#like i get it the whole world is in shambles with this but good lord this isnt really helping my travel anxiety lol

[manorpunk]

2️⃣

‘Comprador’ refers to an agent of a large multinational corporation whose typical job responsibility is taking a small underdeveloped nation and turning it into a vending machine for a natural resource - oil, coffee, coal, minerals - then getting that nation so dependent on selling those raw materials to that company that they effectively control it.

Unrelatedly, the Global Logistics Network was the single largest anything of 2069.

They weren’t a monopoly, no, no, no. They were… you see, the crowded and fragile system of intercontinental shipping was simply too important to be left in the hands of any single nation. You all saw what happened when the Brits monopolized it, and when the US monopolized it after them. You’ve seen how nations owning major canals turns them into a hive of corruption. Shipping belongs to the world, which means it belongs to the GLN.

They were headquartered in Qingdao, a major city in the Shandong province of China. Don’t be fooled, China fumbled the past few decades as much as everyone else, but every institution needs a head, and every head needs a headquarters, and the headquarters of the Global Logistics Network were located in Qingdao. The complex of skyscrapers that comprised GLNHQ was large and populous enough to form its own city-state, a closed loop of offices, gyms, fabricators, dormitories, labs, shops, copackers, cafeterias, and warehouses. You could spend your whole life there without ever setting foot on the earth itself. Many did.

Such was the Global Logistics Network. Like capitalism rising centuries ago from the sclerotic and shambling remnants of feudalism, the GLN rose from the old ways of hyper-financialized over-leveraged capitalism to create something new, something so new it didn’t even have a name yet. Much like the transition from feudalism to capitalism, things were better overall, but good lord, what a low bar to clear.

Towering above it all at the top floor of the central skyscraper sat Meng “Harold” Jianli, sole co-founder of the GLN. One might wonder how someone could be a ‘sole co-founder,’ and the answer was that the GLN was so powerful and omnipresent that its leader could have called himself a living god for all the power that sat upon his person. He certainly had more power than those who had historically claimed the title of living god.

But Meng “Harold” Jianli was no god, living or otherwise. Despite the vast power seated upon his person, or perhaps because of it,he looked rather disheveled, with a jowly face like splotchy old parchment, a sagging belly, and a crudely functional flat-top of black hair. His suit was slack and rumpled - his weight had a tendency to fluctuate wildly thanks to the stress.

It was stressful, being in charge. Past a certain point, you don’t really get more powerful, you just have more people to babysit and more fires to put out. He had to keep an eye on Novo Karo Bioresearch, or they’d be so excited to show off their new research that they’d start doing eugenics. He had to keep an eye on Vae Victis Engineering, or they’d get so excited testing out their new tech that they’d start a world war. And now, with his hands steepled and his brow furrowed, he had to keep an eye on the vtuber that the American League had elected president.

 He stared at Sunny Roosevelt. Sunny smiled back and gave him a little wave.

“I am willing to work with you, miss Roosevelt. The GLN is willing to work with just about anyone, it’s one of our biggest strengths.” He shifted effortlessly between ‘I’ and ‘we,’ treating the two as synonyms. “The issue is, we are still trying to figure out what your administration actually intends to do.” 

“Hmm.” Sunny put a finger to her chin, pursed her lips, and looked upward. An ellipsis appeared over her head.  “You got a copy of my campaign objectives, right?”

“Are you referring to this?” He held up a single sheet of paper, on which was written ‘make anime real’ in 48-point font and nothing else.

“Yep!”

“And you think this qualifies as a roadmap for your presidency.”

“Personally, I think it’s quite ambitious.”

Harold puttered his lips. “Miss Roosevelt-”

“Please, call me ‘mommy.’”

“Miss Roosevelt, I understand that you are standing on rather shaky ground. The National Board of Directors is being dragged away from the provisional US government days,” he said, which neglected to mention how half of the National Board of Directors were former GLN big names, “and the new state congress acts more like a rehab clinic for celebrity podcasters than a governing body,” he said, which stood just fine without caveats.

“I understand,” Sunny said, nodding and still smiling, “I’m a bimbo who’s in way over her head, so you’re going to unveil the GLN’s big five year plan and tell me to follow it like a good little girl.”

Harold was already in the process of lifting a hefty unlabeled binder, intending to thump it dramatically atop his desk, but the accuracy of Sunny’s comment left him slightly deflated. “I prefer to think of it as an advisory-”

“And then I’ll kiss up to you during our conversations,” Sunny continued, “but stall and drag my feet when it comes to actually implementing anything, and you’ll say,” she loosened her face and dropped her voice, “dammit Sunny, are you trying to play me for a fool?”

“I don’t sound like that. I don’t sound like Richard Nixon,” Harold protested, sounding kind of like Richard Nixon.

“And then I’ll say, it’s not me, it’s the state governors, they just refuse to cooperate. The new congress is one big old boy’s club. Even the Board of Directors is demanding overly-detailed descriptions of everything before they’ll sign off on it, it’s malicious compliance!” Sunny hung her head and threw her hands, wailing, “you set me up to fail, Harold. You set me up to fail, you rat bastard!”

“Are you done?”

Sunny straightened back up. There was that smile again. “Yep. That was fun.”

“In any case, while I understand you are currently something of a figurehead, even figureheads cannot afford to do nothing. Not when a third of the country is still lacking even the barest measures of centralized government.”

“What, you mean the Midwest Autonomous Zone?” A little question mark appeared over Sunny's head. “I mean, yeah, but it’s not like that started with the fall of the old US. Missouri was a dump long before the thirties.”

“Be that as it may-”

“That’s the 2030s, because we’re in the future.”

“Miss Roosevelt.”

“Please, call m-”

“No. Miss Roosevelt, why did you become president if you are so averse to actually presiding?”

Sunny shrugged and let out a huffy little sigh. “Look, most people weren’t exactly begging to have America back. Not even Americans. They don’t want someone with a bold, inspirational vision. Bold, inspirational visions are what start world wars, for George’s sake. I, for one, believe that bench-warming is not just a good idea but a moral imperative.”

“George’s sake?” Harold repeated.

“Saint George Washington. Oh, right, America’s got a brand new religion now, it’s called Founderism. We took the whole Founding Father worship thing and made it an official heresy. Also, Jesus was a small business owner.”

Harold grimaced and considered leaving the former USA to the wolves for a few more decades.

[stargirlfeyre]

1. You can’t blame him for the wing clippings because it was put in place LONG before he ever became highlord and once he did become high lord he banned them and the ones that slipped through were only because of Amarantha taking over.

2. Again kids being born in the court of nightmares is not his fault. The CoN works as it’s own society within the nc, Rhys cannot just go there and start taking children away from their families. That would literally start a war. In what world is it ever okay to start separating families because you think you know what’s best for them? On top of that where would the kids go? Who would look after them? Would their parents not try to get them back and what do you do with the children who don’t want to leave? Take them anyway? You’re offering up simple fixes to complicated issues.

3. It’s funny how people get mad that Rhys appointed Feyre as HighLady even though they’re getting mad at literally nothing. Feyre being “barely literate” does not effect the nc negatively at all and it’s actually shown that she’s doing a great job with her role as HighLady. Whenever people say Feyre shouldn’t be highlady it has nothing to do with the things she’s actually done as hl but because THEY think she’s unfit to rule. Not because she actually is. People very rarely hate on Feyre for things that actually happened in the books.

4. This one is actually valid. The only thing on this list that makes sense.

5. Be real him having sex is not effecting the nc.

6. This one’s kinda understandable yet kinda not. I get it, if something happens to Feyre or Rhys then they both die however I get why they made the pact. And also if one of them dies (which we all know won’t happen) the nc won’t be in complete shambles like y’all tend to believe. Are we forgetting that the inner circle were running the night court for a good while and that was before they had an heir?

7. Now how the hell are y’all hating on him for creating a sanctuary for sa survivors? How the hell are y’all painting that out to be a bad thing when the whole premise of it is to have a space for women to heal before going out into society again? How do you make something like that negative? No they aren’t locked there, they leave when they are ready to and two there are literally therapists there to help them. It’s not a prison.

8. What?

9. Did he not specifically say it’s Nesta’s choice whether or not to accept Eris’s proposal?

Like do y’all ACTUALLY read them books?

[the-kipsabian]

i know theres still a month until i actually get to travel but my god seeing the news about all the flight chaos and knowing the airport im landing on and leaving in the states is the one with the biggest cancellation percent in the entire country right now lmao

[porcelaintoybox23]

I like playing with hornet’s nests apparently and i won’t stop today

The house lords not having supports is the dumbest part about this game. The problem with fe3h is it is a really good game, which makes the areas where it falls short stand out even more. There is no reason why the lords don’t have supports with one another and I honestly think it would knock out a lot of issues people have with the game.

Here lie spoilers for the whole game and opinions based on playing 2.5 routes. This doesn’t include Yuri because I haven’t bought the DLC.

This game gives the player the illusion of choice. Nothing you do has a serious impact in the game barring the choices needed for CF and a few paralogues here and there. I think these supports would greatly help. Edelgard and Dimitri could have supports where they can rekindle their friendship, albeit with Dimitri knowing that they’re step-siblings and El still being in the dark for a time. How far you choose to develop or not develop the relationship can have some interesting effects. If you get them to a high level on AZ, maybe El can figure out what their relationship truly is but keep it hidden for later. Maybe she could have a legitimate claim to the Farghues throne as a step-sister? If it’s not increased, El can figure it out during the pre-Enbarr convo post timeskip. Even if none of that could happen, just imagine how much worse the flame emperor reveal would’ve been with their newly rebuilt friendship.

With El and Claude, these two would wreak absolute havoc. Their goals aren’t misaligned and Claude isn’t religious. Increasing their support could let El tell him what she knows about the church, maybe not TWSITD since you know shapeshifting and nukes. I find it so confusing that CF has us invade the alliance. I don’t even think it’s all that necessary, and I put that on the writers. Maybe El and Claude could have written letters as supports post time skip where they can be allies and we don’t have to invade.

Dimitri and Claude supports could open options of improving relations between Fodlan and the nations outside of it. Maybe Claude could start to trust a little sooner and Dimitri have more of a grounding force in his life. They both live in the library where their research overlaps.

It’s really weird that schemer Claude doesn’t try to create some kind of relationship with two future rulers even if it’s just to gather info. Seriously, Claude wants to “end racism” but doesn’t take the time to connect with two of the most potentially powerful people on the continent? Also, they all go to school together. Why do the not interact?????

Have Dimitri and Claude call out some of Edelgard’s choices, have her point out the faults in their world views.

I think there should’ve have been an option for the lords to team up to bring the truth to light, get Rhea to step down, and takedown TWSITD.

Mind you, I’m not saying this potential route should be the “true ending”, I don’t think there should be a true ending at all. The changes that open up with the increasing or ignoring their relationships are realistic. Just another option. None of the house leaders are dumb, and it’s weird that there was not some other option besides war.

Speaking of forced choice; Byleth is a black hole Mary Sue. I got this term from a comment on YouTube on a video i do not remember. Nothing happens without Byleth and everything they do is amazing and awesome and everyone loves them. (Barring Seteth and Hubert) This is more of my view, but I don’t think the main character needs to be the most important. It feels lazy to have the house leaders depend on Byleth to stay stable, especially when they have house members they make bonds with. It also seems forced to have a five-year time skip in every route. In AZ it works since Dimitri is mentally unstable, the kingdom is in shambles, and the empire has Rhea. In CF, it’s fast-paced nature would lend itself to Byleth being out of commission for a year at most. I love Byleth, as blank a slate as they are, but it’s dumb to have the tide of war automatically change with them. I know this is more gameplay but Byleth isn’t needed.

I know things can get contentious in this fandom, so i only ask that you keep any responses polite. I will do the same

[lysol1201]

🗺Does Anybody Have A Map?🗺 Obey Me Drabble

Heyyy, sooooo, I'm doing another one of these LMAO. This is completely based off of the song "Does Anybody Have A Map" by Rachel Bay Jones and Jennifer Laura Thompson from Dear Evan Hansen (The Musical). I previously did a Levi x GN!Reader one-shot where it was based on Only Us from the same musical! Check it out here!

This might not be correct timeline-wise with canon, but I'm having this based where the brothers are more recently fallen, Satan is still fairly new, Lucifer and Diavolo don't really know each other and Lucifer is mostly uncomfortable with him, and RAD is in the early stages of creation and it is the brothers first day.

I hope you enjoy! I do somewhat enjoy this, it's different than what I usually write but this was all I could think about when hearing this song haha.

Word Count: 990

++++

“Have you been writing those letters to yourself? ‘Dear Lucifer, this is gonna be a good day, and here's why,’”

“I started one,”

“Those letters are important, Lucifer! They’re going to help you get used to the Devildom!”

“I guess,”

It was a bit of a struggle for fallen angels to get used to being demons. Especially when they can’t help but have some distaste for the place they were taught to hate, but now live at. Diavolo was sure he could get them to be accustomed to it. He was going to help them enjoy their time here! Especially when they had someone new with them.

“Can we try to have an optimistic outlook? Can we buck up just to see that the world won’t fall apart? Maybe this year we decide, we’re not giving up before we’ve tried! This year we’ll make a new start!” Diavolo enthusiastically suggested to Lucifer, the newest and strongest demon next to him. “Hey! I know! You can go around and ask your brothers and the other demons to sign the cast of your wings!” He suggested, hoping to get Lucifer out there.

“Perfect,” Lucifer spoke with no emotion and obvious sarcasm in his tone.

Diavolo obviously didn’t catch on for his response was, “I’m proud of you already!” With a great wide smile on his face.

“Oh,” Lucifer sighed and began to walk away from Diavolo towards the castle doors. “Good.”

As soon as Lucifer had finally left the castle, Diavolo let out a large breath that he had kept in the entire interaction. These 7 new demons have been around for a short while and now going to get involved in the early stages of the Royal Academy of Diavolo, yet they still seemed to not get along with him, Barbatos, the other demons, or even each other. He had no idea what was going on and how he was going to solve it.

“Barbatos?” Diavolo turned around to face his loyal butler with a look of defeat on his face. “Do you happen to have a map?” He chuckled with sadness.

“What do you mean, my Lord?”

“I don’t know if you can tell, but this is me just pretending to know,” He spoke quietly, almost a whisper, but Barbatos was still able to hear him clearly. “So where’s the map? I need a clue. The scary truth is I’m flying blind, and I’m making this up as I go.”

Diavolo was obviously disappointed, confused, and hurt. He had no idea what to do, and he just wanted the brothers to like him and his home. 

Barbatos walked up to Diavolo and gave him a soft pat on the shoulder and shot him a small grin. “You’re doing all you can do, my Lord. And I believe you’re doing the best you can right now,” He spoke honestly, watching hope return to Diavolo’s once gloomed eyes. “Don’t worry. It will work out. I promise you.”

++++

When Lucifer arrived at the House of Lamentation, it seemed to be in shambles already as all of his brothers and fellow fallen angels, with the exception of one, were in a frenzy getting prepared for school. 

“Satan, you can’t just skip this!” Asmodeus seemed to be arguing with the newest addition to the family.

“Well, I do believe I can do whatever I want, and I don’t want to go to this,” He growled in response, obviously angry with this whole situation. Well, of course, he was angry. He was the Avatar of Wrath and he had no idea what to do with that sin. “So, I’m not going to go.”

Lucifer sighed at the sight. “It’s all of our first days Satan, you are not missing it.” He crossed his arms, finding the attention of the fourth born.

“I’ll go tomorrow,” He rolled his eyes at his older brother, preparing to turn away and find his way back to his room.

“He doesn’t listen,” Belphegor groaned. “Look at him, he’s probably high.”

“He’s definitely high,” Asmodeus agreed with the seventh born.

“Satan,” The first born shut his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “I don’t want you going to school high.”

“Perfect!” Satan cheered with a cynical smile plastered on his face. “So then I won’t go! Thanks, Lucifer!” And as soon as he finished the sentence, he rushed upstairs to go back and reside in his room.

Lucifer just groaned and smashed his head into his hands unsure of what to do. Another masterful attempt with Satan ended with disaster.

“The roads are already jammed,” Leviathan informed the brothers as he stared down at his D.D.D checking the directions to their new school.

“Beel finished the milk!” Asmodeus complained.

“We better head out,” Mammon spoke up, wanting to get the day over with already.

“If Belphie’s not ready, I’m leaving without him,” Asmodeus grabbed his bag and slung it around his shoulder, rolling his eyes and heading towards the door.

With everything going around Lucifer, being the oldest of the new group of demons that chose to fall with him from the Celestial realm, having to take care of the embodiment of his literal past emotions, while trying to take care of himself and his oath with the future Demon King, Lucifer needed to pour another coffee while he watched it crash and burn in front of him. So far, from the start of this all, each day was another wrong turn.

He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to being a demon, being in charge of his younger brothers, working under someone he was taught to despise. He was flying blind and making up what he did as he went. He thought he was far from similar to the next-in-line Demon King but little did he know, they both really needed a map, they both really needed a clue, because they were both just pretending to know.

[dreaming-about-fanfictions]

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 5 of 27: You

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHAPTER 4

A/N: A chapter from a different perspective! I hope you all like it <3 And thank you so much for your support!! I love you all so muuuuuch!!!

Words: 2300 Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female!Reader, post-war Warnings: none

Draco Malfoy wasn’t easy to impress. Being bored quickly by other people was one reason why he never had many close friends – and yes, he knew how utterly arrogant that sounded. It was the truth however. He was friendly with most of the Slytherins but his mother always taught him “Quality over quantity” and he agreed. Draco went so far as to apply that mindset to his love life as well. Yes, before the sixth year of school, he used to like to flirt and he had dated the occasional Slytherin girl. He was also very aware of the fact that there had been quite a few girls with crushes on him. In some cases, he even reciprocated them, however, those feelings faded quickly.

