#love how he expects more from the women’s choir than the men’s choir

[prettyboysmlm]

don’t you just love it when your musical elective of choice makes you want to kys :)))))))))))))

[malarkgirlypop]

MEDIC! Part 17 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Well we finally made it out alive, so far! Thank you to everyone who has been reading my story! I just want to say I love this community so much and that all of you are so kind and supportive. It's been amazing to meet all new people who share the same interests as me, and that I can just be authentically myself here without judgement. There is plenty more to come and I hope you all enjoy! So here is chapter 17!

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.

Tag list: @next-autopsy, @panzershrike-pretz, @xxluckystrike

Don was right, it was easier. The guilt I felt still haunted me like a thick fog, but I was able to see through it. I didn’t even have time to think about it, we were moving out. We had hoped that since we had taken Foy we would be pulled back for a break, but it wasn’t to be. We needed to keep moving forward as ordered. We moved to Rachamps, the attack was successful. Minor casualties from the assault. We spent the night in the convent, the sister’s brought in their choir to sing for us. It was one of the few moments I felt calm. I looked around the room at the men who filled it. A small group. We had started with at least 100 plus soldiers, but looking around the church at the men, the loss was noticeable. I sat next to Don as we listened to the women sing. It was heavenly, their voices so ethereal echoing around the room.      

“Emily, a word.” Speirs appeared in front of me. I nodded standing from my seat and following the Captain. He walks us into a side room shutting the door, he motions for me to sit on one of the seats in the room, he does so too, sitting across from me. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together.   

“I’m going to mention to Captain Winters what happened the other day during the assault.” He speaks first. I sigh with relief, I was worried about how my actions would affect my position in the company.

“But if I ever catch you using a weapon, not in self defence, I will have you back on a ship faster than you can blink you hear me.” He said sternly. I was being given a warning.  

“Yes, Sir.” I stated. He sighed, rubbing his face, his eyes softened.  

“Listen Emily I heard about what happened before Foy, I know you saw Muck and Penkala die.” He says in a more gentle tone. 

I stiffen. The flashes of their final moments play in my head.  

“I also understand that the men thought you were fine. But I have heard otherwise from some of the soldiers you are closer with, that you didn’t handle it very well. Is that correct?” He asked, I tried to hide the pain on my face. 

“I did the same thing I did when my mom died, I pushed everyone away.” I said quietly he nodded. 

“Does your family send you letters, Emily?” He queries.  

“No Sir, I don't have any family.” His brows furrow. 

“Friends.” He asks.  

I shake my head. A concerned look crosses his face. 

“You know you can go home if you want Emily.” He offers, I’m sure he thinks it’s what I want.  

“No, I would like to stay.” I blurt. He’s surprised by my answer, sitting up straighter in his chair. He regards me.  

“Emily, can I ask you what you were doing before you joined?” He implored.  

“Studying sir, to be a nurse. I hadn’t quite finished yet, I was in my last semester.” I tell him the truth.

“What are your plans for when the war is over?” He continues, watching me carefully.  

I’m stumped by the question. I have no clue. If the war finishes does another shimmer appear to take me home? Or do I stay here? If I stay here what the fuck am I going to do. I don’t exist. I have no house, no money. I’m technically not even an American citizen, I have no passport, no birth certificate, no identification. I didn’t think that far ahead, right now I am just trying to get through the days. The question throws me for a loop. Ron waits expecting an answer I can’t give him. 

“I’m-I’m not sure, sir.” He looks at me confused. 

“Will you not go and finish your degree?” Ron suggests.  

“I quit. I don’t have the money to go back and study.” I shift on my seat, I’m sure he doesn’t mean to but his questions are making me nervous. No one has asked this much about me, not about my future, or where I live or what I want to do. I don’t even know myself. If I was to stay here in this time, how would I even go about slotting back into reality, because it isn’t mine.    

“You have no savings?” He says shocked.  

“I spent everything to come here.” I lied.  

“Where are you living?” I freeze. I can’t answer him. I open and close my mouth. 

“I was living in the dorms when I was studying, but I guess now I’m homeless.” I say slowly.

“You have no one you can stay with?” I shake my head. 

“Emily, what about your possessions?” He seems frantic at this point, he sounds worried for me. 

“The only things I have sir is what I came here with and the clothes on my back, which technically aren't mine since I have to give the uniform back. I sold everything for a ticket to europe.” I wring my hands together, throughout the conversation growing more clammy.  

He looks shocked. “That’s why you don’t want to leave?” I nod, “I have nothing waiting for me back home, sir. I want to stay with the Easy men, I want to see it through till the end.” 

“Right, well, you’re staying, but I think we will discuss the other matter later.” He seems very concerned for me, he seems stressed. He rakes his fingers through his hair, taking a breath, he moves to stand.  

“Please don't tell the men. I don't want them to know about my situation.” I say quickly before he leaves. He turns to look at me. 

“Emily, I thought you would have more confidence in me. I would never.” He smiles gently. He stands and leaves the room, leaving the door open for me to follow after him. 

“Thank you, sir.” I mutter softly even though he has already left. 

I made my way back to my seat, “Em.” A voice called to me, my eyes searched the room wondering who had called me. Lieb raised his hand waving at me. I walked over standing in front of the pew he sat on.

“Hey Joe.” I smiled at the man, he sat next to Grant and Russo, Babe was perched behind them talking to the men he sat with. 

“You alright kid?” He leaned forward as he spoke, resting his arms on the front of the wall he sat behind. 

“I’m ok.” I smiled, he nodded looking up at me.

“Em, we don’t think of you any differently.” He starts, he reaches out his arm taking my hand from my side, holding it in his. “I should’ve noticed.” He shakes his head, his thumb tracing over the back of my hand. 

I shook my head. “Joe I made it so you didn’t. Even if you had, I wouldn't have accepted the help.” 

He sighed giving my hand another squeeze before letting it go. “Next time Emily you ask for help. Got it?” I chuckled, nodding. He gave me his signature grin. I said goodnight to the men. I sat down beside Don, who looked exhausted. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to be inside but these goddamn seats are so uncomfortable.” He wriggled around on the seat trying to find a comfortable position. The pews were very uncomfortable, the seat part was so small you could barely lie down sideways without falling off and the back of the chair was so upright there was no way to slouch or lean. They were also wooden, hard and slippery. If you sat in one position for too long you could feel yourself slowly sliding down the seat. I laughed nodding. My butt hurt from sitting. 

“Well I think they’re made with the intention to keep you awake through mass.” We laughed together. 

“The old people find a way to do it though.” He said in a hushed voice as to not disturb the others. 

“Yeah but they’re old, they can fall asleep anywhere. Have you ever seen an old person sleeping in a comfortable position?” I asked, he looked baffled by my question. 

“I mean I don’t go sorting them out.” He chuckled. 

“Don think of your grandparents, where do they fall asleep?” I tried to get him to imagine it so I could get my point across.

“Sitting up in their arm chair.” I nodded, my point being proven. 

“One time when my Nana was getting older, she had taken out her hearing aids and fell asleep. I thought she was dead. I yelled at her for so long and she didn’t move. Then I went up to her and shook her, she almost booted me in the head.” I recounted the story to Don as we both laughed. 

“My Granddad fell asleep with his false teeth still in and they started whistling, so loudly in fact that the dog actually came.” Don and I covered our mouths trying to keep quiet while sharing our stories. 

“The dog jumped on his lap and then stole the teeth from his mouth cause they were hanging out.” I wiped the tears from my eyes as he continued. 

“What did the dog do with them?” I asked, trying to catch my breath. 

“He ate them.” I covered my open mouth, laughing at the thought. 

“You’re kidding?” He shook his head while he giggled.

“No, we had to wait till the dog shit them out again.” We were getting glances from the other men for being too loud, I pressed my face into his shoulder trying to muffle the noise.

“The best part is once the dog did shit them out he washed them and kept using them. He said he paid so much money for them he wasn’t going to throw them out.” I scrunched up my face in disgust as he laughed. 

“Oh ew!” I pretended to gag.

God I hadn’t laughed like this in a while. It was a normal occurrence with the four of us, but since Skip and Alex had passed I hadn’t laughed since. There wasn’t a time with them we weren’t laughing, they were so funny. Alex, Skip and Don together was pure entertainment. Then when I got closer to them it was absolute chaos. I always found myself in the foxhole with the three of them. We were either playing games, cards, making stupid bets, talking shit or telling the worst jokes. It was like we were in another world when we were all together, I could forget that I was having the worst day ever and was absolutely freezing. I missed them so much, but it felt so good to hear Don laugh again. I smiled at the man who had finally stopped laughing, he smiled back. 

My heart fluttered. I have never been in love, but I think this is what it feels like. His smile could pull me from the darkest depths. His touch soft and gentle made my whole body come alive. His laughter made me smile so hard my face felt like it could crack. He made me happy. I wanted to spend every day next to him, if I wasn’t with him his name would still be on my lips, his face would still linger in my mind. I couldn’t stop the pitter-patter of my heart everytime he said my name, smiled at me, laughed with me. Like I was floating, weightless. He lifted me up but somehow grounded me. He still made me nervous, my stomach flipped when he was near. The amount of times I had to hold back from just kissing him. I would forget that we weren’t a couple and have to stop myself from kissing him goodbye when I left, or saying I love you when he looked at me in a certain way.   

I was falling in love, or maybe I had already fallen. But one thing I was certain of, I was completely and utterly in love with Donald Malarkey.       

“Do you want to try and get some sleep?” I ask him, his eyes drooping. He nodded. 

“Here lie down, rest your head on my lap.” I didn’t need to convince him, he lay down immediately placing his head in my lap. He crossed his arms over his chest, whispering a goodnight. I ran my fingers through his hair in a soothing manner, his breaths quickly turning even.

I admired his sleeping face, lightly tracing my fingers over his features. I traced around his face, then his eyebrows, his eyes, his nose, his mouth and his chin. Painting a picture in my mind of the man I was in love with. I mulled over the thought of when to tell him. My brain quickly takes me to the worst case scenarios, what if he doesn’t love you back, only loves you platonically, what if he laughs in your face and tells everyone what you said.

I shook my head at the silly thoughts, Don would never. Even if he didn’t like me he would be gracious and kind in letting me down, it wasn’t in his nature to be cruel. If it turned out he only loved me platonically I could be happy, I just needed him in my life, and even though it would hurt to see him fall in love with someone else I would still be happy for him. His happiness is mine, and that’s all I wanted.

Then another nagging voice crept from the back of my mind, you’re an imposter, this isn’t your time, what happens when you need to leave? How would you explain this to him? He’s going to think you’re insane. You have nothing here, it won’t work. Those thoughts shook me to my core, am I going to have to leave this all behind, what would happen if I stay, would there be irrevocable damage done? Can I stay without everything falling apart? Then I will just have to make the most of the days I have left with him, and the rest of Easy company. I won’t take anything for granted. 

The thing that annoyed me the most is that I don’t have the answers to my questions. There are no books I can read, no one I can ask. It’s not as if someone asked me to come and then sent me through the shimmer. The shimmer just appeared there was no sign, no instructions. I didn’t even know if it was meant for me, was I the only one who could see it? If someone else had been there before I did would they be in this position I am in now, or would they go somewhere else.

I groaned internally, this was too much thinking, I could feel a headache starting. I pressed my fingers into my temple, rubbing small circles to relieve the pain. I could dwell on that another time. But for now I just needed to rest, we still weren’t out of the woods yet. The soft snores from Don lulled me to sleep.  

I sat next to Don in the back of the truck as we bounced along the road. We were enroute to Haguenau. We had all thought we were being pulled back but they needed us to hold the line, as per usual. Lip sat across from me looking pale, I had asked him earlier if he was ok and he told me he was fine, but I could see the exhaustion etched into his features. He looked ill. He tried to hide the wet cough from me but I heard him. Even when we were sleeping last night in the convent he coughed in his sleep. I needed to get him to rest but the man was so persistent it was hard to get him to stop. 

“Hey, look, it’s 1st battalion.” George said, pulling me from my thoughts about the sick Sergeant.

I looked to see the soldiers walking down the street. 

“Hey! Hey!” George turned around yelling at the men as they walked. I looked at him confused. 

“What do you want?” One called back. 

“Yeah, thanks for crapping in our foxholes, ya shitheads!” He shouted at them. I burst out laughing.  

“Hey, it’s our pleasure!” The man called back. 

“Enjoy the walk boys.” Bull called to them, popping his cigar back into his mouth. I shook my head as I chuckled. I leant into Don smiling at him. He gave me a smile, taking my hand in his. I scooted closer to share the warmth. Watching Lip and George smoke their cigarettes.

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

Chapter 18

[daughterofzeus-the-novel]

I was tasked with writing from Cassandra's POV for class

The Oresteia: Agamemnon

Cassandra of Troy

Lines 1256-1295

My fate has found its end in a land I did not choose, the flames of war licking my fingertips as the rest of me burns to ashes.  I saw Helen as I saw Paris, as I saw Clytemnestra, as I saw Agamenon stabbed in the bed he made me lie in.  I saw myself, abandoned and aggrieved, deserted and desperate, desiring no more than a home I could not find.  Both physical and spiritual, a city and an open choir, one that did not further the curse Apollo so feverishly cast.  But the wrath of the gods cannot be denied, and so I sit, unmoving, unwilling to grant the lioness the delight of my struggle.  She thinks it justice to avenge her daughter’s sacrifice, as if it will bring her back, as if anyone can be brought back, as if the Underworld is nothing more than the feeblest of cages.  Even Orpheus could not bear to look forward, to bear the unknown for however long it took.  But the gods will not forsake me in death.  Rather, I will find comfort in what little I have left, the vengeance of Orestes I will never get to witness.  Does the Underworld have a window to the realm of the living?  Will I get a chance to see him and his hero’s deeds?  Unlikely.  Still, I yearn for more than this desolate fate, for Clytemnestra to have mercy and release me from this city.  But where would I go?  My city Ilium is in their flames, my fate sealed by gods who take me as their sacrifice.  I see infinites and mortalities, gods and mortal men, all undone by hubris and the inevitable rise of another.

But, what specifically, have I foreseen?  This room is a cage to us all, one that traps us in an endless cycle.  The Trojan War has ended, but the violence has not.  Even the choir knows it, cursing Helen for her wayward heart, relaying the sacrifice of Agamemnon’s own daughter as if it were necessary, as if it had no consequences, as if the blood spilt were no more than that of a lamb.  Queen Clytemnestra of Argos has taken it upon herself to correct this.  But she will fail, her wrath less than that of the gods.  Iphigenia was demanded by Artemis, afterall, a punishment for the king’s failure to sacrifice to her.  The blessing of the gods triumphs over all, even basic morality, hubris only applicable to mortal men.  Queen Clytemnestra has tempted him to invoke their wrath by entering on rich tapestry, declaring it his right after such toil, and an expression of her love for him.  But noble man he is, he kept refusing, only relenting when she would not back down.  They thought her merely arrogant.  Instead, she was scheming.  Her lover Aegisthus took the throne upon his death, uncaring of the cowardice the choir would accuse him of.  The people will turn on them.  The gods are not on their side.   But none of it will ease the blow she will strike upon me.

So many words have been said of the roles of women and men in this here hall.  Each has been compared to the other, a sharp contrast and line in the sand.  I myself am a princess of Troy, a priestess of Apollo, his former lover and object of ire.  I broke an oath to bear him a child.  He broke my sanity in turn.  Cassandra of Troy, they mock.  Fallen priestess.  Beset by delusion and madness alike.  My twenty nine years are up, my locks of chestnut hair tangling in the fierce winter winds.  The hall is empty, the queen already off to scheme.  And so I cry to the choir and pray for a swift and noble death.

You don’t believe me.  No one does.  The choir dismissed me as paranoid, praising only my bravery in accepting what I declared death.  I speak in verse to appeal to the gods and poets alike, that I may be immortalized in legend if not the stars.  I expect little for my troubles.  Apollo did not curse me so I could ascend.  But still I hope.  Still I spin my wheels, begging, wailing at a sky with no mercy for me.  Troy did not give me happiness, not when I knew how it would end.  And neither does this land, Argos, and its wretched noble family.  The house of Atreus will fall on its own sword.  For while this palace may look like the home of conquerors, it is nothing but the tick, tick, tick of a clock set to crumble.  I stare at the tapestries that line the walls, that line the floor, the trellises overflowing with flowering vines.  I wish they would strangle me.  I wish I had control over my own death, that if I could not delay the years, I could at least go out on my own terms.  My visions are only ripples on the pond of fate, the true depths beyond even Apollo’s talents.  But I have no more desire to dip into the well, not if it means a deeper journey into madness.  Take my curse, Apollo.  Take my robes, my scepter, my garland, all the little trinkets you once adorned me with.  Because all I have left is a noble death.  All I have left is a tragic hero’s fate.

[go--ask--alice]

Exordium

Kodak Moment [Club Part II]

Author’s Notes: This is the first post with more than just the two main characters. Hopefully it still reads clearly with the extra people present.

Alice is simply beside herself to be out with J on his own turf for the first time. She’s finally getting to see first hand what he is really like in his more public persona. What Alice didn’t expect was to fall so quickly in step with his devious and manipulative games. J was equally as shocked to see his sweet little Alice playing games with the “fuck boy” J had corralled for invading their privacy.

🃏: Joker

👑: Alice

📷: “Fuck Boy”/“Paparazzi”

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

🃏 *Frost helps me out of the car and I extend my arm to you to put yourself through it.*

👑 *I link arms with you, I'm try to make it look as though I’m leaning on you rather than the other way around. I reach up on my tip toes and whisper in your ear.* I love you J *Kisses your cheek.*

🃏 *I notice how you position yourself and appreciate it. I know you get that I don’t want to appear vulnerable.*

👑 *I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s not like I’ve never been to your club, but tonight is so much different. My actions are now a reflection of you. I want so much to make you proud and do everything I can to help you.*

🃏 *My face pulls into a perma-snarl. I look at the doorman and he pulls the door open quickly so we don’t have to wait. The music blares as we walk into the packed club. The ‘Smile and Grin’ is in full effect tonight.*

👑 *I grip your arm alittle tighter as we walk through the door and I feel you stand even straighter, the mischievous glint in your eyes is replaced with a more sinister glare. You instantly fall into your more public persona. The second we are fully inside the club the atmosphere changes. It’s like everyone in the room is instantly aware of your presence.*

🃏 *The crowd in front of us parts like the red sea. People are clearly interested and curious about you but no one holds a stare.*

👑 *My default expression has always been to smile. You could never accuse me of having resting bitch face but I try to reign it in a bit. I glance up at you, you’re completely ‘on’ at this point, totally in your element.*

🃏 *My ankle is killing me. Someone doesn’t see us approaching and is enjoying a raucous conversation and laughing like an idiot. His conversation partners are quiet as I place my hand on my gun. He moves abruptly and drops to his knees and kisses my ring. I’m repulsed by him and smack him in the back of the head as I push past him pulling you behind me.* Alice… keep up with me!

👑 *I’m slightly shocked by this man’s reaction to you. I hold on tight to your hand and pick up my pace. I’m a bit distracted as I watch the faces of the people we brush past. Some show fear while others, mostly women, look at you with lust in their eyes.*

🃏 *A flock of strippers see me first and give a flirty “Hi Mr. J” like their singing in a choir. I ignore them. They look at you like you’re the new pretty girl at school.*

👑 *A ball of jealousy starts to form in the pit of my stomach. Yes, they’re all just dancers but I notice they are all very… blonde? I laugh to myself when I notice it.*

🃏 *Normally, I take the back stairs to get up to my special area in the club but given my injury I have to take the VIP elevator up. Frost breaks into a sprint to let the rest of my men know and they change their coordinated positions for maximum protection. The elevator is gold and glass and sparkles like everything else in my club. A gaggle of rich kids with mommy and daddy's black cards shuffle their way out and nearly lose their minds when they see me. One idiot who clearly must be from outside of Gotham snaps a photo of me with their cellphone casually when he thinks we aren’t looking. I stop mid walk into the elevator and backup to him dragging you with me.*

👑 *Your men work like a well oiled machine. I’m able to pick them out by the way they watch us. Or the fact that they aren’t looking at us, rather they are looking at everyone else watching us. I almost open my mouth to say something to you, but think better of it. This is your show and you know how to handle it best.*

🃏 *The kid knows he made a mistake. His “friends” have left him there standing like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. I give him a death stare and then smile wildly.* How ya doing tonight kid? Enjoying yourself? *He nods and looks at me and then at you and back at me.* That’s good! *I release my arm from yours and pat him on the shoulder and grip it hard. I yank his phone from him. It’s locked.*

👑 *I give him a big smile and shake my head. Poor kid.*

🃏 Open it up Buddy. Let’s see that Kodak moment. *He fumbles with his phone and drops it three times as he tries to open it. He shows me the photo. I can’t help but think how amazing we look together.*

👑 *I peek around your shoulder* Aww look at that Mr. J! We look damn good! *I don’t know why but I’m enjoying watching you play with the kid.*

🃏 *I want to kiss you but I wink at you instead.* Thanks kid. I’ll be keeping this phone. Consider it a trade instead of me bashing your head in with this here cane my lady picked out. Like it? *I show him the cane as best as I can as I’m leaning on it. He looks terrified and nods profusely.* Tell her, not me.

📷 Miss… tt.thats a nice cane..

🃏 No… tell her it’s a mighty nice cane.

📷 It’s a mighty nice cane Miss..

👑 *I wink at him* Aww shucks! Thank you.. *I lay it on thick.* You should see what Mr. J here can do with it. Very impressive..

🃏 *I turn my head to you shocked at your words. Well look at this one blooming like fucking rose.*

👑 *I don’t know where all this confidence is coming from but I’m having so much fun! Having you right there with me always makes me feel stronger.*

🃏 Where you from kid?

📷 *He looks at you hoping you’re going to save him.*

🃏 You staring at my lady?

👑 *I lean in.* …you might want to answer him.

🃏 *I keep my eyes burning into him but I want to throw you into the elevator and fuck the shit out of your mouth. I love how you are behaving.*

📷 Nn..no Mr. Joker sir I’m… I’m gay.

🃏 *I look at you like “you believe this shit?”* Ok so you were looking at me then?

👑 *I look the kid up and down* Well that’s too bad sweetheart, he’s taken! *I kiss your cheek.*

🃏 You don’t want my honey pot to shred your face with her pretty little nails do you?

