#so really this has just been fate meddling with my life by putting this man in my path

[rhaenella]

Ed Speleers’ facial expressions masterclass: the annoyed look

Downton Abbey 3.9 "A Journey to the Highlands" (Christmas Special) — Jimmy Kent

You 4.10 "The Death of Jonathan Moore" — Rhys Montrose

Star Trek: Picard 3.5 "Imposters" — Jack Crusher

[academyofbrokenhearts]

Instead of Dancing Alone, I Should Be Dancing with You (IV)

Some introspection from Kaya's POV, followed by the confrontation with Seyran, with a twist.

Author note: I really don't think Seyran is that horrible. She does have the selfishness of the younger sibling who's used for the older sibling to always be there for them, yes, but let's admit it - she was quite on point that İfakat was manipulating Suna (which she was - I know we all loved İfakat for pushing Suna and Kaya together, but she did it for her own schemes, not because she cared about them as people too much), and she had no particular reason to trust Kaya. So I can understand her being bitter and mistrustful. She should have listened to Suna more, though, instead of concluding that the marriage to Kaya was purely the result of İfakat meddling into stuff. It must have been absolutely hurtful for Suna to be judged like that.

Do I think Kaya would ever speak so openly to Seyran? Hell no, not in a million years. But this is my AU fic, and I do what I want with it. He just wants Suna to be happy and at ease, and if that means having some real words with her sister, then this is what he's going to do.

AO3 link here.

So that's how it's going to be, Kaya thinks, laying in bed, eyes to the ceiling, the memory of Suna's lips still lingering on his. He's really getting engaged, and he's going to be married soon, to this girl who was a complete stranger to him merely weeks before.

Not for the first time, he wonders if he did the right thing by being so direct and honest with Suna. It would have been easier, probably, to just tell her he was in love with her. Easier for him to protect his true feelings and vulnerabilities, easier to just hide behind the facade of a man in love, while carefully planning his next steps. Easier all around.

But he really couldn't do it. Even in his room, before their ill-fated kiss (which he cannot bring himself to regret, however), he wanted to make sure that she wasn't doing it out of desperation or because of being manipulated into it, that it was her decision, and hers alone.

Then she came to talk to him, head held high, telling him she was going to solve everything, and he remembers his heart painfully clutching in his chest, because how in the world could she ever find a different solution? What other option did she really have? None, of course, he knew that, and she knew it as well. He saw it clearly in her eyes. I will defend myself, her eyes were saying. I will defend myself, because no one will, and I will not allow any stranger to partake in my misery, to witness my shame. They can trample all over me, I will still rise. Because I must. Because if I don't, no one will help me up.

How strange it was to look at someone else's eyes and see all his fears and insecurities and pride reflected back at him.

How strange it was to feel anything at all.

He's not in love with her, and he can't ever afford to love her, because she would be a weakness, and he can't be weak. Revenge does not suit the weak.

But really, how easy it would be to just let himself fall. If he were a different man. If there would be no nightmares, and no lost childhood. No trace of the suffocating loneliness that has never left him, that he could never alleviate. If his mother would be different. Better. Whole.

If. If. If.

Too many ifs.

He told her they could be good for each other. It would have been true in another life, maybe. In the current one, he doesn't see any happy ending as far as he is concerned. Maybe for her. Maybe the time she will spend at his side will help her spread her own wings. Maybe she will be able to do what he never could. Live a bit. Breathe. Escape the horror.

Maybe his thorns will not destroy her.

Maybe not all women rejected by their families end up as broken shells of themselves, talking with empty eyes to their reflection in the mirror.

He sighs, standing up. There is no use to think of this now.

The door of his room suddenly opens, putting an abrupt stop to his thoughts.

It's Seyran, and she looks angry.

He can't say he didn't expect this, especially after what Suna shared with him in the morning.

He doesn't even pretend to not know why she is there. It would be so easy to act like he has no idea what's wrong, to aggravate her some more, and that's what he would do in regular circumstances, but... He still remembers. Suna's sadness, the way her shoulders sagged in defeat when speaking about her fight with Seyran earlier. Her kindness when she asked him later about his mother, her gentle reassurance.

So he simply says:

"Yes, Seyran, go ahead and speak. I'm sure you have a lot to tell me. I'm listening."

She does seem to be taken aback for a second, then her anger seems to return in full force.

"Your purpose was to fight against me and Ferit from the beginning, am I correct? You helped me with the university thing just because of this. So that we would fight. And when I asked you to not tell him what I had told you... you went ahead and told him everything at dinner anyway, didn't you? Come on, admit it!"

Everything is about Ferit and her, Kaya thinks. Not a very charitable thought, especially considering that he actually did what she accuses him of. Then again, he doesn't feel particularly charitable towards her at the moment, even less so towards his cousin.

"I won't believe a single word coming out of your mouth again, Kaya," Seyran continues, seemingly even more angry at his silence. "And I for sure don't want you to marry my sister, so you will end this entire ridiculous thing!"

"Ridiculous thing, you say?" he finally speaks out, calmly, stepping in front of Seyran.

"You will not fool me, my friend. I will not be fooled. I'm sure you planned everything with İfakat. You saw a pure girl, didn't you? You saw her, and you decided to fool her, to involve her in your games. You saw she was in need of care and love. You saw her weaknesses and you fooled her. Didn't you? You don't even love her. You don't love her. But I will not allow this. I will not allow it, Kaya! That girl is my soul, my soul, my blood, okay?"

"The girl you are calling your soul and your blood was crying on the terrace this morning because of you," Kaya says, and when Seyran attempts to speak again, he raises his arm. "No. I listened to you until now. You will listen to me now. Because I think you have misunderstood some things, and it's about time to sort this out. And I am only going to say it once, and after that I will ask you not to bother me anymore about this topic. Ever."

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, then opens them again.

"First of all, it's interesting how you seem to despise İfakat so much, and yet she came into this room just last night to tell me almost the same thing as you. Oh yes," he says, when Seyran's eyes widen in surprise, "yes, she told me that I had to do whatever I could to stop the wedding from happening. And I said to her the exact same thing I will say to you now. No. You talked to her before coming here? I'm sure she neglected to mention this small episode, didn't she?"