So you couldn’t imagine how much it bothered Malfoy that he wasn’t able to stop thinking of you. Not even in his dreams did you leave him alone and so he kept on going back to that evening on the Quidditch field. Until today, it was entirely unclear to him why he told you all those things. He didn’t know anything about you yet speaking to you left him feeling … good, almost. After a year of trials and coming home to find his family and life in shambles, there was no one left to talk to. No one he wanted to talk to. To whom was he going to turn? His friends which were all coming from the same pureblood Death Eater families? Yes, of course, they understood – and also they didn’t. Not quite. Did you understand him? Probably not, he guessed. After all, you were a Gryffindor and fought on the right side of the war. The winning side. But talking to you felt different, almost easy. You grew up in another world than him and maybe that was the key to it all.

Obviously, Draco didn’t plan on repeating that evening. You were friends with the whole Potter and Weasley bunch. It made it even harder to trust you – how could he be sure you hadn’t already told your Gryffindor friends and were laughing about him behind his back? It was possible. A part of him didn’t want to believe this possibility and another part reminded him of all the times he was disappointed and got hurt by the people around him. It was probably for the best to stay away from you.

Yet he didn’t stop thinking of you. He saw you looking at him in the Great Hall during meals, watched you from walk away when you passed him in hallways and the library. Without noticing it, he always chose a place behind you in class. Draco didn’t understand the urge to be close to you. It was utterly ridiculous for Merlin’s sake. You were a Gryffindor; one of the good ones. He wasn’t. Not at all.

Maybe it was because of the kiss, he wondered at some point. Maybe you hexed him in this moment. Draco knew this theory was very far-fetched but it was the only logical explanation fin his mind. Why else would he keep thinking back to that moment in the storage room? He didn’t deny that you were witty and smart and very beautiful – he wasn’t blind after all – but so were lots of girls. What the hell was so special about you that you wouldn’t leave his thoughts?! It couldn’t be your taste in men as you obviously didn’t have any. At least there wasn’t a reasonable explanation for him for why someone like you would get with someone like the Weasel.

“Draco,” Blaise’s voice pulled him out of this thoughts. “You coming?”

Draco nodded. “Yeah, just a second.”

He got up from the table in their shared dorm, putting his notebook in the drawer of his nightstand. Two months since school started and he had almost filled in all of its pages. Draco started writing during the first trial of his parents last year. It kept him focused and helped him put his thoughts in order. It soon became a daily ritual which helped him stay grounded. Draco carried it around in his bag during the day, using it in between classes and meals. His friends caught him doing it a lot and he was sure they had already guessed what it was. He was glad when they didn’t say anything because in the end, Draco would have rather died before admitting that he was using a diary.

“You’re not wearing a costume!”, Astoria exclaimed when he joined the others in the common room. Pansy, Blaise, Theodore and the Greengrass sisters were already waiting for him.

There was a Halloween party happening in the Room of Requirements tonight and his friends had convinced him to go even though it meant more awkward conversations with Astoria.

“I thought we’re not doing muggle traditions. What are you supposed to be?”, he asked instead, taking in her revealing outfit.

She giggled. “I’m a healer. Or ‘nurse’ as the muggles call it.”

“Ah,” Draco made, thinking that she didn’t look like a healer at all. “I thought Halloween was supposed to be scary?”

Astoria rolled her eyes, before linking their arms with each other. “You’re no fun. Don’t you think I look pretty?”

“Astoria, you can wear a potato sack and still look absolutely stunning.”

That answer seemed to satisfy her and they started making their way towards the exit of the common room. Draco glanced at her from the side. She was, objectively speaking, the perfect match for a Malfoy. Coming from a well-respected and wealthy pureblood family combined with her intelligence and beauty, she was everything his parents could have wanted for him. Especially now.

You had told him what to do. It was such a simple solution to all of his impending problems. However, it had been the moment where Draco had realized that you grew up differently. Not a day went by where he didn’t receive a heartbreaking letter from his mother. He knew, she just wanted the best for him and she didn’t want to manipulate him; she was simply desperate. Desperate for the live they used to have – a husband at home, a son with a promising future, money and a respected place in society.

Draco had asked himself countless times what the marriage would truly mean. His family would have another chance. Together with Astorias family, his future was secured. A good job, maybe even in the ministry if he was lucky. Enough money to take care of his mother. Who knew, maybe his father would be out of Azkaban sooner? Draco marrying Astoria would lessen his families suffering, that was for sure. But did he want that? Did he want a simple and easy solution to make their past crimes … disappear? His family was far from innocent. They had committed horrible crimes in the name of the Dark Lord – and a part of him knew, they deserved everything they got in the end. Hell, he wouldn’t have been surprised if they sent his mother and him to Azkaban as well.

When thinking about the engagement, another thought popped into his head. Could he learn to love Astoria? Would he be happy with her? Maybe. Maybe not. Draco knew only one thing for sure – there was a reason why he kept resisting to the whole idea. Giving in felt like sacrificing another part of himself to something his family had burdened him with.

“And Astoria, I disagree,” Blaise once again disrupted his train of thought by joining in from the right. “Draco can quickly make his costume appear. Just roll up your sleeves, Dray, and the Gryffindors will shit their pants on the spot.”

The rest of the group snickered but Draco didn’t react. Instead he suppressed the urge to touch the mark on his left arm and shoved his hand deeper into the pocket of his pants.

 ***

The Room of Requirement was absolutely crowded.

The Slytherins were surprised by how many people had actually appeared. Almost everyone from the sixth and seventh grade was here, wearing mostly ridiculous costumes. Music roared from invisible speakers, students were dancing and talking loudly.

“I’m surprised that the teachers didn’t already break this up,” Blaise almost had to shout. “Or Filch.”

Draco shrugged. “I feel like they stopped caring this year.”

“Maybe they feel responsible for all those deaths,” Theo suggested.

“So to make up for all the trauma, they allow us to party?”, Blaise concluded with an amused undertone.

“It’s good for us though so stop talking and start drinking,” Pansy chirped and grabbed Draco and Theo by their arms, pulling them towards the table with a few questionable bottles.

When his friends started chatting about the usual Hogwarts gossip, Draco’s eyes started to wander. He was searching the crowd for someone. You. Were you here? Did you even like parties? Draco had no idea. You always looked quite social from what he witnessed.

And there you were – standing in a group of people, listening to Granger who was gesticulating wildly. You were holding a drink and laughing at whatever the other girl told you. Draco noticed from across the room how your eyes were gleaming, your face red from the alcohol. You looked so careless. He swallowed hard at the sight.

“He’s either staring at Weasley, the mudblood or Y/L/N,” Zabini said to the others in that moment. “Don’t know what’s worse.”

Draco needed a second to understand his friends were talking about him. “What did you just say?” He turned to them.

Zabini grinned widely at him. “I said, you’re staring at the Gryffindors again, Draco. It’s fucking weird. What’s your sudden obsession with them?”

Draco quickly glanced at the rest of his friends. Daphne, Theodore and Pansy watched the two of you with a smirk on their lips, maybe even suppressing a giggle. Astoria looked at Draco with a worried expression.

“No, what did you just say?”, Draco repeated his question, straightening up slightly. “What did you call Granger?”

Blaise snorted. “What?”

Draco just stared at him.

“I called her a mudblood,” Blaise gave a half shrug.

“Yeah, what the fuck, Blaise,” Draco spat out.

“Come on, Dray,” Theodore tried to intervene. “It’s no big deal.”

“It is!” He looked at him, visibly disgusted.

“What’s your problem, Draco?”, Blaise raised an eyebrow, shifting from one leg to another. “You called her a mudblood for years and now you suddenly have a problem with it? You’re acting so weird this year, seriously.”

Before Draco was able to reply, Astoria carefully placed her hand on his arm. It took all the strength he had, not to immediately shake her off. “Come on,” she said softly. “Let’s get you a new drink and calm down.” She pulled him a few steps away from the group.

Draco gritted his teeth, remembering what he had thought about not being able to talk to his old friends. They understood – and also they didn’t.

“Are you okay, Draco?” Astoria asked, still looking slightly alarmed.

Draco looked at her. Did she want to hear an honest answer? “Sure,” he finally said.

She didn’t buy it. “You’ve been acting strange for a while now.”

“I’m really not.”

“Draco,” she reached for his hand. “I know you.”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “Can we … can we not talk about this now? Here? With all these people around us?”

“There’s always a reason not to talk so we might as well do it here,” she pressed on.

Draco could think of a thousand different things he’d rather do than talk to her right now. “I’m … I’m not acting strange. It’s just a lot. With my parents and all that.”

Her smile changed from worried to pity. “I understand.” Did she? “That’s why I think we should move on.”

What kind of weird reaction was this? “Move on?”, Draco frowned.

“With our engagement.”

“Right.”

Astoria squeezed his hand. “I don’t see why we can’t just make it official.”

Draco looked at her fingers as if he was searching for a ring that he had forgotten existed. “Because the whole thing isn’t official yet,” he slowly said.

The brunette let go of his hand. “It’s going to happen anyways. My parents won’t stop talking about it and I bet it’s no different for your mother.”

Draco just wanted to get out of this situation. He got dragged here and now it was just one big argument. Why couldn’t they have stuck to gossiping and partying? “Why during school though?”

He saw how Astoria stared at the ground for a moment. When she started speaking again, her voice had become a little colder. “You know, there are a lot of men who would jump at this opportunity. My family is well respected and yours is …”

Draco let out a short whistle. “Thanks, Astoria,”

Astoria was visibly uncomfortable and Draco wondered if she regretted what she had just said. “That’s not how I meant it and you know that, Dray. I just don’t understand why this takes you so long.”

Draco put his hands on hips, pushing his jacket back. “Excuse me if I’m wrong,” he started, “But I’m not exactly your first choice either, am I?”

The girl didn’t answer right away. When she did though, Draco wanted to laugh at the sheer absurdity. “It’s not about what I want. It’s about what my parents want. Pureblood marriages will happen less and less in the future so we will be a good union.”

“Right,” Draco mumbled with a sad smile. It’s all about the family.

Astoria cleared her throat. “Well, are there any reasons why we shouldn’t move on?”

“Yes, there are.”

This didn’t come from Draco or Astoria. Irritated by the sudden interruption, he turned around to see who had so rudely eavesdropped on the conversation.

You.

***

A/N: Even though I wrote this, I really felt for Draco in this chapter. His life (like so many other characters lives in HP) is so f****** up. Sorry but I can’t find a better word for it. Poor Draco. Anyways - I hope you liked it!! I’d love to hear what you think <3 I love reading your comments *-* (if you don’t comment or do anything, it’s fine, don’t worry, I just love to read your thoughts <3)

CHAPTER 6

“Choose Me Instead”-Masterlist HP-Masterlist

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[writing-frenzy]

Care to Make a Wager? (SVSSS Fic)

Summery: No System AU: In which Airplane finds he has a new lease in life, but of course it would have a cost. Of course, being the creator of this world gives him quiet the price cut. Not to mention the untended bonus content.

Still, he did not expect the direction his life would go.

(Warning: mentions of death, violence, and most stuff you could find in SVSSS Canon. You should be good, but here is a just in case.)

---

When one Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was reborn, he really wanted to curse his lot in life. Sure, he had been born into a rather well off Merchant Family, but when the Lord of the Family has two Official Wives and a crap ton of Mistresses on the side, things were bound to get crazy.

Luckily one Shang Huan had one hell of a Mother; in another life, Airplane might have described her as a ‘killer queen or a ‘boss ass bitch’, but as his mother, he just thought of her as the most amazing woman on the planet. As it was, She alongside a whole bunch of tutors taught him everything he needed to know about the world and then some. 

(Sewing was a bitch to get right.)

But with those lessons, it didn’t take long for Shang Huan to realize he was in his own fucking novel; it had not been a happy realization, making him break out into a truly childish tantrum, filled with screaming and tears that only calmed after he was given some delicious melon seeds.

(Luckily it had been attributed to wanting a snack after a morning full of lessons, otherwise he probably would have gotten the switch for it...)

But with all this knowledge of his place in life now with him, Shang Huan needed to start planning; good thing that was one of his specialties.

Noting down every bit of information he could, Shang Huan mapped out as much items and cheats he could afford to take from the Protagonist, as well as places he could and couldn’t go, hazel eyes narrowed as he messily scratched out his plots with his trusty quill and journal. The many lessons he Mother made him go through only helped to sharpen him, as well as learn the world’s common sense.

He was having a good go at it, building himself up as much as he could before something completely from left stage truly changed his course.

“There is a legend of Dreaming Glory, said to be a treasure to ensure great health and excellent rest. Though be cautious, for it is guarded carefully by the spirit of a Felled Divine Beast, angry and resentful of the betrayal it had faced.” was a tale a wandering storyteller spun, a group of children ooooing and awwwwing at the right places, even as Airplane felt his jaw drop at the information, focusing more on those words then the candy his mother allowed him to buy at one of the festival stalls.

See, while the Legend of the Dreaming Glory was definitely right at home with this world, it actually hadn’t been anywhere in Proud Immortal Demon Way; it had been in one of his earlier short stories, where Airplane had been practicing with the Xianxia/Xuanhuan genres (and didn’t need to rely on it, dreaming more of the theater then writing). (Until a mugging gone wrong and dreams cut short-) 

This... opened a few more roads then expected, especially if all his fantasy stories came into play, as there had been a lot of experimentation with plots and ideas until he hit his cash cow with PIDW. After all, taking something from the protagonist was always going to be a risk of somehow getting his attention, no matter how much the man wouldn’t actually need it.

(After all, showing off had always been a part of Luo Binghe’s character; showing that he was no longer the penniless street kid, no longer the weak disciple, no longer the one who was always pushed around, but now the one who can take.)  

It also meant more research; thankfully, his Mother was one to always encourage more in the way of learning, thankfully humoring all the ‘trips’ he wished to take.... In hindsight, he probably should have questioned why she was always willing to take him and go, but at the time was just thankful that he could indeed confirm places he would need to visit later and squirrel away items that were within his reach. (An actual legit Cultivation Manuel, even if it was only directed for growing crops and alchemy, was still his most proudest find, only needing a riddle to get and easily hidden in his pouch with his other learning books. Being an Author only got him so far, as every little detail was needed to ensure one stayed on a steady path, though did provide it’s own little boosts here and there.)

------=------

One day, when Shang Huan had been 13, sneakily already past the first part of Cultivation Qi Refining and entering into the first stage of Foundation Building, found his Mother to be ill, no Doctors seeming to be able to cure her (or willing too as he saw a servant of the Second Wife slip a few gold; he got his revenge in the end), Shang Huan took a deep breath and buckled down, doing all that his Mother said to do with the time she had left, learning as much as he could before it would no longer be open to him. 

(Like he could stay here in this den of vipers, without his Mother’s protection and love; there was nothing else for him here after all.)

In that time as his Mother stubbornly clung on, he listened as she mourned his chance to enter into the prestigious Cultivation Sect of Cang Qiong like the First Wife’s Third Son, Shang Shaoqing. She apologized greatly that she could not fight for him to get that chance, like so many of the other Mistresses did for their own children.

‘Huh,’ Airplane couldn’t help but think, ‘looks like I just dodged a arrow.’ though it was good to finally know just what the timeline was for the story; Shang Shaoqing was to be a certain traitorous Peak Lord after all.

As it was, his Mother showed her determination and spirit greatly, lasting till he was 16 before she finally past away, a smile on her face as she did, her son long gone with his inheritance and her blessing of broken ties, carrying her name meaning of Shang instead of his Father’s.

(If the night before, Shang Huan had decided to tell her of his other life, told her how this was a story he had happened to read, showing her a few of the treasure he had gathered, how he cried when Shang Wenyan had only smiled with a few too many teeth, her voice fierce as she praised her son with all her heart, hugging him close with what remained of her strength as she told him her last words.

“Live life however you want my child, live and dream and hope, do not be afraid to destroy any your way, and know I will love you always my greatest pride and joy.”

Well... no one needed to know about that.)

But with this new freedom came it’s cons as much as it’s pros. As he was stuck at a bottleneck in Foundation Building at Middle Stage, there was still a number of things outside his reach until at least Core Formation First Stage...

------=------

It was during his wandering, selling talismans he could make at his level, along with tales he made up that he finally got his big break.

He first heard tales of a powerful Resentful Spirit that was residing in a broken land near the Borders, no one from Demons to Humans wanting the land as it was deemed useless for all the resentful energy there, and no one bothering to pay a sect for what they considered a waste of money and time.

Shang Huan saw this, and wonder if it was what he recognized... Taking in more details and scoping out for any information, Airplane couldn’t help but wonder how lucky it was; this was indeed a spirit from one of his very first stories in fact. He knew exactly what to do.

Instead of fighting the Resentful Spirit, Shang Huan brought it pure cave water and incense, smelling of ash and jasmine. 

This certainly got the Spirit’s attention.

“What do you want Rogue?”

“I want for many things to be honest.” the brunet Cultivator smiled, not showing any teeth so as to make it look falsely gentle, “But for now, I admit I do desire your land.”

That got a huff for his efforts, the spirit a mass of negativity and ire, but actually still listening.

“You have provided the right offering, so I will give you a chance; bring me wine of the Soothing Jade Flower, the Broken Sword of Chun, and a branch of Deathly Yew... You get me these three things, and the land will be yours.” And with that shopping list given, the spirit was gone, even as the energy seemed thicker then before, the incense and water gone.  