👑 *I pretend to pick something from under my nail and give the kid my sweetest smile.*

📷 *He shakes his head not knowing what to do with himself.*

👑 Aww look! He’s shaking..

🃏 *I find myself in a predicament. I usually entertain myself by torturing these idiots but I really want to be all over you right now.*

👑 *I whisper in your ear loud enough for him to overhear, trying to scare him.* What are we gonna do with him?

🃏 *I run my hand over my face. Fuck you’re hot tonight.* Frost… we’re going up. Bring this little fucker with us. We’re going to have some fun.

👑 *This has been a fun game but now I’m alittle scared of what you’re gonna do to this kid.*

🃏 *Frost grabs him by the arm and throws him into the elevator. They go up first. The kid is pleading with him as they go.*

👑 *I watch the elevator rise, the terrified kid staring down at you mouthing a silent plea.*

🃏 *I turn to you and offer my arm again. I’m feeling manic. I can’t help but to let out my infamous laugh. I have my Queen on my arm and she’s playing Daddy’s games. I’m fucking ecstatic.*

👑 *I take your arm with pride. It’s so captivating watching you in your element.*

🃏 *We get into the elevator so I can turn it down for a moment.* So… what do you think so far? Having fun yet?

👑 *I give you a big smile.* I love it J! I don’t know what came over me out there. I hope I wasn’t stepping on your toes at all, figuratively atleast.

🃏 Why, you want to step on these sexy shoes you picked out? *I give you a little squeeze.*

👑 They do look fantastic! I’m pretty darn proud of myself actually. You look good enough to eat!

🃏 You look fantastic.

👑 *I blush*. Thank you Daddy.

🃏 And this mouth…*I grip your chin and push my thumb into it.* You wore the right lipstick for all the naughty things you’re saying.

👑 I don’t know what came over me! Haha you’re a terrible influence! *I take a moment to look down at the club as the elevator accends. It really is a thing of beauty. Knowing you like I do now it’s easy to see bits of you everywhere. From the extravagant gold flourishes in the decor to the strategic layout of the main floor. You really know what you’re doing. My chest swells with pride for you. I turn and give you an excited kiss.* I’m so happy that I’m here with you!!!

🃏 I’m happy to have my Queen by my side doll face. *I kiss you back before we exit.*

👑 *I loop my arm through yours to keep you steady and give a little squeeze. The doors slide open to a lavishly decorated room. Hearing you even say the words “I’m happy” makes my heart flutter. I make you, The Joker, happy!*

🃏 *I essentially throw myself into my chair. I motion for you to sit down next to me.* More champagne?

👑 *I sit down next to you, a little more gracefully* I’d love some!

[jbbuckybarnes]

Scared & Sacred - Ch. 3

Pairing: Din Djarin x pregnant!Reader

Description: The Mandalorian had helped you while you were hunted for your family name and you had grown a little closer over the months, but you didn’t expect THIS. How was this possible after just three times of getting so close to him. You had to find a nurse as fast as possible.

Warnings: pregnancy, fluff, helmetless Din, canon divergent, not proofread

M A S T E R L I S T

Chapter 3 - Comfortable

Omera closed in on you right after you landed with happiness written all over her face. „Mando, Princess, Greenling.“ She bowed slightly as a hello and got a tiny coo in return from Din‘s arms. „Omera.“ You hugged her close to you, noticing the little village flourishing. „What brings you here?“ She smiled over to Din who took a step forward to be next to you again. „We aren‘t hunted anymore and we really needed a break. The little one loved it here last time, so we figured we would come here for a while.“ You explained and took Grogu who started to fuzz. „You are always welcome here, after everything you did.“ She nodded and showed you to follow her to her hut. There was a loud squeak in your arms when Grogu saw the children playing. You grinned and walked towards Winta which noticed you seconds later. „Have an eye on him, yeah?“ You set Grogu down in front of her and got an eager nod back.

„I‘ll make sure food will be ready for you later. Get comfortable.“ You heard Omera as you walked in. „Actually, I‘d love to help around.“ Din spoke up and got a slightly surprised face back. „I think they could always use help chopping wood.“ She pointed at a couple of men in the distance and he nodded and went off. The pretty woman faced you, „He‘s so different, what happened?“ You smiled back at her, „We met many people on our journey. Made him softer. And I think having me around helped a lot.“ „I‘m sure. Your green child looks well loved by the both of you.“ She looked out of the window with you at the children. „Lost him for a while, got him back, started a bedtime routine, fell in love with his dad. You know, the usual things happening when you‘re suddenly parents.“ You noticed her facing you. „Oh? I know there was something else different between you two.“ A wide smile spread on her face. „It might be a little more obvious on him now than it was a couple weeks ago. I am with child.“ You looked at her too and your hand automatically wandered to where you knew your little wonder was. „Really? That‘s amazing! I‘ll bombard you with all my tips if you let me!“ She jumped a little and went in for a hug that you returned. „I‘ll let you.“ You chuckled at her happiness, „But I really missed having a normal bed and Grogu kept me up half the night, so I‘ll probably sleep early tonight.“ „Grogu? Is that his name?“ „A Jedi woman told us that‘s his name, yes. You need to call him that and listen to the sound he makes. It‘s adorable.“ You both chuckled. „Well, I‘ll leave you to it with the unpacking and bring you food in a while. You need rest.“ She softened more than she already did and then went her way.

A while later Din came back to the hut, smelling like forest already. „You smell nice, cyare.“ You smiled up, grabbing onto his chest plate. „It‘s cute when you say it, mesh‘la.“ He took off his gloves and threw them behind him before taking your face into his hands. „And what does that mean?“ Your hands went up to the helmet. „Beautiful.“ You released the helmet with a hiss and saw his hair all tousled up. „What‘s the word for handsome?“ You smirked before hearing a gasp in the entrance. „I‘m so sorry.“ Omera had turned away. „No, no. It‘s okay, I learned my religion was more intense about the helmets than other Mandalorian groups and others take that thing off when it‘s safe.“ Din explained and she turned around to look at you both. „I have to agree with her. You do look handsome.“ She grinned and set down the tray of food, „Your child will look gorgeous.“ Din looked over to you and you gave him a slight nod. „That is still surreal from a mouth that isn‘t hers.“ He pointed at you and Omera giggled. „You men always need a while to let it set in. Us women just know.“ She winked at you both before making her exit.

You turned back to Din, seeing the soft smile directed down at you. „Do you think it‘s a boy or a girl?“ He murmured, grabbing your hips. „Grogu said a girl.“ His brow rose up, „Showed him veggies as either option. His babbling while holding up the tukal root was really convincing.“ You both chuckled at that. He knew how expressive Grogu could get without you two understanding one bit. „What do you think?“ You asked up at him with a smile. „I asked you first.“ „Don‘t argue with a pregnant woman, Din.“ He chuckled and shook his head, „I‘d love a girl. I‘m starting to think we‘ll keep Grogu with nobody searching for him after the Tython mess.“ „A boy and a girl sounds perfect to me too.“ You went onto your tippy toes and kissed him on the nose. You gently got rid of his armor, something you had only done with his pauldrons before the news broke. This was an immense sign of trust for both of you. „If you change your underclothes too and walk out to get Grogu they‘ll think someone invaded their village again.“ You snorted and heard a laugh emitting above you. „I‘m willing to try. Omera would at least be able to defend me with her skills.“ „I’ll just watch the show from my window.“

After putting on a different undershirt and dark green pants they gave their guests, he walked out towards the children. You watched the town perk up at the view of the unknown man. „Grogu.“ You heard his signature coo at his name. „Hey, what are you doing with that child?“ A village man asked as Din picked Grogu up. „Yeah, who the hell are you?“ Another joined in and you snorted from the window, making the men look over. „Oh.“ You heard in a choir. „It‘s alright. It‘s great to know that you would keep him safe if we weren‘t there to defend him.“ Din smiled at them and heard a giggle from his arms. „You hungry, kid?“ A squeak came back at him and he came back to the hut with a chuckle. „That was funny and sweet.“ You giggled before taking Grogu towards you to feed his food to him slowly so he didn‘t get a belly ache like last night.

After you put Grogu into his little bed and put a blanket over it to keep it dark in the morning hours you returned to Din sitting on the bed comfortably. „It‘s so incredible seeing you so relaxed, so yourself. I feel like I’m falling in love all over again.“ He smiled at you widely. „Come here, cyar‘ika.“ He held his arms open and welcomed you in. You sat like that for a while, feeling little kisses all across your hair. „Tell me more about yourself, Din. I wanna know the father of my child better and help him be a person without his serious creed.“ You murmured and squeezed him. Half the night was spent with him recounting events he remembered from childhood, his parents dying and what it felt like growing up in the Mandalorian religion. It was like you had a new man in front of you. The once silent armored man had turned into a trusting haven of words. He was very expressive due to never having had to worry about that before, but you loved that about him even more. He had his emotions open to you like nobody else before. „You need to sleep.“ He urged you softly, noticing your eyes getting smaller and smaller while listening. „Maybe.“ You mumbled and he gently pushed you to lay down with a grin on his face. „You need rest, you‘re growing a human inside of you.“ He kissed your nose. „That you put there, may I add. After I was hurt.“ You giggled all droopy. „You‘re cute when you‘re sleepy. Did I ever tell you that?“ His fingers wandered over your face featherlight. „Not a man of many words.“ You giggled and he chuckled at how sleepdrunk you were. „Little hard to describe someone as pretty as you.“ He watched you smile at him. „I love you.“ „I love you too.“ And like that you were gone off to dreamland.

__

Reblog to support a content creator.

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Devotional Hours Within the Bible

by J.R. Miller

Jesus Entering Jerusalem

Matthew 21:1-17

The triumphal entry was one of the most remarkable incidents in our Lord's life. Usually Jesus made no public demonstration, did nothing to draw attention to Himself in any way. Indeed, He avoided notoriety and fame; He did not strive nor cry aloud; neither did anyone hear His voice in the streets. He spoke to His disciples confidentially of His Messiahship - but did not publicly proclaim it. On this occasion, however, He made a public demonstration; riding into the city as a king would ride, thus proclaiming to the multitudes assembling for the Passover feast - the fact of His Messiahship. How shall we explain this? May we not say that it was another way of presenting Himself to the people, offering Himself to them as their Messiah, for the last time? A prophet had foretold that He would thus in this spectacular way, ride into the city - but He did not do it merely to fulfill prophecy. The prophecy was part of the will of God for him - and there was a reason for it beyond the fulfilling of what had been foretold.

"As they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage on the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them: Go to the village ahead of you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there, with her colt by her. Untie them and bring them to me." Note their obedience. "The disciples went - and did as Jesus had instructed them." They were glad to have a part in the honoring of their Master. No doubt they themselves shared the expectations of the multitude regarding Jesus, hoping that the time had now come for Him to assume His place as King. It was a lowly errand on which they were sent - to bring to their Master the animal on which He was to ride - but they were proud to be chosen for this service. We should be glad always to run any errand, even the humblest, for our Master. If He were here now, and wanted to ride somewhere, who would not be eager to bring Him his horse to ride upon?

Jesus has told us that we may now do just such errands for Him - since what we do for any of His little ones, even the least, in His name, is done for Him. We may so set Jesus before us - that our very drudgeries shall be made Divine ; we may thus transform them into heavenly ministries, by doing them for Him. The angels never think about the degree of honorableness in the tasks they are set to do.

Promptly the disciples returned, bringing with them the animals they had been sent to bring. "They brought the donkey and the colt, placed their cloaks on them, and Jesus sat on them." The donkey was a symbol of peace. If Jesus had ridden on a horse, it would have spoken of war - but He was the Prince of Peace. In those days there was nothing degrading on riding on an donkey. It was the royal animal.

The disciples were told to say to the owner, that the Lord had need of the animals. There is nothing that Christ may not use - nothing of ours, however lowly, which may not have its place in advancing His kingdom and glory. It is said that once Queen Victoria was traveling through the Highlands and stopped a little while at the home of a poor woman to rest and sat in a common chair. When the royal party was leaving, one whispered to the old woman, that it was the Queen who had been in her home. She took up the chair on which the Queen had been sitting and carried it away, saying, "No one ever shall sit in this chair again, because my Queen has used it!" Our King will use anything we have, and what of ours He uses - is lifted to highest honor. He has need for our money, our hands, our feet, our lips - and we do well when we hold all our possessions ready at any call of His - to be used as He desires.

It was a strange scene - the enthusiasm of the people that day as Jesus rode toward the city. "A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road." Xerxes, history tells us, when passing over the bridge of the Hellespont, found the road strewn with branches of myrtle, while perfumes filled the air. When Alexander the Great was entering Babylon, flowers were strewn before him. It is no wonder that these Jewish pilgrims honored Jesus that day. For the moment they regarded Him as indeed their Messiah. They were escorting Him into the city, as they thought - to take His place on David's throne. They were not deceived, either, for Jesus was really going to His coronation, though not to such a coronation as they thought. He was to be crowned - but with thorns! The people were indeed escorting the Messiah - but not such a Messiah as they were looking for. The time of His triumph was indeed at hand - though not such a triumph as they expected to see. His kingdom was not of this world. His glory was to be reached through disgrace and shame. He was the king of sorrows, because through sorrow He prepared redemption for the world. The strange pageant of that day was a picture, a Divine foreshadowing, of the coming day, when all nations shall join in honoring Christ as King.

Glad were the songs that rang out on the air that morning: "Hosanna to the son of David! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!" The people were disappointed in a sense. In a little while all their bright hopes had vanished - Jesus went to a cross instead of a throne! Soon "Hosanna!" was changed to "Crucify Him!" Soon the palm branches were withered and trodden underfoot by the throngs. Yet the people sang that morning better than they knew. They thought of the restoring of David's kingdom; the King that was coming was really far more glorious than David. They expected liberty from the Roman yoke; Jesus brought liberty from the yoke of Satan and sin. They expected restoration of homes, riches and honors; Jesus had restored us to our place in our Father's family. They looked for physical prosperity; He brought the peace of God and the prosperity which comes by righteousness. They expected the conquest of all nations by their Messiah; he will conquer the whole world by His grace and truth. The earthly blessings they looked for as a result of the Messiah's coming - were but the shadows of the heavenly joys which He actually brought.

A remarkable scene occurred in the temple. "Jesus entered the temple area and drove out all who were buying and selling there. He overturned the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves." The temple was the house of prayer - but it had been changed into a den of robbers, as Jesus says. Not only did these traders desecrate the sacred house by making it a marketplace - but they robbed the people by usury and overcharging. Jesus cast out the traders and the money changers and cleansed the holy place. Thus it is that He would do - when He comes as King into our hearts. Made to be temples of God, houses of prayer, homes of purity and peace - sin has turned them into dens of robbers, desecrating them and filling them with unholy things. Christ's first work is to drive out all that defiles them, all that is unholy, and make them ready to be God's dwelling-places!

The rulers were vexed when they saw all that Jesus had done. They seemed to have been especially annoyed by hearing the children singing their hosannas to Jesus. He reminded them, however, that their own Scriptures had foretold this very scene: "Have you never read: From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise?" Everywhere in the Bible we learn that children are dear to God. He wants their earliest love. He is pleased to hear their voices in songs of praise. A sweeter music rises to heaven from the children's singing, than from trained choirs of insincere, formal, or mere professional worshipers. The children should always be in the church services and should join in the songs. The service is completed, perfected by their voices.

The great triumph of Christ is still going on in this world. The palm branches which were waved that day have long since faded, and the music of the songs has died away on the air; but uncounted millions are following in the procession of those who honor Him. Among these are prophets, apostles, martyrs and saints of all ages. Countless multitudes have been gathered from the darkest abodes of sin, and, wearing white garments washed in the blood of the Lamb, are now among those who honor Christ. Old men and boys, feeble women and maidens, all saved by the power of the cross - are now singing the song, "Hosanna to the Son of David!"

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Emma Darlington AGE & BIRTH DATE. 376 & September 3rd, 1645 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/Her SPECIES. Vampire OCCUPATION. Singer at Ambrosia FACE CLAIM. Olivia Holt

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: death, blood, violence, nazis ) In a small cottage in the English countryside, a young girl came wailing into the world. Colicky, fidgety, and desperate for her parent’s attention; Emma Haywood was well-loved and adored by both her mother and father. Her father was a physician, not in study but in practice. He was known for splinting broken bones and using tonics and salves to stave off infection, while her mother was an artist. Creative and carefree, Marie was a force of nature. Emma’s earliest memories came of her father’s distance, it was around when she was two or three that he grew apart from his family. At least, that was how it seemed. He would never hold his daughter, or coddle her, nor did he show his wife any physical attention that Emma could see. To her, that was simply the norm. Where her father lacked, her mother picked up. Marie reminded Emma daily of her father’s love for them, of how he worked hard for them, and how he had demons that needed to be contended with. 

It was a few months after Emma’s seventh birthday that her mother fell terribly ill, it was not long after that she passed on. Her father, Leighton, was a mess and clearly unfit to raise a young girl properly. She was passed off to a neighboring family, close friends who had a son only two years Emma’s junior. They had grown up together already, and at the very least Emma would have someone who was like a brother to her. For a time she kept expecting her father to come back, like it was a visit to the neighbors like any other. Every night in secret she would light a candle and leave it in her window so that her father might see it and find his way through the dark to her. In the morning Emma would find the candle burned down to the wick, a pool of deflated wax over the sill that she found she had something in common with. It too had learned to pour itself into a new shape, and so should she. 

Days turned to weeks turned to years and Emma’s father never returned, but by now she had a new family. People who played with her, a brother who loved her, and more and more the sting of her mother’s death and her father’s abandonment became but a distant memory. There were more happy Christmases than sad, and when times were hard there was an ample supply of love between the four of them to keep them afloat. 

Much like her mother, Emma was naturally creative and had a talent and ear for music that others in the village lacked. It was for her fifth Christmas with her new family that they revealed that they’d scrimped and saved to procure her a lute. It was nothing fancy, but to Emma it was the entire world. She played it day in and day out, not well, but she learned. They had no formal sheet music, so Emma would make up her own tunes - she’d mimic the sound of the river, or the whistle of the baker, and the hum of the church choir. 

Years passed and Emma grew older and proved herself a formidable young woman, there was an expectation that she would have to marry, but at every turn she deflected the advances of the locals. She was not without her girlhood crushes and romances, but the thought of settling down as her mother had, of having a daughter of her own. It didn’t sit well with her when she still had so many dreams of the outside world, her adopted mother would tell her to get her head out of the clouds. She told Emma that she was living in a fantasy world and that someday she’d need a man to take care of her. Like the rolling hills of the countryside, Emma could see all the years of her life stretched out before here. She’d marry the baker’s son, or maybe the blacksmith’s and she’d bare for them a batch of cherry-cheeked children. Perhaps she would continue to play the lute, but most likely she would become too old and too tired, then Emma would simply pass on. Perhaps of sickness like her mother, or perhaps she would grow old and her children would care for her like the fisherman’s mother. 

Emma saw all the years of her life before her and thought of her father, he had left, and despite all the whisperings that the locals made of him at least he was free. Emma convinced her brother Sterling to leave with her, to move to use what money they had scrimped and saved and move to London so they could have a shot at a real future. Emma was nineteen at the time, a woman grown, and Sterling was a man. They made their choice together and despite their parent’s wishes slipped out and made for the big city. 

In London Emma found work at a pub, she played her lute and sang for the patrons and earned a few tidy coins as she did. Their life was meager, but it was theirs. Together Sterling and Emma found a place together and for a few years everything was peaceful and seemed to be as it should. It was late one evening when Emma was mugged on her way home from work, they wanted the money she’d earned and she refused to give it up. Bleeding and weak in the street, a shadow swept over her, the person fed her his blood but not in time to save her from death’s embrace. Emma died with the vampire’s blood in her system and awoke later that night as one of the undead. 

Bloodlust was not something the young vampire could control, but people disappeared everyday in the bustling city. Emma could not walk in the light of day, but her work at the tavern only brought her out at night. Sterling was the only one who knew her truth, and even he needed to keep his distance because she simply couldn’t control herself. Years passed and gradually Emma got a hold of her new found condition, but she noticed that Sterling was still growing old while she remained the same. Emma had already been abandoned twice in her life and the thought of spending any amount of eternity without her brother was painful. It took some convincing, but after her own experience she knew that she could turn another if she tried. 

Sterling’s transformation was not without consequences, Emma killed more liberally now as she took some enjoyment in her newfound power. She and her brother had a terrible falling out because he grew to resent what she had convinced him to do. Sterling left, and he was the third person to abandon her. Angry and resentful, Emma took her anger out on the world and clung to the first person she met who could even remotely relate to what she was going through. This came in the form of a newly-turned vampire named Jamie Price. Emma had grown up with nothing and watching high society types bend to the will of her compulsion was endlessly enjoyable once she learned how to exercise it properly. There was a part of her that might have loved him, but he was as reckless and violent as he was sweet and charming. It made for an intoxicating combination and the two of them flamed out just as quickly as they had begun. 

For over a century Emma terrorized London and the neighboring countryside and for this she earned the ire of a coven who called upon a fury to enact vengeance. She’d have died if another vampire did not save her life, Deucalion protected her and taught her what she needed to not only be a vampire, but to survive as one. She procured a daylight ring and for the first time in over a hundred years Emma stepped out into the light of day once again. A feat that she’d long given up hope for. She was powerful and she was sated, it would have been her wish to travel with Cal for longer but it was not his nature and she was not his progeny. A term she only came to learn while under his care. 

No longer the ripper she’d once been, Emma began to ponder what more there could be for her. The world was continuously changing but what she’d never really experienced was true love - nor did she ever have the best example for it either. Her adopted parents had loved one another, but somehow she still wanted more. She fell for men and women alike, and there was one man in particular who captured her interests though she soon found that she was not the only one who shared his bed. Emma confronted this other woman and made a lifelong friend out of yet another vampire named Harlow. Unlike Sterling, or Jamie, or even Cal there was nothing that Harlow wished to change about her and nothing that Emma would change about the other. The philandering man happened to have a wife, and he paid for his insolence dearly. 