"You're making up things now and I told you-"

"Like I said, you are going to listen to me until the end. Whatever your opinion might be about me and my actions - I really don't give a damn. I'm not about to excuse or justify myself in front of you in any way. But if you claim to love your sister, just be quiet and go along with this wedding. You know your father pretty damn well by now. You know he will not budge, and any further protest from you will make things worse for Suna, and very likely for you as well. So don't."

"Is that why you are marrying her?!" Seyran exclaims in disbelief. "Because my father forces you to?"

"For the love of God, Seyran! Your father hit your sister. In front of me. He humiliated her. And you know, I pay attention to my surroundings, to the way people act. To what they say and do. It was not the first time it happened, and it won't be the last either, unless someone puts a stop to it."

At this, Seyran finally falls completely quiet, her lips trembling.

"You spoke to her this morning," Kaya says, after a moment of silence, "but I don't think you actually understood what she was trying to convey, right? It's suffocating, Seyran, you know. To live under the crushing thumb of someone else. To feel like you're unworthy. Like you could disappear forever, and no one would care. You got so used to have her by your side, always in your shadow, that you never stopped to ask yourself whether she wanted more, whether she deserved more. You say you want the best for her, but it is not for you to determine what's best for her. That's for her to decide. Don't ask her to choose between you and what she sees as her only chance to escape the hell she's living. It's a cruel thing to do."

By now, Seyran's eyes are full of tears, any trace of her previous anger gone.

"To answer your question," Kaya adds, not unkindly, "I'm marrying your sister because I want to marry her, and she wants to marry me as well. That's the most important part. That's what you need to tell yourself. That your sister and I took a decision like two responsible adults, and that you need to respect it. That's all there is. And whatever you might think about me, I never lied to her. Speak to her, if you don't believe me. Just don't hurt her anymore."

Seyran quickly wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, seemingly unsure of what to say and do. When she opens her mouth to speak again, Kaya stops her.

"Not to me. Remember. To her."

She nods, turns around, and leaves his room, quietly closing the door.

*

Later, he sees them in the garden, talking.

It doesn't look like a fight.

[psychewritesbs]

The Seven Luminaries IV

I’m over all this fate bullsht. idk why but it feels more confusing in x than it does in Tsubasa. BLAH.

Anyways... in this chapter we have...

Sympathy for Kamui

Our rolling head count goes up to 7!

Everybody’s favorite creepster shows up!

More Subaru breadcrumbs

Fuuma the kinkmaster

Humans playing God because the idea that Kamui, a human, can challenge the order of things (fate) wasn’t complicated enough

Kotori’s dream--this was by far my favorite part

I’m going to need for characters to stop meddling with fate

Aunt Tokiko’s nips

That’s right... Aunt Tokiko’s nips make a cameo in this chapter just as she becomes a rolling head god I missed liveblog bsing.

Sympathy for Kamui

I have to be honest. 

I did not like Kamui very much at all the first time I read x. Sure I warmed up to him as the story progressed and he became less of a feral cat and turned into a domesticated cat. 

And yes, I get it, his cattitude was very much a front, a mask he put on. And I think it was in the last chapter’s liveblog that I mentioned that the mask may have been what others expected and projected onto him.

But, now that I am taking my time reading x (this is my second time reading the manga), and that I am paying more attention to Kamui... man... this poor kid.

This 16-year-old wait actually how old is he?, not only does he carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, literally, he’s had to see and experience heartbreaking things that would break any normal human being.

Not to mention Kamui is also carrying the guilt of thinking that his friends will suffer because of him.

Idk. There’s something here about how these experiences shaped him and led him to make a specific choice. 

It’s just so sad to see him try to walk away from his heart (Kotori and Fuuma) to try to protect them and himself--even though in the end, those bonds ended up being far too compelling to be ignored, and the source of the pain he wanted to run from.

Fate.

Rolling head count: #5

Challenging fate and destiny

Um. Listen. Kotori is so damn cute.

But anyways, that’s besides the point.

I just love how Kamui, who up until that point appeared to have no purpose for his power, is questioning whether there is a purpose for his fated powers.

I suppose the difference between this moment and the moment when good boi Fuuma officially turns into Fuuma the kinkmaster is that in this scene Kamui is exploring the idea of using his powers to protect Kotori (and Fuuma). 

He has not made a definite choice. 

Above all, I particularly love how Kamui is coming to the realization that he can't hide his head in the sand and hide from his fate and/or destiny. He can’t hide from his pain if he wants to protect the people he loves.

I’ve always wondered how many birds CLAMP killed to get so many feathers into the panels but... I think the panel above made me wonder whether the birds are meant to symbolize free will. 

In a story about fate and destiny defining our every choice, birds are about flight and freedom, and it kind of makes me wonder about Kotori’s role in the story and her ultimate sacrifice.

Since it parallels Sakura’s from Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle, I can’t help but wonder if Kotori too was trying to influence fate and the future through her sacrifice.

But alas, as soon as Kamui thinks about using his powers to protect Kotori, he’s given the opportunity to test his resolve.

Dun dun dun...

What on Earth could possibly be going on?! 

DUN DUN DUN!!!!!

Enter everybody’s favorite creepster

Sei-chan... you’re really over-the-top dramatic and cringe.

But I love you all the more for it.

The seisub breadcrumbs give me life.

Ok but... since Sei hides behind his glasses...

It’s really cool to see his eyes once again. 

You know... since he’s so unfeeling and his eyes never give him away about how unfeeling he is and all...

But my favorite part about this whole interaction against Kamui is that Sei looks down on Kamui’s kindness as though it was weakness.

The lines “such a kind boy. But if you continue to hold onto the girl, you won’t be able to dodge the next one” say more about Sei’s own relationship to kindness than it says anything about Kamui.

It’s almost as though Sei sees kindness as something that gets in the way of self-preservation. And like... idk, to me it feels like Sei might have been a kind person once upon a time and had to learn to do away with that kindness to preserve his sense of self.

Truly... who knows.

What gets me is that, despite looking down on kindness as a quality, he can say something like this with such a kind look on his face. Almost as though he feels tenderness for how Kamui’s kindness is about to hurt him dearly.

This man is such a conundrum and I love him all the more for it.

But then good boi Fuuma breaks into and dispels Sei’s illusion and it marks the beginning of their lifelong bromance.

Fuuma the kinkmaster

We also get one of the first glimpses of Fuuma the kinkmaster as Fuuma caresses Kamui’s face.

And then all of a sudden it’s sexy time!