And with an absolutely evil grin, Airplane was off; he had already remembered the Wine and branch, had even gotten them first as he had plans for them, but he had not remembered the broken blade.

Fortunately, it wasn’t too hard to find; he had written that the blade had been struck with a heavy stone in a battle between Demons and Cultivators on the borders of the land, where it would lay forever. And lo and behold, there was only one ancient battlefield it could be abandoned in, as this was PIDW.

There weren’t many left over from the borders after all, most of them being purified already. And as he thought, the Bloody Sword Grave was still around, a testament to just how much the resentful energy had soaked into the ground, demons and cultivators alike avoiding the place like the plague, even as bloody rusted swords stayed stabbed into the ground, their thirst and hatred still felt even to this day.

Couldn’t be compared to Xin Mo of course, but for being swords on the surface they sure were impressive. Ignoring all these deadly, intact blades stabbed into the ground, Shang Huan covered his face with a scarf drenched in purified Qi infused water, even as the talisman he sewed on for defense and purity glowed the more he traveled through.

He finally stopped at a blood splattered rock, digging carefully around it as he did, before he managed to pull out four broken pieces of what had once been a beautiful blade, but was now nothing but shambles and rags.

Having what he needed, Airplane made his way back to the spirit and their lands.

------=------

(This deadly spirit of a truly terrible Cultivator, who had been feared and revered for being a monster on the battlefield... cried as they saw the items laid out before them.

“Ah, no my Han-Er, my beloved figher... why you stupid, loveable fool...” The Spirit sobbed, easily using his energy to clean and reformed the blade, manipulating the energies of the other two items to aid it, ensuring the sword would still be pure, hugging it close even as it seemed to damage them.

“... He tried, to come back to you; his fellow soldiers betrayed him... He loved you so much... still does.” Shang spoke, watching as the spirit that laid resting in the blade finally came out with this truth, purifying the other as they did, along with most of the land around them.

The brunet had to look away from their reunion, their emotions a bit too much for him... This had been one of his first tragedies he had written, a solider and their beloved separated because of jealousy and hate, doomed to wait for each other forever, the solution to be so easy to have, if someone had given them a bit of kindness, to discover the truth of their separation, though never given the chance in the end... He never mention just what the Beloved’s gender was, made it ambiguous, but had in his mind of minds always thought of them as a man...

Maybe he shouldn’t have put too much of himself into his work, but a habit is so hard to break.

“... We truly thank you; as promised, the land is now yours to do with as you see fit; all you need to do is put your name on the deed and your blood into the ward stone. All the treasures inside are now rightfully in your ownership, so mote it be.” was announced, making Shang Huan turn to see two beautiful and handsome men smiling at him, before they bowed seeing they had his attention.

Airplane could only bow back, biting on the words of how he owed to them to do this at least.

And with that, they were gone, to enter finally into the cycle of reincarnation, together at last...)

------=------

Having his own place was wonderful; a lot of work, but wonderful all the same.

The wards around his land ensured no one with malice could actually enter it, along with protections against thieves and robbers like most noble Sects had. Shang Huan even went as far as to make sure he owned the plot of land in the official records, having everything stamped and recognized, even as he made sure no one actually looked too closely at what land it actually was.

He even made sure to pay his yearly taxes to the Emperor on time, making sure everything was nicely recorded and logged. (And seeing as he didn’t live in any town or such, he didn’t have to bother paying anything to any Lords for protection! How nice was that?)

But having a base of operations, one with land rich in Qi and perfect for Cultivating on, it not only gave Airplane security, but many other advantages as well.

He now had a place to securely put all the treasures he had gathered, which was a lot considering it was a variety of weapons, valuables, and even priceless seeds to plant. He could be completely self-sufficient as he cultivated, the spirits on the land easily convinced to do chores in exchange for sweets and treats (And being able to live in such a energy rich place). Not to mention how his Cultivation not only went up, but combined with other manuals that were treasures of the home, Shang was set on his way to being a powerful Cultivator in his own right.

And if he was feeling a bit cooped up, he could always go on journeys around his world, exploring and treasure hunting for odds and ends as he saw fit.

Soon enough, Shang Huan had managed to reach 34 years old, entering the Peak of Nascent Soul stage in his cultivation when, in a bit of boredom and interest, he bought out a debt ridden gambling house on the border of his territory, that rested in a ghost-like town on the border of the Human World and the Demon Realm.

It was, quiet frankly, just something to do to pass the time. It wasn’t too hard to fix the place up, and warding it had been a fun challenge of his skills, but he honestly hadn’t expected anything much of it, just putting a few of his lessor needed or easily replenished treasure up to be won. And making it to where anything bet could only be what one had to bet, alongside making sure others would have to honor it had been a fun spell to create, as he really didn’t want to be bothered by liars and braggarts and then having to chase them down. He even just made up some Golems and bargained with a few willing natural spirits to help run the place.

This was just suppose to be a fun little venture; he never expected it to blow up like it did.

------=------

It started slow; a trickle, with a whisper, a simple rumor.

There is a place where priceless treasure could be won; if you’re willing to bet for it that is. But be careful to not bite off more then you can chew, for it might be more then a bit of blood and coins you lose.

Some poor sods have even lost their very souls to the place, even now working where screams and laughter flow so freely to the terrible click the dice, the gentle flap of the cards.

It is a place no Mortal is safe, where no Demon has promise, where a Cultivator is honor bound to accept what is due; after all, no one has to enter the place, no one needs to keep coming back, no one has to bet their all, not all all. 

But oh, how they come; even those who dare not darken the doorway of that gambling hall come, filling what was once an empty town into one practically bustling with life. Funny, how it came about because of such a deadly place.

And oh, do not even bother messing with the Gilded Plane Gambling Hall’s Owner, a man who at first seems so weak and stumbling, so gentle and busy with their hard work, who at first couldn’t hurt a fly even as he smiles so prettily.

He’ll smile that same smile even as you sell your very soul at his tables, those gorgeous hazel eyes amused even as the crowds pant at his feet, screams all around from both terror and ecstasy.

(Shang Huan can’t help but sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he is once more offered someone’s entire being; if he’s said it once, he’s said it again, betting is at the tables, not at his feet.

Just another day it seems; hopefully there will be no explosions in the kitchen again.)  

-----------------------=-----------------------

0.0 huh, I did not expect this when I started writing; I just wanted to have Airplane have some fun in the world he created, maybe opening up a few businesses to make money on the side. I did not mean to make him into an oblivious Hua Cheng of the PIDW verse (Yes, in this verse, he will be as terrifying and pretty, I will not take criticism for it.)

Also, I was greatly inspired by Nighthaunting, though instead of ballet I have SQH as a theatre kid whose dreams got cut short due to bad luck and assholes. I love how they have built their world, and how they say that writing was probably a side thing for Airplane, which just makes so much sense. Also, I am all for Airplane being scary and fully taking advantage of his author knowledge, so haha! Hope you all enjoyed this story~

[frunbuns]

As the World Falls Apart

Read on Ao3

Padmé watches Obi-Wan rock Leia around the ship, willing her to stop crying. He shushes and coos at her as he gently pats her back. Nothing seems to work. He’s been trying for the past hour or so. Leia has a strong pair of lungs and doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. Even as Obi-Wan practically begs her to stop crying. Nothing works. They’ve tried feeding her. They’ve tried changing. At this point she’s just crying for the sake of it. She’s sure of it.

Obi-Wan looks dead on his feet as he paces from one part of the cockpit to the other. His eyes are bloodshot, red and splotchy. Dark bags under his eyes. His clothes are scorched and burnt. Hair tousled. He’s limping slightly. She hasn’t said anything about it, but she assumes it’s from his fight with Grievous. He hasn’t smiled once since they got back from Mustafar - not even one of his fake ones he puts on sometimes. (Except when the twins were born, but even that smile, while fond and loving, had been filled with heartbreak.) In fact, he looks miserable right now. Like he’s on the verge of crying. He probably is, Padmé muses. Padmé kinda feels like crying too.

She had offered to take Leia off him, but he had refused. Told her to remain seated, a dozing baby Luke in her arms. It was typical of him, really. Obi-Wan had always been good at giving pieces of himself, even at the expense of himself. He had been like that as long as they’d been friends.

It’s strange. How it has merely been hours since the twins had been born. And now they were hurtling through hyperspace. Master Yoda had told them to go to Naboo with the twins and go into hiding. Obi-Wan would serve as protection and a teacher once Luke and Leia start showing force sensitive abilities. They’ll need to learn how to control it. Padmé is just grateful she’s not going to be alone, and she’s sure Obi-Wan feels the same. She is grateful for his company, no matter how miserable they both might be right now. At least it’s something.

She’s glad he snuck onboard the ship when she went to Mustafar. She’s not sure what would have happened if he hadn’t. She thought she could talk some sense into him. Obi-Wan had probably thought so too. Even after all he’d done she still loved him. She continued to love him, even if he broke her heart. Obi-Wan too.

Anakin had always said he and Obi-Wan were closer than most jedi. That they were like brothers. That Obi-Wan had been like a father to him. Looking at him now, there’s no doubt the love was mutual. And as a mother now, she feels like she gets him better than she ever has. All of Anakin’s stories about Obi-Wan. Their little misadventures.

They were like two halves of a whole, and Padmé can’t help but feel like Obi-Wan died with Anakin on Mustafar in some way. The Obi-Wan in front of her is almost like a shell of the man she knew.

She can’t imagine having to do what Obi-Wan did. It’s just not fair. But things are rarely fair. With the war rampaging the galaxy, sith lords at every corner. The galaxy has never been fair, but it could at least try for Obi-Wan’s sake. Padmé can’t imagine being only thirty-eight years old and knowing as much heartbreak as Obi-Wan does. She can’t help but admire his strength. That he’s still standing right now. Padmé honestly feels like she’s going to break any moment.

And if Leia doesn’t stop crying soon she might start crying too.

Leia’s screeching is ear-piercing. She’s red in the face from the sheer effort of it. Tiny fists balled into the fabric of Obi-Wan’s tunic, tears streaming down her small face. It’s a miracle she hasn’t worn herself out by now. Padmé sure would have.

God she hopes this isn’t going to be a regular thing. She’s not sure she can take it. And from the looks of things Obi-Wan doesn’t either. Taking care of twins is going to be enough work, but having to deal with twins and a screaming baby sounds damn near impossible. Even for two people.

R2 beeps in sympathy from where he’s piloting the ship.

Padmé closes her eyes, preparing for the impending headache she knows she’s gonna get soon. But then the screeching stops. It just stops. Padmé can’t believe her ears, but when she opens her eyes again Leia seems to have settled against Obi-Wan’s shoulder, eyes half lidded and body lax. Obi-Wan looks at her with bewilderment. As if he can’t believe it either.

A range of emotions crosses his features before he closes his eyes, in utter relief, and lets out a choked sound. Something like a sob. It’s an utterly pathetic and pitiful sound. Something that’s not very becoming of a Jedi master. But she finds that she agrees as she smiles at him. Wet and a little crooked, but relieved.

But that’s not the end of it. It’s like the floodgates have finally opened - that the dam has broken - because Obi-Wan chokes back another sob. And another. And another. And then there are tears running down his cheeks and disappearing into his beard. And he’s sniffling as he suppresses shudders in an attempt to not disturb the now calm baby.

“Obi-Wan?” she murmurs, just loud enough for him to hear her. “Why don’t you sit down. You must be exhausted.”

He nods. “Y-yes that— that— I’m so-sorry. I—” He gasps and hiccups as he stumbles over the words. It’s truly a pitiful sight.

She does her best to put on a warm and comforting smile. Even as her whole body aches, she stands up and walks over to him, careful not to jostle Luke too much. She’s never seen him like this before, and if her heart didn’t feel like it was already shattered into a million pieces it would break even more now. “It’s okay,” she tells him, putting a hand on his arm. His tattered sleeve full of burns and holes. “It’s okay.”

Gently, she guides him back to the pilot’s seat and he slumps down into it. His sobs subsiding into quiet sniffles and silent tears. Leia appears to have drifted off to sleep, thank the stars. Padmé isn’t sure she can handle much more at this point. She envies them. The twins. And their ability to just fall asleep as the world falls apart around them. They haven’t got a clue what’s happening around them. Everything is in shambles, and she’s grateful that they’re blissfully unaware of it all.

The ship rumbles beneath their feet. It’s a sturdy craft. Skillfully built and probably expensive, but awfully boringly decorated on the inside. It’s nothing like Padmé’s ships. But she supposes the jedi don’t really care for such.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan croaks after a while. “I mean it.”

Padmé raises a brow at him. “Why?”

“I failed him. I failed Anakin,” he says, voice tight as he avoids her gaze. the light of the stars dancing across his features and glimmering in his glassy eyes. “I should have realised something was wrong. He was my padawan. I should have known.”

“Obi-Wan,” she murmurs. “Palpatine groomed and manipulated him for years. It’s not your fault. There’s nothing you could have done. We did our best.”

“I shouldn’t have let him see him. I always knew there was something about him.”

The corner of Padmé’s lips quirk upwards. “I never liked him either,” she says. To which Obi-Wan smiles at her, albeit faintly and ever so briefly. At least it’s something.

Leia continues to doze on Obi-Wan’s chest, ear pressed to his chest where his heart beats below his ribcage. She looks so small with his hand almost covering up her entire back. She just wishes anakin was here. So he could enjoy his children with her. Like he should. But she supposes Obi-Wan will have to do. As far as she’s concerned, he is the next best thing. He did raise Anakin, after all.

Padmé breaks the silence. “So what does this make you then?” she asks, humour in her voice. “Grandpa Obi-Wan?”

She hears the jedi snort. “Surely I’m too young for such a title.”

“Oh yeah, old man? Pretty sure I heard your joints pop when you sat down just now.”

“You’re going to regret saying those words in ten years time when you’re my age.”

Padmé smiles, a real, genuine smile, for what feels like the first time in forever. She even chuckles a little. A little quiet and awkward, but genuine. When she looks at Obi-Wan he is smiling so wide it reaches his eyes.

They’ll be exiting hyperspace soon, but right now they can rest. Just her, her children and Obi-Wan. Some ragtag team for a family, but she doesn't really mind the idea of it. There’s just something missing.

Obi-Wan strokes Leia’s back so gently it almost looks like he’s afraid to break her. He watches her with such softness and adoration it makes Padmé’s heart swell. He has only known them for a day and he already loves them. Anakin would be ecstatic.

“I just wish Anakin was here.”

Obi-wan stops stroking Leia’s back momentarily, fixing her with a gaze she can’t quite deschipher. “Me too,” he murmurs. “They’re wonderful, Padmé. He would have adored them.”

Padmé nods, a sad smile on her face. “He would have.” Her heart aches at the thought of it, but she appreciates the sentiment. “I’m glad you’re here though, Obi-Wan. It means a lot that I’m not alone.”

“I’m glad too, dear,” he tells her softly. “I’m not sure what I’d do if— I mean—” He swallows thickly. “—Almost everyone I knew is dead. Mace, Bant, Luminara, Quin… Ahsoka. Oh god, Ahsoka.”

Padmé can almost feel the grief in the air. She wonders if this is what it’s like to be a jedi. To have one of those bonds that Anakin had talked about.

“I’m sorry too,” she tells him. “About the jedi, and the clones… And Anakin. I know you loved him.”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and nods solemnly. He doesn’t need to say anything. She understands. She reaches out and grabs his hand where it lies limply in his lap. It’s calloused and scarred, but warm and gentle. Obi-Wan’s hand is warm and firm in her hand. A little bigger than hers, a little rougher. The hand of a jedi. Of a long life lived. Of a friend. A mentor. Even a father. She can imagine him ruffling a young Anakin’s hair with. Righting Ahsoka’s grip on her lightsaber. Shaking her hand at events. She gives his hand a squeeze and hopes he gets it. He does. He squeezes her hand back. They sit like that for the rest of the journey.

They exit hyperspace, the ship jolting slightly from it. In the distance Padmé spots Naboo. As long as she had lived on Coruscant Naboo would always be her home. And now it would be Obi-Wan’s too, she supposes. She looks over at him and finds him with his eyes closed. As if he’s asleep. She smiles. She can wait to wake him until they’ve landed. He could use the rest. She could too, honestly.

She misses Anakin already. Not the man she saw on Mustafar, but the man she fell in love with. The father of her children. The man that loved, and was loved in return. Her Anakin. Obi-Wan’s Anakin. Ahsoka’s Anakin. A man that was flawed, but good. A man that was kind. Her husband. Ahsoka’s master. Obi-Wan’s padawan. God, she misses him. Just the thought of him makes her heart ache.

They’ll be okay, Padmé thinks. Not right now. Maybe not for a while. But one day. She’s sure of it. They’ve survived so far. They’ve got each other. They just need a moment of quiet. Just a little moment. They’ll be okay. Just not right now.