Though they were not always together, Emma was a natural wanderer and kept in touch with those she’d come to know. Jamie was difficult to peg down and their history was... Complicated, but Cal was easy to find, and Harlow perhaps the easiest. They continued to keep in touch via letters with Emma keeping a home in London where she’d have all of her post sent to. The songbird would travel now and again, extending her exploration of the world a little more each time. France, Sweden, Ireland, Spain, and eventually Germany. The more the world turned the more she knew how women were treated as second class citizens. She’d known several men in her extended lifetime and had never met a single one that was her equal, and yet, socially and politically they held all the power. Men of science claimed that a woman’s brain was smaller than a man’s, but the men she’d known didn’t seem to use it often if at all. 

The right to vote was hard won, but the more Emma found herself taking to the streets, the more alive she felt. Immortal and young forever, she was easily dismissed but she had a voice and a right to be heard. She was in Munich studying political science when a friend of hers recruited her into The White Rose; this non-violent, intellectual-resistance group created an anonymous leaflet that actively spoke out against and opposed the nazi regime. Emma’s friend Sophie and her brother were caught distributing these leaflets and as a result were executed. She watched on as the crowd cheered, and as her friend said her final piece. Galvanized, it was clear that the world was capable of innumerable cruelties and she was not free of it. Words were not enough, so she enlisted as an army nurse after she escaped Germany. Not able to fight on the frontlines, Emma instead opted to tend to the soldiers that had been wounded. She saved all those that she could, and provided comfort to those that she could not. 

It was here that she fell in love once more, and here that Emma decided to follow the young soldier to the United States. Despite the fact that he was human, she told him everything. Her history, her family, and of course that she was a vampire. He proposed. She asked him to spend eternity with her, but he was a simple boy from the South and wanted no part of immortality. Emma’s lesser self wanted to convince him to change his mind, but after what happened with Sterling she knew that she couldn’t, and if she did then he would resent her. So, instead she settled down: despite the fact that she promised she never would. The two got married, adopted a couple of children, and Emma watched as they grew old. Her husband passed away, and then her daughter was mistaken for her sister, then her mother, grandmother. Emma’s family grew and they all took after her in some form, they marched for civil liberties, they cared for friends and loved ones during the AIDS crisis, some were present at Stonewall. The world moved on, and Emma had no choice but to move with it - she thought of Sophie who died for a cause, and her friend’s last words haunted her: What does my death matter, if through us, thousands of people are awakened and stirred to action?

Over the years Emma put some distance between herself and the family she’d come to create. She was a vampire, and they were better off not knowing the truth of the supernatural world. Though time dragged on, Emma always kept in touch with the family she’d made for herself along the way: Cal, Harlow, and the others who had known her at her worst. 

With the sundering of the veil, she died. And in the river Styx she had nothing but time to reflect in absolute isolation. When Emma was brought back into this world she wanted to find the source of this, and the reason for her death. She opted to follow Harlow to Corinth Bay, where it was rumoured to be the source of all magic, and there she got a job as a musician working at Evie’s latest: Ambrosia. There was another reason for her trip though, a face she saw in the river that was just out of reach, and out of range of her voice. This river was a place for the souls of vampires to be trapped for eternity - so then why did she see her father there too?

PERSONALITY

+ charming, creative, thoughtful - gullible, single-minded, prim

PLAYED BY SHANE. EST. He/Him.

[doublerainebow]

Take Me To Church

Dabi x Religious Reader

Just a fic that I threw up, partly to distract me from finishing my Hawks comic and my Pro-Hero Bakugo fic and partly because I get off like the thought of Dabi interacting with someone who is religious? Kinda?

Honestly, Reader’s religion doesn’t play a huge role in this fic. I mean, it kinda does in the beginning, but it fizzles out midway. I don’t even think the title is fitting, but it hits just right for me lol. Anyways, this is more like a “Dabi x Reader who happens to be religious” kinda fic.

Also, the nickname Dabi comes up for Reader is partly a reference to Yagami Yato lol.

~ Masterlist ~

~ My Hero Academia Masterlist ~

An easygoing hum of an upbeat hymn left your lips as you went around the small chapel, fixing the flowers for the service tomorrow and generally making sure that everything was in its proper place.

It was late, nearing 11 pm, and you were the only one left. However, you knew that by the grace of God, no harm would come to you, even in this odd time of heroes and villains.

*THUD*

You gasped at the sudden sound, your head turning towards the source of the noise.

Your brow furrowed. “No one should be here right now,” you uttered as you walked slowly to where the sound was made.

The source of the sound seemed to have come from the women’s restroom, which made sense as you left the window open to air out the small restroom. Some of the older women of the congregation loved to spray themselves with overbearingly powerful floral perfume.

“Ugh, it reeks in here…” You heard a distinctively husky male voice groan out, followed by a pained hiss.

“Hello?” You called out cautiously from behind the door. “Are you okay?”

You cringed slightly as you heard the person curse.

“I… I’m coming in!” You called out as you opened the door.

“Fuck, stay away!”

The warning was pointedly ignored by you as you looked inside the restroom.

Slouched against the wall was a familiar-looking man with charcoal black hair, blue eyes, and what looked to be skin grafts stapled onto his skin. A murderous glint shone brightly in his eyes as his left hand erupted in beautiful blue flames, though his right hand was stained in deep red blood.

“Get the fuck outta here,” the man growled.

You blinked, a little taken aback by how ethereally beautiful this man looked with the blue flames highlighting his features. “You’re hurt,” you stated obviously.

The black-haired man glared. “No shit I’m-”

The man was interrupted by painful coughs.

Worry ran through you as you hurried to kneel next to the man, mindful of the ball of flame he was directing toward you.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?!”

“Helping you,” you said matter-of-factly. You gently pried the man’s hand away from his stomach. A deep red splotch was staining his white shirt, making it near-impossible for you to access the damage. “I’m not a certified nurse or anything, but my church often helps in first-aid if ever there’s an attack by a villain,” you explained as you began to help the man up.

The black-haired man pulled away from you. “I didn’t say anything about wanting your help, bitch.”

You bristled at the insult, having never been called such a thing before. A smirk landed on the man’s face as he saw your hesitation. Nevertheless, you brushed the insult aside to wrap his right arm around your shoulders. A hiss left the man as he was pulled into standing up.

“That wasn’t very gentle of you,” he gritted out, putting out the flame from his left hand.

“I don’t think you would’ve budged so easily if I tried to be gentle with you, Dabi,” you retorted softly.

Dabi chuckled dryly. “So, you know who I am, after all…”

You nodded your head. “You looked familiar, but the blue flame gave you away,” you responded. “I can’t have you stay in the chapel overnight. I don’t think the brethren will be pleased to find a villain resting inside the house of God. I’ll have to bring you to my apartment.”

“Didn’t your parents teach you not to bring strange men over, church mousey? Especially if they’re, I don’t know, wanted criminals?” Dabi asked condescendingly.

“My parents taught me to help people in need, no matter their background,” you replied evenly as you tucked Dabi into the passenger seat of your car. Thankfully, it was late enough that not many people were walking around. “I’ll have to lock up the building first before I take us home…” You glanced over at the black-haired man. “It’ll only be a few minutes.”

Dabi huffed out a laugh. “I’m not gonna die so easily, church mousey. Been hurt a lot worse than this.”

You frowned at the man’s words but left to quickly lock up the building.

By the time you were able to get back to your apartment and haul Dabi onto your couch, the black-haired man was breathing laboriously. You quickly went around your apartment to gather everything you needed to tend to the man.

“Despite the fact that you basically have a villain in your apartment, you’re pretty calm.”

“The person I see before me isn’t a villain. Just someone injured,” you replied softly, helping Dabi out of his jacket and shirt.

Dabi scoffed. “How noble of you.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and instead concentrated on treating the black-haired man.

Throughout the whole process, Dabi’s burning blue eyes never once strayed from you. You weren’t sure if he was trying to intimidate you or make sure you weren’t going to pull anything funny, or whatever. All you knew was that you could feel the unabashed intensity of his stare, and it was making you feel uncomfortable.

Now, it wasn’t that you weren’t used to people staring at you—as one of the choir members in your church, you were used to people staring absentmindedly at you—it was that the person in question staring at you was beautiful.

“What kind of Quirk was used on you?” You asked curiously as you inspected Dabi’s wound after cleaning away most of the dried blood.

Dabi shrugged. “Some kind of Quirk where the user could turn their fingers into claws.”

“They’re going to need some stitches. Some of these cuts look pretty deep…”

“Do what you gotta do, church mousey. I’m all yours for the night.”

You blushed at the suggestiveness of the man’s words, earning yourself a deep chuckle from him, but you continued on regardless.

“I’m afraid I don’t have anything to numb the pain.”

“Sweetheart, I have staples holding my skin together,” Dabi deadpanned. “Pricks from a needle are the least of my worries.”

You quickly averted your eyes, realizing your mistake. “R-right. Sorry. I’ll just… get to it then…”

The rest of the time was spent in silence as you sutured the cuts closed, taking extra care to be gentle. Once you tied the knot for the last suture, you rubbed some ointment across the stitches, dabbed away any excess ointment, and carefully wrapped gauze around Dabi’s midsection. Satisfied with your work, you began to clean up.

“Once I finish up here, I’ll bring you over to my bed. It should be a lot more comfortable there than my couch,” you mused absentmindedly. “You also wouldn’t have to worry about sleeping on dried blood.”

“First you bring a villain home, then you rid said villain of his clothes, and now you want him to sleep in your bed? I gotta say, I didn’t expect all that from a church mousey like you,” Dabi teased.

A strangled distressed noise left your lips. “I-it would behoove you to know that I’ll be the one sleeping in the living room!” You nearly shouted as you dumped your tools into your first-aid kit.

“Sorry, forgot you types practice chastity. You probably never even-”

“I’m not listening to any more of this!” You said as you heaved Dabi up, ignoring his pained grunt.

“I could’ve gotten myself up, church mousey,” Dabi gritted.

“Then learn to keep your mouth shut,” you snapped as you let go of him. “My bedroom is that way. If you need the bathroom, it’s over there,” you pointed around vaguely.

Dabi said nothing as he simply headed to the bathroom, presumably to clean up.

You sighed as you padded over to your bedroom to grab sleeping clothes to change into once Dabi was finished using the bathroom.

Your hands began to tremble.

Though the black-haired man had commented upon it earlier, the reality of the situation only now hit you.

You were hiding a criminal away in your home—a hauntingly beautiful criminal.

It was no stretch to think that Dabi might kill you once you outlived your usefulness to him. After all, you had every right to call the police or the Hero Association on him since he was a wanted villain, not that you would anyways.

You found him hurt, not committing a crime.

A gentle kick to your leg shook you out of your thoughts. “You gonna keep spacing out on me, church mousey?”

You looked up at Dabi, a bit surprised, though you noticed that he was cleaner than before.

Dabi looked away from you. “I’m gonna crash on your bed now.”

You nodded. “Alright. I’ll get ready for bed then.” You looked over the black-haired man quickly, remembering that he was still shirtless. “Sorry, I don’t have any extra clothes for you to sleep in…”

Dabi waved you off as he laid himself on your bed, not bothering to get under the covers. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Right. I’ll be sleeping in the living room then. I have a futon lying around somewhere… If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

Dabi said nothing as you left your room, closing the door behind you.

Before you knew it, it was morning.

You guessed that you were more tired than you remember as it seemed that you slept through your alarms. You groaned as you sat up in your futon.

Something suddenly struck inside you.

Quickly throwing off the blankets, you hurried to your room.

Nothing.

No sign of the beautiful man.

The only sign of him ever being here were the bloodstains on your couch.

You sighed, melancholy filling you.

Without even noticing, the black-haired man with burning blue eyes left an impression on you, and you weren’t sure if you were ever going to recover from it.

[anywhozits]

A Christmas Announcement

Rating: T Words: 5172

Verse: Canonverse Pairing: Kristanna

Summary: Kristoff and Anna are excited to finally share the news of their heir-on-the-way with the Kingdom of Arendelle.

Notes: I wrote this last year and forgot to post it, but this is somewhat related to the Christmas fic I’m writing for this year so wanted to get this out before that one! (at least it’s in the same verse and has similar themes, hah) Anyway hope you enjoy and happy holidays!! Thanks for reading :)

READ ON AO3 HERE

The day was Christmas Eve, 1843. A couple years ago, the whole kingdom of Arendelle began celebrating together at the castle’s now officially annual Christmas ball. Something that Anna had begged Elsa to start since the great freeze ended and the doors to the castle became permanently open. It had taken awhile, but finally Elsa caved to her sister’s wishes, likely only partially due to years of internalized guilt for pushing her away, and the ball quickly became one of Anna’s most anticipated nights of the year. Now with Anna as Queen, the tradition continued.

The entire ballroom was filled with glittering decorations, tinsel adorning the sturdy wood beams. Buffet tables sat lining almost the entire left side of the room, filled bountifully with food to feed the whole town and then some. Lefse, lutefisk (the bane of child and teen Anna’s existence), farikal, pickled herring, kjottkaker, salmon, whale steak, sheep, all the traditional favorites. And that, of course, didn’t even including the two tables of desserts and pastries or the sprawling drink selection. A massive 12-foot Christmas tree stood proudly in the right corner of the space, decorated with great care by Anna and Kristoff themselves. Year after year, Anna always insisted she didn’t need any help from the castle attendants, only a few ladders and a few hours of time alone. She always pulled through. The tree—her pride and joy. This Christmas, Anna had also taken the time to pick out hundreds of presents for the Arendellian children and children-at-heart. Kristoff even did some woodworking for the occasion. Highlights included hand carved rocking horses, rolling reindeer on a string, and building blocks. They couldn’t wait for those presents to be torn open by frantic hands, truly cherishing the visual of children playing for hours on the sweeping ballroom floor, both King and Queen watching misty eyed as they imagined their own child playing along next year. A new tradition.

They had hired both a 5-piece band and a choir to make sure that the ball was not lacking in festive music and thus not lacking in dancing. The choir had kicked off the party singing Christmas songs in perfect harmony, the music floating through the castle, making the previously cold stone walls feel more comforting and protective. Guests had started arriving, smiles plastered on each of their faces as they ran through the open castle gates, eyes wide in childlike awe when they entered the ballroom to see the most elaborate Christmas ball yet.

But two people were thus far missing from the party.

Kristoff knocked softly on his and Anna’s chamber door before letting himself in. He saw Anna, dressed to the nines in a green velvet gown topped with white ruffles that hugged her shoulders. Her upper chest was left bare save for a three-layered pearl necklace, an early Christmas gift from Mattias. The sleeves gaped open, lined by white fur that Kristoff knew felt as soft as it looked. Her hair laid atop her head in an intricately braided bun, her gold and emerald crown placed perfectly in the middle, always bringing out the brilliant green that usually hid within her typically cerulean eyes. Kristoff could only think one word. Radiant. Anna was radiant. Sincerely, Anna sparkled. She always sparkled. But something about walking in on her like this, dressed for the ball, so majestic in every single way… made Kristoff feel as if he might cry for the love that grew and blossomed within his heart. A love so permanent… a love so unyielding that he felt it with both a fiery passion and a patient comfort. He took in a breath. Regarding her magnificence for a second time. Her gold shoes sparkled in the candlelight, heels subtle enough to allow her to dance for hours but tall enough to allow her to kiss him without getting on her tip toes. His eyes floated up to her dress yet again. Even though the gown cinched at her waist, Kristoff swore he could make out a little bit of the swell that was their growing child. He took in another breath. She looked ravishing. How could he be so lucky to call her his wife?

But Anna paid no mind to Kristoff, not then. She was looking in the mirror. Frowning. Frustrated.

But still so beautiful.

“Anna, honey, are you ready to go downstairs? The doors are open, and people are flooding in… I think even Elsa and Honeymaren are already here.” Elsa was finishing up the ice sculptures. Her only task this year, something that made her beyond thankful.

“I’m almost ready! I’m just… I don’t know. I don’t feel right. But I can’t put my finger on why.” Anna twirled around in front of the mirror. “The only thing keeping me chugging along is the promise of lots of food. I’m starving.”

“Yes—that was the journal entry for this week. Ravenously hungry. Insatiable I think was the word I used.” For Anna, eighteen-ish weeks pregnant meant the constant desire to stuff her face with literally everything she laid her eyes on. It was like she had this itch that could never be scratched. A deep hole in her stomach that could not ever be fully filled. But the most unfortunate part was that she somehow had recently begun to crave lutefisk. Lutefisk. The food she would have to plug her nose to eat as a kid. Clearly pregnancy made her leave logic at the door. Kristoff sauntered up to her and brought her in close, wrapping his strong arms around her frame, resting them gently on her mid-section, hooking his chin over her right shoulder and kissing her softly on first her shoulder and then her neck and then her cheek before settling back into the crook of her neck. He smiled. This was pure bliss.

Anna entangled her fingers with his own, both resting on her belly. She sighed. “I swear I could eat literally all of Sven right now and only feel a little bit guilty.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Kristoff laughed into her shoulder.

“I’m starving!” Anna pouted, but then Kristoff kissed her neck again softly and she shivered. Too distracting.

“Well, I know for a fact there’s a lot of food in the ballroom if you want to get a move on…”

“I want to, I really do… but. Still. I’m … you know what? I think I know what it is,” Anna said, pulling away from Kristoff suddenly. “You know how a few weeks ago I had to switch to the maternity corset? Because I really uh—popped out that one morning and couldn’t fit into my old one anymore even with the laces practically undone?” One midwife had even said that Anna looked much bigger than what women usually did at this point in pregnancy. Something that she said could mean there was more than one baby on the way…Anna and Kristoff were far too thrilled with that possibility but had mutually decided they didn’t want to get their hopes up if it didn’t come to fruition. Their baby coming into the world already with a friend… already decidedly not alone. It felt almost serendipitous to Anna, but she still refused to think of it more than fleetingly. So for now—one baby. Singular baby.

“I remember,” he said.

“Well, I hate this thing. It’s so … constricting and it hurts and I can hardly breathe let alone gorge myself with disgusting and foul and gross but somehow still super satisfying lutefisk. Like do you really think this is good for the baby?”

Kristoff shook his head. “Probably not—”

But Anna was on a roll. She bulldozed through the answer he gave to her likely rhetorical question. “I know it’s not breathing or anything right? But … it kind of feels like I’m squishing the baby or something and knowing it’s yours and everything it’ll probably be massive so needs lots of room to… get that way. Oh wait no I can’t think about that. Oh God. Massive. Get that image out of my head please. Too big to come out of me and the pain and owwwww.”

Kristoff stepped closer to Anna and hugged her close, stroking comforting circles on her back. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said. She whimpered. “For the record, I don’t think I was too big as a baby. Although, you know… I don’t remember.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Very helpful.”

“I do have some chocolate to tide you over, though. That’s helpful, right?”

Her eyes lit up instantly, nodding her head in ferocious fervor. “Yes, yes, yes. Super, super helpful. Very helpful. The most helpful of all helpful!” Kristoff reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out maybe six truffles. Anna ate them in a flash. “God, these are so good.” Then she frowned again. “But I can already feel my corset getting tighter! And, you know what? What’s it all for, hmm? So I can better hide I’m pregnant? Yeah that’s right I said the word. So, what? You know, it’s really grating to me that something that really deserves to celebrated is instead something that needs to be … hidden away. Like the expectation for a queen is to be prim and proper and ladylike and pure or—whatever…while also producing heirs upon heirs. So, what happens when the very thought of being ‘with child’ comes with this implication that you’re not pure? Even though obviously I mean it’s way more concerning if you’re married and still pure, right? And I know I’m saying this about royalty and everything but that’s just my situation. Generally it’s definitely not just for queens. This is any woman. The expectation of any woman.  Nobody cares if men are pure. So they’re just producing heirs or kids or namesakes? … left and right and it’s all fine and dandy. It’s just ... really frustrating. And this stupid corset is like the physical proof of this horrible thing and it’s really making me…so—angry.” Anna let out a long breath. It felt good to get all that out. It truly had been building upon itself in this storm of emotions for the last couple weeks. Constantly growing until this moment.

“You know you’re the Queen, right?”

“Uh—yeah. Pretty sure I just talked a lot about that in my little speech.”

“Yes, right. Yes. But I mean… you’re the Queen.”

“Yes, I know. What’s your point?”

“Well, you’ve got the power, baby,” Kristoff said. “Show them how it’s done. You can … make a decree or—or something. Or you can just lead by example. I’ll support you, Anna. You know I’ll support you. And I agree with you, too. The whole thing’s pretty ridiculous. And definitely not healthy for our massive baby.”

Anna crossed her arms over her chest. “Not funny.”

“Take it off, baby. Off with the maternity corset.”

“I want to … but then people will be able to tell, right?”

“You really think they don’t know? Let me ask you this. Truly—how many people do you think are actually in the dark?”

“Uh—I don’t know. Maybe … four?”

“Exactly! Don’t feel like you need to still hide it. The whole castle has known for a long time. You were wearing the maternity corsets! Someone had to make that for you and you know your maids knew right away. Word is out, Anna. We just can’t be open open about it yet. Soon … but you don’t need to hide it. You shouldn’t hide it.”

She contemplated his words for a minute or so before planting a chaste kiss on his lips. “Thanks, husband. You’re the best listener.” He grabbed her hand and gave her a quick twirl, already preparing for the dancing he knew would take up most of his night.

“Always, my sweet love.”

“Now help me get this thing off. Right now. Please.” Anna turned so her back was to him. His large hands wrapped around the velvet buttons of her dress, undoing them at an unparalleled pace. Soon, the dress dropped to the floor and Anna stepped out of it, only standing in her off-white corset and bloomers. The maternity corset had a slightly different shape, dipping lower to cover her entire stomach, and had two extra sets of laces, one on each side that supposedly allowed for more breathing room and expansion along with a growing belly, but Anna disagreed. It felt just as constricting as her usual corset. She jumped in front of Kristoff again. “Off, off, off!”

He obeyed again, large hands undoing the laces but moving closer as he did this, planting periodic kisses on her shoulders. His mind instantly shot back to the first time he unlaced her corset. Years ago.

The beginning of their … exploration was too hurried. They so rarely got time alone and took it whenever they could … wherever they could … as fast as they could. There was never time to take off any clothes. Dress scrunched up her waist, drawers and breeches pushed down to their ankles was the name of their game. But eventually they got bolder. They snuck around in the middle of the night… and in those stolen moments in the moonlight, they had more time. Kristoff remembered ripping off her dress, throwing it into the corner of her room. Turning his attention to her undergarments, working his hands around the laces, trying to figure out how to make this as swift as possible. He smirked. “Is this appropriate?”