Would you just look at that leg!

Also I’m off the idea that good boi Fuuma and bad boi Fuuma are actually the same--like the two sides of the same coin. So let’s see how that idea holds up as I keep reading because there’s something far less introverted about bad boi Fuuma.

Perhaps introversion is not the right word... I shall think long and hard about it.

But it’s interesting that Kamui kept denying that bad boi Fuuma was the same as good boi Fuuma right up until the end.

Is Kamui in denial? Or does he truly know him best?

But if he’s simply joining team Earth because Kamui has been leaning towards making the choice to honor his desire to protect those he loves, then Fuuma is simply becoming the opposite--one who does not choose his heart.

Ah... idk idk. It truly feels like it’s two sides of the same coin and one of them is hidden.

Humans playing God

What with all the talk of challenging or accepting one’s fate and destiny, we also have humans playing God.

And there’s something kind of unsettling about this because... idk how to say other than by bringing up the idea that fate is beyond the human mind’s comprehension. 

And yet, humans, in their pursuit of our egocentric goals, will resort to playing God in the name of science.

Now, there’s more to Nataku’s creation than science for the sake of science, but we’re still talking about humans playing God.

TRC’s Syaoran and Nataku

I’m just going to leave that here for anyone who reads this to mull over.

But anyways, on top of the arrogance of playing God is the arrogance of assuming this creation would not have a soul. 

Considering TRC Syaoran and x’s Nataku, it kind of begs the question, what is the soul?

Yay Subaru!

Have you noticed how much hype is built up about Subaru showing up in mangas outside of Tokyo Babylon?

In x, CLAMP has been foreshadowing his return for a couple of chapters already. Feeding us breadcrumbs. 

It’s ok tho... I’ll take all the breadcrumbs.

In TRC it’s the same. We get breadcrumbed until we finally see him in the Tokyo Revelations Arc and finally learn he’s the cutest vampire ever.

It’s kind of cute that CLAMP treats Subaru with so much reverence and likes to create hype and anticipation about his character showing up.

Fuuma’s promise

Here we go with the birds again.

Are the feathers meant to symbolize free will?

Or did a bird just happened to get murdered in the vicinity?

Your guess is as good as mine but my money is on the latter.

Also, I suspect that bad boi Fuuma never quite let go of that promise. Instead he decided to be the one who made Kamui cry bahaha.

YES! The breadcrumbs coalesce into something coherent

I just realized how much Subaru wants to look like Sei...

And just as quickly as he came, he’s gone.

Kotori’s dream

Gosh I can’t talk about Kotori’s dream without including all the panels in the dream... but this liveblog is already very image heavy.

It’s just that the way the dream is so...

From the way the whole dream is depicted as Kotori stepping into a realm beyond our physical world--outside of space-time. Or more like... a space between dreams, between two realities where no matter how fated events unfold, her fate is one set in stone.

And, again, there’s something about how she’s a “bird” caged by her fate. She is not free to escape her fate.

I am seriously going to need CLAMP to decide how they want to handle the whole situation. 

Is fate something free will can overcome, or not?

Hell. WHAT IS FREE WILL?

Perhaps that is the point--the human spirit can remain free even while bound by fated events, but only when it exercises its freedom of choice.

Idk. This is too smart for me.

I’ll focus on something more aligned with my intelligence level like...

Rolling head count: #6

So if there’s another panel of Kotori’s severed head right next to this one, does that count for two heads or one head?

Ok, let’s count one head per character per scene.

That’s 2 rolling heads this chapter already!

The prophecy

Ok. 

What the fudge tho...

I’m getting a Tsubasa-induced confusion headache here.

So Saya’s sacrifice changed the future... 

Again, callback to Sakura sacrificing herself to change the future in Tsubasa and Kotori doing the same in x.

Does that mean Hokuto changed the fated future too?

All these women getting stabbed by phallic symbols in CLAMP as a metaphor for changing the future is so... space-time metaphor?

Confusion aside...

What’s also interesting is that at least in x, the swords are given birth to so that the weapons that will be used in the battle for the end of the world are born to this world from a womb the way a human would be.

Which is an interesting contrast to Nataku and how Nataku, not born from a woman’s womb, is thought not to possess a soul.

Again, what is a soul in CLAMP?

Rolling head count: #7

Alas, we end the chapter with yet another rolling head.

Aunt Tokiko gives birth to the second sword is that her nips tho? and thus becomes Kamui’s last living relative (that we know of) to die, thus kickstarting the fated events that would lead to the battle for the end of the world.

[ficsforeren]

The Secrets Between Us - Chapter 2

Series Masterlist

WATERLILY

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader feat. Levi and Armin

Genre: Royalty AU, Smut, Fluff, Romance, Angst

Word Count: 5K

Series Summary: As the only princess of The Paradis Kingdom, your life has been decided from the first day you were born. By the time you turn eighteen, you will be betrothed to Prince Armin, uniting two powerful kingdoms as one. Everything began to change, however, once you saw a beautiful boy lying unconscious in the forest behind your castle. His name is Eren, and he’s lost his memories. You invited him into your home, not knowing that he came from house Jaeger—the family that was massacred by your ancestors nearly a hundred years before, seeking revenge.

Chapter Summary: Your bond with the boy whose life you saved grew stronger, evolving into something more than a friendship. But it was not wise of you to befriend Eren Jaeger, your servant, especially with witnesses lurking around your castle. 

Warnings (including for future chapters): explicit sex, adultery, mentions of blood and death

Poster art by the most talented @rainbuniart (follow her on Twitter)

Two months had passed since fate meddled in to bring Eren Jaeger into your life. Since then, happiness was no longer a word you could only dream to attain. It finally took its form in the shape of a boy with emerald eyes that shone so beautifully, they would make even the brightest sapphire fall pale in comparison.

Once his health was recovered, Levi brought him into his tower where the Kingsguards lived, as promised. But instead of letting him sleep in the servants’ room, he took him into his chamber.

“Don’t just stand there, brat, come in.”

At his order, Eren stepped inside the room, scanning his surrounding with eyes wide open. The fire burning inside the fireplace sent warmth creeping to his skin, painting a spark of amber in his irises and Levi watched as the boy stared in awe. It was quite astonishing for Levi to have his own room, but perhaps being the Lord Commander—the leader of the elite royal bodyguards—had its perks. The room being spacious was a given, what startled Eren was how neat it was. Even the air smelled pleasantly like sandalwood.