[jonphaedrus]

C-can you... tell us more about vespasian’s urine tax? I read an article about it but there was not 40 min of info

this is because people focus on the “taxing pee is funny” part and not the absolutely insane masterstroke of economic brilliance this was. to really understand the enormity of the piss tax, you have to know a few basic facts about the roman empire

in rome, like most of the pre-modern world, urea from urine was used as bleach.

the city of rome itself had a highly advanced plumbing system. most of the city had running water (although most individual houses did not). in homes, people used bedpans or basins, but there were huge bathouses for proper bathing that had running water as well as public toilets. in fact, the roman sewer system was so functional it STILL WORKS, over two-thousand years after it was built.

rome was a wealth- citizen- and class-stratified society. there were the senators (families that were traditionally in politics, think like the american kennedy family or the house of lords), the equestrians (upper middle class, anywhere from ‘owns a house’ to ‘literally elon musk’) and the plebians (everyone else). plebs could be very rich, senators could be very poor, it was complex. the flavians were a lower-end equestrian family; vespasian and his brother sabinus were the first in their family to really Make It in politics and their father was a tax collector. (you may or may not remember from the new testament, people really hated tax collectors.)

to understand the genius of vespasian’s piss tax, it helps to know some more about vespasian. who was titus flavius vespasianus? he was the younger son of a tax collector, whose much more successful and beloved elder brother was the mayor/governor of rome for OVER A DECADE with basically a total approval rating. he was a sabine, and although sabines had roman citizenship by this point the historical relations (war, legal infighting and illegal infighting, the whole rape of the sabine women thing,) sabines and romans did not tradtionally get along and most romans saw sabines as country bumpkins at best and inbred redneck hicks at worst.

vespasian was a career soldier—he helped in the conquering of britain (which was never popular at home), governor of africa and judea (neither of whih were lucrative provinces and he came home close to bankrupt, especially since africa was former-carthage and....the carthaginians.......didn’t like the romans), he was very pragmatic and sensible, and roman politics didn’t like either one of those things. romans didn’t really do pragmatic or sensible politics. he was on the outs with nero for a variety of reasons, but he was a very good general. in the end, he got tapped to lead the war in judea (see: the bar kochba revolt, masada, destruction of the second temple, etc)

vespasian became emperor at the tail-end of the year of the four emperors (ad 69, nice) when he was. you know. in judea. not in rome. that place that you usually had to have emperors. historical records vary, but most people agree that he never intentionally went into 69 trying to become emperor. however, what with one thing and another, when it became fairly clear to everyone involved that shit was just gonna keep getting worse, he agreed and was unanimously proclaimed as emperor by most of the roman army.

eventually he was able to get back to rome. when vespasian got there, the entire state treasury was just fucing Gone. the empire as a whole had no money. nothing. nero had destroyed all their reserves with his huge public works, the wars had removed the rest, and by the time vespasian got there it was a shambles without enough money to pay for the corn dole (which was how patrician romans kept the plebians from rioting and burning the city down). some of this was fairly easy to replace (via looting the entire second temple in jerusalem) but that was only temporary. long-term a solution was needed.

so vespasian, the son of a tax collector and a former field commander, came up with a brilliant plan.

he taxed public restrooms.

now, why would this make enough money to basically refill the entire roman treasury, you ask.

well.

as preveiously mentioned, urea was used as bleach. what do you do with bleach? you keep white clothes white. what did—particularly political—romans wear? white togas. 2m+ long white wool wraps that had to be kept white. how were they kept white?

the enormous roman laundry industry.

rome had SO MANY people doing laundry there was no way private homes coul provide the amount of piss required. so, most laundry companies bought piss on spec from public restrooms and bath-houses. without it, even with chalk, it was impossible to keep white clothes white, and political, patrician romans NEEDED WHITE TOGAS. so people bought piss.

and vespasian taxed urinating in public bathrooms. this tax then also carried over to the purchase of urine in bulk by laundromats. this tax then carried over to the cost paid by—again, mostly patrician—clients who needed their clothes bleached, since most plebians wore undyed or colorful cloth and didn’t need to be bleached.

think about the ramifications for a moment, if you will. one of the biggest cities of the ancient world, where public plumbing carries to the sewer and is a public utility that is partly upkept from taxes. then, everyone prefers to use places that have running water to piss, so you use the public restroom unless you’re at home. you pay to piss. then the laundry collectors pay FOR your piss, usually directly to the state. THEN the patricians pay to the laundromats for the piss used to clean their clothes. and all of that tax is earmarked and pocketed by the roman national treasury.

vespasian was emperor of rome for ten years.

he practically erased the national debt, put huge national sums to rebuilding the city of rome in the aftermath of the fire + the civil wars, and began the building of the colosseum. a largely nonzero part of that was because he looked at one of the most essential needs of ancient roman life and said “well, money’s fucking money” and taxed pee.

i should note that this is still REALLY vague and broad. vespasian’s entire reign as emperor of rome was deeply politically complex, and is part of what ended up shifting rome away from a patrician, tradtional “republican” family led society into what we really in the modern world think of as “the roman empire”, a product of the five good emperors in the following ~150yrs. vespasian was a canny politician and a very good general, who was frugal to a fault and also happened to be in very much the right place at the right time

if you’re really interested in vespasian i would suggest as fiction “the course of honor” by lindsey davis, and as nonfiction starting points would be suetonius’ “lives of the caesars” as it gives a lot of context for his real oddness in comparison to his fellow emperors before and after, and josephus’ “the jewish wars” as he was a firsthand fighter and then later member of the freedman imperial family. i love vespasian a lot so i always am happy to talk about this son of a tax collector who wilded out and became emperor of rome almost sort of entirely by accident.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

This is a bit random but if characters from your fics lived in the Atla universe what element would they bend? Personally I think Lily would still have all her powers which would result in people thinking she's the avatar even though she's not, Obito would be a firebender, Minato an airbender and Lenin dearest would be a waterbender/bloodbender/maybe the avatar?. This is just the vibe I get tho-

Who needs bullet points when we can do a far too thought out AU that spans multiple fandoms/recursive works that will never happen? 

More to the point, elements in AtLA is a mix of personality (we see earth benders as often brash and stubborn, water benders as adaptive, etc.) but also simply genetics. So, while I get that’s kind of the point of this post, it’s a bit weird to me to assign an element solely on personality. 

So with that, let’s get started.

The Setting

Just to make things fun let’s make our AU take place sometime between Sozin’s first comet and Roku’s death and Aang awakening from that iceberg. The air benders have been wiped out, seemingly with no survivors, the South Pole has been invaded and the water benders from there captured and brought back to the Fire Nation, many of the colonies in the Earth Kingdom have been established, but the North Pole and great cities in the Earth Kingdom still stand.

The Avatar hasn’t been missing for one-hundred years yet, but he’s been missing for decades and people are coming around to the idea that maybe he’s really not going to show up. 

Wizard Lenin/Tom Riddle

In this AU we’ll give Tom Riddle a slightly more traditional shitty background. Since we can’t really have a Tom in the AtLA universe he’s going to have the AtLA generic equivalent name that canon even jokes about: Lee. Lee is the mixed heritage son of a Fire Nation lord and a water bender from the south pole who grows up in a Fire Nation orphanage. And yes, this does happen in the absolute worst way you can possibly imagine, one of the imprisoned water benders from the south pole is raped.

As for Tom (Lee, you get the idea) arriving at an orphanage instead of being imprisoned/taken in as a son, well I’ll leave that to imagination but we can imagine a relatively compassionate guard, a dash of luck, or perhaps someone being an idiot and thinking “oh just dump it in an orphanage, there’s no way it will turn into a water bender too”

So, Tom grows up in an orphanage and looks just a bit... different from everyone else and is clearly not purely from the fire nation. I’m imagining much darker skin (and POC Tom Riddle is the weirdest thing in the world to contemplate, but here we are) and the pale blue eyes.

Tom grows up, dreaming probably of entering the military and winning himself glory, prestige, honor, and clawing out of this impoverished life he was born into. He undoubtedly desperately hopes he’s a fire bender, as not only is it cool but they have the best chance of making it in the world, and probably stays up late for many nights fruitlessly attempting to shoot fire out of his hands.

Unfortunately for Tom, sometime when he’s probably around eight or so, turns out he’s actually a water bender. Naturally, Tom has a huge meltdown and existential crisis as this means something’s terribly terribly wrong. More, all his hopes are ruined, as while a non-bender can make it a bender who is not a fire bender is a foreigner and traitor to the state.

Tom runs away and being a precocious child is able to make it on his own and about the country probably pulling off Toph-like scams. Eventually he runs into a much younger Hama who has just escaped prison and not yet started on her scary old lady adventures of imprisoning random villagers in caves. Hama goes, “of course, yes my child, I knew your mother” and gives Tom the whole horrible rape tale along with “I will teach you everything I know including my scary blood bending”. So Tom learns scary blood bending, probably stays with Hama a few years, and then realizes Hama isn’t going anywhere.

Hama’s content kidnapping random people into caves. At this point, angry and suddenly very pro-water bender Tom wants to murder the Fire Lord and his entire goddamn family and put himself in charge. Go big or go home, am I right?

So Tom leaves, Hama probably saying, “Come back any time, my beautiful murder child” and probably goes exploring the world in search of how the hell he’s going to bring down the Fire Lord. He also probably murders his entire father’s family and steals all his money, but that’s a different story. I imagine he goes to the North Pole where he learns that, as much of a water bender as he is, that he’s the son of someone from the Fire Nation closes pretty much every door to him. He’ll always be an outsider and the North Pole is very frosty towards him.

According to Hama, the South Pole is in shambles, so Tom probably doesn’t even bother going. 

So Tom probably goes and bums around the Earth Kingdom, loitering in Ba Sing Se and Omashu, looking for that damned Spirit Library in the desert, etc. for a good number of years as he works to perfect his water bending and make himself an instrument of death.

And then he meets an alien and everything changes.

Lily

Tom probably manages to wander around the spirit world at one point in his late teens and probably almost gets eaten by something terrifying. While he learns much it’s not really anything useful and is more in the “too cosmic horror for Tom” variety. More than that though, something follows him back out.

When he comes to back in the real world there’s this thing sitting next to him that looks enough like a person but also like someone told a gifted artist what humans look like and they got it mostly right but also went a little nuts. It’s a girl, a few years younger than him, who has flaming red hair, absurdly green eyes, pale skin, and facial features he can’t recognize for the life of him (Lily still looking western in this to up the ante of ‘she’s an alien folks’).

Tom sacrifices his dinner to it and hopes it doesn’t eat him.

It explains that it’s a tourist from another dimension, beyond even the Spirit World, and that it’s come to see what the mortal world is all about. Tom is naturally very weirded out but at this point decides to roll with it.

Except it doesn’t leave and clearly expects Tom to play tour guide.

He does, reluctantly, because he doesn’t want to be eaten but he also sort of gets used to the thing. Then, one day, it starts bending multiple elements with utter ease and Tom is at first flabbergasted and horrified (only to remember that spirits can do what they want and aren’t like lowly mortals who can only bend one element) and then he gets the idea.

The Avatar, lazy bastard that he is (and Tom might be a little more than slightly bitter that he himself is not the Avatar), appears to be MIA and not coming back any time soon. The entire world it seems is waiting for the Avatar to come and save them. But, Tom says to himself, who needs the Avatar when you can just have an Avatar. An Avatar and, of course, her water bending master.

Thus, the scheme is set, Tom will teach this weird alien thing how to a) act like a goddamn human in public and b) water bending and together they will pretend she’s the Avatar and got lost in the spirit world a few decades ago (which accounts for the youthful age and the weird appearance) and use this to gain allies, topple the Fire Nation, and eventually give the throne to Tom.

Lily, who doesn’t know the difference between being a tourist and taking over a nation, goes along but is basically this story’s answer to Uncle Iroh always getting distracted by Pai Sho.

Haru/Dead Last

Given that they’re in the Earth Kingdom, and that Lee picks up water bending insultingly quickly which makes Tom fume in rage, they go to pick up an earth bending master/spread the word that the Avatar has returned from her multiple decades long vacation. 

Along the way they probably run into Haru, who is the world’s most useless excuse for an Earth Bender. As always, he’s so average looking you can barely remember what he looks like beyond “generic earth bender”. 

They probably watch him for two seconds, Lily asks if this is it, and Tom Riddle says, “what a joke”. 

Minato Namikaze

Given that all the air benders are dead we’re going to make Minato a very talented earth bender (it is also very weird to imagine a dark haired/dark eyed Minato, but I suppose we’re going to roll with it). This also, to me, does fit his personality a little better as while he is a leaf on the wind kind of guy he also does dig his heels in and get very stubborn now and then.

Minato’s young, younger than Tom (Lee), but he’s incredibly talented and clever. To keep his shinobi background mostly in tact I imagine that Minato is a swiftly rising member of the Dai Li, stationed in Ba Sing Se, but who occasionally goes on intelligence missions to the other feudal powers in the Earth Kingdom.

So I imagine Lily and Tom run into him unnervingly frequently, probably first meeting him off duty in Omashu where he does his “extremely polite and friendly local guide” routine to show the pair the city (never mind that Tom insists he’s been to Omashu plenty of times goddammit). Despite this, Lily and Minato become friends, Lily easily confessing she’s the Avatar (which Minato at first thinks is a joke, even if she looks strange, then goes ‘oh my god, it’s not a joke). 

Eventually Minato is stationed to spy on them under the guise of teaching Lily earth bending. So he joins the gang. Tom, who knows exactly what’s going on, is not amused while Lily is just happy to collect another friend who will actually play Pai Sho with her. 

Kushina Uzumaki

Kushina is a earth bender, hands down. I debated making her a water bender (because whirlpool) but that personality is just pure earth bender material. Besides, I can just picture her so easily coming from Kyoshi. 

So Kushina’s an earth bending Kyoshi warrior, who while ten times as powerful as Minato, also lacks any of his control or cleverness. Kushina has undoubtedly left Kyoshi, abandoning their neutrality, to join the war and kick some fire bender ass.

She does this but along the way frequently runs into the gang where she annoys the ever loving shit out of Minato (her new rival) and claims that Avatar Lily is her new idol.

Rabbit

Rabbit is a mysterious spirit from Lily’s past that she refuses to talk about except in the darkest of terms promising doom and destruction the likes of which the world has never seen.

No one knows how to react to this. Or what a plain old ‘rabbit’ even is.

Tobirama Senju

Because no story’s not complete without Tobirama, I imagine he’s a stuffy waterbender and scholar from the North Pole who Tom is miffed at as the man refused to teach him even more water bending. Tobirama naturally feels that the day he teaches a blatant spy is the day he goes and drowns himself. 

Later, when Tom has picked up the Avatar and Tom rubs it in his face, Tobirama probably reluctantly spends a day or so teaching them something/fighting off the hordes of Fire Nation soldiers on their tale (it’s not Avatar if the gang isn’t constantly chased by fire benders).

Obito Uchiha

Obito is the answer to a fire bending instructor. Obito’s a firebender and the youngest son of a wealthy Fire Nation lord. However, Obito’s the black sheep of the family that everyone hates, a late bloomer when it comes to his bending, and is seen as bringing dishonor on the family.

Itching to prove himself, Obito becomes a soldier and goes to the Earth Kingdom, and eventually decides the best way to earn recognition and restore his honor is to capture the newly resurrected Avatar. Congratulations, Obito, you’re this story’s Zuko. 

Obito, while not the most talented fire bender at first (though as he gets older he gets dangerously good at it) is extremely clever and becomes the largest threat to the gang. 

That said, Obito actually does grow to like Lily quite a bit and begins to realize honor doesn’t actually mean that much to him and he doesn’t even really like his family. He doesn’t even dislike the concept of the Avatar and thinks the world probably does need one right about now.

So after a whole bunch of chasing them around the globe, thinking about his family, and being forced to almost kill the Avatar now and then he eventually defects and volunteers himself as fire bending instructor.

This is met with suspicion on all sides but he and Lily are bros so he wins.

Avatar Roku

Needing to pick up air bending, Lily probably fakes it until she makes it for a while, but eventually runs into Avatar Roku’s wandering spirit taking vacation from an ice cube.

He’s alarmed, but Aang’s trapped in ice, so if someone’s going to substitute then great.

To everyone else it just looks like Lily’s constantly talking to herself, playing Pai Sho with herself, and miraculously picks up air bending out of absolutely nowhere.

Also anyone close to Lee probably figures out she’s not really human/the avatar at this point, but they’ll take what they can get.

And This All Results In

Lily learns all the elements, there’s probably some big battle, then Lily gives some ridiculous speech about world peace that has nothing to do with anything and while the Fire Nation is defeated, Tom is not in fact made Fire Lord and remains merely the Avatar’s humble water bending instructor.

Instead, if he’s alive at this point, the crown goes to Iroh and he’s given a council of angry Earth Kingdom people who tell him to behave or else. We can give Iroh niceish things sometimes. That, or, hilariously, Obito becomes hokage/Fire Lord being distantly in line for the throne and doesn’t even know how that happened or what his life even is right now.

The colonies are the same mess in canon so something like Republic City probably eventually comes about.

Still, there’s peace, and probably statues to the gang all over the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes (while the Fire Nation grumbles and remembers the good old days when they controlled the world). 

And then Aang eventually wakes up extremely confused and confronts Avatar Lily noting, “Hey, I’m the actual Avatar” and Lily after a suspiciously blank pause explains, “I said an Avatar, never said I was the Avatar”

So, that’s that. If anyone wants other specific characters added into this mess feel free to comment. 

[greekbros]

"greek-Bros: The Return of an Old Enemy"

Chapter 4: Into the Wolf's Den

After his encounter with Artemis and Hermes, the wolf creature shambles back to a small entrence way into Mount Parnassus. Through rock and dirt, climbing up and down a corridor of stone, he desends down deep into the earth, back to his accursed master.

As it haphazardly turns around to make full sure of himself that he wasn't followed, he faces a large cavern gate, made from wood scavenged from the surface. Symbolically guarded by two crudely made statues of snarling wolves cobbled together with bits of scraps of pottery, wood and metal.

Due to his fatal injuries, he's slowly dieing from wound. Inspite of reanimating, he doesn't have too much time until the magic that keeps him half-alive wears off. Inhaling the damp, musty cave air, he let's out a long low howl, alerting the guards at the gate. The first guard, probably on his first day on the job, pokes his head through the gate wall much like a dog would stick its head trough a hole in wall.