“Of course not,” Anna giggled. Kristoff planted kisses on her bare shoulders and then her collarbones. “But when have I ever been concerned with what’s appropriate?”

Kristoff smiled again at the memory. When he finally shot back to reality, he saw that he was almost done with the laces. He pulled the last few and threw the corset far away from them. It landed with an air of dramatics on her dressing partition.

Anna sighed in relief. “God, you’re so much faster at this than my maids.”

“Years of practice paired with years of … urgency.” Kristoff said, smirking.

It had taken him much longer than he felt comfortable admitting to take that corset off that first night, but since then he’d figured out a foolproof strategy.

She turned around to give him a deep kiss. “I’m free. Thank you.”

Kristoff inhaled sharply. She was even more magnificent like this, ballgown tossed to the side.  He brought a hand up to cup her chin and his other drifted down to her stomach. He gave it a rub and she kissed him in response, giggling slightly. “You’re radiant, baby. So beautiful.”

“You really think so?”

“You take my breath away,” Kristoff said, meaning it truly and genuinely from the bottom of his heart. Anna beamed at him, feeling both unparalleled awe and unparalleled respect boiling deep within her soul. She regarded him now. The way the left side of his smile cocked up more than his right, sending him into an eternal mischievous smirk. The way his brown eyes always somehow teemed with an unusual mixture of curiosity and warmth. He was her rock. Her ocean. Her world. And she knew that the same was true for him. She was his rock. His ocean. His world.

Anna tried to put all of those feelings into words. “You—I need you to know that you’re—uh—perfect, Kristoff. Really perfect.” She used this word a lot. He doesn’t like it, he said. It’s not true, he said. He has his flaws, he said. But to Anna, even his flaws were perfect. So, he was perfect.

Kristoff smiled again. Mischievous still. But happy. Pleased. Tonight, he wouldn’t argue with her. He placed his hand on Anna’s swollen belly, rubbing gently. “I like this. Baby is free to be massive now.”

“Oh, shut up and help me put my dress back on,” Anna said through a laugh. “Might be a tough task since my waistline has expanded probably five sizes.”

“I’m up for the challenge.” Kristoff said, pulling desperately hard on either side of her dress before he could button them together. Eventually, he managed. Sure, the button stretched a bit and it threatened to pop off, but he thought maybe it would hold. At least for that evening.

“How do I look?” She gave him a twirl, settling in closer to him and cupping her belly slightly. She loved showing it off. The exciting proof of their future. Of what would come in May. “Ugh. I don’t wanna keep this a secret anymore. This is awful. How I lasted this long—it’s torture! Kristoff! Encourage our little one to make its presence known. Please, please, please.”

He smiled at his wife, dropping to his knees. Rubbing circles on her belly and planting gentle kisses all over before pulling away slightly, both hands still resting on the swell. Kristoff leaned in closer again and whispered, “Hey, little one…your mama and papa love you so much and want to tell the whole world how much we love you so we can celebrate you and love you publicly and—can you stretch out for us or move your little arms and legs or something? Mama and Papa are here for you, watching you grow… loving you…” He kissed her belly again. “We love you, little one.”

“Aww, Kris. You’re so cute.”

He stood up slowly. Waiting to see if it worked. Not that it had in the past… but still hopeful. Nothing. “You ready to go?”

“I’m ready to eat if that’s what you mean.”

They walked hand in hand through the castle hallways, still bursting with the beautiful harmonies of the choir, and finally through the doors of the ballroom. Each and every Arendellian guest turned to watch the Queen and King, or Prince—whatever—consort’s grand entrance. Some even started clapping. Clearly the party was already considered a hit.

Anna noticed out of the corner of her eye that a few of the women had started whispering to each other, their eyes glued to Anna’s midsection. Maybe even saying four people didn’t know was an overestimation.

Come on, little one. Move.

But still nothing.

Instead, Anna’s stomach growled, and she knew she needed to get to the food tables. Pronto. She saw Elsa there, too, finishing up the last of the ice sculptures. A reindeer looking much like Sven perched excitedly by the pickled herring. Perfect. Two birds, one stone.

Anna bounded up to her sister first, skipping in an unbridled excitement. Unfortunately, this excitement was almost purely due to the promise of stuffing lutefisk into her belly which made her mind want to stage a rebellion against her stomach at the very idea. But she paid no mind.

Her fabulous sister, first.

“Elsa, I’m so glad you came!”

Elsa laughed. Remaining calm, of course. As usual. She stood tall as Anna collapsed into her arms. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss your favorite night of the year.”

“Thanks for doing the sculptures, too. Everybody loves them,” Anna said, eyes drifting to the series of sculptures that adorned the space, catching a glimpse of a replica of her favorite snowman and smiling widely. “Especially giant Olaf at the dessert table.”

“That one’s my favorite to make.” Elsa took a step back, away from her sister by a couple paces. She took a moment to gaze intently at Anna, something that apparently had become the theme for the day, pursing her lips while deep in some train of thought. And then, suddenly, the corners of her mouth curled into a giddy grin. She closed the gap between them and whispered in Anna’s ear, “You’re glowing.”

Anna laughed. Elsa’s breath kind of tickled her ear. “I know, right?!”

“Is it weird if I say that I think pregnancy suits you?”

“Whoa, Elsa. That is way out of line. And you said the word pregnant? Shame on you!” Anna’s voice got dramatically low when she uttered the taboo word she didn’t actually think needed to be taboo.

Elsa blushed. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“I’m kidding, Elsa! I agree with you. Will come in handy—you know—because we want lots of babies and everything,” Anna said. “I love the word pregnant, too. It’s so much easier and less awkward than the whole with child or in the family way nonsense. Like talk about beating around the bush. Jesus.”

“You hungry?”

“Oh, God yes. Thanks for reminding me.” Anna turned, reading to make a beeline for the lutefisk. But then she chuckled slightly and spun back to face her sister. “You’ll never guess what I want to eat, though.”

“Uh—herring?”

“Lutefisk.”

“Lutefisk? You—Anna—want to eat lutefisk?”

“I legitimately want to stuff twenty-five pounds of lutefisk into my mouth right now.”

Elsa laughed in pure shock. “You’re right. I never would’ve guessed.”

“I don’t know if it’s the salt or the disgustingly chewy yet soft consistency that’s getting me going, but it’s doing it. I’m feeling all tingly thinking about it.” Anna shuddered involuntarily How did that sound so good? Truly how? Repulsive. Lutefisk was nothing short of repulsive. “Can you help me fill some plates full?”

“I think your King already has you covered.”

Kristoff, goofy grin plastered on his face, approached the sisters with three plates full of lutefisk and potatoes precariously perched on top of each other. Somehow his left hand held two full glasses of mulled wine.

He passed her a glass of wine and one plate of lutefisk to start. “For you, my love.” He handed the other glass of wine to Elsa who graciously accepted.

Anna attacked the plate. Slurping down the fish in record time. Her face twisted in to some kind of combination of a gag and a smile. “Oh God this is truly horrendous.” Gulp. “Horrid. No…disgusting.” Gulp. “And so grossly…slimy?” Gulp. One plate down. Kristoff handed her the next one. “But also… man oh man does it really hit the spot.”

“I always liked lutefisk,” Kristoff said, taking a piece for himself.

Anna stopped what she was doing and shot daggers at him. “So this is your fault? Lutefisk and a massive … I swear we’re gonna find a way for the trolls to make you go through this next time.”

“You know you love it.” Kristoff smiled mischievously yet again. Taking another satisfied bite of the lutefisk.

Anna pouted playfully and grabbed one handful of lutefisk, flinging it directly into Kristoff’s face. “Trolls.” Another piece. “You.” And another. Kristoff had started opening his mouth to catch the pieces, swallowing in bliss with each successful catch and each delicious bite. “Next.” Anna tried to remain serious, but a smile was toying on her lips. Another toss. “Time.” The grand finale. Anna tricked Kristoff with a fake throw and tossed it into her own mouth instead. He furrowed her eyebrows and looked around, confused. Not having any inkling as to what actually happened. Elsa had started cracking up. Those two. Always getting up to some kind of ridiculous antics.

Anna couldn’t contain her laughter anymore and it came spilling out quickly to the point where she could barely catch her breath. She felt something like gas bubbling in her stomach and tried to calm herself, worried she had upset the whole peace of her body by gorging herself with food and then laughing too hard. But she didn’t have any burp in her… curious. Gassy without gas. Once she had successfully quelled her laughter, she started feeling it again. Gas … or bubbles … or butterflies teeming in her stomach?

Or…

OR…

OR!

Anna outwardly gasped. One hand immediately shot to her abdomen and the other covered her mouth.

Elsa and Kristoff both looked at her curiously, both cocking their head in the exact same way.

“Oh my God it’s happening!” Anna squealed, bouncing up and down so frantically that her mulled wine kept spilling over the cup.

They continued to look at her, confused as ever.

Both her hands rested on her stomach now. “It feels like… all of Elsa’s ice fireworks are going off in here!”

Now Kristoff and Elsa understood. Their eyes widened, they audibly gasped.

Still bouncing, Anna giggled. “Oooh tickly!”

“Anna?!” Kristoff ventured. She beamed at him and motioned him closer. He wrapped one strong arm around her and pulled her in for a hug, other hand staying low, secretly stroking her stomach.

She whispered in his ear. “Can you feel it? Can you feel our little one? At least…I think that’s what’s happening. I’ve never felt anything like this before. I mean gassy but—not gassy…” Plus, mother’s intuition? She just knew this was it. The Quickening. Finally!

He shook his head. “I don’t feel anything. But—I think that’s normal? I can…imagine it takes a while to feel it on the—outside,” Kristoff said, still close to her, hand still firmly on her belly. “But you feel it. Anna, it’s—wow. It’s real. This is happening. I’m so—I’ve never been more—this is the happiest I’ve ever felt.” He kissed her, passionately, on the lips.

“Me too,” Anna said as she pulled away, looking longingly into his fiery brown eyes. Another little flutter resonated through her and she giggled. Pressing her hand and thus Kristoff’s hand deeper into her stomach. “I wish you could feel it.”

“Someday.” He kissed her again.

“Screw the troll idea. You were right. This is so cool. Totally worth the lutefisk cravings.” Their laughter was interrupted by Elsa’s hands looping over both of their shoulders, hugging them tightly. Excitedly.

“Kristoff, Anna! Congratulations. Both of you.”

“Aww, thanks, sister,” Anna said, chuckling into her smile. Noting that Elsa’s cheeks seemed markedly more flushed and she wondered if the mulled wine had already gotten to her. “Wait.” Anna started bouncing again. So enthusiastically that neither Elsa nor Kristoff could keep holding onto her. “This means we can tell people! Oh my gosh can we tell them tonight? Can we, can we, can we?”

“How about right now?”

“Right now?” Anna’s voice cracked. “Right now right now?”

“Let’s go.” Kristoff held out his hand and Anna grabbed it quickly, forcefully. With all the intent in the whole world.

They raced to the small stage where the choir and the band performed. Their royal presence was enough to stop the singing mid-phrase, choir members bowing at attention.

“You don’t need to do that,” Anna said. “Your singing is beautiful, by the way. Thank you for being here. Uh—we just wanted to make an announcement. If that’s okay, of course. We can wait!” Somehow, Anna’s extreme giddiness was still manifesting as a constant and consistent bounce.

The choir singers looked at each other with what Anna perceived as knowing glances, and then nodded for the King and Queen to proceed.

They took center stage, Anna still bouncing, hand-in-hand. “Uh—hello, Arendelle! We wanted to take the time to thank you all for coming to the annual Christmas Ball. We hope you’re enjoying the food and the music and the holiday merriment! We are so happy this has become a tradition, and if I do say so myself, this might be the best ball yet. And not only because of—well, the ball… as of well—tonight, actually, Kristoff and I can finally announce that …” Anna took a moment to scan the crowd of eager faces. Maybe there were more than four who had no idea. “We’re having a baby!” Anna squealed and then screamed, raising her arm and thus also Kristoff’s arm into the air. Kristoff had also let out a few cheers. The crowd applauded, reaching a steady crescendo just as Kristoff picked Anna up and spun her around, giddily laughing, before bringing her face into his hands for a tender kiss. He then dropped to his knees in front of his wife, leaning in slightly, large hands now cupping her belly. Showing off her belly. Celebrating her belly. No more hiding. Just like Anna had wanted. He planted a tender kiss on the curve and the crowd cheered once again. Anna’s hands found their way into his hair and she ruffled it a bit, messing it up in a way she found exceedingly adorable. She turned back to the crowd, Kristoff still rubbing her belly in elation. “Baby Bjorgman is coming at the end of May!” Now Anna noticed a small corner of the crowd exchanging pieces of gold. Of course there had been some bets going on. She wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Kristoff stood up, kissed Anna once more, and then grabbed her hand, interlacing her fingers with his own. Anna took her other hand and cupped her belly, showing the crowd in more detail exactly how far along she was. Exactly. No mind games from any extra clothing. The buttons on her dress were still close to breaking loose. “Oh, and another thing! Maternity corsets are for the birds. It can’t be healthy to wear them all… tight and constricting and—” Without knowing how to control it, Anna shuddered a bit. So happy to be free. And safe. “Besides—let it all hang out, baby!” She did a little dance right then, shaking her rump and rubbing her belly. Laughter echoed throughout the crowd and then a whole conversation stirred. Anna hoped it wasn’t too judgmental… she didn’t want them to think she had taken anything too far.

But no matter. Kristoff was right. As Queen, she could make some rules. She could set some expectations. Even if not well received in the beginning, they could still hold weight.

Kristoff leaned in to whisper in Anna’s ear. “No more secrets.”

She smiled. Thank God. “Shall we celebrate?”

He nodded. “Let’s dance.”

The choir started singing again. The band joined in. The Holly and The Ivy, a Christmas classic. Merriment abound. Merriment all around. Although Kristoff and Anna took the lead, dancing alone for a few minutes, eventually more and more guests joined in. A little bit of Hallingdansen, a lot bit of pols, and the most bit of Kristoff taking advantage of the fact that the whole kingdom knew how overjoyed they were with the news of their growing family by essentially hardcore smooching in the middle of the dance floor. Their tongues had a good time dancing the Halling, too, and they paid absolutely no mind to the fact that all eyes were on them. Maybe the mulled wine was getting to them, too, or perhaps it was simply euphoria. Between the kisses, Kristoff frequently dropped to his knees to kiss Anna’s stomach or rub excited circles over the curves during the dances. Anna giggled each time, noticing that the flutters seemed to come in more enthusiastic waves when Kristoff’s hands or lips came in contact with her belly.

This felt good. To finally have the freedom to really celebrate. True bliss. True happiness. The best of all the past Christmas Balls. And they had a feeling no future ball could ever compare.

[ithinkilikeit-reactions]

Red Curtain (Bang Yongguk/Smut)

A/N: The smut isn’t really the focus point on this one. It’s more about the build up and the feelings around it all. I really hope you guys enjoy and please leave feedback. 

tags: Burlesque, glittery costumes, Yongguk in a suit, Piano player! Yongguk, fist fights (vague), some old school 50′s romantic stuff, a day on the town and some sweet sweet love making

Word count: 8385 words (my too much gene happened)

His hand came up to adjust the cuff of his shirt sleeve, a small smile playing on his lips as he did so. Yongguk entered the club fearlessly and revelled in the sound of heavy bass filling his ears. He felt good. 

It wasn’t often he got to indulge in evenings like this, being a hard worker he tended to just go home after a long day at work. But tonight he was feeling energetic and decided to treat himself to a show. The show his work buddies couldn’t seem to shut up about and he wanted to see for himself. 

“Burlesque.” The word sounded funny in his mouth. It wasn’t a word he had ever really heard before, yet it seemed to be so incredibly popular. The club was full, men and women sitting and staring at the stage waiting for the next performance. Yongguk had no idea what to expect as he entered, but he was excited none the less. 

Brushing past a waitress dressed in a corset, suspenders, thigh high stockings and high heels, he smiled at her gently. He was starting to feel a bit out of place and awkward. She was very pretty and when he took a look around to the other’s, he could see every woman there was beautiful. It was paradise on earth. 

The club was filled with rich reds, heavy curtains keeping the stage hidden from the world before show time. The soft scent of perfume and alcohol filled the room and there was a soft chatter mixed with laughter. Groups of men with cigar’s sat at their tables close to the stage, waiting for the show to start. The band was sat in the corner of the stage playing a lively tune as an interlude to the rest of the evening’s events. 

“Are you going to have a seat handsome?” The waitress returned to Yongguk and he felt a blush set on his cheeks. “Oh, yes here is fine.” He stuttered and she smiled at him, it was so obvious he was knew. The new ones always sat furthest away from the stage, not knowing what to expect. “Can I get you a drink?” She asked, leaning down to his level and Yongguk couldn’t help but swallow thickly at the close proximity of her cleavage. “Whiskey, please.” He said and she smiled, knowing the effect she had on men. All the woman here knew that they had that effect. 

You especially knew you had that effect. Looking at yourself, you touched up your lipstick and added a little more powder to your nose. Intense smokey eyes, soft pink cheeks and red lips, the show was almost ready to start. 

Slipping your satin robe off of your shoulder’s, the stage help moved to put your costume on and pulled the strings of your corset tightly. Watching as your waist cinched you couldn’t help but smile as you felt a rush of adrenaline course through your body. This was what you lived for. 

You rolled your stockings over your legs, clipping them to the suspenders and you pulled your heels on. You were ready and you were excited to get back out there. Loving your job made work easier and your job made you feel incredibly special. 

Yongguk tapped his fingers against the table in anticipation, the lights in the room had gone dim. He felt nervous listening to the drum roll as a spotlight shined on the red curtains. They opened with a dramatic trumpet sound filling the room and the watchers clapped. 

The curtains pulled back to reveal two girls, each holding large feathered fans that were white and red. Yongguk could see that they were hiding someone, presumably the star of the show from the way the others looked at the stage anticipation. The girls holding the fans shook them along to the beat of the music before on lifted the top fan away, uncovering the face of possibly the most beautiful person Yongguk had ever seen. 

You cheekily winked at the crowd as the fan lifted away from your face and made a surprised face as the fan closest to the ground lifted away, revealing your heel covered feet. Yongguk wasn’t nervous anymore, no he was intrigued. He leaned forward slightly, almost as if he wanted to get closer to the stage as the other fans lifted away from you completely. You were wearing a black sheer dressing gown, that fell down to the floor, embellished with red feathers on the ends of the sleeves and the lining of it.

You waved at the crowd cheekily, greeting the familiars in the club before waltzing your way over to the band on the other end of the stage. Yongguk was absolutely amazed watching you, smiling at your little gestures and feigned innocence as you acted for the crowd. You were absolutely captivating and he was starting to understand what the buzz was about. 

He watched as you worked through your dance, swinging your hips to the music seductively and smiling as your fingers moved to the little silk belt holding your dressing gown together. You undid it slowly, not taking your eyes off the audience even once before revealling your glittering corset. 

Yongguk was absolutely amazed, the way you revealed yourself with such confidence and the way you looked. The corset was red satin with black boning, little diamonds embellishing it and catching the stage lights. Your panties matched, red satin and black lace leaving very little to the imagination. A simple black garter belt held your stockings up and your heels were red, all very cohesive and all of his favorite colors. 

The dressing gown slipped off of your shoulders and onto the ground and you winked before walking away from the band, back to center stage. Your back faced the audience and you shook your bum a little before going through your routine and slowly your corset came off. 

Smiling softly, he propped his elbow up on the table watching as you moved to undo your corset. It almost felt like when you looked at the crowd you were making eye contact with him. Of course Yongguk knew that, that was insane but he admired the fact that you could make people feel that way. You threw the corset to the side, your chest now only being covered by a thin, black lace bra and you shook your chest slightly. Afterall, burlesque had some comedy to it. You smiled as the crowd laughed slightly. You lived to entertain. 

To say that Yongguk was sad your performance ended was an understatement. You were his introduction to burlesque and he had seemingly fallen in love with you at first sight. Even though your performance was over, he stayed. He stayed and watched the other performances. They were all good as well, but you had stayed in his mind. Imprinted in the best way.

The final performance had ended and it felt like the evening only lasted 20 minutes in total, with how much he was enjoying himself. But in reality he had spent almost his whole night there. Looking at his watch and noticing it was 3 a.m and the club was closing. 

“Have a good time handsome?” The waitress who had been serving him the entire night asked. “Oh, yeah I did.” She smiled softly at his answer and took his empty glass. “You’re a first timer. I can tell. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” She said and he turned pink. “Make sure you come back.” She added and he simply nodded, heading for the door. “I will.” He said shortly, smiling at her before leaving the club. 

You yawned as you slipped your coat on, rubbing your eyes slightly as you pulled your regular shoes on. These heels were significantly shorter and your regular clothing was significantly less extravagent and sparkly. But you managed to keep your personality shining through, even with your shin length pencil skirt and oxford heels. 

“Girls, I’ll be heading home now.” You told the other girls in the dressing room who were taking their makeup off and getting ready to leave. With a choir of  “Bye’s” and “See you later’s” you exited through the back door. You were greeted with the semi dark alley that you left through every work day. Moving to close your coat, you felt a hand on your hip and you jumped back in surprise. 

“You were on stage earlier tonight.” The voice said and you turned to look at your agressor. He looked greasy, hair hanging over his eyes and breath reeking of alcohol. “Yes I was.” You smiled politely, just praying that your kindness would be enough to get the man to leave you be. He huffed, looking you up and down and disappointment was very visable on his face. “I should’ve known you’d be disappointing up close.” He said and his other hand came up, cupping your cheek. You cringed, his dirty hands touching your face was more than you could handle. “Please leave me alone.” You said, trying to move away from his touch and leave. 

However, his hand came up and grabbed your arm. You were now pressed against the brick wall of the club and had nowhere to escape too. “You pretty things on stage are never what you say you are.” You couldn’t tell if he was angry and going to hurt you or just trying to scare you. But his face got really close to yours and his hands held you in place, you had no place to go once again. As his face got closer and closer, you closed your eyes not wanting to have any more visuals to this experience. Only to feel him getting ripped off of you and pushed to the concrete. 

