted, I could simply go back to when I was with Doctor at dinner and all would be as though nothing happened. What if I’m gone for a year? What if I went for longer, so long that’ll look older? How would I explain that? Then there’s the idea of altering history. What if my very presence in this tavern is changing something? For all I know, the smallest actions I make could change the course of time.

“Here ya are,” the woman slides me my new drink.

I thank her, expressing a faint smile. As she walks off, my attention is stolen by two men seated at a small table in the corner. One, the older, is an average man based on his appearance. The other, however, is a colonial officer. They’re huddled over the table, whispering to each other rather harshly. I lean forward slowly, attempting to eavesdrop on what’s so crucial for them to be so serious.

“You need to be more careful!” The older man warns. “These are dark times and you’re playing with fire!”

“It’s all under control!” The officer argues, “Washington has it under control. You’d be fine! So will I! We all will be! You need to trust-”

The older man slams his hand on the table. His face becomes red with rage.

“Ben, listen to me! Half the men have already been arrested from that idiotic riot last week! It was a mere two years ago the poor Hale lad got himself hanged! We must remain in the shadows!”

The two men are interrupted by the owner’s wife filling their mugs. Suddenly, the door to the tavern swings open and slams to the wall with a bang. The people in the room went dead quiet, watching as the men march in. Five redcoats total emerge with their heads held high. ‘Egotistical and empathetic lobsterbacks’ as some American history texts describes them.

The circus leader announces to the colonists in the tavern. “We’re looking for a man who goes by the name John Bolton!”

Who? I peer around the room. Waiting for one of these guys to drunkenly raise their hand and turn themselves over. The moment never comes. Instead, I notice the two men exchange hushed words. The officer appears frazzled but not obviously. He has this anxious look about it but then again I would too if I was an officer of the Continental Army and a bunch of red coats just strolled in. Yet, something is telling me that something is going on here. If I can prevent a fight, arrest, or anything relating to the officer I’ll do it, why? Because for all I know that officer could be someone worth protecting.

“He isn’t here!”  

Before I have the chance to process what I blurted out, I already have the entire tavern staring me down. At some point I must’ve blacked out because I’m standing up, when did that happen? My first thought is Doctor is going to kill me for getting involved.

“He left about an hour ago,” I add to sound more convincing though my voice is a tad shaky. “He likes spending time by the docks, perhaps you could find him there.”

The leader of the pack closes in on me as I maintain the fakest smile. He examines my face, deciphering my authenticity. I swallow hard, the last thing I want is to see the inside of an 18th-century prison cell.

“Describe the man, so that we can identify him,” he requests. 

The man hardly any space between us. It’s now that I regret my irrational action of intervening. I only hope that officer is worth covering for. I glance behind the red coat toward the duo in the corner. The officer has his focus locked on me. His eyes are narrow, studying me intensely. That’s when it hits me. John Bolton, that’s the alias Ben Tallmadge used during the war. The officer is Major Ben Tallmadge, at least I hope it is and I didn’t just imprison myself. If it is, he’s without a doubt worth saving.

“Light, seashell, gold hair,” I lie to the Englishman before me. “He’s thin, a stick really, and has very little muscle. I would go as far as to call him scrawny. As for height, he’s rather short. I would say around 5’4”.”

Every piece of description I give is the opposite of the real Ben. I guess I pass the soldier’s test of trust because he doesn’t question me further.

“Let’s go gentlemen!” He commands, stepping toward the door with his men following on his coat tail.

I can finally breathe again, falling into my chair with a sigh of relief. My lying to the soldier could’ve ended in the worst possible outcome. I definitely dodged a bullet. Strong fingers wrap around my forearm and I’m dragged over to a dark corner in the back of the tavern. I’m forced against the wall and am tossed about like a rag doll. I’m about to be interrogated, yet again. Twice in one night, that’s a lot for someone who’s never been interrogated before. I brush down my skirt and my eyes are met with Ben Tallmadge himself.

“Who are you?!” He barks.

Similar to the red coat, he invades my space to intimidate me. I suppose if I was a woman of this era it would but being from the 21st century it’ll take a lot more than a few growls. Usually, these men’s barks are worse than their bites. Nevertheless, I raise my eyebrows, I send him a look of warning. If we’re going to communicate he needs to calm down.

“I’m the friend,” I reply bitterly calmly. “I take it a simple ‘thank you’ is too much to ask?”

My sass takes him by surprise. I’m not shaken by his macho-man persona, shocker. He visibly settles and takes a step back. Whether he believes me or not, I’m not entirely sure. Either way, perhaps now we can have a civil conversation that doesn’t involve so much grabbing, dragging, and growling.

“Thank you,” he stammers, “uh Miss…”

A name, I need a last name. Quick Y/N, think of a name!