“Your room is exceptionally clean, Master Levi.”

“Of course. Don’t put me in the same level as those pigs.” The older man scoffed. “Now, since you will be staying in my room, I expect this place to be cleaned at least twice a day. If I see a speck of dust under the table, you’re dead meat, brat.”

“Y-yes, Sir.” He clumsily caught the pillow and the quilt Levi threw at him. “Is it really okay for me to stay here? Aren’t the servants supposed to—”

“Stop asking questions and just do as I say. Go to sleep, it’s late.”

Eren stayed mute, only responding with a weak nod. Levi was not the easiest person to be friends with but he could be too cold sometimes. Unconsciously pouting to himself, he walked to the empty corner of the room, settling the pillow down to the floor.

“Oi, brat. What do you think you’re doing?"

Eren flinched in surprise. “I’m about to sleep on the floor?”

“You’ll catch a cold like that.” Levi sighed impatiently. “Take the settle.”

Eren dragged his eyes to the wooden oak bench with a soft seat and an upholstered back that was more than big enough to fit four men sitting in a row. “C-can I, really?”

“What did I say about asking questions?”

“Yes, Sir!” With an excited grin, the boy half-ran toward the settle, plopping himself down until he laid flat on his stomach, rubbing his cheek against the smooth surface. “Ah, it’s so warm. Not as soft as I thought it would be but I like it.”

“Brat with no manners,” Levi grumbled to himself, taking off his chest plate before he went to untuck his shirt from his pants.

Eren watched from the side, eyes drooping as he began to sink into the comfort of his new bed. “Master Levi, you’re actually very kind, aren’t you? You’re stern with your words but you’ve done so much things to help me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” The man leaned against his desk, taking his shirt over his head. “I’m not doing this for you.” Eren could see a battle scar he had on the side of his chest extending all the way down to the line below his stomach. It was thick but nearly transparent as it was fully healed. Seemed like it came from a sword, slashing through his skin. It must have been deadly when he got it.  

“I know. You’re doing this for her.” Eren sat up properly, a warm smile breaking upon his lips. “But I’m still very grateful toward you too. Thank you, Master Levi, for giving me a place to stay.”

Levi didn’t respond with anything other than a snort and Eren chuckled. “No wonder the Princess is fond of you. You’re never honest with your words but your face says it all.”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Yes, Sir.”

***

“Try to avoid being alone with him,” Levi had warned you earlier that day. “We’re still not sure what kind of a person he is.”

The Kingsguard was on his way to escort your father on his diplomatic trip to another kingdom. It would last for two weeks, at the very least, maybe three. Left to your own devices, you spent your days wandering around the castle when you didn’t have lectures or social events to attend. And during those times, Eren would be by your side, as always.

It was nearly impossible for a princess to be alone in a castle that was filled with guards standing at every corner. You could feel eyes following your movements, especially when you were accompanied by someone with an unfamiliar face, wearing a servant’s clothing but did not act like one. They took notice of the way he behaved around you, all friendly and gleeful, and the way you behaved around him. You could hear them whispering behind your backs, cynically asking why was a noble lady like you spending so much time with a male servant that barely knew how to prepare your tea properly.

Your stepmother, ultimately, was not fond of Eren. She always had the tendency of belittling people who did not carry royal blood under their skins and Eren was no exception. But today, your mother was not present within the castle, as she was busy attending a social gathering one of her royal friends was celebrating. 

And that means I can be with him as much as I want.

You knew it was wrong for you to behave this way but you couldn’t help but be selfish. Aside from Levi and Petra, Eren was the only friend you had in the castle—one that you befriended on your own, not because your parents forced you to. Being close to his age made it easier for you to relate to each other. You could even exchange topics that you wouldn’t have the nerve to talk about with Levi, knowing he would find it to be a waste of time. Though it could be nerve-racking sometimes when Eren gazed at you with those deep, beautiful eyes during conversations, being with Eren was so easy. Comforting. And you couldn’t help but be addicted to the way his eyes gleamed in joy when you stepped inside the kitchen to meet him, blinding you with his toothy smile as he cheered, “Princess! I’ve been waiting to see you again!”

He always said that, always looking at you like you were his most favorite person in the world. The potato he was peeling was left neglected as he hurried to your spot. “Do you have some free time today? Would you like me to keep you company?” he asked, practically jumping like a child at your presence, but before you could answer, Petra, your maid and someone you thought of as a sister, smacked his head with a wooden spoon.

“Eren!” She shouted, making him wince. “What are you doing?! You still have work to do!”

“But, Miss Petra, the Princess is here.” He jutted out his bottom lip and you covered your lips with your hand so Petra wouldn’t see you grinning. Similar to Levi, she was brave enough to scold you when you did something wrong. And being amused at the sight of Eren getting distracted with your presence would only upset her more. “She might need my help,” he reasoned, “I want to be of use to her.”

“You can be useful by peeling the potatoes I told you to do!”

Before he whined again, you decided to meddle in. “Eren,” you called, “Finish your job first. I will be waiting for you.”

His eyes gleamed in joy. “You will?”

“Yes.” You smiled at him.

He mirrored it instantly, but a thousand times brighter. “Okay, give me five minutes!” And he scurried back to the kitchen, picked up his knife, and went as fast as he could.

Petra sighed, side-eyeing you. “You’re distracting him, Milady.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to see him.”

“He’s supposed to help me prepare for lunch after this.”

“Lunch is still hours away.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to prepare lunch for the entire royal family?” Petra fumed, nose flaring.

“I’m sorry,” you winced. “Can you ask for someone else instead?” You pleaded, rubbing your hands together. “Please? If you do this for me, I’ll tell you something you don’t know about Levi.”

She stopped, intrigued. “Something cute? Or something...” She blushed at the thought. “You know, private.”

You knew she wanted to say ‘erotic.’ “Can be both,” you teased, wiggling your eyebrow and it only took her two seconds before she succumbed. 

“Fine.” She sighed louder, more dramatically this time, but she was grinning as she walked away. “Well, when the princess is in love, you just can’t help it, can you?”

“Petra!” But you couldn’t come up with an excuse. You just hoped Eren didn’t hear her.

***

“Change your clothes and wear this instead,” you said, handing him a set of clothes you’d borrowed from your oldest brother’s wardrobe—ones that were no longer used as he wore formal attire more often. “That way you won’t stick out like a sore thumb when you walk by my side.”