Your eyes flew open, confused as to what happened. Your agressor was now sprawled out on the ground, too drunk to stand back up after the forcefull blow he had received. You looked at the man standing over him, who had his fists clenched and one strand of his slicked back hair had fallen into his face. 

“I hate cowards who sneak up on women and drink themselves to death.” His voice was incredibly deep, surprising you greatly as you stood still against the brick wall. The drunk finally pushed himself onto his feet and managed to scramble away, running as fast as he could. A coward indeed. 

Your saviour looked at you, warm dark eyes scanning you over as you stood frozen. “He didn’t hurt you did he?” He asked and you shook your head no. He looked familiar, like you had seen him in the club that night. “Thank you.” Your voice was small and shakier than you cared to admit. “It’s no problem really.” Yongguk said and smiled, he would have done this for any woman, not just you. But the fact that he had helped you out made him feel even better. 

You looked just as beautiful as you did on stage, even in your regular clothes and no makeup. Some stray glitter was scattered over your face, but it added a certain appeal in his opinion. 

Yongguk stood up straight, adjusting his clothes slightly before nodding. “I’ll be going then. Please stay safe.” He said and moved to walk back down the exit of the alley. “Wait!” You called after him, scrambling to walk beside him. “Can I get your name and maybe buy you breakfast?” You asked, a small hopefull smile in your face. You wanted him to say yes, you wanted to thank him. 

Yongguk stopped and turned to look at you. However he had to look away quickly, feeling shy under your gaze. “Uhm, my name’s Yongguk and yes you can buy me breakfast.” He said softly and finally locked eyes with you. “It’s nice to meet you, Yongguk.” You said and stuck your hand out for him to shake. “I’m Y/N.” 

You couldn’t help but look Yongguk over as you sat across from eachother in the diner. He was incredibly handsome. Warm eyes, attractive face and an incredibly deep voice. He was wearing a simple suit, showing that he was a working man and had slight bags under his eyes. But none of these features stifled how attractive he was, especially as he drank his coffee slowly. 

It’s was 4 a.m and your local diner was serving breakfast for the early bird workers. It was a place you often came after work for a nice cup of coffee before heading home. Today wasn’t any different, only now you had a guest. 

“You look familiar.” You said and he looked at you with wide eyes. He cleared his throat and wiped his lips with his napkin before replying. “I was at the club last night, I was leaving when I spotted what was happening in the alley.” His words surprised you, you had never seen him at the club before. You grabbed your own mug, taking a sip of your coffee gingerly because it was too hot and maybe because you wanted to leave a good impression on him. 

“I’d never been there before.” Yongguk started, not looking at you again. His ears and cheeks were tinted pink in embarrassment as he spoke. “But you were my favorite performer tonight. Not just to be shameless.” He said and you couldn’t help but blush yourself. Sure, you had been complimented on your performances outside of the club. However this seemed so genuine. 

“I’m glad you had a good time.” You said softly with a little laugh. Yongguk noticed his compliment flustered you and he thought it was cute as your cheeks turned pink. The waitress came by and placed your food infront of you and smiled greatfully. You never realised how hungry you were after work until food was placed in front of you. 

“Now, I’m probably going to shatter that lovely image you have of me on stage here. But I am absolutely starving so I am not going to hold back.” You said and listened as his laugh filled your ears. In that moment, you decided that his laugh might have been the best you had ever heard. 

“Please enjoy your food. You worked hard last night.” He said and you smiled before digging into your eggs. Yongguk watched before starting to eat himself. You had seemed so unreal the night before. As if you were almost a figment of his imagination, yet here you were, sharing a breakfast with him. 

“So it seems you know a little bit about me. Tell me about yourself, what do you do? What are your passions?” You asked, genuinely interested in him. This meeting was unconventional but it made you seem almost more relaxed with him. “interesting choice in questions.” Yongguk stated and you smiled cheekily. You propped your head up on your hand and looked at him intently. “I’m curious about you.” You told him and meaning it completely. 

He didn’t know how to respond at first, but mentally cursed his cheeks and ears for giving his emotions away. He was also confused as to why you were curious about him, in his own eyes he seemed horribly average. 

“I work in an office. A 9 to 5 job, every week day.” Yongguk said, trying to hide the hatred for his work. It was never something he wanted to do, but it was the encouraged choice. “Ah, but your work is not what you’re passionate about.” You stated, taking a bite of your toast. It was quite evident in his voice that his job was simply a way to make money. “You’re right. It’s not. But I work hard. I’m steady, sometimes that’s better than exploring your passions.” He said and he sounded unhappy. You frowned, allowing your hand to reach out to his. “Stability is nice. But happiness is even better. What brings you joy?” You wanted to provide comfort for him. 

“I like music.” Yongguk confessed softly, looking at your hand that was on his. “I love music. I love playing the piano.” You couldn’t hide your smile at all as it stretched over your face. You grabbed his hand and examined his fingers. “These seem like piano playing fingers.” You commented, running your own fingers over his skin. “They seem like skilled piano playing fingers.” You corrected, listening to his stifled laughter. You looked up from his hand and into his eyes. “I’d love to hear you play.” You told him and released his hand. He felt like he was back in school, staring at that girl he used to like. He felt giddy. 

The rest of your breakfast was pretty silent, general small talk and light laughter. Yongguk found himself absentmindedly looking at you, you seemed to bring your elegance and quirkiness that you had on stage with you everywhere you went. He could tell you loved your job and he couldn’t help but wonder what that was like. 

You exited the diner together and the city was now waking up. It was 5 in the morning and as tired as you were before, you felt full of life again. Yongguk was a breath of fresh air to you. 

“Thank you again for helping me out.” You told him, smiling softly. You didn’t really want this to end, you were having a good time. “It’s really not a big deal. any decent person would have. Thank you for breakfast.” He thanked you, bowing slightly. That was when you had a thought that made you smile a little brighter. 

“Do you have some more time?” You sounded eager, a little more eager than you would have liked. But it had been a while since you had had the company of anyone outside of work in a while and this was just really nice. 

He froze for a moment, thinking about the fact that he hadn’t gotten any sleep. However Yongguk realised he had fallen into a pattern a weekly pattern, a monthly pattern even. Today was as good of a day as any to break that pattern in his opinion. 

“I have all the time in the world.” He smiled at you and you felt butterflies in your stomach. “Good. I want to show you something.” You said and grabbed his hand. He felt his heart pounding in his chest at the sudden contact, completely flustered and nervous. “What do you want to show me?” He asked, walking with you as you pulled him along. “A place to think. A place to take a deep breath.” You simply responded, not wanting to give away too much. Your mother always told you men liked a woman with an air of mystery to them. However your mother also always said that you shouldn’t take your clothes off on a stage. 

Picking and choosing between your mothers’ advice was a talent of yours. 

With every step you both took it seemed like the world was waking up a little more. You dodged cars as you crossed the street, waved to people you recognized and held Yongguk’s hand tightly as you pulled him towards your safe spot. 

“Okay now just climb up here.” You said and looped around the back of a tall building. Yongguk was confused, quiet as you let his hand go climb up a fire escape. He could tell you were close to the harbor, the sounds of freighter ships and water being incredibly loud. “I’m-” He was going to say confused before you started laughing and pushing your hair out of your face. The action itself was simple, but just so attractive in his eyes. “I realise I sound crazy. But trust me. It’s the best view in the city... or maybe just my favorite view in the city.” You corrected yourself and noticed Yongguk just looking at you. 

“If it’s your favorite view in the city, it must be the best. Let’s go.” His words were warm and comforting, making you feel all warm and mushy inside. You watched him as he started climbing up the fire escape, going first because you were wearing a skirt and even though he had seen you in lingerie before, you still had modesty. 

You both reached the top, Yongguk helping you up onto the roof by lending you a hand. His other hand held your waist carefully to steady you and for a split second, or what seemed like a split second, your eyes were locked. You pulled away, swallowing thickly. Many men had approached you, especially men who came to the club. However Yongguk was different. He was shy and he was considerate and not as straightforward. It had a much better appeal than others.

“So this is the best view in the city.” Yongguk said and looked out at the water. You couldn’t help but blush, this was your spot and you had now exposed it to criticism. Yongguk placed his hands into his pockets as he stared out. The sun light reflected off the waves and big ships were on the horizon. 

“The ships, remind me of people.” You started, moving to stand next to Yongguk and stare out over the water. “They have a schedule. They travel hours to do their jobs and then they go back, or where ever they are ordered to go. They make less noise than people though.” You said with a little laugh at your explanation. Yongguk understood what you meant, however poorly expressed it was. “I’m sorry that makes no sense.” You quickly said when your words were met with silence. 

“No, I understand. Even with the colorfull explanation.” He laughed before pausing again. “It seems like you like your job.” He commented with a carefull tone. “I do. I love my job. But you can’t help but wonder about other career choices. After all beauty fades.” Your words came off sadder then you intended and you kicked your heel against the ground.

“No beauty doesn’t fade. Especially not a beauty like yours. Your personality is half the charm.” Yongguk said and you laughed. You knew it was just a poor choice of words and you could take a joke. “Are you saying I’m not visually beautiful?” You asked through laughs. Yongguk’s eyes went wide with panic and he frantically tried to think of what to say, stuttering a few syllables. “Calm down, sir. I’m only joking.” You said, looking away from him and out to the ships again. 

Yongguk sighed in relief, starting to laugh a little himself. He hadn’t flirted with someone in a while, it seemed he had lost his way with words. 

Leaning slightly, you nudged him to get his attention. “Thank you.” You looked at him, your eyes glittering as the sun caught them. “I’m glad you understood what I meant. I saw you tonight for the first time ever. Your personality carries into your everyday life. Even if I never see you again after today, I know I’ll remember you.” His words almost made you tear up. Being memorable wasn’t something you ever truly strived for, but it meant a lot that someone you had just met saw something in you. 

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You joked, trying to hide just how deep his words hit you, in a positive way. “Actually this is the longest I have been with one in a long time.” Yongguk was embarrassed but he felt the need to be honest with you. 

It seemed the roles had changed and now Yongguk grabbed your hand. “My turn to show you something.” He said and pulled you along. 

The city was fully awake now, the sidewalk alot harder to maneuver but you and Yongguk managed. His hand never let go of you once, but he still clearly lead the way and cleared the path for you to make it through easily. It was a simple gesture, but a sweet one none the less. 

So now you both stood in the train station. “Now, now, now. I just met you sir. I don’t think I’m ready to go away with you.” Yongguk laughed at your joke, his fingers lacing with yours. “No, this is what I wanted to show you.” He gestured to the people waiting on the platforms, the people buying their tickets and people running to catch their trains. 

“I like coming here when I need to think. Like you with your ships. These people are all on schedule to do things and come back. Almost everyone experiences the same things in life, yet the stories are always different. It’s nice to think I’m not the only one who feels this way.” Yongguk explained and you felt your heart lurch forward. 

Never in your whole life had you made a connection this deep with someone so quickly and Yongguk felt the same. 

“Yongguk.” Your voice was soft as you said his name. You continued to look at the people as he hummed in response. “You need to stop making me fall in love so fast. I think it’s giving me whiplash.��� You admitted and a pitifull sight caught your eyes. 

His chest tightened with an overwhelming feeling and a wave of emotions. Turning to look at you, he noticed your attention was on a couple in the station. The girl’s luggage was in her hand as she held her lover close. Tears streaming down her face as they said goodbye to eachother. 

“It’s sad, I wonder if she’s leaving for good.” Yongguk thought out loud and you smiled softly. “It’s always sad seeing love being pulled apart.” You squeezed his hand softly. “But being pulled apart at least means they got together in the first place.” You were adding on to eachother’s sentences and you felt like a school girl with her crush. 

The sound of piano filling the station distracted you from your thoughts and you turned your head to look at the source. In the corner of the station, a man sat at a piano to entertain the people waiting. 

“Seems like I’ll be hearing you play sooner than I thought.” You said and Yongguk looked at you with a raised brow. “What?” He asked and you ignored his question, walking off into the direction of the piano. 

Yongguk stood frozen as he watched you walk away and towards the pianist. You tapped the man’s shoulder and the music stopped as he looked at you. You were talking, a beautiful smile over your face as you gestured to Yongguk. The pianist nodded and stood up from his bench and you smiled even brighter. Making eye contact with Yongguk, you gestured for him to come over. 

He felt a big wave of nerves as he approached the piano, knowing you meant for him to play. “You’re crazy, you know.” He told you before bowing and saying hello to the pianist. “So I’ve been told. Now sit and play. Blow me away.” You said and pushed him towards the bench. Yongguk took a deep breath as he sat, not only would he now be playing for you but for a train station filled with people. 

He had made the choice that today would be great day to break pattern, boy had he under estimated how much he would actually be breaking his pattern. 

You sat down next to him on the bench, shoulders touching and your leg touching his. You were watching his finger’s intently as they decided what to play and you couldn’t help but admire his hands. It felt like your brain went into the gutter as you did so, imagining his hands touching your skin. But thankfully, the notes that started playing snapped you out of your thoughts. 

His touches on the key were light, yet they created a beautiful tune. It was a light and airy song, something different than the heavy songs that were playing in the club all the time. 

You simply watched as his fingers danced over the keys and you leaned over, resting your head on his shoulder. Yongguk was a blushing mess before this but this really elevated it all. But he felt good, he hadn’t played for people in a long time, but it was so nice to him. He wanted to do this forever, he was passionate about it.

He continued to play, people now standing to watch the pianist. Not a large group but enough to make you smile at the small gesture of appreciation. Yongguk however refused to look up from the keys, in the fear that he would mess up before his song was over. Turning your head, you watch his face. Concentration was all over it but there was a small smile playing on his lips. He was enjoying this. 

He finished and you lifted your head from his shoulder with a proud smile. The people watching clapped lightly and he felt his cheeks turn beet red. 

“That was beautiful. It seemed like you enjoyed it too. I know I did.” You said, eyes staring into his. Now Yongguk was going through a mental debate. He was so happy could kiss you and your lips were so horribly inviting. But it was so soon, he had just met you. 

Your faces were close and his breath fanned over your lips. “I- I’m really glad I went to your show last night.” Yongguk said and you nodded. “I’m glad too.” You said and stood up from the bench. Thanking the pianist, you left with Yongguk in tow. 

No that the moment was over, Yongguk felt silly for not taking the chance. Especially seeing you walk in front of him, he was wondering what was next because now, now he was in and he didn’t want this day to end. 

Yongguk grabbed your hand, making you turn around and collide with his chest. “Hello.” You said in surprise as your free hand pressed against his chest to brace yourself. “I’m breaking my pattern today.” Yongguk started, words shaking slightly as his eyes flickered down to your lips. “Okay.” You responded softly and waited for him to finish what he was saying. His eyes flickered down to your lips again and you caught on. “If you want to kiss me, you don’t have to ask.” You smiled, your hand slowly moving up his chest to wrap your arm around his neck. His eyes widened at your words and how you seemingly managed to read his mind. 

Leaning forward, his lips met yours and you smiled against him. How this felt so right confused you, but sometimes things just don’t make sense and this was one of them. 

Your fingers played with the hairs on the back of his neck as your lips moved against his. His hand released yours and moved to wrap around your waist and pull you against him tighter. This felt so right and Yongguk was regretting nothing about his day. Even though it was a very long one. 

Humming against his lips, you pulled away and took a deep breath. It really was like a scene in a movie to those who didn’t know what was going on. Even for you, it felt unreal. Especially when he pressed his forehead to yours. 

“Why am I so comfortable with you?” He asked, feeling so utterly confused at his emotions. “I don’t know but I feel the same way.” Your hand moved again as you spoke, now caressing his cheek lightly and moving to his lips. You ran your thumb over them and bit your bottom lip slightly. This man was singlehandedly the most attractive man you had ever come across, not only physically but intellectually. 

Watching you bite your bottom lip brought him back to seeing you on stage. Only this was better, this wasn’t a show, this was all for him. 

Leaning forward, you burried your face into his chest. There was comfortable silence surrounding you both even though you were in a highly crowded train station. As you inhaled his scent, the mix of coffee and whiskey from the night before, you realised how tired you were. Feeling so safe and comfortable allowed your body to relax and exhaustion was setting in. However the yawn you felt bubbling up stressed you out, you didn’t want to think you were tired of him. 

As you yawned, Yongguk laughed and looked at you. “It’s been a long day for you too hasn’t it?” He asked, no judgement in his voice and no assumptions about your feelings. “Yeah it has, I’m really sorry. I’m having such a good time.” You said and pecked his lips again, maybe to prove a point but also because you wanted too. “The good time doesn’t have to end. I live nearby, if you would like to lay down... I realise how straight forward this is.” Yongguk rambled making you giggle. It was straight forward and you understood he didn’t mean any harm to it. 

“Yeah it is straightforward. But you’ve seen me in lingerie. It doesn’t get much more straight forward than that.” Yongguk instantly turned pink at your words and you stifled a laugh. You weren’t wrong and he knew that. Grabbing your hand, he remained silent as he tugged you towards the exit and the laughter you were holding in escaped you. 

He wasn’t kidding when he said he lived nearby. Only really needing to turn a few street corners before reaching his apartment building. Yongguk seemed humble of his home. It was a small apartment on the third floor of a grungey brick building but you admired it. It was simple and it suited him. You yourself didn’t live large either, being an entertainer didn’t make you as much as you would have liked. Your apartment looked quite similar to this, maybe a bit more color around but the size was similar. It was homey none the less. 

Yongguk had hardly looked up from the floor since you entered his home, he was debating why he suggested this in the first place. His home was small and he considered you to be quite glamorous and thought your home would be incredibly extravagent. 

“Your apartment looks a lot like mine.” You said and looked around with a smile. Yongguk finally looked up, surprised at you words and now feeling a lot more comfortable. “Let me take your coat.” He quickly said and realised he had lost his manners a little. “Oh, thank you.” You said as he stood behind you, slipping your jacket off of your shoulders. The action was simple, but so undeniably sexy to him and when you ran your fingers through your hair after, he couldn’t help but swallow thickly. 

Your heels clicked on the floor as you took a step forward, adjusting your blouse and pencil skirt. You weren’t nervous and you weren’t as tired as you were not half an hour ago. Possibly you got your second wind, or when you turned and saw Yongguk rolling his button up’s sleeves something inside of you gave you new energy. 

“I can make some coffee if you want, or if you want to lay down you can.” He said softly, walking towards you. He was sweet, that was for sure. Once he was in arms length, you took his shirt between your fingers and pulled him even closer. Then you noticed the tattoo on his lower arm, tattoos weren’t a common thing and this made him even more special. 

Allowing your fingers to trace over the lines, your other arm wrapped around the back of his neck. Yongguk was just watching you, fascinated with the way you were fascinated by him. “Do you have anymore?” You asked, finally looking up and in his eyes. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip before he nodded. “A few.” He said, eyes not leaving yours. He was so intriguing to you, and the sexual tension had grown instantaneously. 

Yongguk’s lips found yours, alot needier than before and it caught you off guard. But you definitely didn’t mind, your hands moving up his body and tangling into his hair. His hands held your waist, tugging you closer to him to feel your chest press against his. The action was confident and it made you moan against his lips. His grip on your waist tightened as he was trying to decide if he could let his hands roam your body, still not incredibly sure how far this was going to go. 

Your tongue swiped over his bottom lip and you tugged his hair slightly. His breath hitched in his throat in reaction, causing a low groan to escape him. The sound instantly fueled the heat that was forming between your legs and you decided, you wanted to hear that sound again. 

Moving your lips down to his jaw, his hold on your waist tightened further as he sighed. “I want to see them.” You started, kissing his jaw lightly. “Your other tattoos.” You added on and he moaned as you nipped his skin lightly. 

“Fuck.” He mumbled under his breath, grabbing your hand and tugging you further into his home. You stumbled lightly as he did so and pulled you into his bedroom. 

His kiss was even more unexpected now, catching you by surprise and moving you back against his wall. Yongguk felt addicted to the feeling of your lips on his, it was like they were made for him and he couldn’t get enough. Your kisses were sloppy, teeth clashing slightly and so horribly intoxicating. 

Your hands moved to the collar of his shirt, fumbling with his tie and trying to get it undone. Laughing as you couldn’t manage to do it without looking. Yongguk pulled his lips away from yours and you could focus on the work your fingers were doing. He smiled, the action being incredibly sweet and clumsy and it was such a nice contrast to the hot and heavy. 

“Darn things.” You said as you finally got it loose, tossing it to the side. You sighed in relief and he started laughing, finding the whole thing horribly endearing. Pushing yourself off of the wall, you moved towards his bed and looked back at him with a coy smile. 

This was different than how teasing happened on stage. Burlesque was all about the show never more than that. 

His hand came around to your front, resting just under your breast as his palm flattened against the fabric of your shirt. Your back now pressing to his chest and his other hand moved your hair to the side. Yongguk leaned down, kissing the side of your neck and taking his time to make a mark. Generally your job wouldn’t have allowed the marks but you had never had a problem following this rule. Breaking the rules was good every once in a while, especially when it felt so right. 

Your hand moved to his own that was on your torso. Grabbing it, you moved it up and allowed him to cup your breast. Yongguk moaned into your neck and he massaged your breast lightly. His lips moved to your ear and goosebumps covered your skin. “Do you have any tattoos for me to find?” He asked, his fingers moving to the buttons of your blouse. His fingers were notably more nimble than yours as he undid them all swiftly, untucking your shirt from your skirt. Pianist fingers most definitely. 

His hands started exploring the new skin, revelling how soft it was between his rough fingers. You sighed in enjoyment, your head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. “Yongguk-” You sighed, feeling his finger tips graze over your nipples. 

Not being able to handle it anymore, you turned in his arms and slipped your blouse off of your shoulders and onto the floor. Yongguk thought you were even more beautiful like this. Your underwear wasn’t extravagent like your stage outfit, simple white bra covering your chest. Yongguk hummed in approval at the sight of you up close. 

You reached the last buttons, smiling at the large chest tattoo you had revealed. “This is beautiful.” You said softly, tracing your fingers over the intricate design. Yongguk could feel goosebumps coating his skin especially as you pushed the clothing off of his shoulders. You smiled up at him before capturing his lips for another kiss.

His hands made quick work of your bra as you kissed, not wanting to waste any more time and wanting to explore your body as much as he could. After your bra, your skirt soon followed and fell to the floor. It left you almost completely bare to him. 