“Reynolds,” I rush out.

Seriously! I come up with Reynolds. Oh well, it’ll have to do. Hamilton doesn’t meet Maria Reynolds for another four years so there shouldn’t be any coincidences but I’m still hitting too close to home.

“Miss Reynolds…” Ben repeats slyly. “Is that your real name or are you a spy for good ole Georgie across the pond?”

The hint of space that he once granted me slips from me again. He presses me harder into the wall, not taking any chances for me to escape. I huff, offended by his accusation and for his lack of courtesy.

“I am no such thing, Sir!” I hiss at him. “When I say I’m a friend, I’m a friend!”

I hear the door to the tavern hit the wall again as it’s swung open. Once the red coats don’t find a little blonde man by the docks they’ll likely come back. I have to get Ben out of here before then.

“We’ve wasted enough time as it is, you need to get out of here!” I warn him, urging him to go as I press my palm to his chest. “Otherwise, the soldiers will come back looking for you!”

Ben grabs my wrist and removes my hand from him but keeps hold of it. I struggle to yank it free but it’s no use, he’s too strong.

“Why are you helping me?” He questions, furrowing his brows.

This man is impossible. Though, I can’t blame him for being paranoid. Trust runs thin these days.

“Let’s just say we believe in the same cause,” I reply swiftly, growing aggravated by his lack of ability to see my honesty as truth.

He’s a wanted man and he’s drinking out in a tavern filled with people, not quite a genius. Why isn’t he at Valley Forge with the others? He should be with Washington, not here. My answer doesn’t seem to satisfy his curiosity.

“Who do you work for?”

“No one!” I shoot down the idea, practically pushing him toward the door with my free hand.

He then takes my free hand as well, restricting me completely.

“Then how do you know so much? Why are you risking your freedom by giving me aid? What do you gain?”

His tone is less fierce, more worrisome. He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place naturally. Should he trust me? Should he take the word of a stranger when it feels as though the world is against him? His grip on my wrists softens slightly and I take the opportunity to free myself.

“You sure ask a lot of questions,” I tease, snickering lightly.

Abruptly, the door to the tavern is kicked in causing gasps to fall across the building. The same five soldiers enter with more men, fuming more than fifteen minutes ago. Ben whips around to see what all the commotion is about. I could run now. I don’t know why I’m not exactly. I suppose it’s because I won’t leave with him. I have to make sure Ben gets out alive.

The leader yells at the top of his lungs, “where are Bolton and that woman?!”

In a swift motion, I grab Ben’s hand. He peers down at me but I keep a close eye on the soldiers behind him.

“There’s a door over there,” I inform him. It’s the same door Doctor left from. “If we step back slowly without much noise, they won’t notice us.”

He nods, joining me in walking back to the exit. I’ll have to part from him soon. Once we’re out of the tavern we must go our separate ways because the red coats know my face. For all, they know John Bolton could be anyone. My presence puts Ben in more danger. However, I can’t allow them to get Ben either. If they do, who knows what may happen. My distracting thoughts are interrupted by shouting.

“She’s over there! Right here!” A soldier shouts as he points in our direction.

All of their heads snap to us and I decide we better start running.

“Time to go!” I tug on his arm and he sprints to the door.

“Get them!” The leader commands and the tavern breaks out into utter chaos.

Ben frees the door and a breeze of warm June air slaps me in the face. We run down the stone alley together, hand in hand. I don’t recommend running in heels altogether, let alone on an uneven cobblestone road. Ben turns the corner and guides me down the sidewalk toward the center of town.

“I have a horse a just down this way! We’ll have to hurry!”

We weave between people, trying to stay out of sight and get to point B as soon as possible.

“This way!” A voice shouts from up the road and a clump of jogging redcoat with muskets approaches us.

Ben cuts around the corner into an unlit alley and blocks me against the wall. Deep into the darkness, we hide undetected. He positions himself between me and the road to block me from sight.

Soon, marching boots slip by the alley without hesitation. The soldiers must’ve passed us. My chest falls as I release a breath I hadn’t released I was holding.

“Keep your face out of sight. Focus on the ground and I’ll get us out of here,” he promises me in a hushed tone.

I hum, nodding my head frantically. I would be lying if I said I’m not genuinely scared.

He takes my hand before slipping back into the light. He checks the general area for any red coats. When he decides the coast is clear, we run down the road to a horse tied to a post. Ben helps me once he’s secured himself on the animal. Then, we ride off into the night. I have no idea where he’s taking nor do I have any way of telling Doctor where I’m going. All I can do is keep going and stay alive. Hopefully, if I’m lucky, I’ll make it back to the tavern when it’s safe and he’ll be there. 

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