Worried and reluctant, Eren shook his head. “Princess, I really don’t think we should do this.”

“What makes you different than any other males around here is your servant’s clothing,” you insisted. “Once you stop wearing it, no one will pay attention to you anymore.”

With a little pout, he finally agreed but once he stepped out, dressed in a casual white linen shirt and black leather pants that hugged his figure perfectly, he was nearly unrecognizable. “D-do I look weird?” he nervously asked, noticing the way you were ogling at his appearance. 

Eren’s body was built slightly bigger than your brother’s, which was quite surprising for a boy your age—a commoner, on top of that. He was taller with more muscles on his stomach. You’d noticed them the other day when Eren absent-mindedly jumped into the pond to retrieve the bracelet that slipped off your wrist. The way the fabric was sticking to his skin left no room for your imagination and you spent the rest of the night thinking about ways to stop thinking about him. 

His hair was a shade lighter now that he had bathed and washed the dirt and the dry blood away. You watched how his silky strands ended around his shoulder blades, framing his pale face so beautifully. Your mind began to wonder. Would they feel as soft as you’d imagined them to be when you card your fingers through his locks? How would he respond to your touches? Would he lean closer? Would he frown?

He’s so beauti—

“Princess?” Eren’s voice came to your hearing, breaking your train of thoughts. He had one eyebrow raised as he noticed the way you were staring at him. “Is there something wrong?”

“N-no, I’m fine,” you stuttered, hands moving animatedly to distract him. “It’s just—Your hair.”

“My hair?”

Don’t panic. Don’t panic. “Yes, it’s… It’s long.”

He chuckled. “Ah, yes, I’ve noticed that.”

“No, I mean—” Oh Lord, I am humiliating myself. “It’s pretty.” And you were about to regret your words, knowing how embarrassing that must have sounded but something tugged on your heartstrings when you saw his eyes widening at your little praise.

“Oh…” He scratched his cheek with his finger, averting his gaze. “Thank you.”

Eren reminded you of a puppy even when you never had one as a pet. The way he just followed you around with an excited grin constantly strapped to his face, the way he chirped so happily while answering all of your inquiries in details, no matter what kind of questions you threw at him. He was like a breath of fresh air, especially when you had been surrounded by people acting tense and serious, only caring about profits and politics.

By now, you had learned that Eren barely remembered anything about himself, but the habits he once had still stayed with him. You noticed how he often said what came to mind without thinking too much about it, and only regretting the words once they departed from his lips without being filtered. He also had the habit of rubbing his nape or scratched his cheek with his index finger whenever your questions got a little too personal, most likely from feeling awkward or shy.

He was endearing in so many ways.

Arriving in the garden that stood overlooking a cliff—one that Eren had claimed to be his most favorite place in the castle—you took a seat on the bench.

“Sit next to me,” you said, holding back a smile as you watched him stand gawkily in front of you.

“But what if the Queen knows—”

“My mother won’t be back until late at night.”

“What if the guards—“

“Eren,” you insisted. “Just for a while. Please.”

He nibbled on his bottom lip—another habit of his when he felt uncertain, you supposed—before he took your offer. Usually, you just sat near the pond, refreshing your eyes with the sight of waterlilies blooming above the water, and watched Eren make funny faces at the golden fishes that constantly ignored him even during feeding time. The bench, you realized, did not leave enough room for him to sit far away from you, and you grew conscious of the way his knee nearly brushed against yours. Eren kept his head down, his hair hiding his face but you could see the tip of his ear turning a shade redder.

The tension that hung in the air made you fumble with your words. “Umm—“ You cleared your throat. “I realized that I’ve been asking you a lot of questions but never gave you the chance to do the same. Do you—is there—I mean—” Your heart throbbed. This is getting embarrassing, you thought. Even when you’d been constantly seeing him for two months, it still felt like you had no experience in talking to a man your age—a man who was this beautiful, to be exact—even talking to other princesses during charities made you nervous. You thought you could maintain your composure but being this close to him, it was nearly an impossible task to do. “Is there anything you want to ask about me?”

Eren turned to you, his eyes seeming more blue than green under the light of the morning sun. “Can I?”

You could practically imagine his tail wagging behind him. “Yes. Anything you want.”

“Okay!” He chirped. “Then, uh, what’s your favorite flower?”

“That’s your question?” You pressed a hand to cover your grin. “Nymphaea.”

“Ny—what?”

“Nymphaea.” You giggled behind your palm, he looked so clueless. “Waterlilies, Eren.”

“Oh!” He chuckled bashfully. “I’m sorry, I never learned the term. So that’s why you spent so much time near the pond. Is there a particular reason why you like them?”

“I…” You were a bit startled by the way Eren was listening so attentively to you. He seemed so focused, eyes peering into yours, and you felt naked under his gaze as no one had ever paid you so much attention before. “I don’t know. It’s just… When I was a child, my father once said that it’s a symbol of all that is true, good, and beautiful, representing peace and enlightenment. And I thought… I wanted to be like that.” When Eren didn’t respond, you could almost feel steam erupting from your ears. “Now that I said it out loud, I realized how weird that sounded—”

“Water lilies are perfect for you,” he said and you aligned your head to meet his eyes again, only this time, they were staring at you so tenderly. His previous excitement was gone, replaced by a softer gaze, one that felt so pure and sincere. 

“Eren..?”

“I…” He slowly started, bringing his eyes to his lap. “I haven’t known you as long as the other servants here, or as close to you as Master Levi is, but I’d like to think that I understand you, just like you do about me. Even if it’s only for a little. That day when we met for the first time, I felt so lucky and not just because you saved my life.” He rubbed his nape, chuckling softly. “I didn’t know what to do. I was left with nothing but my name in my memory. And I know it would be easier for you to turn a blind eye on me and yet you didn’t. What merit would she gain—a princess who has the whole kingdom under her hands—from befriending someone like me? I kept asking that question after you left the room. But when you showed up again the next morning, I felt so relieved. I felt so happy that you didn’t abandon me. That you meant true to your words.”

Something came alive in your stomach, swirling and somersaulting, butterflies creeping up to your chest.