But you weren’t uncomfortable or shy or feeling odd at all. You had met this man today and you weren’t scared of a thing. 

“I was hoping to find a tattoo.” He said and you held back a laugh. “Sorry to disappoint you.” You said and let out a small squeal as he pushed you back onto the bed. “You haven’t disappointed me this far. I’ll let this slide.” He joked while crawling over you. “What a relief.” You responded, enjoying how light hearted this whole situation was. 

He settled inbetween your legs and started leaving open mouthed kisses over your chest. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging and moving him where you wanted him. Yongguk didn’t mind at all, he loved that you weren’t afraid to direct him where you wanted him. 

The trail of kisses lead to your nipple and he wrapped his lips around the nub gentley. He was listening intently to your sighs and his fingers danced over your stomach, gradually going lower and lower. Tracing over the lace of your panties, he moved them to the side. You were practically shivering with anticipation at his actions, your grip on his hair tightening. 

His index finger swiped over your slit, teasing you a little. After all teasing was half the fun. Your breaths were shaky and even more so as he slowly slipped a finger into you, curling it antagonizingly slow. You were starting to get frustrated and Yongguk could tell, his eyes being trained on your expressions. 

“You’re impatient.” He commented and placed a kiss on your skin. “Only a little.” You said, stopping your comment with a gasp as he added another finger. “I’m used to getting what I want.” You finished, pulling his lips up to yours. The pace of his fingers gradually increased, leaving you tetering on the edge. 

Yongguk’s lips teased you, lightly grazing over your jaw as your sounds progressed. He didn’t want to stifle any of them, he was enjoying them far too much. He was also enjoying the feeling of you tightening around his fingers. You gripped the sheets with your other hand, feeling your orgasm fast approaching. It was so intense, making your toes curls and your breath get caught in your throat as you were thrown over the edge. He simply watched, curling his fingers to ride it all out and to prolong this beautiful sight. 

Your legs closed on instinct and your curled into Yongguk. He was smiling petting your hair as you came down from your high. You moved your hand, palming him through his pants and feeling the need to return the favor. He helped you push the clothing down his legs, taking his underwear with it. You bit your lip at the sight of him laying proud against his stomach, before reaching for his cock. 

You stroked him softly as you laced kisses over his chest tattoo, running your lips over the flesh. Moving to his neck, you paused and looked at him. His eyes were shut, long eyelashes seemingly stretching for miles and soft sighs came out of his mouth. “Can I leave marks?” You asked, kissing his neck lightly, You didn’t want to possibly get him in trouble. “Yes please.” He said, the words coming out more as a beg as your hand picked up speed. 

Smiling, you got to work adding your own personal artwork to his body. Moving all around his neck, small purple marks started to bloom. You might have been overly proud but he really did look like a piece of art in your eyes. 

Your thumb swiped over his slit, making a small growl almost leave him. Yongguk’s eyes fluttered open before stopping your hand with his own and looking at you. “I want to be inside of you.” His words were low and hushed as his hips bucked slightly. Nodding, you pulled him to lay over you and wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“If that’s what you want.” You paused, kissing his lips and resuming your sentence. “Who am I to deny that?” Yongguk loved the way you spoke, the way you teased him and the way you kept him on his toes, this situation wasn’t any different than earlier on in the day. 

Lining himself up with your core, you took a deep breath and let your fingers play with the hairs on the back of his neck. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he pushed in to you and you let out a sigh at the pressure. Yongguk released the deep groans he had been holding in when he felt your tight walls swallowing him. He hadn’t expected you to feel this good or this tight. His hands moved to your thighs and gripping the flesh when he bottomed out completely. 

However he wasted no time fucking into you. His hips taking over before his mind really could. Your nails raked down his back at the sudden wave of pleasure coursing through your body. It felt like your nerves were on fire and everywhere he touched left a flame in it’s wake. It was all so intense, even his face burrying in the crook of your neck. 

As he picked up the speed, he hit your sweet spot catching you off guard and making you let out a small scream. “Oh, right there.” You said, holding him down against your chest. Yongguk was letting out the most beautiful sounds by your ear, moaning as he felt your walls flutter around him. Picking up the speed a bit more, the room was now filled with the sound of skin on skin and your moans. 

The sun was pouring into his bedroom, it was hardly 1 in the afternoon and anyone one of his neighbors could hear you both. In all honesty, you both could have cared less. In that moment, the only thing that mattered was how you both felt. 

“I’m so close.” You whimpered and he lifted his head from your neck. Your eyes locked as his hand rubbed core lightly, knowing you might the little extra push to reach your climax. He himself was close too, refraining from holding your hips down and fucking you into the mattress. 

A loud moan tore from you, only to be silenced by his lips pressing against yours. Your orgasm tore through you, leaving your body in tremors as Yongguk strived for his own release. Holding him close, you slowly started to feel overstimulated and your legs shook around his waist. 

“Fuckkk.” He groaned against your lips pulling out of to finish on your abdomen. The gutteral moans that left him were absolute music to your ears as you watched him come undone on you. 

He sat up straight for a moment and the room was in complete silence. His chest rose and fell deeply as you both caught your breath. You watched him, admiring his little details as you let your body relax. 

Finally opening his eyes again, he looked at you. Taking note of your swollen lips, red tinted cheeks and small marks gracing your skin. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He said softly, leaning over you again to place a soft kiss on your lips. “Let me clean us up.” You nodded at his words, trying to resist the horrible sleepy feeling you were experiencing. Watching him disappear to another room, your eyes fell shut. Mentally claiming you were only closing them for a moment. However when your eyes opened again, 10 minutes had passed and Yongguk had cleaned you up, slipping his button up onto you after. An arm was wrapped around you loosely and his light snoring had filled the room. 

It was only logical how tired and drained you were feeling. You had been awake for almost 24 hours and it had finally hit you both. Threading your fingers through his hair lightly, you couldn’t help but smile. 

“Do you have to work tonight?” His voice surprised you, considering you thought he was asleep. “Yes I do.” You answered and watched his eyes slowly open. Pulling you into him more, Yongguk held you tightly. 

“I’m aware I sound like an absolute mad man. But I haven’t met anyone like you. I want to keep you, I want to love you.” He admitted to himself. Yongguk meant it, never had he had a connection with anyone like this. His previous relationships never reached the level of passion you both had reached within a few hours. 

Even though your mind was tired, your brain could still register his words. Oh how sweet they were. You had to look away from him for a moment, resisting the urge to spill tears. “I want to keep you, I want to love you too.” You said softly wiping your eyes as you turned to look at him again. 

His smile was so beautiful and it was what you were met with when you faced him again. “You’re beautiful on stage, but so much more beautiful like this.” His compliments were too much really, however you revelled in them. You felt like you were glowing. 

“Come to my show tonight.” You said softly, wanting him near you always. Yongguk looked at you with a soft expression and you almost felt shy under his gaze. “I’ll come to all of your shows if it means I get to love you.” He smiled and it was horribly cheesy yet it tugged your heartstrings immensly. Laughing slightly, you kissed him suddenly. 

“Please do, as long as you remember that I’m the on behind the red curtain.” 

A/n: my god it’s finished. It’s here. I worked so hard on this please. This is my new baby. I hope you enjoyed it. 

[lady-plantagenet]

What hasn’t already been said: The Spanish Princess 2

Episode 3: GOOD Grief! (we finally have a good episode on our hands)

To all those of you keen enough to have come back for another segment of ‘what hasn’t already been said: TSP’, as opposed to have just been scrolling when you see this - welcome back! (Scrollers you too <3)

Drawing of Thomas More’s Son AKA who Margaret Pole at this point wants to be the step baby momma of ;).

To anyone who’s seeing this for the first time: what this is a list of observations, jokes, reactions and criticism which occur to me upon a rewatch. I wait every week until Saturday to do this so that I have had my fill of scrolling through the tag and aggregating what has already been said. I tried doing a whole spoof (here where I gave up 10% in) but tbh a) I don’t know the history well enough b) it’s more time consuming than I thought and c) this series is just not as funny or as crazy as TWQ, so it’s untenable. Having said that: This is not a hatepost. I’m not hatewatching this series and nitpicking on purpose but expressing my honest views and trying to find the good in it as well as the bad.

Without further ado...

First Scenes: 

LMAO the way Wolsey suggests they break their alliance with Spain is freaking hilarious because the actor delivers the lines as if he were a high school girl making a personal attack by suggesting the prom change its theme to 70s disco to the chagrin of the peppy up-and-coming rival.

Also @ Henry VIII looking like the peppy up-and-comer’s bff and shy stan with that pencil bite and small smirk when Catherine loses her cool against Wolsey.

I’m sorry... who is Henry married to again?

Also what is Margaret Pole doing at the council meeting?? I’m not saying I don’t like it.

Margaret Pole warning against certain repetitive thinking creating madness :(((

Attempted Naked Twister:

Oh Catherine, what is with you and all the other STARZ protagonists and that weird politcky bedroom talk? Who actually finds this sexy?

‘Catherine you are unnatural’ ooof that line delivery was somehow haunting.

Was the whole ‘I can’t be rushed you are off-putting with your overpowering’ a callback to Arthur and Catherine? Apparently there’s another writer for this episode so I won’t put all subtly past them. 

Scotland:

‘Shitey men’ asdkjashd

Look I’m tired of all this ‘my children won’t be safe’ line getting repeated. Look mate, murder of royal infants and children was not exactly a common occurence, even in cases of deposition. The Princes in the Tower are an exception to this but a very infamous case for that reason. Child murder was extremely taboo. In situations like this with an infant kid, no one is going to bother murdering the babies and taking their thrones, the lords will just vie for power and make themselves de facto rulers and oust the queen. It’s not a question of safety but a question of holding power. Stop giving all women characters perma mummy brains.

Maggie being all caring:

‘Barnaby’ *scoffs* ‘Such an English name’ - OH MAN 0_0 is Catherine mocking them for trying to adapt ? Like I know it’s meant to show her envy for Lina, but it’s coming out all messed up.

Our girl Maggie’s smile screams I’m beating your ass in chess.

Anyhow this is the least histrionic we’ve seen Catherine so far.

Chaplain vs Catherine:

I’m interested how Catherine will feel at Stafford’s execution given that I have noticed this show build up to a friendship between them.

Why is everyone laughing at the whole ‘will you delight us with new schemes’ line was not that funny?

LMAO at Thomas Boleyn’s attempted brown-nosing. 

You know what? Ruairi is a decent actor. When he says ‘so you admit it? you lost the child because you tried to be a man?” the actor conveys Henry’s troubled mind, lowkey scare towards Catherine and bewilderment all in one. The way his eyes do not move but just widen emotionlessly also gives this sense that he is being manipulated (which I guess they are going for with Wolsey). Then the whole choir music in the background.. I don’t know.. I’m liking this, it’s creating a vibe of a king of haunted and increasingly paranoid Henry. I’m sure they are going for that, so good.

Ursula Pole and Mama:

Maggie Pole say ‘riches don’t keep you safe’ with tears in her eyes :’(. Please tell me how this is not her thinking on her parents and granddad Warwick and what befell them ;’(.

I find Ursula refreshing actually, don’t get those types of heroines often. But they are making her similar to a gold-digger, an exhalted marriage was first and foremost considered a thing of honour. Noblepeople wouldn’t speak in such mercenary terms regarding their marriages. 

Post Mary Defiance:

I love the ‘horse’ nickname from Brandon n’awwww

Also just realised what made TWQ so atmospheric - that wierd ‘oooo’ sound effect in the background when a character was being paranoid or worrying. They are using it during Henry’s ‘How is it that I have no sons?’ and it is just... so effective.

Catherine calling them ordinary children... she just keeps striking me as more and more classist. Like ok, I know every royal was... but still, I thought she was meant to see Lina as a friend and equal despite her race and status. To add the race element, this kind of rubs me the wrong way.

Also it is so clear by the end when Catherine states how the king is upset with her, she expects Maggie to ask her about it.. but she doesn’t lmao.

Back to Scotland until Sexy boy fencing:

I love me this soft boi. Angus <3 <3

I like how they address that some men don’t really like killing and that violence isn’t inherent in a man’s nature.

Oh man, are we supposed to look at Lina’s house and deplore the impoverished conditions? It would go for at least 3,000,000 pounds in today’s property market?

Is Catherine being particularly classist again with ‘Why u not becoming a butcher Wolsey, ey?’. 

Though I will admit the ‘but giving meat to the poor is also good’ was one of her only smart comebacks.

Just realised, Catherine’s pink dress pretty as it is, looks straight out of the 1570s... why?

Montage and After:

You guys are right, there is this weird longing between Henry and Wolsey lmao. It is actually insane.

So basically Catherine is officially depressed

OOOFF we have Stafford as regent instead of Catherine. (edit: I suppose it’s cause they go to France which they didn’t historically? Also if Stafford is at home then what is his son later doing in France, why would he be there without his father. This show didn’t think this through)

Meg Singing:

An impassionate speech is not too anachronistic. But despite the title of this post (what hasn’t been said) I will reiterate that 16th century and Medieval people’s problem wasn’t that they were ashamed of their grief and didn’t cry. In fact, crying was somewhat more socially acceptable then than it even is now! Even manly men like Arthur were written as crying in literature such as Malory’s Morte d’Arthur. Obviously you couldn’t go overboard, but in truth crying was indeed often too performative rather than hidden too much behind doors.

Pole and More UWUWU in France and after:

I LIKE THIS INTELLECTUAL FLIRTING

It’s nice to see a depiction of romantic feelings between mature and level-headed subjects.

God Mary Tudor is so beautiful in this scene jesus. and the music when she was being presented was also very beautiful.

Maggie Pole getting given ‘a modest income’ yeah... she was one of the wealthiest peers of her day.

Also Maggie’s lady cousin not lady aunt Frost!

‘shaking of the sheets’ lmaoooo

William Compton cracks the hell out of me. I love this guy. He is just so creepy and twisted yet super keen and friendly. ahaha He looks like a riot, I hope we see him more. lmao tiles.

Also this palace feels very anachronistic almost 18th century-ish.

I like the Louis and Mary sequence, it’s nice seeing him trying to make her feel less scared, but OMFG when he lay on that chair.. for one second I thought they were trying to kill him off already.

Scotland: ‘Love is an open doooooorrrrr’ + Last Scene:

I ship Meg and Douglas ahhhh this soft boi x strong woman match is everything Henry and Catherine could have been.

I wonder... why is Lina speaking in Spanish more than Catherine. hmmm Are they trying to foreshadow Lina’s eventual return home and how Catherine become a true englishwoman?

Conclusion:

7.5/10

I cannot in all fairness believe it. This was actually decent. I’ve given up on historical accuracy long ago so by this point I’m focusing more on how it stands as as drama. I mean, TWQ was also a flop when it came to grasping the complex issues of that era but why do I feel compelled to rewatch it every year? Because it had atmosphere when it came to acting, music, certain aesthetics (though the costumes let me down often). It felt adequately gothic and dark, yet bright and jewel-lish when it had to be, sometimes both at the same time. Some one-liners were also memorable etc...

So far TSP 2 did not have any of this. Everything felt way too off and anachronistic. But not even consistently anachronistic. The music was also often very meh (though I just noted the absence of the spanish stringy theme that kept playing in season 1 - I guess I understand why), the dialogue very clichéd (‘alright lads let’s throw in the words: king, crown, power, fight, battle + other buzzwords and we have ourselves Shakespeare’) and so on... but I saw a change in this episode and I couldn’t initially point out what it was.

Upon rewatch, I identified some of the improvements (noted above) but above all: The producer was different! Boy does it show. Unfortunately, I think she is only for this one episode which really sucks. Come back! There is more chemistry between the couples, less predictable interactions, pervy Compton, cinnamonroll Douglas, better music, more scenic shots (e.g Douglas and Margaret in church) e.t.c. I hope it will match the rest of the STARZ productions in getting better towards the end.

Look it’s no masterpiece. But I’ll give credit where it’s due because at least this time it didn’t leave me feeling wanting and unsatisfied (if that makes sense).

[fear-not-beloved]

Simeon, so Saint Luke tells us, “looked forward to the consolation of Israel” (Lk 2:25). Going up to the Temple as Mary and Joseph were bringing Jesus there, he took the Messiah into his arms. The one who recognized in that Child the light that came to shine on the Gentiles was an elderly man who had patiently awaited the fulfilment of the Lord’s promises. I ask myself: where did Simeon learn such patience? It was the born of prayer and the history of his people, which had always seen in the Lord “a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and fidelity” (Ex 34:6). He recognized the Father who, even in the face of rejection and infidelity, never gives up, but remains “patient for many years” (cf. Neh 9:30), constantly holding out the possibility of conversion. The patience of Simeon is thus a mirror of God’s own patience. From prayer and the history of his people, Simeon had learned that God is indeed patient. By that patience, Saint Paul tells us, he “leads us to repentance” (Rom 2:4). I like to think of Romano Guardini, who once observed that patience is God’s way of responding to our weakness and giving us the time we need to change (cf. Glaubenserkenntnis, Würzburg, 1949, 28). More than anyone else, the Messiah, Jesus, whom Simeon held in his arms, shows us the patience of God, the merciful Father who keeps calling us, even to our final hour. God, who does not demand perfection but heartfelt enthusiasm, who opens up new possibilities when all seems lost, who wants to open a breach in our hardened hearts, who lets the good seed grow without uprooting the weeds. This is the reason for our hope: that God never tires of waiting for us. When we turn away, he comes looking for us; when we fall, he lifts us to our feet; when we return to him after losing our way, he waits for us with open arms. His love is not weighed in the balance of our human calculations, but unstintingly gives us the courage to start anew. This teaches us resilience, the courage always to start again, each day. Always to start over after our falls. God is patient. Let us look to our patience. Let us look to the patience of God and the patience of Simeon as we consider our own lives of consecration. We can ask ourselves what patience really involves. Certainly it is not simply about tolerating difficulties or showing grim determination in the face of hardship. Patience is not a sign of weakness, but the strength of spirit that enables us to “carry the burden”, to endure, to bear the weight of personal and community problems, to accept others as different from ourselves, to persevere in goodness when all seems lost, and to keep advancing even when overcome by fatigue and listlessness. Let me point to three “settings” in which patience can become concrete. The first is our personal life. There was a time when we responded to the Lord’s call, and with enthusiasm and generosity offered our lives to him. Along the way, together with consolations we have had our share of disappointments and frustrations. At times, our hard work fails to achieve the desired results, the seeds we sow seem not to bear sufficient fruit, the ardour of our prayer cools and we are not always immune to spiritual aridity. In our lives as consecrated men and women, it can happen that hope slowly fades as a result of unmet expectations. We have to be patient with ourselves and await in hope God’s own times and places, for he remains ever faithful to his promises.

This is the foundation stone: he is true to his promises. Remembering this can help us retrace our steps and revive our dreams, rather than yielding to interior sadness and discouragement. Brothers and sisters, in us consecrated men and women, interior sadness is a worm, a worm that eats us from within. Flee from interior sadness! A second setting in which patience can become concrete is community life. We all know that human relationships are not always serene, especially when they involve sharing a project of life or apostolic activity. There are times when conflicts arise and no immediate solution can be expected, nor should hasty judgements be made. Time is required to step back, to preserve peace and to wait for a better time to resolve situations in charity and in truth. Let us not allow ourselves to be flustered by tempests. In the Breviary, for tomorrow’s Office of Readings, there is a fine passage on spiritual discernment by Diodochus of Photice. He says: “A tranquil sea allows the fisherman to gaze right to its depths. No fish can hide there and escape his sight. The stormy sea, however, becomes murky when it is agitated by the winds”. We will never be able to discern well, to see the truth, if our hearts are agitated and impatient. Never. Our communities need this kind of reciprocal patience: the ability to support, that is, to bear on our own shoulders, the life of one of our brothers or sisters, including his or her weaknesses and failings, all of them. Let us keep in mind that the Lord does not call us to be soloists – we know there are many in the Church – no, we are not called to be soloists but to be part of a choir that can sometimes miss a note or two, but must always try to sing in unison. Finally, a third setting is our relationship with the world. Simeon and Anna cherished the hope proclaimed by the prophets, even though it is slow to be fulfilled and grows silently amid the infidelities and ruins of our world. They did not complain about how wrong things are, but patiently looked for the light shining in the darkness of history. To look for the light shining in the darkness of history; to look for the light shining in the darkness of our own communities. We too need that kind of patience, so as not to fall into the trap of complaining. Some people are masters of complaining, doctors of complaining, they are very good at complaining! No, complaining imprisons us: “the world no longer listens to us” – how often do we hear that - or “we have no more vocations, so we have to close the house”, or “these are not easy times” – “ah, don’t tell me!...”. And so the duet of complaints begins. It can happen that even as God patiently tills the soil of history and our own hearts, we show ourselves impatient and want to judge everything immediately: now or never, now, now, now. In this way, we lose that “small” but most beautiful of virtues: hope. I have seen many consecrated men and women who lose hope, simply through impatience. Patience helps us to be merciful in the way we view ourselves, our communities and our world. In our own lives, do we welcome the patience of the Holy Spirit? In our communities, do we bear with one another and radiate the joy of fraternal life? In the world, do we patiently offer our service, or issue harsh judgements? These are real challenges for our consecrated life: we cannot remain stuck in nostalgia for the past or simply keep repeating the same old things or everyday complaints. We need patience and courage in order to keep advancing, exploring new paths, and responding to the promptings of the Holy Spirit. And to do so with humility and simplicity, without great propaganda or publicity. Let us contemplate God’s patience and implore the trusting patience of Simeon and of Anna. In this way, may our eyes, too, see the light of salvation and bring that light to the whole world, just as these two elderly individuals did in their words of praise.

{FEAST OF THE PRESENTATION OF THE LORD

25th WORLD DAY FOR CONSECRATED LIFE

EUCHARISTIC CONCELEBRATION WITH THE MEMBERS OF THE

INSTITUTES OF CONSECRATED LIFE AND THE SOCIETIES OF APOSTOLIC LIFE

HOMILY OF HIS HOLINESS POPE FRANCIS}

[boogiewrites]

Rosie & the Road Less Traveled

Characters: Declan Harp x Rosie Anderson (OFC)

Summary: Declan Harp 1970s Hippy/Roadtrip AU Rosie has made a bold decision and decided to leave her monotonous life. She sets out to create her own with a group of misfits traveling  across America, post-Vietnam during the 1970s. She breaks out of her shy and insecure, sheltered shelf to have an adventure where she learns the realities of life outside her former cookie-cutter existence. She experiences, a year of sex, drugs, and rock and roll as the group of ex-soldiers and free spirits change her worldview and show her another way. She meets the charming but damaged Declan who takes her under his wing. Will a budding romance for this blossoming Rose prove to be her gift from the universe for making the hard decision to be her own woman? 