"YESH, PASSWORDSH?" the young gaurd in a gruff toothy voice. He looks down and sees that there was no time for passwords, the wolf at the gate was fading fast. "HEELP! WALKN DAED! He clumsily shouted.

The dieing wolf started to cough up blood and fluids. He barked in agony for assistance to come faster. As he was swaying back and forth, two other wolf-men dressed up in hoplite armor carrying a patchwork stretcher come trough a hidden door build on the left of the gate, nearly indistinguishable from the panels of wood around it. They assist the wounded wolf man on to the stretcher, hastily going through the door.

The young gaurd wolf struggled for a second to unstick his head from the hole, but successfully gets free. He scampers towards the two soldier wolves, sneaking past his boss and fellow gaurds, he avades being seen by the others as his child-like curiosity and excitement to hear news from the surface. He passes down the subterranean paths and bridges, entangling the vast width of the cave, passing by makeshift markets, mining carts, runs past other wolf-folk, squalored in the dark damp cave. After navigating the rafters of a place loving called "Lycadia", he secretly arrives to a little ledge over looking the more elaborately constructed throne room of the ruler of this dark new underworld, King Lycaon. Alas, six other equally immature wolf-folk had the same idea and took his best spot, so he tries to squeeze a little towards the floor of the ledge to get a better look at what could possibly happen.

Down in the thrown room, the two hoplite wolves present King Lycaon the dieing scout. After so many decades, time has been cruelly kind to Lycaon, he still wore the royal robes he had on that faithful day, but now....the robes adorned a man no longer, but gnarling old wolf. His eyes glowed a sickly gold, his fur was dull with age but combed and clean, inspite living the rest of his life as an animal...he certainly did not want to live the squalored life of one. Lycaon, huntched down on his throne, snarled at the sight. "Wwwhat happened?" He growled. He got up from his throne, with every step followed by a tiptap of his claws and the jangling of the stolen jewelry and gold that he adorned. "How DARE....you comeback without any new tributes from.....grrrrrrr.....the surface." Said through a snarled teeth.

One of the hoplites, sheepishly interjected considering his fallen brethren was not fully capable of speaking. "Um...your highness, he was injured in...b-bbattle." he stuttered in fear of what Lycaon would do to him for defending a lowly scout. He points to the scout's mouth and neck, where Artemis's arrow had penetrated. The scout however, was fading fast, wheezing as the dark force keeping him alive was slowly abandoning him.

Lycaon glared at the scout with daggers in his eyes, furious that he had failed his mission. "Grrrrr, figures. You should be grrrreatful that you're even here.....the prRRRrrrivilege of laying your eyes on your KING....for the last time...now...tell me....." he snarls as he takes out a tiny vile and gently drops a miniscule droplet into the scout's mouth, just to give him a little more life to relay the information he had.

The scout's mouth burned as soon as the liquid touched his tounge, at first wheezing from the hole in the back of his throat, now healing over, letting him cough and scream. This wouldn't last too long, he was dead prior to arriving, so this was just to relay information. "Master, I-I was fofofffollowing the moon goddess" he struggled to speak.

Lycaon listened carefully.

"I-I...I was clossse, to capturing herrrrr....ssssshe was so clossse....until.....the messenger came. Warrrnnnnned her." He continued.

Lycaon his snarl worsened with anger, he knew exactly whom the scout was referring to. "Go onnn...or I'll put you out of your pathetic misery....." He threatened.

The scout coughed, just as fast as the liquid restored him, he slowly fading fast. "But.....I have good news....out numbers....grow...more and more...new citizens....will join....our....ranks...the gods....are unaware.......long...live...king Lycaon.", with the scout's last words, he breathes his last. Dieing on the floor of the throne room.

Although it was not much, King Lycaon was satisfied with this...but it doesn't stop him from being unsatisfied. He dramatically turns around, "Throw his body into the consumption pit. It will keep those BEGGERS away for a bit." He coldly commanded. "How many in our army?".

The hoplite wolves immediately went into attention, "400 men and soldiers, my Lord. All varying from all across Greece, even a handful from Persia and Rome." One replied.

Lycaon, glared back at the hoplite. "Women?" He asked.

"12, your highness. 5 priestesses among them", the one replied.

A sick and perverse smile crawled across his maw, licking his lips for what the prospect of comes from taking virgin priestesses, "exccccccellent....I suppose.....the number of....'new blood'....has risen?", the tyrant king continued.

The hoplite wolf, slightly uncomfortable with having to tell this information, "um...yes my Lord...74 young children...ready for conversions." He responded.

King Lycaon, let's out a small inconsequential chuckle but slowly that chuckle grows in volume and intensity, it grew into a mad cackling. As the caves echoed with his evil laughter, howls can be heard reverberating from all corners of Lycadia, the waves vibrated and boomed throughout, as if the whole mountain would explode from the conchophony of wolves. He stops, and turns to the hoplites, "...wwwhHat are you two... STILL doing HERE! Rrrremove that pile of useless flesh from my throne room! And send some one here to cleeeean this spot....a king must be prrrresentable....to introduce....the new generation of LYCANS to Lycadia....once we our numbers grrrow....we shall convert ALL of Greece, than....hmhmhmhmhehehHAHAHAHAH!....the world...now....GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!" He dramatically finished.

The two hoplites scrambled to to take the corpse and drag it to the consumption pit, where the lower caste lycans scavenge for food. The cruel king, claimed up to his throne to rest his old bones. He has been ruling Lycadia for less than two centuries, outliving any possible living decent that could even remember Lycaon. He believed, once his plan would come to fruition, he will be king of far much more than Lycadia.

The lycan youths, satisfied with the display of King Lycaon's authority, all leave the ledge to go back to whatever they were doing. The head guard was there too, tapping his foot in disapproval of the young gaurd's unprofessional behavior. All of the young welps had left....with the exception of one very young pup. Who seemed to have decided to be curious about "the surface". Unlike the other welps, he wasn't converted, he was born in Lycadia, roughly six years of age, he was rearing for a more exciting adventures. All of Lycaon's talk of this world above his stony world, had him thinking about exploring. As he scampered through out possibly the same path as the young gaurd, he sees the big wooden gate. Like an inconspicuous mouse in a vast garden, he's unnoticed by the guards, granted a good mix of them probably weren't gaurd's prior to conversions. The pup slipped through a little opening in-between to large logs, trotted off to new horizons.

After to what the little pup felt like forever in his whole, he finally catches a glimpse of the 'surface'. He sees the sunset, just slowly about to retire to leave room for moon, although he couldn't understand why the big bright thing sank into the horizon, he knew it was too bright for him to like, the little pup thought he would go blind the moment he saw the sun for the first time. However, time was on his side to give him a small taste of daylight before the night came, giving him the gift of moonlight for the little pup to explore in more suitable light. This whole new world was filled to the brim with smells and sounds the pup would have never dreamed of, he drinks in the sight of this little patch of forest, extending his little pawed hand to touch grass for the first time, feeling it's cold but pleasantly prickly blades. His tail, too small for it to be considered a tail but some older lycan's standards, wags uncontrollably, the little pup knew this bold new world was ripe for adventure. Without looking back at the cave entrence, he darted through the grass, off to an adventure.

End of chp4

[toxapexremade]

like i dont even dislike the dark ending i dont think people who take it are stupid inherently like there is no GOOD ending For You in dark souls 1 like there just isnt. no matter what path you take youre being used by people who use the narrative of the heros journey to manipulate you but like, the heros journey IS still there and no matter how you look at it one ending is better for the world but unfair to you and the other is WORSE for the world and basically means Nothing for you in the longrun like you got manipulated. like genuinely if you think the dark ending is Good for the world you just got manipulated by that nasty little snake beast whos name im forgetting like congrats. yeah youre fucking lord of the hollows or whatever but this is not a good thing and the Whole Game thru every npc quest goes in a way to show you that hollowing, for the Vast majority of people, is inevitable and youre like one of, what, 5 people who can not turn into a shambling corpse when it sets in? the firekeeper when you return her tongue begs you to at least grant those cursed with the darksign the ability to die human by kindling the flame. but gamer bros are stupid and think being lord of the hollows is like dope and shit so theyre like DARK SOULS TRUE ENDING?? DO THIS ENDING TO AVOID GETTING MANIPULATED HAHA like factually incorrect. god bless

[wetalkinboutbooks]

Reaper of Souls by Rena Barron

Summary: After so many years yearning for the gift of magic, Arrah has the one thing she’s always wanted—at a terrible price. Now the last surviving witchdoctor, she’s been left to pick up the shattered pieces of a family that betrayed her, a kingdom in shambles, and long-buried secrets about who she is. 

Desperate not to repeat her mother’s mistakes, Arrah must return to the tribal lands to search for help from the remnants of her parents’ people. But the Demon King’s shadow looms closer than she thinks. And as Arrah struggles to unravel her connection to him, defeating him begins to seem more and more impossible—if it’s something she can bring herself to do at all.

Set in a richly imagined world inspired by spine-tingling tales of voodoo and folk magic, Kingdom of Souls was lauded as “masterful” by the School Library Journal in a starred review. This explosively epic sequel will have readers racing to the can’t-miss conclusion. (Taken from Goodreads)

Our Ratings:  

 → Geena:  ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️🌗

 → Kae: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Overall: A messy sequel to an amazing series, we get to see the after effects of the fall out of Arrah vs. Efiya from KOS… and when we tell you it is MESS!!!

~Spoiler-Full Review Below~

The Good: 

→ Arrah and Dimma

Geena: One of my favourite things about Reaper was the sprinkle of Dimma’s POVs throughout the story. We got an insight into Dimma’s life before she was Arrah, and how her relationship with the other Orisha and Daho developed. It also really helped build up the suspense near the end and set up plot twists that clocked us near the end. Dimma aside, let’s talk about Arrah. Rena Barron said brooding boys are out, brooding girls are IN! And you know what, we love to read it. The story starts off with Arrah trying to save Sukkar after she snapped all his bones while trying to save him, and she does save him :) Or so she thinks but that’s besides the point. Over the length of the book we follow Arrah’s inner turmoil of suddenly having the power of 10 tribal chieftains and being insecure about whether or not she even deserves it.

I loved Arrah, even when she was holding herself up to a terribly high bar and beating herself up about everything she did. Arrah helped bring her Auntie back from the dead and was like “Damn I suck :/” and thought shattering a girl’s glass (who was flirting with Rudjek) put her on the same level as her mom and Efiya. I was sitting there like NO GIRL YOU’RE PERFECT, YOU, YOUR MISSING TOOTH AND YOUR PETTY NATURE!! 

Kae: YAAAAAAAAAS! Geena summed Arrah and Dimma up perfectly. 

But I would like to add how much I love Arrah and how selfless she is. She’s always thinking about her friends and their safety, the safety of the tribal people, and of course the kingdom. She’s a worry woman, but for all the right reasons. And she also cares about herself; so much even that like Geena said, she beats herself up for the smallest of things. She’s so worried about being evil like her mother and her sister, that she calculates every single move that she makes, debating if it’s really worth it to use strong magic or not. 

As for Dimma, I loved her POV’S. She is a complex character who has been demonized since book 1. We were taught to believe, through the POV of some of the Gods, that Dimma was a horrible Goddess who wrought nothing but chaos. They erased her name from history, LITERALLY. And Dimma became known as the Unnamed Orisha. While reading her POV, we learn that Dimma was quite selfless, much like Arrah (since they are technically the same person). Dimma was full of love and loved even harder. She went out of her way to give Daho immortality as well as his people, because she loved them so much. She defied the rules of the universe for her love, and it only came to bite her in the ass in the end. Like her siblings told her, “A God’s love is a dangerous thing.” And it was, but not exactly for the reasons one might think.

Geena:  Kae’s summary of Dimma and Arrah is AMAZING, you know my ability to connect dots when reading is kinda shit so reading Kae’s summary gave me realization…  Arrah tries so hard to separate herself from Dimma, because she refuses to believe that a part of her is in love with Daho because she herself is in love with Rudjek… but it’s like girl… you have travelled to the ends of the earth to fight and bring back the people you love (the tribespeople) just like Dimma searched the ends of the universe for immortality to give to Daho. It’d be much easier to reconcile your feelings if you just accepted that “Okay, I may have been Dimma but now I am Arrah”

Also another thing I love about Arrah is how she had…. For a time… three dudes in love with her… or at least what she thought was three dudes. Real hot girl shit. 

→ Rudjek and Daho

Geena: You know the character archetype that’s like a snarky boy who knows he’s hot shit and acts accordingly, but when it comes to the person he’s in love with he’s just a bowl of mush. That’s Rudjek, and only Rudjek can pull it off. In KOS, he was slated to be the next vizier because of his father, in Reaper he’s known as a prince because his dad snaked his way into becoming the monarch. So, now he’s the snarky prince…. And the only snarky prince with rights! His POVs were actually so fun to read, like following the politics of the Kingdom and him dealing with his new craven powers…. Which also had him being able to smell pheromones when people were doing the dirty around him 😭

I really liked that Rena gave him a POV, because now we get to see how he develops given the fact that him and Arrah are dangerous to one another, because he saps her magic with a single touch and could kill her. The whole time Arrah is stressing like “Damn, what if he doesn’t like me anymore because we can’t touch” meanwhile Rudjek is like “I’ll fight the Gods if I have to, to keep her by my side” and it’s like 🥺Also, who let a teenager be in control of a whole army… I thought the vizier was a sly and smart man but I digress… Another thing I liked about Rudjek in this book was that he didn’t shy away from uncomfortable conversations with Arrah, regarding the fact that he confused Efiya for Arrah when they did the unspeakable in the clearing in KOS. Like, that was very mature of them and I’m glad they could deal with that misunderstanding… But… hands down… my favourite scene… During the climax of the book Rudjek gets a demon soul shoved down his body, and immediately assumes it’s the demon king…. And his only command to his friends is to not let him near Arrah😭😭😭 I was like PEAK ROMANCE, SOFTEST SHIT, SACRIFICIAL LOVER!!!!! 

Kae: SO GEENA SUMMED UP RUDJEK SO DAMN WELL. LIKE DUDE OMG? Correct. He is perfect. I really don’t have much to add but I just genuinely loved him as a character. He is caring for both Arrah and his friends. He is also one of the few male characters I’ve read that actively tries to go against their father. Most dudes in books are like “Fine puhpa, I shall do your evil bidding.” But Rudjek is like “Sike bitch, I’ll let you think that but I’m doing what I WAAAANT!” 

But okay, let’s talk about Daho. So first off, I love him??? Am I a villain sympathizer now? Tbh, I don’t really see him as a villain. Man’s didn’t commit a genocide or try to scheme Arrah out of her pants. AND HE VERY MUCH HAD THE CHANCE TO and he was like “nah.” And I appreciate that. Because there are a few certain villainous men who I shan’t name, that be on that scant shit. And Daho is just like… genuinely trying to avenge his wife’s death (Dimma) and try to get Arrah to remember that she is Dimma. 

YES, I know he got Arti to bring him back. BUUUUUT, he didn’t tell her to kill a bunch of kids and shit to do it. Arti did all that evil shit on her own and Daho was like “look, i don’t condone that shit. But it’s over and I’m sorry it happened but I can’t change it.” And I’m like… okay, mood. I get it. Daho is sweet and caring. He looked out for Arrah in *redacted’s* body because we didn’t know *redacted* was dead the whole time. And even then, Daho was still like “My bad… But he wasn’t using his body??? So I took it???” Why let it go to waste, amiright? 

Geena: STOOOOP FOR REAL HE WAS LIKE “It was empty, I didn’t think you’d mind” 

Kae: LMAOOO OKAY BUT DEADASS. And like, idk man. He just seriously isn’t a bad person. He was trapped because after the God’s killed Dimma, he was like “BET IMMA JUST KILL THEM” and they lowkey were shook so they trapped his ass in a box for a millenia or whatever. He wasn’t even out to kill all humanity or anything. The God’s were just being some haters and now he’s suddenly the bad guy. Anyway, we stan Daho in this house. 

Geena: Daho is how you write a sympathetic villain. He owns up to his own mistakes even while his demons run free terrorizing people. Kae said it best that he just wants justice for his wife and unfortunately history is written by the victors so the Orisha painted him out to be a bad guy… My dude was just chugging that respecting my wife juice and they killed her… and he also thinks they killed his son… Guess me and Kae are just villain sympathizers now 

The Bad:   

→ The Ending 

Kae: Okay, let’s get it. And I also just want to clarify that when we say “the bad”, we don’t mean we hate it. This is just something that was like “oh fuck, this is BAAAAD! THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GO DOOOWN.” 

But like, good Lord. The ending? That shit was crazy. First of all, we find out that *redacted* aka, SUKKAR. OUR SWEET, PLAYFUL, SARCASTIC SUKKAR. IS DEAD. HE HAS BEEN DEAD THIS WHOLE TIME!? Excuse me while I *SCREEEEEEEEEEEAM*. Like, what an unforeseen twist. This mf kicked the bucket back in KOS when Arrah tried to save him. Turns out… She maybe… Totally… possibly… Absolutely killed my guy on accident. He dead-dead. And this is how we find out that Daho took over his body, once Sukkar’s spirit ascended. It was a really sad reveal and my heart kind of hurt reading it. I straight up wasn’t expecting that to happen. THEEEEEN. GOTDAMN EFIYA. IS BROUGHT BACK. 