“You see…” His face turned a bit pensive, his hands now interlocking with each other on his lap. “I’ve been having nightmares. They’re the same every night, and they’re so vivid. I could still remember them when I woke up. I saw myself holding a knife, blood drenching my hands, dripping to my shoes. Everywhere I looked, there was only darkness. And I was alone, but it didn’t feel like I was alone. I was…” He swallowed thickly. “I was afraid.”

You wanted to reach out, wanted to take hold of his hand so he wouldn’t sink his nails into his palms too hard. Wanted to brush away the stray hair away from his face. Wanted to see his beautiful smile again. 

“Every time you visit me,” he continued, smiling slightly to himself. “Every time you call my name, I feel like I can breathe again. Even just the thought of you smiling at me already makes me feel at ease. You have given me peace in so many ways and I’m truly grateful for the time you spent with me.” He looked at you, smiling so widely until you could see his slightly crooked teeth. “Thank you, Princess. For being my water lily.”

You felt lightheaded. How were you supposed to respond to that? “S-sure,” you simply responded, looking away so he couldn’t witness blood rushing to your face.

You were most likely awful at hiding your expression because Eren started to panic. “I—I mean—” he stammered, “I’m sorry—Was that too weird? Did I offend you? I am so sorry, Princess, I—” He stopped at the sight of you bringing your hand to your mouth again, muffling your laughter. “You’re laughing…” He said, face washed with relief.

“I’m sorry.” You wiped a single tear away from your eye. “It’s just… I think we have the same habit, just blurting out what comes first in our minds and being ashamed of it afterward.”

He exhaled, sitting sluggishly on his seat. “You scared me. I thought I’d angered you or something.”

“I don’t think you have the ability to anger me, Eren.” You still had your fingers covering your mouth, hiding your giggles but your entire movement stopped when he took your hand away from your face, his palm felt calloused against yours but more pleasant than anything else you’ve ever touched.

“Don’t hide it,” he said, face noticeably growing close and you could feel yourself holding your breath. “I want to see your smile.”

Your heart was beating so loudly, you could hear the sound in your ears. “I was taught that a lady should cover her mouth when she laughs as it is considered an unfeminine behavior that should be hidden…” The way he gazed so intensely at you, so curious about your everything, made you go off track. “…o-or covered.”

Eren hummed in response, acknowledging but not quite agreeing. Tilting his head slightly, he murmured, “Such a shame.” 

“What?”

“I like the way you laugh. The way you sound when you do…” His eyes slowly drifted to your lips. “The way your lips curve when you smile…” His eyes glazed as his voice turned into a whisper. “You’re beautiful.”

You were going insane, you could feel it. Pushing him gently by the shoulder, you dropped back to your feet, hands clutching against the fabric of your dress so you could walk away without tripping. “We should go get you changed back to your clothes,” you muttered, mentally scolding yourself from how shaky your voice sounded. “Petra must be waiting for you in the kitchen.” You took a few steps forward without waiting for him, too bashful to stay close to him even for a second longer. 

“Princess!” He called, half-running until he reached your spot. “If I keep it a secret between us, will you agree to laugh without hiding it when you’re with me?”

“You’re so stubborn!”

“But Princess—!”

***

“I see the way you behave around my daughter.”

Eren jolted, the bottle tipped a little in his hands as he poured her a glass of wine. “M-my Queen?”

“Mother,” you interrupted, trying your best to be respectful. “Please. Not now. We’re having dinner.”

She deliberately ignored you. “You should know your place, boy. How long have you been a servant?”

“Two months, my queen.”

“Two months and you haven’t learned a thing,” she spat and you could see Eren’s fingers tightening around the bottle.

You felt your heart dropping to your stomach and you looked around for help, but none of your brothers even spared a glance toward the boy. Your father would have been kind enough to interrupt but as he was away on a trip, she was the one in charge, both in control of the room and the conversation around the table.

“Servants do not talk unless they are questioned,” she told him. “You should always walk five steps behind us, maintain your distance and keep your eyes on the ground. Being in the same age as my daughter does not mean you can shamelessly talk to her like you hold the same status as her, especially in public. It’s degrading.” She examined his features, running her eyes up and down. “Your mere existence is already an embarrassment to us all.”

“Mother!” You stood up from your seat before thinking it through, fingers trembling as you splayed them on the table. All eyes were on you—your three older brothers’, the guards’, the other servants’, and Eren’s. Your protest was right at the tip of your tongue. Your lips were parted, ready to speak, but the look on Eren’s face made you grow hesitant. He gave a tiny shake of his head.

Don’t, Princess. You’ll get in trouble.

Knowing how it would only make the situation even worse, you uttered an apology and sat back onto your seat. Your fingers were curling into tiny balls of fists, jaw clenching as you tried to hide the fury that was raging inside your chest.

“I ask for your forgiveness, my Queen,” Eren’s voice rang through your ears as he deeply bowed to her. “It is my fault. I am awfully inexperienced but I will try my best to avoid making the same mistakes in the future. As you said, I should know my place—a servant.”

You could feel your eyes growing hot. It was you who forced him to treat you like a friend, to talk naturally, to even call you by your name. And yet, he was taking all of the blame, lowering his head for something he wasn’t at fault for.

Later that night, a few hours after dinner was over, you sneaked outside your room. When you passed through some guards, you made excuses of wanting to take a whiff of the night air as the clouds were thin and the stars were glowing brighter than usual. You tried to forbid them from escorting you but as they kept insisting, you reasoned with, “Your commander, Levi, will be keeping me company shortly. There’s no need for you to follow me.” They were conflicted, but they nodded their heads.

I have to apologize to Levi tomorrow.

With a lantern in your hand and a cloak hanging around your shoulders, you stepped inside the kitchen. You weren’t sure whether he would be there in this hour but if there was the slightest chance—

“Princess?”

Eren’s face was filled with horror when he saw you walking close, noticing you were alone this late at night. He was kneeling on the floor, in the middle of scrubbing every speck of dirt off the ground, inch-by-inch with a brass brush between his hands.

It had been hours after dinner, and everyone has left but him. You swallowed thickly. Was he being punished because of me?

“Princess!” He ran to meet you, panicking. “Why are you here? If anyone sees—”

“I’m alone, I’m sure of it.”

“But still…” He seemed to be more at ease though it didn’t mean he was any less concerned. He quickly washed his hands clean, and as much as he tried to hide it, you caught him wincing when the water pressure met his skin.

“Did you hurt your hands?”