Warnings/Tags: Talk of emotional abuse by family. 

Click on my screen name then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. Please leave a like, reblog or comment if you enjoyed this! It makes me want to write more of what you want if you let me know!

Rosie awoke in the same pink and frill filled bedroom she had every day of her life so far. She could smell the same coffee she wasn’t allowed to have. The scent filled up their Better Homes and Gardens modeled modest family home settled in a suburb full of pastel houses with the same pastel cars in their driveway. It was polished and performative, just like Rosie’s mother who was standing in her doorway looking like a copy of June Cleaver.

“You’ll be late for John to pick you up! Don’t keep a man waiting! A wife must be preemptive and pretty dear.” She exits as quickly as she’d entered. Rosie is left looking to her favorite childhood toy and only friend, Booger Bear, with a sigh before starting her day. Not much had changed in Rose Anderson’s life since she was a child. She was raised by older parents, very strict and traditional. Which would explain why they’d agreed to her engagement so fervently. She was 24 and unmarried and being a spinster was not an option according to them. So she was having yet another huge life decision made for her by someone else. She couldn’t remember the last time she had held her own opinion or made up her own mind. She had fear instilled within her from a young age that she was less than and this was used to keep her under control. Being different as she was with her ghostly white skin and pale blonde hair, her albinism stood out among her peers. She wore glasses and a constantly apologetic look on her face. Her childlike treatment was clear on her face as her features were baby round. A button nose and large light blue eyes with cheeks that always had a flush to them showed her softness unwillingly. She truly did look like a baby animal, naive, and easy prey.

This was a common theme among the treatment she’d had from men so far in her life. She didn’t expect any different. Her mother had cried tears of relief when George had asked for her hand. She would finally be able to tell her bridge club that her daughter had at least something normal going on about her. The cruel and belittling words she’d heard her whole life only made sense to continue hearing from this new person that would now be in charge of her she was told. If nothing had changed in her life up to this point, why would it ever?

The fact that George never showed didn’t surprise her. So when she went into town to run wedding errands on her own she wasn’t surprised. Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last. He usually disappears at night and not in the morning so that was unusual but she went through her day with the same polite smile she always did. A smile that said sorry for existing. She called her home from the library, offering to see if her mother needed anything for supper. She hadn’t but she had heard from George’s mother, and she hadn’t seen him either. So it was now Rosie’s job to find him, as they’d be married soon.

She sat defeated on a bench to rest as the sun started to set. She’d asked at the stores on the square and no one had seen him. Luckily for her, she’d sat down in front of the Beauty Parlour and it being a small town, everyone knows everyone, one of the ladies there knew who sweet little odd Rosie was and took pity on her.

“I know it’s not my place to say so baby but that man of yours is no count. You know that right?”

“I’m sorry ma'am?”

“You were in town all day today alone, doin' your dress and all that right? For the wedding?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And he’s been across county lines getting drunk as a skunk.” She shakes her head. “Again.”

“Oh.” Rosie sighs and looks to the ground. “Do you know where he is?” She asks reluctantly.

“No where no sweet thing like you needs to be goin'.”

“I need to get him home. His mother’s worried.”

“She should be. Ain't your mama worried about you out here alone?”

“She said I have to do real women’s work and take care of George as best I can. He’s mine now and I better start acting like it and go… find him.”

The kind woman sighs and feels bad for the poor thing. But it wasn’t an uncommon story. “He’s out at the bar past the county line. Neon sign, bikes out front, can’t miss it. It’s on the right.” She says with a groan.

“Up 25E?” She asks already getting to her feet.

“Yes, baby now be careful. I’m only telling you this because someone’s gotta help you out, honey. Maybe it’s time you helped yourself huh?”

“I’m doing what any good wife and daughter would do ma'am.”

“Life’s not about being good for other people. You have to think about what’s good for you. What do you want? Do you want to marry George?”

“Ma'am what a silly question.”

“That’s not the enthusiastic YES I should be hearing from a bride to be is it?”

Rosie doesn’t know how to reply and just looks worried for a moment with her wide eyes.

“Go before it gets darker baby. Be careful. Take care of yourself.” She says as Rosie scurries across the square to the car.

She did love getting to drive around. Something she’d not been allowed to do until recently. So a trip out of town on a lovely evening was something that got her very excited.

She had held onto that moment of happiness as she drove out of town. A perfect evening with a chill after the sun went down. She could hear frogs and crickets as she left the roads full of cookie-cutter homes and drove into a more forested area.

She had a comfortable smile on her face until the trees cleared for a patch and showed a roadhouse. This had to be the place. She pulled in with a mix match of very nice and very beat down cars. Some buses and small caravans lined along the perimeter. She could hear music coming from inside the metal and wood walls. There were men three times her size all around. They were an odd mix of trendy sleazy men with feathered hair and grizzly biker men and they were all chain-smoking. Everyone looked as confused as she did as she entered the building. If she was polite and direct there was no reason these gentlemen had to give her any trouble. She’d heard about these sorts from her mother. Bikers, greasers, all sinners, and a dirty lot to associate with.

But Rosie had always seen glimpses of people in the magazines. The intense men on their bikes with a scantily clad woman who looked both elated and aroused clutched to his back as they rode through the great American Route 66. They looked like they were having fun, she thought. She thought they looked free and those were things she longed to know how they felt. But there was no room for these things in her life. So although she should be afraid to be around these people, she was actually quite excited. She fantasized with already blushed shy cheeks about striking up a conversation with one of them and finding out what they were really like.

“You lost sweetheart?” The man in glasses with his arms crossed at the door asks her.

“I’m here to fetch my husband- my fiancé.” She corrects herself.

“You with a man that comes to a place like this?”

“His name is George. He is a fan of a strong drink and a cigar. And apparently, his frequenting of this place is something everyone in the town knew about but me.” she admits freely as she wasn’t one to have any reason to hide bits of herself. Everyone could be a friend in her eyes. She entered every interaction with a genuine curiosity it was honestly a bit hard to be rude to her.

“Ah.” He nods and understands. “Go on in, sweetheart” he holds open the door for her and watches her stand and take it all in for a moment. He chuckles and then sighs, “Poor little thing.” he mutters.

Through an old western saloon style inner door she enters with a delighted smile. “How charming!” She says to herself. She walked into a rather large room full of gambling tables. A bar on one end and a stage on the other. Panning over to meet the stage last, she’s hit with a thump of bass in her chest by way of her feet. It rumbled into the floor as she tentatively approached. She’d never seen live music before. She supposed choir and church and talent shows didn’t really count. There were electric guitars and men with no shirts and girls without bras and she was enthralled. She had heard a few rock songs by way of sneaking into a poor reception radio station when she was left alone in the car. She loved it. But it was something only classless people were apart of. Or so she was told. But these people looked the same as those in the magazines. A very tall and dark man played the instrument causing her to experience a very pleasant vibration through her body. He was shirtless and sweating and had a large tattoo on his arm. A chain from his worn dark jeans that bounced with every pluck of his long fingers. Next to him a smaller man, pale and singing with delightfully large blonde curly hair. He sang beautifully she thought. He wore a shirt unbuttoned and tucked into pants so tight she could see a bulge that ripped her from her fantasy of being as cool and free as they were. She turns around quickly and moves towards the bar.

She finds George in his work clothes, the navy not being blotched by black oils and spills told her he also hadn’t been to work. She wears her disappointment in her face clearly for a moment before trying to put on that mask her mother taught her to wear. Never show him that you’re upset. Anger is unseemly on a lady. But this did make her angry. Her red face made it obvious she was holding in red hot emotion. Her smile was hollow and her eyes gave her away.

“Hello, George. I believe it’s time we got home.” She says with a hand to his shoulder.

“How’d you find me here?” He asks with a dramatic turn on his bar stool, and he was in true skunk form.

“A person in town suggested it. Your mother is worried about you. Can we please go home?”

“You can. I’m staying here.”

“Please George I have to get you home. Both our parents expect me to take care of you and that’s what I’m doing.”

“What if I don’t want you to take care of me? Huh? What if I don’t want anything to do with you?”

Her throat felt tight. She was not accustomed to being spoken to in such a way since she was bullied when she was young. The eyes she could feel on her from a growing audience he was causing made her feel all tingly and nervous. He looked at her with disgust and the shame she usually felt was quickly turning into anger in this new over-stimulating environment.

“Do you think I want to be here?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think I wanted to run all the errands myself today for my own wedding? And make excuses for your absence all day and have people look at me with pity. Because they knew you were here. Again from the looks of you.”

“Well, I’m only here because of YOU.” He spits back.

“Me?” She squeaks with growing confidence that makes her take a deep breath and steady herself. “I have been nothing but an ideal fiancé from the beginning of this. YOU asked for this. Not me.”

“I didn’t ask for it! You did!”

They both looked at each other confused. “I was told you asked for my hand.”

“Hell no my parents told me I had to say yes to your parents offer or they’d cut me off and send me to the army.”

They both blink at each other for a moment. “This is…” she takes a shaker breath. “I’m in an arranged marriage.” She whispers and feels a betrayal deep in her chest. She’d been lied to. Her parents lied, her fiancé lied, the whole town and only one person has the decency to tell her where George was. It hurt like a knife might she thought as her hands held fast to her stomach.

“Are you like...retarded too? Ugh geez. Of course, it is! Why would I want to be with a freak like you?”

It’s as if he’d culminated every fear she’d ever had into a single sentence. All her thoughts of not fitting in, of something being wrong with her. She’d been right all along. “Well, I don’t want to be with a mean drunk like you!” She says back with a face that showed her first real emotion in years.

“I am not a drunk.”

“Yes you are! The whole town gossips about it behind your back. Your parents threaten to send you off if you don’t start acting like an adult. You try to take advantage of ME when I’ve never been anything but nice to you! You are MEAN and you are a DRUNK!”

He moves fast and grabs hold of her arms tightly. Enough to make her cry out and wince. “You listen here you little freak of nature. If you’re gonna be with me you’re gonna respect me as a good wife would.”

“Is there a problem here?” The same tall man from the stage asks, towering over George.

“Buzz off bud. This is between me and my girl.”

“It’s not when you talk to her like that, loud enough for whole damn bar to hear and then put your hands on her.

“Why don’t you go and fuck your cousin, you dirty ass hippies.”

The man meets eyes with Rosie and he immediately knew he had to help her. She looked defeated, but a shine of hope that someone, anyone would ever help her out. He knew one of their kind when he saw that look. Just like the group of outcasts he’d gathered over the years since returning home.

“You’re a…” he glances to Rosie who beams innocence in such a way a man like him is forced to protect it. “Jerk.” He decides instead of saying words that might make the victim feel embarrassed.

“He’s an… asshole.” She spits out and feels a wave of rush over her as she curses.

George flinches to hit her and that was enough for the tall stranger. “Alright, you’re killing the vibe, man.” He wraps his neck in a headlock and drags him out of the bar with a shocked Rosie froze for a moment.

“‘Ello there, love.” The singer from before came in. With gentle hands to her shoulders. “You alright? Hurt?”

“N-no.” She stutters.

“Ya sure you’ve gone all rosy in the face.” He fans her with his hand.

“I always am.” She excuses quickly. “Sorry..I-“

“No apologies, let’s get you into the fresh air eh? Don’t worry I’m with the big guy what dragged off that unpleasant twat you were dealing with.”

“Okay.” She says breathily and a little dazed. “Thank you.”

——-

“Well, he’s gone.” The tall one says proudly, clapping his hands.

Rosie stands and looks at the spot where her car had sat. Now empty. “Did he take that yellow car?” She points to the space.

“Yeah, he headed right for it, had the keys.”

She nods and sighs. “I’m afraid that was my car he took.” She looks down the ground to figure out her next move from here, now stranded.

“Oh shit. Oh no, I’m sorry.” The tall man says putting his hands to his mouth. “Ah. Well fuck, honey I really screwed you there didn’t I “

She blinks with her large pale blue eyes at him with tears withheld. A cherub round face that struck a deep nerve as she tried to hide her upset. “You didn’t mean it. You were trying to help.” She says with a slow nod and inhales.

“Bad luck innit.” The other rubs her back comfortingly and she didn’t mind it. He seemed like such a nice man. They both were.

“Can you get a ride home? Call your parents or… something? Or did he just... steal your car?” He towers over her but she doesn’t feel afraid. He rubs his head in thought as he bit his lip.

“I’ll have to call my mother. He’ll go home to his mother I presume.” She nods. “I can retrieve my car tomorrow. Unless he crashes it.” She sighs. “He was terribly drunk.” Her shoulders sink in disappointment.

“Look, we’ll get ya home...what’s your name love?”

“Rose.”

“Oh, that’s a beautiful name innit? For a beautiful girl.” He holds no ill will as he says it and the compliment hits her hard in her emotionally unstable state. Tears well up for someone, a man, a nice man to be so kind to her to say such a nice thing. “Oh no, don’t cry. We'll get you a cab home. It’s no trouble love. Don’t worry ya pretty little head about it eh?”

“You’re so nice.” The tears fall fat over her flushed cheeks.

“Now there’s a good girl.” He brings her in for a hug. “Go call her a car, mate.” He nods away the other fellow.

“I’m so sorry. I’m not usually like this. I’ve had such a bad day.”

“Now let’s sit down here and you can tell Danny all about it now little Rosie.” He shoos some men off a nearby bench to sit her down.

“That your name?” She sniffles

“It is. I’m Danny and that big man was Declan. You’ll be safe with us. Don’t worry. We are protectors of the oppressed.” He chuckles as he puts an arm on her shoulder as she hides her face from the eyes watching.

“Oppressed?”

“Yeah. You know, women… people that are... various beautiful shades of brown, black yellow..." he spoke dramatically with an outstretched hand that captivated her " … homosexuals. You know how it goes, the bad ones yeah? The rebels, the outcasts,  lost children who come across our path.”

“You’re making us sound like a cult man. Don’t scare her.” Declan laughs and stands guard at her other side. “Taxi’ll be here within the hour.” He gives her a warm smile that crinkles around his eyes. Half of it coverd in a beard that was pointed and a bit fuzzy. His hair was like a dark lions mane around his face and shoulders.

Rosie contemplated as she looked up at him and wondered if she’d ever seen a man so tall before.

“He only looks scary,” Danny assures her. “Declan this is Rosie.”

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He gives a gentle nod down at her.

“Almost exactly what I told her.” Danny beams.

“Hey Rosie, I’m Declan. Nice to meet you.” He spoke softly and gently as if she might startle if he spoke too loudly at her. “We’re in a band. We travel around. Play music and just...living life y’know. Being free with the life we’ve got.” He spoke proudly as he explained. “We’ve heard a lot of stories. So you aren’t going to tell us anything we’ll judge you for.” He laughs.

“We’ve all done far worse than whatever spot you’ve got yourself in angel.” Danny joins in the laugh.

“I’m sorry to cry I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed.” She wipes her cheeks. “As I was telling Danny I’ve had a very bad day.”

“Tells us about it then love. Let the evil out.” He motions with his hands as if he were vomiting and it makes her have a soft little giggle. “There she is.” He pushes her chin up gently. “Go on then…”

Her blubbering story hurt them both as she told of isolation and now betrayal and forced marriage to a terrible man. They’d seen it and heard it before, many in their group had a similar past.

“You deserve so much better Rosie love,” Danny says with a broadly shaking head. “You are clearly such a bright and lovely girl with a pure heart and you deserve the same given back to you.”

“I do!” She whines.

“You can change it all. You’ve got the power. They tell us we don’t. That we can’t. But it’s because they’re afraid of us. Afraid that if we knew what power we had as a collective, as they’ve made us all feel so isolated you see? You can have whatever sort of life you want Rosie. You just have to take it.” Dany speaks intently to her with unwavering eye contact.

“Take it?” she sniffles.

“Make the hard choices. You want things to stay like this forever or you want to take a chance and be your own person?” Declan asks with high brows. He had the tougher approach and Danny handled the whimsy of things, it suited their personalities.

“Like...refuse to marry him?”

“Not just that. You can refuse to stay with your parents.”

Rosie laughs as if he’s joking.

“I’m serious. You could go and live anywhere you wanted. Did you even know that?”

“No. I thought….”

“You can make your own choices Rosie,” Declan says as he sees the cab arrive. “You could see the world. Meet anyone. Do anything. ”

“That… sounds too good to be true.” she looks down at the ground as they walk her towards the car.

“It’s what we did,” Declan turns to face her. “We didn’t like our lives so we just...changed them. I wanted music and freedom and to be around people who understood me.”

“We eventually found each other. And our little family has grown ever since.” Danny holds his home like an adoring mum seeing away their daughter on the bus.

“Family?”

“We’re just a bunch of misfits that are trying to find our place in this crazy world.” Danny shrugs. “Some of us play music and some just follow us in the summertime to escape their lives. Some just like life on the road. We’ve got all sorts. Certainly had a few girls with stories like yours.”

“Really?” she rubs her cheeks.

“We aren’t saying you have to join us. We’re just saying you can make your own choices... have whatever sort of life you want. That’s all. You seemed like you could use the help.”

“I could.” she lets out a heavy, thoughtful sigh. “Thank you. Both. You were very helpful. I can’t really repay you.”

“Start making YOURSELF happy Rosie. That’ll be payment enough. You deserve it, pet.” Danny waves her goodbye.

“Don’t let the man get you down little Rosie.” Declan Nods her way as she gets in the cab to head home.

—————

The cab drive home was the most peace she was going to know for the next 24 hours. It started with the cops being at her house when she got there. George had been arrested after being taken to the hospital for injuries from wrecking her car. He was being held and charged and poor Rosie thought she might pass out.

George’s mother paced and shouted in their house late into the night. Wailing about her “poor” son. What did she do to him to make him behave in such a way? Denial was not just a river she'd read about in the encyclopedias she'd gotten for Christmas.

Her own mother joined in, what did she do? How was she going to fix this? Why didn’t she have the money to bail him out? She raised her better than this.

Rosie sat and took it. But each biting remark only made that funny feeling in her stomach grow as each verbally slapped her over and over.

“Did you ever consider you’re yelling at the wrong person?” She finally says back quietly.

“For god's sake girl don’t mumble and slouch! It’s ugly!”

She had been told she was pretty tonight and told she could be and do whatever she wanted. Things she’d never heard before. There were people out there that wouldn’t treat her like this. This isn’t what she wanted. She wouldn’t survive a life like this, it would hollow her out into a shell of who she really was.

“I said, Did you ever consider you’re yelling at the wrong person?” Her brow was now creased and a rare sight it was. “Did you ever consider your son is a drunk? A hateful loser who has been breastfed too long by his mother?!” She sass’s with balled fists in the meanest and most insulting thing she’d ever said came out of her mouth confidently. “And you! I don’t have any money because you won’t let me work! You won’t let me leave! Or even LIVE!” She throws her arms up in the air. “You’re being bullies when I’m the ONLY one that tried to DO something and HELP him. And this is what I get? No. No more. I don’t have to put up with this...this… BOLOGNA!” She yells and stomps to her room, slamming the door and leaving a room of shocked faces behind. Her father in the kitchen almost choked on the beer he was trying to secretly down to deal with the situation. It was beer and not even liquor what was he becoming?

Rosie falls to her bed and cries and hits the pillows as her door is quickly bombarded with screeches on the other side. Demands of her to come out and apologize and she just kept shouting “NO!” Over and over to their requests. She took all of her suitcases and laid them on the bed, the voices on the other side growing tired and falling quieter and they tried to listen to what she was doing. She threw her life into those cases. All her favorite things, things she might need, she stuffed them full and sat on them to get them to shut. She angrily pens a letter. Telling them she was tired of being oppressed and lied to and she was going to make herself happy and never see them again. She still signed it with a heart.

She gets out of her bedroom window and makes her way to the car with the dented fender and busted windows the cops had returned to them. She throws in her bags and whispers a prayer it will start. Someone was looking out for her. She could see the sources of the yelling running out of the house behind her as she headed out of the subdivision. She’d never felt more alive.

She practically drifted into the gravel parking lot at the roadhouse and held tears of joy from her escape and the fact that the buses and vans were still in sight. The bus was headed out of the parking lot. She leaves the car with the keys in the ignition and straps her bags and suitcases up and runs as fast as her feet will carry her toward the van left in the line.

“WAIT!” She shouts and pants. “PLEASE WAIT!!” She lets out a scream she didn’t know she had in her. Her lungs burned and her blood pumped faster than it ever had as the van door rolled open. “I’m coming with you!”

“Is that?” Declan snorts out an amused sound

“Well fuck me it’s that little girl again.” Danny muses as he looks out the door. “Slow down mate, we got a castaway.”

“Being. Chased. Keep going.”

“Chased?” Danny laughs. “By who?” The thought of someone being in pursuit of this tiny white field mouse amused him to no end.

“I RAN AWAY!” she laughs as she throws her bags to the filled van and is ran full force as the van gets to the highway and she’s yanked inside. The door slams shut behind her and she’s left wheezing and trying to fix her dress and hair.

“Come now little bird, have a seat.” Danny pulls her down on the bean bag he’s sat on.

“I. Ran.” She pants out and Danny and Declan laugh but the other eyes in the van are looking at her confused.

“From the cops?” Someone asks concerned

“No.” She clears her throat and takes a deep breath as she calms down. “From my house.”

“Was it as bad as you thought it was gonna be?” Danny pushes back her hair.

“Worse.” She lets out a nervous laugh. “I can... I can come with you guys right?” She says with puppy eyes.

“Welcome to our merry little crew Rosie bug.” Danny beams.

“I ran away too.” Another girl with long beautiful wavy hair says from her spot in the open-backed van, now crowded full. “Husband? Parents?”

“Both.” Rosie nods and they share a sympathetic nod of understanding.

“I’m glad you came Rosie.” the girl's eyes showed strong empathy and it made Rosie certain she'd made the right decision.

“I am too.” She finally catches her breath. “So…” she primps for a moment to gather herself. “Where are we off to first?”