Geena: No joke, the ending of Reaper was just one sucker punch followed by another… At first you think Tyrek (the prince from KOS who joins Arrah and her crew on a journey to save the tribespeople) is the demon king, then you think it’s Rudjek because he’s getting possessed, and then you learn it’s Sukkar… The final punch to the gut was Daho bringing back Efiya because his close general asked for her… because she’s his daughter. We were like, DAHO ARE YOU SERIOUS YOU SAW THE DAMAGE SHE DID TO THE HUMANS!!! Like Efiya may have grown quickly in a few months but her brain isn’t fully developed, like that girl is UNHINGED!!! I thought we were done with the Efiya chapter but here we are, and I’m scared to see what role she’ll play in the final instalment of the series. I guess this is the case of bringing back an old villain that can work out really well…  I trusted Rena with the messy Arrah/Daho/Rudjek love triangle, so I trust her with this too 

The Ugly:  

→ Tyrek 

Geena: Remember how I said Rudjek is the only valid snarky prince… Yea, Tyrek can CHOKE!! In KOS he sides with Efiya and she wreaks havoc in the Kingdom, and in Reaper he’s brought to his knees. Rudjek’s dad wants to execute him for his crimes, but Arrah sympathizes with him because she knows how Efiya’s mind control worked. As you read, you get a sense of “Okay, maybe he isn’t bad, he’s helping Arrah and them” but then you get to the climax and you’re like okay nvm this boy was insane… Imagine travelling to a whole other dimension and making deals with demons, because you’re in a fucked up sort of romance with a half-demon girl. He managed to lie to Arrah that he was being controlled by Efiyah, when he was really with Efiya the whole way…. Even when she told him to murder his whole family… this man was vile!! He’s also one of our first fake outs, when he pretends to be the demon king I was kinda disappointed… I was like no this ruins the messy love triangle I’ve been waiting for! But it was just a fake out, Tyrek was just trying to scare Arrah into freeing Efiya, whose soul was in the demon dagger that Arrah used to kill her in KOS. Overall, 1/10 for this man… the 1 point is for when he figured out “Sukkar” had a crush on Arrah before Arrah even knew.  

Conclusion 

Kae: So, I don't have much to add to Tyrek’s snake ass. He really was ugly in the end. I’m glad he’s dead. 

But to conclude, this was such an amazing, refreshing read. Reaper of Souls was a wonderful sequel to Kingdom of Souls. Rena writes so beautifully and she didn’t hesitate to have us readers shaking in our boots. Getting more background information on Dimma, the Gods, and their old ass war, was really fun and insightful! IT added to the story in a way I hadn’t even thought about until I was consuming it all! 

Arrah and Rudjek are perfect angels and I can’t wait to see where book three leads them. I also want to give a shout out to Essnai and Majka for being such good friends to Arrah and Rudjek. Same to Kira and the Cravens. This is a really close knit group of friends who will go to the ends of the Earth (and literally new dimensions) for each other. THAT’S LOVE, BITCH. And we LOVE to see it. 

Geena: For real! Rena Barron set up such an amazing cast of characters, and she really emphasizes the power of friendship in her series and it’s one of my favourite things to read. With Reaper, from the very start, she sets up the story in such a way you’re literally screaming by the end… I think it requires a special kind of skill to be able to set up a story so well that while you do make predictions about what’s going to happen, it still shocks you when you realize you’re right. Cannot wait to see the absolute mess that will be the final book, with Rudjek/Arrah vs. Daho… and the drama it will bring now that the Orishas realize that Arrah is Dimma’s reincarnation.  

[veilder]

G, M, P, Q and T? uwu

In answer to this post. Lol, thanks Berry. XD G - Do you remember your first OTP, if so who was in it - God, I don’t even know? Honestly, the concept of an “OTP” has never really been something I’d adhered to til recently. I was always a pretty big multishipper back in the day. I... don’t know how to answer this one, lol. Like, I guess it’s Convin but that’s only from two years ago. XD M - Say something genuinely nice about a ship that you don’t ship (or its shippers, or anything related to you) - Honestly, RK1K fans just seem very nice? I’ve never been able to get into the ship (even though it was the first one I checked out when getting into the fandom, omg. I thought it was gonna be a bigger thing than it is.) but the fans of it seem very genuine, they make some great content and they don’t really seem to cause any drama. So freaking kudos to y’all for adding to the fandom experience. Variety is good when it’s not enmired in bad takes and shipping wars, lol.  P - Invent a random AU for any fandom (we always need more ideas) - Oh lord. I have so many AU ideas for DBH? Uh... Let’s see, how about an oldy but a goody? That is, the heist fic that was one of my first ideas for a multi-chapter fic? Here’s my proposed summary, lol: 

Former police Lieutenant, Hank Anderson, has been in prison for a false-conviction for two years. When the time comes for his release, he finds his life in shambles: his wife, gone; his son, crippled; his accounts, sucked dry by medical debt. Having no other recourse, Hank finds himself turning to the criminals he used to put away in order to make ends meet. But when he is approached by a young man in a sharp suit looking to secure the biggest heist of the century, Hank might just find himself in over his head... Human!AU

Never managed to do much with this, but I still love the idea. And I had so much detail added to the world-building of it all including a full set of cast characters, some very strange rarepairs and a lot of research, lol.  Q - A ship you’ve abandoned and why - Hm, this is difficult... Because there have never been too many ships I’ve been invested enough in to classify as “abandoning” them imo? Maybe the closest I can get to this is me sliding over from Stucky to WinterFalcon in the MCU fandom? But like... I still like Stucky, too, lol. I just think canon did Steve dirty. XD Other than that, idk! T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending, about anything at all (gender identity, sexual or romantic orientation, extended family, sexual preferences like top/bottom/switch, relationship with poetry, seriously anything) - Oh lord. Just... so many. I have a lot of headcanon about androids and asexuality that I really don’t budge on. I have a whole thing about Nines and him being an unfinished prototype and how that could limit him. Reed-Kamski Bros is a pretty hard and fast one for me, too. ...I think those are the main ones, lol. I, of course, have so many other headcanons for the characters, too, but I tend to be more malleable with those, lol. Even the Nines ones I can budge on. But yeah, at least in my own writing, I always go with asexual androids and Gavin and Eli being related. Thanks for all the questions! These were fun!

[punkandsnacks]

Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter Fifteen; Anticipation.

Author: @punk-in-docs​ & @adamsnackdriver​

Also on AO3-  

Masterlist-

Trigger Warnings: No warnings in this chap- animal shapeshifting but thas about it really-

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilizations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it.

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia.

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

                                                       ~ ~ 🥀  ~ ~

The very next days seemed to crawl by. As if time itself was dragging through claggy thick treacle.

 Nothing moved quickly and Iris knows it’s because she’s anticipating the weeks-end more than any other event she’s ever awaited on in her life.

 More than Yuletide morning. More than her birthday. More than buying a new book or taking an early morning walk all to herself. More than a sunny frosted morning where everything seems to glimmer as if crafted from gold, or seeing wildflowers dot the woods with their colour in spring.

 She’s waiting on that much anticipated midnight with baited breath. Every second closer to it is both torture and sweet blessed relief.

 She fulfils her remaining days with a permanent smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

 Even her acetous mother remarks upon it. She tells her daughter the fine manner of her engagement must be bringing her joy. Iris bites her lip to keep from grinning.

 She clutched her romantic secret all that tighter to her chest. Moulded it like warm clay to clasp around her glad heart.

 Mother and Maratella insist on setting a date. And getting her whole ‘bouquet’ of daughters measured for their gowns.

 Posy and Flora for they are of course to be bridesmaids, and Iris, of course, for her bridal gown. They get up a merry party to Pembleton one fine clear morning.

 The snow and frost govern the landscape once more. Ebbing back in after the recent rain. The brown frost-hardened hills and trees and fields. Governed under the fierce cyclops of a mustard sun blazing in the effortless blue of the cobalt sky. It made Iris think of robins eggs, and the golden buttery buds of spring. When the bulbs and shoots blossom up through the earth with their sickly scent and colour.

 It is a fine clear day and it indicates that the end of the long bitter winter approaches. The cold is as ferocious as ever so Maratella insists upon them not catching a chill in the vile icy winds. Shes most kind as to stop to collect the Misses Ashton’s in the Hux’s second largest coach. They are all bid to the dressmakers in the high street. Along the medieval shamble of barrel window and oak timber shops.

 The news of her engagement spread far and wide. Before her boots have even touched the cobbles, stepping out the coach, their party is virtually mobbed by matrons and ladies of their acquaintance.

 Iris had in mind a silly image of them prowling at the pavements like baying wolves, chasing after the muddy churn of the carriage wheels; anything for to first seize that newest scrap of gossip.

 Posy and Flora ladle up all the attention. As does Mama. Proudly boasting - along with Maratella - of the suitability of such a fine match. Iris wants to roll her eyes as Flora greatly exaggerated the romantic manner of Hux’s proposition. She gabbled about a room full of red roses and how Iris wept tears of delight as he swept her into his arms.

 The ravenous eyes turn toward her. “May we see the ring, Miss Ashton?” Comes out of numerous smiling mouths like a chorus of cawing seagulls. Iris feels like they’ll rip her glove off themselves if she doesn’t.

 Unused to such attention, she blushes as she slips off her grey calfskin glove. Wrenching it off her hand. There is a troupe of awed gasps as they admire the diamond set in the gold band.

 Iris feels as if she’s sticking her hand into a dangerous animals maw. Like some exhibit at a zoo. Feeding her hand to the rabid starving tiger’s. There’s so much gasping and in taking of breath it’s a wonder they don’t suck her up. And take half the street with them.

 Luckily, Maratella fusses that they’ll be late if they don’t make haste. She then proudly utters that the ladies five, their happy little bridal party, are off to Madame Larousse’s dressmaking parlour for a wedding gown. And Mrs Ashton and Mrs Hux are to see to both having new hats to mark such a happy occasion.

 The flock of ravenous ladies ceases. Satisfied with their mauling of Iris and her news and her engagement ring. The party is able to proceed along the pavement unhindered.

 They slip into Madame Larousse’s. Greeted by the lanky, heavily perfumed proprietor herself. She was a tall, ungainly woman with poky shoulders and an always over-rouged complexion. And will always, without fail, exaggerate a mildly French accent to gild her words. For she believes that all the best dressmakers and seamstresses were French.

 The tall stretch of Madame claps excitedly and demands to see Iris’ hand when she hears they are here to purchase ribbons and lace and all things fit for a bride. She is whisked away by a very efficient assistant. And stood on a pedestal for the next hour and half.

 Iris spends that time with swatches pinned to her. Flapped around her ears. Tucked under her collar. There’s so many back and forth decisions from her mother, it makes her quite dizzy. A tape drawn tight around her so many times to squeeze the stuffing out her. Eventually, they stumble to a conclusion. It was to be a saffron orange.

 Flora remarked it made her rather look like a carrot.

 Around her they lounge on the chaises provided, clutched around the mirror and the box she’s on, and they drink sweet tea. Brown sugar sprinkled and stirred into the earl grey.

 They all pose interjections and opinions and preferences on her. Iris just stands there like a tailors doll. Only half there.

 She’s caught sight of a swatch of ruby-wine velvet near her thigh and is stroking it fondly. Remembering Lord Rens exquisite bed coverlet. How it felt under her fingers, it took her ricocheting back to that moment. And it calmed her.

 That’s how she can stand all this grousing and prodding. It reminds her of her secret and she nearly faints off that box pedestal.

 They settle on a pallid frothy blue silk instead. To better bring out the excellence of her mud and twigs hair. Mama chooses the best silk madame has in stock. Says she will have to fetch more in from her supplier especially. From London.

 That causes much excitement for Flora and Posy. They’d never had a dress made from material fetched as far nor from a city as grand as London, before.

 Posy had selected a teasing slip of pink silk. Flora, for her more fiery hair, chose a delicate pastel pea green. Iris thinks they’ll look like a platter of French fancy cakes.

 Then a pang of something hits through her heart with all the intensity of an arrowhead studding there - she hopes Mama lets Posy and Flora keep their new gowns after she’s gone. She hopes very much. They are the stillest girls in existence but they do deserve nicer things than what they get.

 By Madame’s husky drawl of a smoky voice is she brought back into the room, the awful pink pink pink room. Stuffed with velvet chaises and bolster cushions and trimmed fringed oil lamps. Great big fat rosebuds sprout up the wallpaper and flourish across the fabric of the pillows on the settee.

 It’s as if the whole room is the summoning of the evil fairy in sleeping beauty. Who commanded swarms of brambles and thorns and swamping plants to take over. That was this room to the last pink thread - only it was instead summoned to contain every incarnation of pink roses as far as the eye could see.

 Her ears burn hot and pink as Madame talks of London. Relating the gossip back to someone in the village. Matter of fact, a certain Lord-

 “Apparantly, you know he sent that tall turbaned butler of his up to London just yesterday...” Madame hushes to them in her hazy terribly-affected French.

 “Sent him to Mayfair.” She grins crookedly as she measures from Iris’s hip to her hem. Barking orders at Suzy, her ever suffering assistant.

 Maratella seems most diverted. “Pray whatever for?” She leans forwards. Perching her half eaten violet macaroon on her saucer.

 “He sent him to Bond Street. You know there is an establishment there that supplies jewels to the palace. Apparantly he came back having purchased something.” Madame says.

 “Pray why would be send his butler all that way?” Flora asks.

 “Why, Miss Smith told me so this morning; she suspects Lord Ren has left his heart behind in Bavaria. He is soon to quit Hellford. She heard Clarence Pennington’s butler say that his housekeeper, Mrs Jones states that half his house is shut. And the staff vacated.” Maratella excites them all. Flora and Posy are mortified at such news.

 “The house is emptying. And Lord Ren shall soon be gone.” She adds.

 Mrs Ashton smiles gladly. “He is journeying back home to his castle I wager...” She delights. The spitting smug nature of her tone was clear. Good riddance.

 “Who must he be besotted with I wonder?” Posy asks indelicately.

 Iris tries not to be twice as smug. Thinking that she is that very woman.

 He goes back to his castle and I will gladly go with him, she thinks.

 The giddiness and joy roils in her stomach like golden champagne. Fizzes through her veins and she has to hide a smile. Biting her cheek hard.

 “Well. if he is shortly to leave our shores. I’m willing to bet he’ll break a fair few maidens hearts in this county and the next over. Such a striking gentleman. The young ladies will certainly feel his loss most keenly.” Maratella comments in sadness for all the female admirers he’d amassed. They’d all be heart sore now he’s going away.

 “You’re blushing Iris.” Flora sing-songs at her. Pointing it out. “Thoughts of your intended sweetheart?” She ribs her sister.

 “You are a colossal pest. Flora.” Iris smiles at her. Matter of fact. Her little bug of a sister is quite right. She is thinking about the man she’ll marry.

 Only another agonising hour whilst Mama and Maratella select their hats for the occasion. But Iris can atleast sit down and drink some much too sweet earl grey tea. Doesn’t have to stand on that wretched box for another hour.

 Eventually their purchases were rung up and settled. Flora and Posy love Iris very much because she buys them two new ribbons each and some velvet buttons for their bonnets. They’re singing her praises as they quit the shop. Trilling like a pair of canaries about their gowns. Iris was glad to spend some of her pin money on them before she leaves for good.

 She’s fully appraised of the weight of her actions. And the serious consequence of them. It would be ruinous for her mother and father. It would be a disaster for her sisters. But atleast she was of age and she could marry. Whatever else others might say of her - she fully believes Lord Ren’s intentions are honourable.

 They can’t scandalise her for marrying Kylo. Just censure her for running away from Hux and jilting him. She’s certain he’ll recover amicably enough. He doesn’t love her. And his mother is suitably well connected. She could snap her fingers and summon another willing bride. She’s only sorry it can’t be her.

 She’s despondent to remark upon the pain she’ll be causing hers and Hux’s family. But in time, they will recover. Posy would do well and Flora will follow in her footsteps. Mother will see to it they catch fine husbands when the time is right. Their mother is most skilled in that area.

 The party journeys along Pembleton street. Maratella stops by the haberdashers to seek after some ribbons. Mama is in the milliners seeking after a new pair of occasion gloves. Posy and Flora amble slowly along the street with their sister. Watching the carriages and coaches trundle by. Various riders on horseback too.

 A loud nickering snort behind her makes her turn. She can hardly hide the smile that quickly grows across her face when she catches sight of a lone rider on a huge stocky black stallion. Both man and his mount are furiously muscled beasts.

 His Lordly attire is its usual. All black. Save for his white shirt and red cravat. The great overcoat frames his wide shoulders and his bulky chest. His boots gleam in the meagre sun. His grin tips up when he catches sight of her.

 He looks terribly smug and Iris’s heart feels like it’s trying to ram out the cage of her ribs. This handsome lordly man who stole it away, sets it pounding freely and rampant in her chest.

 She tries not to arouse the suspicion of her sisters. They were much too curious and meddling for their own good. She wants to protect her secret and she thinks she’s a proficient enough liar to accomplish it.

 They burst into fits of giggles on seeing him. He rides Erland closer to where they are stood and dismounts. His strong boots thud into the frosty mud. His wool coat laps and swathes his body. He tethered himself to Erland. Massive gloved hand gripping the reins. The creature didn’t seem to have any care for wandering off. He just wished to see Iris - Kylo empathises with the horse. He rather feels the exact same.

 Iris, Posy and Flora all curtsey to him. He bids them all a greeting. She bows her neck and when she looks up. His eyes fondly fix on her. Warm in the sun. The contrast of him is astonishing. Milky creamy complexion, bordered by the onyx shadow of his hair and eyes. Utter opposites in the juxtaposition.

 “Miss Ashton. A pleasure to see you again. I trust you are still well recovered. You look very radiant this morning.” He comments. Walking Erland just that tiny step closer.