“Ah, no, Princess,” he quickly assured. “It’s just—” But you took his hands in yours, bringing them closer to the lantern so you could examine them better.

His skin was torn apart from working endlessly. His palms were red, excruciatingly so, and slightly swollen. They had stopped bleeding but the pain must have felt as terrible. Eren retracted his hands before you could get a thorough look.

“I’m fine,” he said, smiling softly at you. “Please don’t mind me.”

Your lips trembled. “I’m sorry,” you hastily said, voice breaking apart as much as your mind was. “I’m sorry, Eren, for not being able to protect you.”

“Please don’t apologize—”

“It was my fault! I asked you to act like that around me. To treat me as a friend. It was foolish of me to think that everyone would be okay with it and I—”

“Princess,” Eren shushed you down, clamping a hand around your mouth before he dragged you with him to hide behind the nearest cupboard. Your spine was pressing against his chest, your lips pressing against the lines of his calloused palm and he was so warm, warmer than the scarves you knitted during autumn. “Stay quiet,” he whispered, his lips nearly brushing against the shell of your ear and you held your breath, praying that he wouldn’t be able to hear the sound of your heart beating thunderously against your ribcages.

Two guards were walking down the hallway, exchanging banters with every step they took. Their voices were drawing closer, and closer, until you could see their silhouettes passing by through the door. The shimmering light coming from the two lanterns in the kitchen was not bright enough to reveal your figures to their eyes, and they were drowning too deep in their conversations to notice your tattered breathing.

Their voices were gradually reduced into fading echoes before silence came around once again.

“I think they’re gone,” Eren breathed in relief, releasing his hand away from your mouth but did not do anything to push you away. “Thank God we didn’t get caught. Otherwise, you’d be in trouble.”

You’d be in trouble, he said. “Stop it.”

“Princess?”

“Stop it!” You turned around to land a knock on his chest, making him take a step back and hit his spine against the cupboard. “Stop thinking about my safety! Aren’t you the one who’s being punished? Why aren’t you angry with me?! I keep bringing you into trouble and you just—” Your fingers curled against the fabric of his shirt as you drew yourself closer. You didn’t notice you were crying until your vision started to blur. “You should’ve just pushed me away...”

Eren never said a word during your rave but once your tears started to spill to your cheek, he said, “Forgive me, but—” and he pulled you into his embrace, wrapping his arms protectively around your shoulders, his lips brushing against your hairline as he spoke. “Just until you calm down. Once you stop crying, I’ll let you go.”

You didn’t want him to let go. You wanted this to last for years, just you with your face sinking into his chest, his breath fanning your ear. You found yourself crying harder, and harder, and again until you finished pouring every bottled-up anger and disappointment you felt toward yourself.

When your body had finally stopped shaking, Eren pulled away, just for a little. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice soothing.

You wiped the rest of the tears away from your face, embarrassed. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

Eren tittered. “You’ve been apologizing for quite some time now.”

“Well, it’s because you—”

“Princess.” The sudden tone he used sent a shiver down your spine. There was tenderness in it but it also had more weight than how he usually spoke. “Why are you crying?”

And you asked yourself the same thing. Why were you crying? There were a lot of reasons you could find, but none of them stood up as much as this:

You were afraid.

“I was scared,” you admitted, quiet at first but steadier on the next part. “I was scared that you would do exactly what my mother ordered you to. I was scared that you would walk away from me.”

Eren brushed your hair away from your eyes and you lifted your face to meet his gaze. His eyes were almost brown under the darkness and somehow, the way the soft light illuminated his features made him a hundred times more vulnerable than he usually was. Fragile, but just as beautiful.

“Eren,” you continued, “That day when I first met you. You asked me why would I do so much to save you when you were a nobody. And I answered that it was my duty as a princess to help my people but the truth is, I was doing it for my sake. I’m the only girl among three brothers. I’m wanted but not needed. The kingdom will run just fine without me. So, as two lonely, unneeded people, sitting in the same boat, I thought, maybe if I helped you and forced you to stay, maybe we could be friends. And maybe then, I wouldn’t be alone anymore.”

Eren gave you all the time you need to let everything out in the open, waiting patiently. Sometimes letting his fingers touch your cheek to wipe off the stains of your tears. 

“I’m aware that it is selfish of me to ask you this,” you sniffed. “But I don’t want you to change. I don’t want us to change. I want to continue what we have—talking, reading books together, laughing while playing near the pond—I want none of that to change. I want to be with you, that’s all I want. I want to be with you, Eren.”

At the sight of his cheeks reddening, you panicked, realizing just how much your words sounded like a confession but you didn’t take any of them back. You were embarrassed but it didn’t mean your words weren’t true. Then a burst of laughter escaped his lips. So airily, so warm, as if he was just a young boy with no weight on his shoulders. 

“You’re so adorable,” he said and your stomach flipped, forcing you to glance away. Eren reached out to frame your cheek, bringing your eyes to meet his once more. His smile was the gentlest one he’d ever displayed. “Was that an order?”

“No,” you whispered back, eyes going half-lidded as they drifted to his lips. “It’s a wish. A selfish wish of mine.”

“Well, your wish is the same as mine,” he responded, thumb rubbing comforting circles on your cheekbone. “And I don’t know why is this not obvious to you already but... I don’t think I can ever stay away from you, even if you asked me to. If you think you’re selfish for wanting to be with me, then what would that make me for wanting to keep you for myself?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. He was so close. His forehead was almost touching yours. “T-then—” You averted your gaze. “Will you continue to be my friend?”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” he promised and leaned in to hug you one more time. “As long as you need me, I’ll never let you go.”

“You... promise?”

“With my life, Princess.”

***

“Master Levi,” Eren slowly called late at night, as he approached the man who was sitting on his leather seat, a scroll paper splayed on the table and a quill in his hand. “Do you have a moment to spare? I have something I’d like to talk to you about.” 

Levi didn’t pay him a glance but he replied, “What is it?” 

“It’s about the princess.”

The older man sighed. “It’s always about the princess when it comes to you.” He dropped his quill, giving him full attention. “What do you want?”

Eren straightened his posture. “I want to be able to repay her kindness, Sir.”

“Isn’t that the reason why you became a servant?”

“Yes, but it’s not enough. Just washing her clothes, preparing her dinner—” He shook his head. “I feel useless. With my current status, I will only bring her shame every time we’re near each other. And while she’s fine with it, I can’t stand it. I hate the way they’re looking at her. I want to be someone. Someone who can make her proud.”