@vale0413 @littledeadgirlwalking @jaegeeeeer @phillipkopusimagines-and-stuff @mjolnir96 @xmother-mortemx @this-isnt-madness  @thors-hair-extensions @divadinag @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s​

[thehollowprince]

Two cents from a female cis-het passing queer person who grew up in a deeply compulsory heterosexual environment. Media and mainstream het culture socialises girls and women to identify so much deeply problematic and violent male behaviour as perfectly normal, romantic behaviour. Prime example, Spike and Buffy. imo this is heavily reflected in the mlm slash ships that straight people love to fetishize, prime example St*r*k. When I discovered they were a ship it made me really sad.

Oh, you're preaching to the choir.

That was a pattern I picked up on years ago, one that I actually had to look for, because as a guy, I was told that it was okay to behave like the men we saw on television. Well... half told. My grandmother always told me to be nice first, because if you start off by being an asshole, no one's ever going to think your anything but an asshole. I also realized all on my own that maybe I should just care about other people, but that's just me.

The thing that really gets me about this phenomenon is that it's on here. Naturally, I don't expect Tumblr to be completely absent of this, but come on! This is Tumblr! You could throw a stick and hit a post about how men shouldn't treat women like that, or how women shouldn't put up with it, but then those very same people turn around and make apology posts for Kylo Ben, or Snape, or Damon Salvatore or Klaus Mikaelson or Spike. Oh, god, Spike! That whole "romance" (see: obsession) between the two just blew my mind, even back when the show was airing (yes, I'm old enough to remember when it aired on the WB and then UPN).

The fact that anyone can look at the intersections between Buffy and Spike and call that a romance disgusts me. And that's without even including the attempted rape. Just his obsession with her since the fourth season and how that spiraled into everything. That show really should have just ended at season five.

Spike is actually the earliest example that I've seen of a fandom loving a villain so much that the production decides to keep bringing them back. Except, you can't keep them around as the villain (y'know, the version of the character that everyone fell in love with), because it eventually gets to the point of "why can't the heroes beat the villain?" Simple, we'll give them a Tragic Backstory™, have them make the sad puppy eyes, and bam! We got us an antihero.

And people just eat that shit up.

It happened with both Damon and Klaus on The Vampire Diaries and The Originals. We have two characters who are introduced as these outright villains, killing people for their own amusement or to prove a point, but fans loved them so much that they got turned into antiheroes and all their bad deeds forgiven. I mean, its outright nauseating to see the way Damon treated Elena throughout the run of the show, invading her personal space, trying to compel her into kissing him, manhandling her, taking her choices away, and fans calling that love. Same with Klaus, who repeatedly threatened Caroline, actually tried to kill her (twice!), and Kl*r*line shippers thing that's the peak of romantic behavior because Klaus makes the sad puppy eyes. (See also: Theo from Teen Wolf)

And don't even get me started on the fandom fixation on Bonkai!

It all stems down to this weird phenomenon where one of the two characters is a self-insert for the reader/viewer, because they want to bang the male character/actor. That's why Rey is usually written so one-dimensional in R*ylo fics, because the reader is thirsty for Adam Driver. And that, of course, just leads us back to Teen Wolf and St*r*k. Although, that one's a little tricky, because you'd think that so many of these St*r*k shippers would insert themselves into Stiles (which there are a fair share that do), but more often than not, Derek acts as the self-insert, because most of the fans want to bang Dylan O'Brien. Seriously, I will never understand fandom's fascination with white twinks, but it's an all-encompassing thing.

Part of me understands because I'm old enough to remember the early years of internet fandom. Okay, I was there for FF.net before the purges. I remember Anne Rice's militant legal campaign against her own fans. I remember when the BNFs started gatekeeping, harassing the self-insert OCs in fanfic. Hell, I remember Ms. Scribe and the Inner Circle! I have seen things! And that crackdown against OCs was what led to the rise of fangirls in the slash fandom. Equal parts hiding from the BNFs and fetishizing mlm sexuality for their own amusement/pleasure.

The thing that really baffles me about it all is why St*r*I. Ignoring the obvious reasons (*cough*racism*cough*), why them. As I already pointed out, Tumblr loves their posts about self worth and not standing for abuse, but then turn around and advocate for one of the most abusive crack ships I've ever seen. Why not, say, Scott and Danny, who had actual moments that, if taken out of context, could be portrayed as moments of a building romance ("its Armani"), or Scott and Isaac ("Be careful"/"I don't want you to get hurt" and "Dude, I love Mexican"). Like, the subtext between Scott and Isaac was so strong that one could just call it text.

We had four canonically gay characters (Danny, Ethan, Mason and Corey) and yet the focus is still on two straight characters. Hell, Mason was literally the version of Stiles that fandom cooked up (incredibly smart, did the research, openly gay, had a crush on a hot werewolf that he was very open about) and yet he doesn't get even a fraction of the attention that Stiles does, despite fulfilling the criteria they claim they want in the form of more queer representation. It can't be because he's black, right? I mean, they've told me they're not racist, despite numerous examples of racism, so it's hard to know what to believe (insert sarcasm here).

But still, fandom put these two characters that couldn't stand each other, and who both had much stronger connections to Scott, together in their heads and then cried queerbaiting when they didn't get what they wanted. There comes a point where you have to question whether these people are that influenced by media and propaganda or they're being willfully ignorant.

Anyway, thanks for listening. Apparently I had more of that bottle up inside than I thought so thanks for giving me an outlet to express my frustration. And now, back to your regularly scheduled blogging.

[redrobinhoood]

no choir | chapter 2, we had it for a moment

A/N: If you don’t know about Darth Vader and Fox then keep it that way.

AO3 Link | 2500 words (approx) | Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: Fox returns to Riyo with his new assignment- the lockdown of the Jedi Temple.

“What’s on your mind?” Riyo began to lower herself back onto the bed beside Fox. Instead, Fox reached over and pulled her down so that she lay on top of him once more. She draped her arms over his shoulders, putting her weight into her forearms so as to not dig her elbows into his ribs as she propped herself up on his chest. “There’s something bothering you.”

“I have a new assignment.”

“Something dangerous?”

“A Jedi.” He watched her expression morph from concern into alarm. “We lock down the Jedi Temple again, starting tomorrow afternoon.”

“Have you been back since-?”

“Since the Temple burned? No.” He hadn’t even been the one initially assigned to the Temple. Commander Stone had gone with the riot team to keep civilians out. But the team hadn’t considered that the 501st wouldn’t be able to keep all the Jedi in. By the time Fox got there, the team had been nearly destroyed. He had arrived just in time to watch a Jedi bury her blade in Stone’s chest. He had died in Fox’s arms.

Riyo took in his gaze for a few moments before she removed her arms from his shoulders and pushed herself forward so that she could press her lips into the soft flesh underneath his jaw. He welcomed the distraction, tangling a hand up in her hair. He’d never known that women smelled so good until he’d lived with Riyo. Of course, he’d been familiar with the general concept, but nothing could’ve prepared him for all the different scents of hair products and soap and lotion and even the scent of makeup on her face. If he didn’t shower in the morning, they’d have been found out in a heartbeat.

“I love you.” He sighed.

“You’d better.” She murmured against his skin before pushing herself up to look him in the eye. “I love you too.”

He pulled her back down, rolling over to the side and tangling their legs together as he held her against him, one arm sufficient to keep her pinned. “I know that you don’t like me bringing up my own mortality, but I want you to know that if I die on this assignment that the past few months have been the happiest months of my life.”

She huffed and tried to unsuccessfully untangle herself from his arms before giving in. “Mine too, Fox. But I still want more of them, you hear me?”

“What was that? Your voice is all muffled.”

“I said, I don’t really care either way.”

“Wow. When Darth Vader strangles me to death tomorrow I’ll be sure to remember that.”

“Don’t guilt trip me, Fox.” She squirmed one arm out of his hold and reached up to cup his jaw in her hand. “I truly, deeply, love you, CC-1010.”

“Oh, I’m in trouble now?”

“Yes, very bad trouble.”

"How exciting.” Keeping a tight hold around her body he began to run his free hand down her back. Her skin was so soft, unbroken by scars, and sometimes he wondered how a creature as soft as she could love one whose body had been so ruined. How could she bear to kiss him when the touch was interrupted by the raw scar across his lips? Did she know that it came from the blade of the Jedi who had killed Stone?

“I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo, you know.”

“Oh?” That had been the last direction he’d expected this conversation to go in. “And what sort of tattoo do you fancy?”

“A fox, Fox. I want to tattoo your namesake on me. Right here.” She moved away from him and placed her hand underneath her breast. “A little white fox running across my skin. Will you still love me if I do that?”

“Of course I will still love you.”

“Then why do you think that your scars would be any different? Don’t deny it, I can read your mind. No matter what happens to your body I will still love you just as much as I always have.”

Fox sighed and slide down so that their faces were level. “What if my brain was taken out of my body and you could only communicate with me by whooping?”

“Then we would have the most interesting conversations about the universe.” She rubbed her nose against his for a moment before tucking her head under his chin and wrapping an arm across his waist. “Go to sleep, Fox. You’ll need to be in top form tomorrow.”

He rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him so that she was pillowed in his chest as she had been the first night he’d held her. He leaned his head against hers, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. “I’m always in top form.” He murmured. When he held her like this, he could let all of his thoughts drift away. Tonight, only one remained with him; nobody, not even Darth Vader, could take him from her.

Riyo jolted awake with a cry. Before she could fully register that she was awake, that the nightmare was gone, or where she was, she found herself being pulled into Fox’s arms and held against him. She reached up, fumbling for his neck, and pressed one hand against his spine. She could feel the soft exhales of his breath against her forearm.

"I’m here, cyar’ika, I’m here.”

“Tell your men not to fire on the one with the red lightsaber. Please, Fox.” Her voice broke on his name and she began to sob.

He reached over and cupped her face in one hand before he brought her head down onto his shoulder. He leaned his own head against hers and began to run his thumb over the green arcs of her cheeks. “What did you dream, cyar’ika?”

"You were dead. He snapped-.” She stopped as her sobs became hiccups and Fox began to rub circles into her back. “He snapped your neck. Just like that. You fell. I watched you fall.”

“Who snapped my neck, Ri?” His steady voice held no hint of fear.

“A shadow. I watched you fall.”

“But I’m right here, Riyo. Cyare Riyo, I’m still here.” He took her hand in his and placed it against his chest. “I live, I breathe, can’t you feel my heartbeat?”

She pressed her hand into his sternum and tried to focus on the beating beneath her palm and the slow rise and fall of Fox’s chest. Her hiccupping sobs were becoming quieter, but she couldn’t stop the flood of tears streaming down her cheeks. Fox lifted his head from hers and began to kiss her cheeks. “I’m alive, Riyo. Ner ka’ra, ner me’suum’ika.”

“I don’t know what you’re saying.” She managed to get out between sobs. “If I find out that you’ve been calling me a rat this whole time-.” The threat died to a tiny sob. She could feel Fox’s chest begin to shake beneath her as he fought off laughter. “Don’t laugh at me! I’m distraught.”

“Do you really think that I would take advantage of you like that?” She could look right into his eyes now; that beautiful dark brown that reminded her of home. How she wished she could take him to Pantora, take him anywhere but here.

“No, I don’t.” The little flare of anger had cleared away her hiccupping sobs, but it had not wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I trust you, Fox.”

“Then brush your hair and put on some civvies.”

She glanced towards her chronometer. “It’s nearly four-am and I’m a mess.”

“I’ll clean you up. Trust me.” He spoke with such confidence that she couldn’t help but give in.

“If I agree, you have to tell me what you’ve been calling me.”

“It’s a deal.”

The second-to-last place that Riyo had expected to go was into the Lower Levels. The last place was the Emperor’s home or office, but the Lower Levels were certainly a very close second. Despite the late hour, the streets were far from empty, though certainly not as crowded as they were in daytime. She and Fox wove through the crowd with his hand wrapped snugly around her waist, no different than the number of similarly hooded couples walking through the streets around them. She could almost imagine that they were one of them, if she could only shake the awareness that if Fox’s hood fell down the charade would be over. A clone was always recognizable as a clone, even in civvies.

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“You don’t need to know, Ri. Besides, we’re here.” He pulled her into the shadows of one of the alleys that snaked between the rundown buildings. They stopped before a beaten old door and knocked. Riyo snuck a quick look around the deserted alley as they waited. If it weren’t for Fox at her side, she would’ve felt unsafe. Even with him, she felt uneasy, though she was certain that she had watched him slip a holster around his waist before they left. After about a minute the door was unlocked and they were practically dragged inside a tight hallway by an elderly female Twi’lek.

“Commander Fox!” She exclaimed once the door had been shut and locked behind them. She clapped her hands on Fox’s shoulders as Fox lowered his hood. “It’s been too long.”

“It has. But you know how things have been recently. Ri, this is Sienn.”

Riyo pulled down her hood before shaking Sienn’s hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine. The commander has never brought a lady by before, or anyone for that matter. I keep telling him to bring some of the boys in white down here but he never does.”

“You don’t want them here. They’ll eat and drink you out of house and home.” Fox waved his hand in dismissal, a gesture that Riyo knew too well from spending her afternoons in his office.

"Speaking of which, let’s get you something to drink. Mariela, come back here and say hello to our guests!”

Another elderly female Twi’lek poked her head through a door and gestured at Sienn. “Come mind the bar while I say hello.” The two switched places, the swinging door bringing the scent of caf into the hall, and now it was Mariela’s turn to clap her hands on Fox’s shoulders. “It’s been a while, Commander Fox. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten all about us.”

“Never. Mariela, this is Ri. We needed to get out for a while.”

Mariela nodded knowingly. “Whatever it is you’re mixed up in, I don’t need to know about it. Are you quite alright, dear?” She asked Riyo, who felt thankful that Fox was trying his best to hide her identity.

"It’s been a long night, ma’am.”

“Oh, don’t ‘ma’am’ me, we’re all friends here. Let me get you something to drink. The usual, Commander?”

"Please.”

“And for you, dear?”

Riyo blinked, racking her mind for the name of a drink, any drink. “Do you have anything with chocolate?”

“I know exactly what you need. Wait here, it’ll only be a moment.” Mariela swooped back through the door. Riyo and Fox remained silent as they waited, though Fox had taken a hold of Riyo’s hand and was running his fingers across her palm. When Mariela returned, she was carrying two brightly patterned mugs, which she passed to them. “On the house.” She declared.

Riyo began to protest but Mariela wouldn’t let her.

“You’re welcome to the rooftop. Just leave the mugs by the kitchen door when you leave, okay?”

“Thank you, Mariela.” Fox said. “And give Sienn my thanks as well.”

Riyo watched Mariela leave, catching a glimpse at a cramped café behind the door. Despite the early hour, or late hour, a few beings lingered in the shop. Then the door closed, and that world was gone to her. She was in Fox’s world now. She followed him to a turbolift, to a staircase, onto the roof of the building, then to a blanketed spot where she could sit beside him.

“So, what did you do to earn eternal free caf?” She asked once she was comfortably leaning against his shoulder.

“Thorn and I saved their tooka from a fire.”

“Their tooka?”

"Mhm.” He had a faraway look in his eyes. “We were out after our shifts ended for some drinks. We heard the commotion from the bar, followed the sound to the fire, and decided that the Coruscant Guard never leaves anyone behind. One tooka rescue later and we all went back to the bar together. Ran into them again a month later and they told us to stop by their new café.”

Riyo couldn’t help the giggle that rose in her throat and was rewarded with a kind smile from Fox. “You’re kidding.”

“Tooka’s name is Fenn. She likes to sleep in the front window of the café.”

“Fox. You are such a sweetheart.” Her giggles faded into comfortable silence as they began to sip at their caf. Finally, she couldn’t take the silence anymore. “What did you call me earlier, back in bed?”

“Ner ka’ra, my stars, ner me’suum’ika, my moon.”

“What about cyar’ika? What’s that?”

He turned to look at her, his eyes tracing over the curves of her face. “Cyar’ika I will keep to myself for now.”

“I’ll ask Jek and Rys if you don’t tell me.”

“You should, they’ve missed seeing you. They ask about you all the time.”

“I’ll bring some sweets by again sometime.”

“Please. They need the morale boost.” He waited for her to take a sip from her mug before he continued. “Are you okay?”

She sighed, her breath rippling across the liquid before her. “I’m worried about you. I would give anything, anything, Fox, to run away and to take you far away from here.” But she couldn’t.

“Riyo, I could never take you away from your post, from your people. They need your voice in the Senate just as much as my brothers need me.” He lay his hand on her thigh. “If that ever changes, know that I will be right there by your side. But right now, they need us.”

She turned to look him in the eye. “Fox, did I ever tell you how much I love your blind loyalty?”

“You’ve mentioned it a few times, yes.”

“Well, I love your blind loyalty. And I could never ask you to go against your beliefs.” Her drink finished, she threw an arm around Fox and lay her head on his shoulder. “Never change, my love.”

Fox wrapped his arm around her for a moment, drawing her in before letting her go as he prepared to rise to his feet. “We should head back. I have a meeting with the Emperor I cannot miss.” If there was the quiver of a lie in his voice it was lost in the rustle of cloaks in the breeze.

[cryocavalry]

@crimsonheartedphoenix​ sent: 💔 (for any of the 999 aus)                     ↳ 55. Your muse says they hate mine.

WARNING [content]: Death, blood, manipulation, psychological torture (?), dead dove, do not eat unless you’re into it.

Kaeya lifts his hand in an almost casual gesture and the guards step forward. In perfect synchrony they raise their lances and without mercy or hesitation run them through the bodies of the men and women rounded up in their middle. Their screams fill the hall as the ones not slain during the first strike try to run, a gruesome choir of fear and pain, but not a single one of them escapes their bloody fate. As the last one drops with a sickening thud to the ground, that quickly turns into a sea of red seeping out from under the bodies of the fallen, an eerie silence falls over the hall once more.

The only thing Kaeya can hear is Diluc’s frantic breathing, the promise of tears rattling in his gasps, and the sound brings a cold smile to his lips. 

     “Well? Aren’t you going to thank me, princess?” Kaeya mocks, intending for his every word to rub in deeper how much of a fool Diluc was for expecting any other outcome than this. He’ll learn with time, of that Kaeya is certain, but even now, when he’s kneeling in the blood of his own people, there is resistance in the prince’s eyes. A spark that holds the power to light a rebellion - if it ever landed on anything other than cold stone and ice, which Kaeya knows to prevent. Diluc’s strength is admirable, but it cannot save him. It will only draw this out and make him suffer so much more while bringing Kaeya so much more joy.

     “As promised, I have ended their suffering,” he explains as if Diluc didn’t understand, getting up from the throne he’s occupied to watch the spectacle. It’s not the former king’s, Kaeya knows better than to challenge his older brother like that, but the queen’s seat. Her death must lie many years in the past, but her presence is everywhere, the respect her family and her people still hold for her evident in the way her empty seat is still beside her husband’s, still golden and revered. Was she a loving mother, a gentle queen, or a warrior like her king and her son? A young boy lying at Kaeya’s feet, twitching unnaturally as the life leaves his body, reaches for Kaeya’s leg, silently begging for help. Cold blue gaze watches him as Kaeya neither steps closer nor pulls away, until the boy’s arm sinks to the floor and he goes still forever. Beneath him a puddle of thick red blood grows bigger, creeping across the polished marble until it touches Kaeya’s boot.

     “Did they believe you’d save them, I wonder?” he continues, raising his foot up to the queen’s throne and wiping the blood off the sole on the silk cushion. The smear of red looks quite beautiful on the white and gold, almost symbolic of the end of the Ragnvindr family. “Still trusting in their golden prince.” Stepping close to Diluc Kaeya’s fingers close tighter around the chain in his hand and he gives it a little tug, forcing Diluc’s head back by the collar around his neck. His other hand finds its way into Diluc’s hair, his long fingers diving into the soft red locks. For now his touch is almost gentle. “Mmh, such a good boy you were. Who knew you could listen so well?”

He’d asked for very little in return for putting an end to the torment his brother’s men subjected the former household staff to. Very little in the grand scheme of things, but quite a lot from Diluc’s perspective, he imagines. The prince has a noble heart and he is clearly willing to offer his own life in exchange for the freedom and safety of his people (like all noble idiots), but he has his pride, and there are few things in this world harder to bend and break than the pride of a highborn. There are, also, few things in this world that Kaeya enjoys more than slowly chipping away at Diluc’s pride and self-esteem and watch him thrash around in his struggle to remain steadfast in the face of his torment.

As expected hurting him physically works the least. He is a fighter, made of steel and fire and Kaeya suspects he would sooner die than beg for relief under torture. Humiliating is more rewarding, but it’s not an easy feat. Diluc is stubborn to the point of accepting terrible punishment before showing any weakness. Kaeya doesn’t mind it, if he’s anything it’s patient. Predictably the easiest way to get to him, however, is to threaten his people. The ones that are still alive, that is. For a promise of their safety Diluc is willing to do surprising things and, naturally, after watching his city burn and bleed he was desperate and blind to Kaeya’s treachery. Or perhaps he wasn’t, but it’s hard to make the right decision when your choices are indifference or false hope.

He can’t say that Kaeya went back on his word. He offered an easy way out, though admittedly violating the promise he made to his pretty toy a little, suggesting an opportunity to save lives he was never in the position to preserve. His brother gave the order long before he started his little game, but Diluc doesn’t need to know that.      “What’s wrong? Aren’t you grateful?”

I hate you.

Diluc’s voice is trembling with what Kaeya assumes to be a mixture of pain and rage. A rage so unbearable it flares in the prince’s eyes and possibly would have set the throne room aflame if he was still in possession of his vision. Most men would run away with their tails tucked between their legs when faced with a look of such unbridled hatred, but Kaeya is not most men. He neither runs nor does he feel an ounce of fear; on the contrary: he is delighted.

It seems he finally broke through to him, found the right pressure to force Diluc’s attention away from his brother, who defiled the royal family’s legacy by claiming the throne with violence, from their army who bathed the once so proud Mondstadt in the blood of her own citizens, from the foolish belief that this war wasn’t lost the moment the Khaenri’ahn forces broke through the city walls. Finally he has his attention to himself.

Kaeya’s hold on Diluc’s hair tightens so he can pull his head back into his neck as he leans down to whisper into his ear.

     “Good.”