 The obstinate animal his stallion is, reaches his nose out and snorts into her hand. Nudges her glove for pats and scritches of affection behind his ears. She doesn’t care that she’ll get horse hair on her. She strokes him.

 “You are most kind. Your lordship. I am very well.” She smiles slightly. The pretty kiss of rose on her cheeks.

 “I need not tell you Erland is pleased to make your acquaintance once more.” He remarks starkly. Hint of irony not lost on her. Erland almost nudges her to fall over with his big strong head. She laughs.

 “Your ears must’ve been burning. Lord Ren. For we were just discussing you...” Posy flirts. Batting her lashes at the man.

 Hands crossed in front of her. Like she was a genteel little doe. Iris glares narrowed silver dagger eyes at her sister to stop displaying herself so readily. As ever, the little vexation pays no attention. Not when there was a hot blooded male around.

 Kylo tilts his head. Intrigued. “Is that so, Miss Posy?” He asks.

 “We we’re discussing how heart sore all the young ladies hereabouts will be when you quit Hampshire...” Flora tells him.

 Kylo takes her confession in his stride. “It’s true. And I am sorry more than I can exclaim to be leaving such carnage and desolation in my wake. But sadly I do return to Bavaria shortly.”

 That handsome expression barely betrays a thing. The cold wind flounces and ruffles that wild hair. A tuft of it drifts in his face and tangled in his dark eyeline.

 Iris decides in that moment he truly might be an angel sculpted by gods own hand; or a demon designed by the devil himself. She isn’t sure which of those creatures is all the more tempting.

 One thing she’s certain of; He’d win that draw of most handsome, every time.

 She quivers when those eyes gaze at her. Peels her right out her clothes and down to her goose pimpled skin. Then Posy has to go and open her foolhardy mouth some more...

 “We were just helping Iris shop for her bridal gown.” She preens. “And our bridesmaids dresses.” She comments. Speaking as if she wants Kylo to snatch her up and steal her away to Bavaria. Stuff her in his pocket and run off with her.

 “I had heard rumour of your engagement...” He lies. Iris is biting the inside of her lip and smiling genially to hide how wide her excitement wishes to make her smile grow.

 “Show Lord Ren your engagement ring, Iris!” Flora bounces excitedly. Iris glares. Reminding her of the inappropriate nature of her words.

 “Flora. Lord Ren is not interested in such matters. And I’m afraid we’ve already impressed upon too much of his time...” She insists.

 Kylo holds out his hand to her. Steps closer so she has to crane her head back just to keep sight of his eyes. “I am certainly interested. And I might add, most eager to see the bauble that decorates such a fine, pretty hand.” He teases.

 She decides he was designed by the devil. And lucifer gave him a silver tongue to boot-

 Iris slips off her grey glove and gently lays her palm in his.

 The way his fingers curl around hers is criminal. She tips her eyes up to his as he shifts closer and admires her ring. A soft smile tugs at his mouth. The gold winks at him in the sun. It’s a pretty delicate morsel. He can’t deny. But plain. Much too plain. Entirely humble as decoration went.

 -it’s certainly nothing to the one he’d had Jomar go all the way to London to fetch for her from Bentley & Skinner on Bond Street.

 “It is a fine ring. Miss Ashton. Sergeant Hux is the most fortunate man in England to have you as his intended bride. I’m quite envious of his fortuity.” He says. Bowing to lay a kiss on the back of her palm.

 His eyes electrify her. He winks at her and she flushes with heat. Blood pressing up in her face.

 “I’m sorry to hear of your leaving England. Lord Ren. Such a shame Hellford Park should be quitted before the summer.” She tells him.

 Her palm leaving his. Sliding away from the touch of his hand would have made her wretched were it not for the heat in his bronzed eyes. Made a warmer melting shade by the shimmer of the buttery sun. And their shared secret lifts her heart.

 “It is a great shame. But I’m eager to return to Ranlor. I’ve missed my homeland a great deal.”

 “The rumour in circulation is that you have a certain lady in mind to return home too.” Posy dares most outlandishly. Iris chides her for her brash rudeness.

 “Posy!” Iris calls out.

 Kylo seems amused by it. “That would he telling. Miss Posy. Not to mention betraying the confidence of the most honourable lady in question.” He smirks at her sister.

 Who giggles and blushes like it’s no ones business. His vampiric charms seeping out of his every pore, truly intoxicating to them, Iris can see it’s influence.

 “Is she a great beauty? I imagine she is most elegant indeed and very superior and titled in rank and manner. And of great fortune...” Posy digs for more details. Kylo will reveal none.

 “Pray. Don’t be impertinent twice-over.” Iris corrects. Posy pulls a vexed face. Shoves her tongue out at her sister.

 Kylo’s chuckling. They were entertaining little chits. Relentless. But he admires something about that sparky quality. Iris had the same sense about her - only more sensible and humble.

 “She is the singularly, most beautiful creature I’ve ever beheld in all my years.” He promises. “And I cannot wait to have her hand in marriage. She will make me a very blessed and lucky man.” He declares.

 “How romantic.” Posy declares in a sigh. Flora dreamily agrees. They’re both veritably Moony eyed. Gazing up at him in wonder as a consequence. A silly girls kryptonite. A handsome and dark romantic man. A Byronic figure to set all the foolish girls swooning at the knees.

 Kylo’s eyes sweep across to Iris at a passing glance. He smiles. And it almost undoes her.

 “We must be on our way. We’ve availed ourselves of too much of your time. Lord Ren.” Iris says in parting. Trying to herd her vapid sisters away before they flirt anymore.

 “We must go. For we are bid to the Hux’s tonight for a celebratory engagement supper.” Posy curtsies boasting as she’s bobbing away.

 “Give the Sergeant and his family my warmest regards.” Kylo insists. Knowing what a barb that would be to Hux’s temper.

 Iris turns and meets his eyes. Giving him a polite bowed head in parting. When Posy and Flora are otherwise looking elsewhere. She turns back and gives him such a look of longing and delight it makes him grin at her as she walks off down the cobbled pavement.

 “Very good to see you again. Your Lordship. Have a pleasant rest of your day.” She insists.

 Cajoling her sisters along the path and away before they get any notions. Erland snorts at her as she moved away. She smiles and gladly rubs the flat bone of his nose before she goes. Lord Ren stays standing until she does move away.

 Kylo pats his neck, and hauls himself up on his strong stallions back once again. Booted feet in the stirrups. He adjusts on the saddle. Scanning the tumbled windows of the high street proprietors.

 In the milliners, he sees a face like sour lemons and thunder glaring out at him. Mrs Ashton’s stony face peering outwards through the glass. Having seen his exchange with all her daughters.

 He coaxes Erland into a slow walk. A little nudge in his side. He gives the foul Caroline Ashton his most winning enigmatic smile. And nods civilly in greeting at her as he rides off.

 He sees it makes her lips purse in irritation.

 Iris can’t resist glancing back at him. She knows those eyes watch her all the way down the street. She can feel them. Two pinpricks of heat, like candles, burning into her shoulder-blades.

 It makes her too giddy for words.

 They soon catch up with the rest of their party and are whisked away in the Hux carriage. Soaring across the dirty English roads. Mud churning in their wake as cold air and sunshine bounces off the roof.

 Mama asks them what Lord Ren. Iris told them he was just politely passing the time of day. She seems satisfied with the answer. Iris fights not to squirm into shivers of desire at the merest intimation and memory of him.

 Posy and Flora sing-song his romantic praises all the way home. Mother soon shuts them up with a cross cold stare.

 The afternoon seems to fly her by. No sooner than she’s home and she’s readying herself for the dinner they’ll take at the Hux’s residence. Cavenham House.

 The not so modest estate in the border of the next county. A gorgeous house if she’s being perfectly honest. Terracotta red bricked exterior, of modern Georgian design. Huge arched white windows. Rococo interior. All gilded with cherubs frolicking on the murky painted ceilings and baroque trim on every door. Rolling scrolls. Frescoes and pastel colours. Gilding, moulding and trompe l’oeils giving the illusion of motion and drama. Raining down from every ceiling.

 A handsomely kept garden was also what it was resolutely famous for. Though it would not be pictured to its best quality in this dead winter. Spring will liven it soon. The hardy bright bulbs will crop up through the frost. But for now it remains speckled in snow with only the evergreens surviving.

 Iris can see it all as they pull up the long stretch of the torch lit drive. In the coach Maratella was kind enough to send to collect them all.

 Once again she was wedged beside Posy and Flora, and their shrill gossiping. Mother and Father opposite. Noiseless and as disagreeing as ever. Silence blazed between them as somber as a churchyard. They were about as animated with each other as two gravestones.

 Iris dressed in her navy silk gown with 3/4 sleeves and a sheer white chemisette swirled with stitched white flowers, decorating her shoulders and neck. Meg cleverly weaves that teal ribbon into her hair coiffure again. She finishes the look with pearl droplet earrings and white satin gloves up to her elbows.

 They are welcomed inside by stony faced servants in the blue Cavenham livery. Taken into the drawing room to meet their hosts. Maratella had invited some local flavour along also. Everyone’s merry and mingling. Posy offers to play a Handel piece on the Pianoforte before dinner is announced. She does so rather well. Thunks the opening notes in shocking volume but she picks up from that point onwards.

 Iris is admiring the scenery from the drawing room window. Even in the dark she can see how lovely the gardens are. It doesn’t dissolve the fact that this house would still be a prison to her. There weren’t bars on the window and she won’t exactly be stitching mailbags - but it will still be her cage.

 A handsome cage, she won’t deny. But a cage nonetheless as she mothers the children and lives for planning fine parties to boast of her and her husbands excellence. And slowly becomes a woman of high rank and no substance.

 Hux moves to stand by her side, hands folded behind his back. A tall lean column of red, black and white in his ceremonial dress. Medals shining. Hair groomed. Perfectly respectable. Infuriatingly loveless, as always.

 “You shall like the gardens in summer. I should think.” He remarks.

 “They are most handsome.” She comments. “A fine prospect indeed.” She agrees.

 They perfectly form the vision of lovers conversing by candlelight. She can hear Mama and Mrs. Hux cooing proudly behind them. It’s infuriating. Iris can’t spend the rest of her life in a manner such as this; being prodded and manoeuvred and gossiped over like a chess piece on a board.

 “I care little for being out of doors. Save for riding with my regiment.” He impresses.

 Iris nods. “I am perhaps overfond of walking. I take an excursion each day if I can.” She tells him.

 He sniffs. And coldly watches the view before them. “Well. You shall have to make allowances and sacrifices when we are wed. I can’t have you scampering around the countryside when you are with my heir.” He insists.

 Iris’s mouth turns dry. She makes little response to his words. He turns away to speak to someone else but she catches his arm to stop him.

 “Please I just want to say-“ she starts.

 She looks up into his face. The bright copper of his hair and the steel of his eyes. The surety of his rigid auburn brow. She doesn’t dislike him. He’s not an unpleasant man. Just, misguided.

 She says what she’s thinking now before she loses the chance. No doubt he’ll think very badly of her when all is done.

 “I think well of you. You know. You are a gallant man. Not lacking in honour or credibility. I admire that about you. Hux.” She says. Even if I can’t marry you for it.

 He nods. Accepting her words. Then their granite faced butler coughs dryly and announces dinner to the room.

 Maratella lets the engaged couple be seated next to each other at dinner. Wanting to encourage the tepid affection brewing between them. Iris doesn’t know what the woman expects from them. They weren’t matched for love but it’s as if that’s what she’s hoping to see blossom.

Maratella is hoping for romance to pass betwixt them.

 It could and never will be that. Iris thinks.

 Iris remarks inwardly to herself as she sips down her soup a la reine. Served alongside several large golden Bouchée à la reine’s. 

 The next course is of stewed beef and venison steaks, and a whole champagne poached salmon with slithers of white and black truffles decorating the cooked fish acting as scales.

 More seafood came served in the form of fried then boiled sole, heaped in a terrine and a whole platter of pickled crab. A haricott of vegetables and mashed turnips. There was enough food spread on this very grand table, to keep them dining for a fortnight. Mrs Hux organised a feast intended to show off.

 She gets everyone to toast to the newlyweds. The gentleman stand to raise their glasses and the ladies stay seated.

 The pudding banquet is brought out and quite rightly enough, as she suspected, the whole table is flouncing in ruched fancy french sugar concoctions.

 Silken French pies. Syllabubs of lemon and rose and brandy. Ice’s of all flavours. Custard tarts smothered with fat ripe fruit drowning steeped in syrup. Sugar plums and cinnamon and mace laced apple tartlets with baked custard. Iris indulged in some of the tarts and the fruits.

 Posy and Flora fall upon creams and dainty fancies like hungry wolves. And eat until they are stuffed.

 The ladies retire to the parlour for music and snifters of sweet ruby port wine. Iris indulges in a glass as her sisters and various other young accomplished ladies take to the pianoforte to sing and show off. Posy drags a reluctant Iris up to sing whilst she plays. She grumbles but bends to her sisters will.

 She gives a shortly sweet chorus of ‘Let no man steal your thyme’ for it was the only song she could sing comfortably well.

 She never much liked performing for amusement. Some girls were a glutton for it. Iris is no such a one. She stands with one hand on the pianoforte and the other folded behind her hip. She sings her choruses and smiles meekly at the small scattering of applause offered for her when she is done.

 She heads back to her spot on the settee. Maratella is remarking to her mother how divine it will be to have a songbird in the house once again. Iris sits back in her seat and spends the rest of her evening in silence. Though she wants to say a great deal.

 The evening slips past well enough. Night spills past her relatively quick. Another day gone. Another day closer to her happiness. She’s almost too giddy to contain it.

 Then the time comes to bid goodnight to their hosts;

 Iris watches as Hux fondly kisses her hand. Seeing her off out the rich gilded foyer out into the black black night. Sky so dark it’s a whole void studded with freckling stars. Cold shudders at the shivering trees.

 She wants to say something impactful and veiled. To speak of her regard for him. She cannot think how best to do so. She swallows down her thick tongue. Remains a coward.

 She can only hope in time, after the wake of her scandal settles. That Hux will find someone better suited than her. Maybe even find someone that he can love? She prays deeply for that little happy happenstance.

 She is not so unfeeling as to wish a joyless life on the man who just wasn’t correct for her.

 Her teeth grits with all the things unsaid. “I hope you’ll be happy.” She smiles lightly. He thinks her to be referring to the engagement that stands between them.

 “I’m sure.” He comments. “Goodnight.” Is his curt response.

 It doesn’t incense her. Tonight it vexed her. Caused a tiny crease between her brows. It seemed such fickle words to part on. But she leaves them be-

 Let’s those words spirit up into the quiet undisturb of the night. The heavens can have those words. Iris wishes it could have been more. But how appropriate is it that even his parting words are found wanting.

 She gets into the coach after curtseying a polite goodbye to Brendol and Maratella. She says something sweet to Iris about her singing. Iris cringes a smile. She won’t be thinking such good things about her shortly. She imagines she’ll curse her name for all of hell and heaven to hear. She’ll wake the sleeping dead cursing the day Iris was born.

 Iris thanks her. For her hospitality. For her kindness. Under all her airs and graves, she’s a fairly nice woman and she should find a more amicable daughter-in-law to crow over.

 She slots herself into the coach beside her sisters. Listens to the door slam shut. The rattle and crunch of it shifts on the gravel. Rumbled away up the long elegant curve of the drive.

 Iris twists to look back. She isn’t sure why she wanted too. But they weren’t a dismal family. And she’s sorry for the pain and offence she’ll cause to them all.

 She watches Hux’s stiffly-posed, regimented figure. Shadowed against the night. The scarlet of his blood coat. The ice white of his breeches stained blue, glowing in the night. The stars glimmer off his shining boots and off the pierce of his pale eyes. She wishes him well. She truly does.

 They trundle on home. Full of food and as usual with Posy and Flora spouting gossip on and on endlessly. Mother chiming in. Father and Iris retain their silence. Eyes cross firing in a glance when they all agree on something cruel and senseless.

 Westwell’s windows emerge gold out the dark. Surrounded by the bustling trees. All of the landscape is merely dark moulded shapes. Looming and shifting in the shadows. The moon casts washy film of silver to try and spill over the cover of smeared clouds.

 They are just to the drive when a small dark shape flits overhead. Iris looks upwards, and sees the definable shape of a bird landing on her windowsill. She smiles giddily.

 She exits the coach quick. Bidding them goodnight and rushing off up to her room. Her skirts picked up in her hands. Mama remarks how odd it is. Posy shrugs and supposes she’s got a secret missive to read from Hux.

 Iris absolutely flies for her door. Twists the handle and launches herself in the room. Shutting the door firmly after herself. Pressing it with both hands flat to the wood.

 The warmth of the fire hits her. She doesn’t even pay mind to the tiny crack of her open window. Or her swaying curtains that shift on the breeze.

 She can only focus on the huge frame of a dashing vampire stood fireside. One elbow resting on the mantel as he gazes into the flames.

 His big frame swallows up the whole room and strangled out all the air. The ochre of the blazing flames captured his skin. Turned that milky-cream of his complexion into pale fire.

 She smiles and he does too. “Thank goodness it’s you. I was worried I’d scare seven shades out of your maid.” He drawls softly so his voice doesn’t carry. Smirk curling at the corners.

 She crosses the distance. Her feet eat up the floorboards quick. She avails herself of an embrace. Throws herself into his arms.

 The cloak of his fire warmed clothing envelopes her as his arms do. He smells like the damp snap of frosty woodland and the acid tang of woodsmoke. The night air of wild outdoors clings to every inch and fibre of his clothes. Swirls about him like a clouding tempest.

 He chuckles as she gets herself in his hold. The deep bass of his voice rumbled through her skin and sinking to her bones. Her cheek mashed to his sternum. His arms close around her. Stroking her body through the rasping silk of her dress.

 One big warmed hand clasps the back of her neck as the other holds the back of her waist. His nose nudges into the crush of her muddy hair. Her scent teases him just as much as his had, to her. Lavender and sage. The plain spice and calm floral scent.

 “I could feel the happiness pouring off you as you alighted the stairs.” He smiles. She steps back and gazed up at him.

 “How pretty you look tonight. Dove. You’re exquisite in silk.” He remarks when she steps away. Hand toying with the loose tawny curl at her ear. The sapphire dark of her dress suits her very well. Throws her complexion into brilliance. Does something to make the tones of her hair look rich.

 She always looks ravishing to him.

 She blushes. “I missed you all day. Isn’t that mad?” She asks.

 “If missing is madness, then I’m out of my sane mind whenever you’re not in my sight.” He promises gently.

 Big hands cupping her hot silken neck as he leans down to plant a firm, slanting kiss to her lips. His mouth is cold and he tastes of frosty air and wine.

 Kissing him is like kissing someone who just stepped inside, taking shelter from a bitter cold wind.

 She’s beginning to wonder if there is some clever addiction woven into his lips. One kiss never seems to be enough. She holds his wrists as he grabs her. Makes her feel small in his arms. She’s lost in his hold. It’s powerfully thrilling.

 He breaks the kiss and his thumbs stroke at her cheeks. Her eyes glitter keenly at him. He spies the ring on her finger. The one that doesn’t belong there. It makes him smile.

 “I’d like to surmise you snuck in here just to steal a kiss. But I suspect a different motive altogether?” She asks.

 He broke into a grin that creases his eyes and bares his teeth in a smile. She was no thoughtless woman; his darling Iris.

 She’s always thinking. Always fretting. Always mulling over things in her head.

 That was one of the first things that that came to his notice about her. She tended to be introspective about all manner of things in comparison to her acetous mother who spewed vile words. And her daft sisters who spouted out their every dangerously silly thought.

 He kisses her for that clever remark- slow and paced and soft. Languid like melting warm honey. Lips curling to hers.

 “I do have some news. But kissing you will always my first priority.” He husks against her rosy lips. Her warm cheeks blaze from under his icy fingers.

 “The date is set. We must leave tomorrow eve.” He tells her with a smirk.

 Her stomach completely soars in giddiness. She doesn’t have to hide her grin here.

 “It feels as if I’ve been waiting at eternity to hear those blessed words.” She cries in happiness.

 “Slip away to me after everyone’s gone to bed.” He instructs. She agrees.

 “Mother has been pleased with my conduct of late. She’ll have let her guard down over tonight. I’ll leave once everyone is abed. Even the maids.” She tells him.

 Stroking her fingers down the finery of his waistcoat where they’re still stood close to each other. The material was so soft. The softest grain of velvet she’s ever felt.

 “You don’t have to bring too much. I can buy you everything you may ever need.” He leers. Cupping her cheek. Feeling the smooth of her skin. Right up her jaw.

 His eyes carve flinty paths down her neck as he strokes his fingers there. Her pulse quickens. He can feel and hear her blood slushing hot through her veins.

 She shrugs. “I cherish very few possessions. Posy and Flora can have the rest.” She insists. Her hand coming up to stroke over his thick crook of elbow with the hand that’s touching her neck.

 He drags the edge of the chemisette down and strokes along the flat of her collarbone. His eyes turn into a palette of bittersweet autumn. Orange and gold swirled with flecks of russet brown.

 “Is it difficult?” She asks suddenly.

 “Restraining from the need to...” Her face fixed on his. Words trailing away. Air bursting with heat and lust. His eyes snap from her neck to her face. Her cheeks bloom rose petal red. Blood red and hot.

 “To feed?” He asks her. She swallows and nods.

 His other hand catches the back of her hips reels her right in close. She gasps. Air around them thick and full of snapping sparking static. Her hands press to his cavernous chest.

 “I have got several hundred years of restraint up my sleeve.” He crooks a smirk.

 His eyes flicker to watch her jugular pulse. The thrum of her little timpani heart makes his mouth wet. He knows she’d taste like salt and sickly Turkish roses and warm bronze coins.

 He presses the chemisette aside again and nudges his nose against her pulse point. Right at the epicentre of his life’s greatest desire. He hums a kiss against her neck and she almost faints-

 “You shake all those very hard learnt lessons right down to their very foundations.” He promises.

 “Iris my love, you are the hardest thing, I’ve ever had to resist.” He tells.

 Swooping upwards to kiss at her cheek. Sighing in need against her hot warm skin. If he indulges the temptation of tasting her blood. He doesn’t even want to fathom what the raw animal in him will do to her. Such debauchery he’d surely scandalise her innocence to tipping point.

 He will have her on their wedding night and not a second before.

 Though the rogue in him does think how goddamn glorious it would be to have her on that bed of hers right now, torn out of that gown. Screeching his name for the whole house to hear. And they can listen to her rapture and whimper, and beg and writhe under the man who really does love her.

 Bite her neck as he pumps deep into her slick heat. Gather up every groan as she opens those sweet pink thighs for him and claws at his back. He’d kiss her neck until she yanks her fingers into his hair and tugs. Opens that sweet songbird mouth and calls for him in her bliss, with that ambrosial voice.

 He holds the backs of her hips and strokes the silk there with arcing curves of his thumbs. Drawing shapes on that stiff silk.

 “I must tell you-“ She starts. “I never was much good at resisting you either. Even after knowing what you are. It shocked me I won’t deny. But it somehow in its twisted way, it made all the sense in the world. It didn’t alter me for my knowledge of it. It didn’t even begin to change the severity my feelings for you.” She tells him. Reaching up and stroking along the handsome plain jaw.

 Wholly, un-confinably, remarkably handsome.

 “My love-“ He begins warmly. “If I had to, I would throw you over my shoulder to carry you up the aisle to marry me. Even if I had to tear you from your bed and steal you away in the dark of night to be mine. I would have done it. Because this, what we share, it cannot and will never be undone. Can never be ignored.” He promises her.

 “Vampires love more deeply than any mortal longing. What I feel for you, it is not fickle. It will never fade. Never wane. We love each other and that will last for as long as we exist on this earth. I thought I had better edify you with these clear facts about my nature, before we are to be bound in matrimony.” He pledges to her. Declaring his undying devotion to her.

 Iris rather wants to swoon into his chest - if she had ever been inclined to be a swooning sort of woman. Instead she just beams. A smile so glad it touches the frosty barren place his dead heart inhabited.

 “These last few hours will be such a torture.” She comments seriously. But giddy. So giddy it felt like her sides would split open. And molten happy gold would pour out.

 His eyes turn promiscuous. As does his domineering smile.

 “I can safely offer you nothing but pleasure once the torture is done.” He filthily promises.

 She blushes. He wants to lift her up and devour her in a kiss again. Taste those saccharine sweet lips in an animalistic kiss. He savours holding her instead.

 Tomorrow he can let the animal roam free over his delicate dove. Tonight is the last night it must be caged.

 “Not long to wait now. The last of my household servants left today. I sent Jomar and Jones off to London to make passage to France. Erland and Kana remain to take us to Scotland with one driver, and the coach.” He tells.

 She liked that he’s bringing Erland to their elopement. It’s quite fitting when the creature loves her almost as much as he does.

 “Then it’s just us. Riding into the wild of the Highland. Roaming over the Scottish moors, and glens and lochs, as a Lord and his Lady.” He paints a vivid picture for her.

 She sighs a smile. “Us, has never sounded so splendid.” And she beams brighter than the sun.

 He clutches her close for another kiss before he slips away.

 The appointed hour loometh. And Iris won’t sleep a wink for thinking of his sharp smile or those savage eyes.

 She eventually dreams. And thinks of kissing his soft plush lips once more. Like kissing pink rose petals.

 The next time she will, they’ll be well on their way to being man and wife.

                                                    ~ ~ 🥀  ~ ~

[lyssawritesfanfic]

Where I Belong

fandom: ikemen sengoku

hideyoshi x reader

cw: smut, jealousy

“Ah, lass, that new outfit looks absolutely ravishing on you,” purred Masamune as you stepped through the door. It was a new design, a cross between a modern day cocktail dress and a traditional kimono. You were really quite proud of how adorable it was, how you were able to combine the sexiness of the 21st Century with the traditional beauty of the 15th. The back of the gown trailed along behind you, the front transforming into a pleated miniskirt, leaving your long, slim legs on display. If only you could make shoes too! Stilettos would have been killer with this!

“Thank you, Masamune,” you responded, sure to keep your reply short and sweet, lest he take it as an invitation.

“You know where it would--”

“Yeah, yeah, it would look much better on your floor, come up with a new one and maybe I’ll laugh.”

“Oh, you wound me!” Masamune laughed heartily, clutching his chest in mock anguish as you walked past him. As much as you enjoyed being eye candy, there was only one man’s reaction you were interested in. And across the room, the minute you caught his eye, his cup went tumbling from his hand.

“You okay there, Hideyoshi?” you asked slyly, fully aware that having your legs out there for all to see and the sweetheart cut-out you cleverly tailored in so the crisp air could slide across the tops of your breasts had him in complete shambles, but for now, you would relish in the teasing. His cheeks were tinged with red as you bent down to retrieve his dropped glass, looking up at him as he stammered and tried to find words.

“What, do you not like it?” you handed him back his cup, growing slightly concerned at his inability to speak.

“You... you look amazing, but... are you sure you’re comfortable being in public like this?” His eyes trailed down your body, his hand holding onto yours when he took back his drink, almost as if holding onto your hand was the only thing preventing him from stroking your exposed skin.

“Where I’m from this is actually pretty normal to wear, so I feel really great wearing something like this again.”

“O-oh, really?”

“Yep! Why, do you... not like it?”

“No, it looks great on you! I’m just worried about...” His eyes darted about at the rest of the warlords present, notably Masamune and Nobunaga. It was no secret that Hideyoshi was protective of you, but especially in the presence of those three. They had come to terms with the fact that you had fallen for Hideyoshi and Hideyoshi alone, but that didn’t stop them from flirting or teasing. And that would forever unsettle your strong, stalwart lover. But, who knows? Maybe you wanted to see him a little bit jealous. Just a little bit, of course, you didn’t want him to go all yandere on you, as Sasuke would say, but it’s always nice to feel wanted.

“Bold of you, flaunting all that in front of Hideyoshi’s rivals,” Nobunaga chuckled, refilling Hideyoshi’s cup.

“I didn’t think you thought of him as a rival, Lord Nobunaga?”

“Oh, I don’t. I’m just biding my time until my lucky charm realizes where it is she belongs.” He let out a hearty laugh and you started to question whether or not you should have worn modern wear in front of these 15th Century warlords. That all had weird crushes on you. Though, god, you wouldn’t give this up for the world, but sometimes missed your time. You missed the clothes, the freedom to show a little skin, hell, you missed air conditioning. But one look at Hideyoshi and--

“Why don’t we get out of here,” he whispered. He was always protective and perceptive, especially when it came to you. You let him lead you out of the party as Nobunaga and Masamune snickered, Mitsuhide eyeing the whole scene, sure to make a snide comment the next day.

Once the door slide closed to your room, you found yourself pinned to the wall, one of his arms closing you in at your side, the other above your head.

“I don’t ever want to tell you what to do... one of the things I love so much about you is your free spirit,” Hideyoshi whispered in your ear, his hot breath on your cold skin giving you shivers.

“But... if I could make a request...”

He moved down your neck, nipping and kissing until he reached your collarbone, his teeth suddenly latching on tight as he gnashed them about, taking great care to leave a large red mark as you gasped.

“Could you please only wear that around me? I don’t think... anyone else is ready for your time’s fashion...”

His hands skillfully untied your obi, your dress pooling on the floor at your feet as Hideyoshi moved to mark the base of your throat.

“Wh-when you ask me so nicely...” it’s all you could manage to get out before wanton moans escaped your lips. He was probably right. As strong and independent and modern as you were, it may not have been the wisest idea to start with modern fashions that showed so much skin. Perhaps over time, you could slowly get them used to it. You were determined to be your truest self, but there were other things to consider in this time. Not everyone was as understanding as Hideyoshi.

“Well... I do have one more request,” Hideyoshi confessed. Your eyes were misted over with lust as you looked at him, biting your lip.

“Y-yes?”

One of his hands moved between your legs, cupping your sweet spot with a teasingly gentle touch, his fingers barely brushing your opening.

“May I claim you tonight?”

He bit down on your neck right below your ear, sucking again with the intention of leaving another mark.

“Hideyoshi... I’m all yours to claim...”

That’s all you needed to say for his lips to come crashing onto yours and his tongue to plunge into your mouth. You threw your arms around his neck and kissed him back fiercely. He made you so impossibly hungry for him so fast every time you found pleasure in each other you were starting to think he had superpowers.

Two of his fingers deftly parted your opening, slowly stroking. You let your hands travel down his chest and push his clothes off, one hand holding the back of his neck, the other reaching down to tease his base. He lurched forward at your touch, his free hand wrapping around your waist and holding your bare bodies tight together.

“Haa...! Hi-hideyoshi...!”

Low growls escaped his mouth as he lifted you up effortlessly, his fingernails digging into your hips as he laid you down onto the bedding, hovering above you. Despite his throbbing need and your aching want, he brought his head to your stomach, kissing, nipping, biting, marking... when he asked to claim you that night, he truly meant it. You could feel his strength trying to overcome his lord’s words... I’m just biding my time until my lucky charm realizes where she belongs... you buried your hands in his hair.

“Hideyoshi... about what Nobunaga said...”

His head jerked up at you, a hint of panic in his glorious eyes.

“I have realized where I belong. And it’s with you. Forever.”

A blush crept to Hideyoshi’s cheeks, then he burst into a warm smile.

“Damn... every time I think I couldn’t fall in love with you more, you somehow pull me in deeper.”

You started to giggle, but it quickly turned into a cry of pleasure, his heat sinking deep into you suddenly. His hips rolled deep, being sure to hit every. single. spot. inside you. You bit your hand to keep back your screams, but Hideyoshi had other plans.

“N-no...” his breath was raw and ragged. He grabbed your hands, tangling your fingers together and pinning your arms above your head. “Who did you say you belonged with...?”

“Hi-hideyoshi!” You did your best to moan softly, but the last syllable came out extra loud as he gave you an exceptionally hard thrust.

“Who?” His voice was again a low, possessive growl, one that you were not at all used to but not at all complaining about.

“Hideyoshi!” you let your voice free this time, echoing through the room and undoubtedly the halls of Azuchi. His grip around your hands tightened, pulsing and pounding into you deliberately and rough, each time his hips met yours a loud cry fleeing from your lips.

“And do you ever want anyone else?” Hideyoshi leaned down and suckled on your nipple, nipping and teasing, causing your body to spasm beneath him as you began to near your peak.

“N-no one else! Ever! Ahh, damn, Hideyoshi...! Y-you feel so fucking good!”

“Yeah?” A naughty smirk reached his lips, his pace quickening.

“Yes! Oh god, Hideyoshi! Don’t stop! Please!”

You felt yourself tense and shake as you both reached your climax, you letting out a loud, throaty scream once you arrived there, writhing in ecstasy as you felt your beloved’s seed flood inside of you. Though both of you were gasping for breath, neither of you were ready for your pleasure to end. And so you continued throughout the night, finding release in each other again and again until the sun began to creep over the horizon.

The next day, life still had to continue, as it always does, despite the sleepless night you and Hideyoshi spent. He indulged you in an extra few minutes of morning cuddles before it was time to get to the day’s work, promising to, at the very least, let you have a full night’s sleep later tonight... and that perhaps he’d be able to assist in knocking you out. You went about your duties, smiling to yourself, until you bumped into Nobunaga.

“I see you’ve returned to your regular attire,” he said.

“Well, to be honest, what I wore last night was more of my regular attire, but I guess this is more what you’re used to, isn’t it.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“Your time. When you could wear that.”

You paused before answering. To immediately say “no” would be a lie; you missed the versatility of polyester, the convenience of a train, the peace you took for granted. But--

“If I was given the same choice across ten thousand lifetimes, Lord Nobunaga, I would always decide to remain here, with the one I love.”

“Hm. Interesting.” He began to walk away, but he turned back to look at you. “Perhaps you could begin something new type of clothing: ‘bedroom’ clothing. I hear in the west they call it lingerie. You could bring some of your home here.”

You smiled back at him warmly. “We have that where I’m from. I think... I think that’s a great idea. Thank you so much.”

“It’d probably be best to keep it to bedroom clothing only, if just for your own self-preservation.” Nobunaga poked at one of the many marks Hideyoshi left the previous night, a sly grin on his lips.

“Ah! Hey! Rude!”

Nobunaga let out a hearty laugh. “I’ve relinquished my lucky charm to my right hand man. The least you could allow me is the occasional joke.”

“I’ll submit it to the board for review, I’ll get back to you on that.” Your sarcasm belied the happiness in your heart, the fact that Nobunaga, the devil king and one of your dearest friends, had finally accepted the love between you and Hideyoshi.

Nobunaga waved his hand dismissively as he walked away. “Let the ‘board’ know that I only said what I did on a bet.”

You were on your way out until you heard that last bit.

“A bet? Care to elaborate?”

Nobunaga didn’t stop walking away, but honored you with an answer.

“Mitsuhide, Masamune, and I had bets placed on how many of those you’d have in the morning. I had bet highest, so I did my best to be sure I won.”