Levi narrowed his eyes. “You want to be with her, that’s what you want.”

Eren took a step back, baffled. “T-that’s not—”

“Look, Brat.” Tired with the conversation, Levi massaged the bridge of his nose. “You said you’ll protect her, right?”

Eren regained his composure. “With my life, Sir.”

“Then be her knight.” 

Stunned, Eren asked, “Am I allowed to do that? No, can I?”

“Usually, no. But the King has taken quite a liking on you.”

“T-the King?” 

Levi fell quiet. His mind drifted to the conversation he had with your father, Erwin Smith, a couple of days ago.

“Levi.”

“Yes?”

“That boy who’s been following her around,” Erwin said as he leaned over the balcony, watching you play around in the garden that was spreading below him. “What’s his name?” 

Levi stepped forward, following his gaze. “Eren.”

“His last name?”

Levi sneaked a glance, taking a few seconds before he timidly responded with, “Kruger.”

“Eren Kruger,” Erwin repeated, a little smile tugging on his lips when he saw you covering your laughter with your hand at the sight of Eren groaning in pain. He was trying to feed a little pigeon a few grains of rice when the bird suddenly pecked at his finger. “I haven’t seen my daughter look that happy in years. Not since her mother passed away.”

“Yes, she’s quite fond of him.”

“And he’s a servant?”

“Yes.”

“Seems like he can be something more. What do you think of making him your squire?”

“Not sure if that’s a great idea. We know nothing about the boy. We don’t know his intentions.”

“Then the more reason why you should take him with you.” Erwin grinned, showcasing his pearly teeth. “It’s easier to keep your eyes on him when he becomes your student.”

Levi flatly stared back. “And who’s gonna protect you while I’m busy training him?”

“We’re living in a peaceful time, Levi. And I have more than enough Kingsguards around me.” The King chuckled at the way his bodyguard was scowling rudely at him. “Right now, my daughter’s happiness should be your top priority. And if that boy is the one who makes her feel that way, then keep him close. If he ends up hurting her, you know what to do.” 

Levi brought back his glare to the boy. “King Erwin wants me to train you as a knight as if I had nothing better to do. But an order is an order. It won’t be easy for you, and you have to prove that you’re worthy of being by her side. If I catch you slacking off for one second, you’ll go back to being a servant, cleaning rat’s piss in your spare time.”

“Yes, Sir!” Eren jumped back to his feet, his eyes gleaming passionately. “In any way you want me, I’ll prove it to you.”

Levi took a moment to take a detailed look at his expression. He didn’t trust him, not in the slightest, but he could see the fire in his eyes as well as the determination in his voice. He decided he would give him a chance.

“Then we’ll begin our training tomorrow before sunrise.”

***

Next Chapter

[engie-ivy]

Minerva isn't sure she can protect Remus Lupin any longer now a student has been injured the night of the full moon. Especially when Walburga Black is demanding repercussions for her son, after what was clearly a Werewolf attack. Sirius Black, however, tells a very different story.

Lupine Lawlessness

“This is outrageous!” Walburga Black immediately rounds on Minerva the moment the woman strides into the Hospital Wing, her voluminous robes billowing behind her.

Minerva notices Mrs Black barely spares her injured son in the bed a glance. She also notices how the boy slightly shrinks in on himself as he hears her voice. Then, Mrs Black is standing in front of her, and all her attention is directed at being on the receiving end of Walburga Black’s fury.

“I knew you and that old fool would be the ruin of this school. It’s one thing that the place is infested with Halfbloods and Mudbloods, but harbouring a Dark Creature?”

“Mrs Black,” Minerva says politely. “I understand this must be very distressing for you as a mother, and I’m very sorry indeed, but we are yet to establish what happened.”

“Do you take me for a fool?” Mrs Black spits. “That type of claw marks, on which Healing Magic has no effect, while yesterday was a full moon? It’s very clear what has attacked him, and that thing had no business being on school grounds.”

Minerva herself has put two and two together as well. It was easier for her, as she’s aware there’s a student infected with Lycanthropy attending Hogwarts. A student who also happens to have been a close friend of Sirius Black.

Oh, she had really thought they were going to pull it off. They had come so far. She had been sceptical at first. A Lycanthrope attending seven years of Hogwarts without any incidents, without anyone finding out? It appeared unlikely, but she had agreed to try. And then she met Remus Lupin, and she had been very glad she did so. The boy was sweet, modest, hardworking and clever, and he deserved to have a proper education, but also to be around peers, make friends, and have fun. Now, when she had really started to believe it was going to be alright, the worst had happened. A student had been attacked.

It’s not difficult to reason out what must’ve happened. Sirius Black must’ve seen his friend disappear into the tunnel below the Whomping Willow, and had decided to go after him, only to end up face-to-face with a full-grown werewolf.

Minerva’s first reaction had been relief. Relief that Sirius Black was going to be okay. Some nasty injuries that would leave some nasty scars, but no permanent damage, which is quite a miracle. It could’ve been much, much worse.

But relief had quickly been replaced with worry. While the headmaster and herself can get in serious trouble for allowing a Lycanthrope in the vicinity of children, her worry was mostly for Remus Lupin. The world is unfairly cruel to Lycanthropes. Graduated from Hogwarts, with his formidable grades and excellent recommendations from his teachers, the boy would’ve at least had a chance, but being expelled from Hogwarts... His only option might be The Werewolf Camps in the mountains, where Lycanthropes go if they have nowhere else to go, which, regrettably, is often. Stories about those camps make your stomach churn, and it’s not a place for a boy like Remus Lupin to be.

Sirius Black must surely know it was Remus Lupin who did this, and he has every right to be angry. School is supposed to be a safe place, not a place where an unsuspecting student can suddenly be mauled by a Werewolf. Minerva doesn’t know if, or how, she can protect Remus Lupin from the consequences.

“The House of Black is a highly esteemed family,” Mrs Black goes on. “A Black being attacked by such an inferior creature without any repercussions would be an insult to our family name. It’s already a great show of disrespect that you even allowed this to happen, and we do not tolerate disrespect.”

“I truly regret the situation,” Minerva says, hoping to sooth the other woman. “At Hogwarts, any student should be safe from any kind of danger-”

“But this was not just any student or any kind of danger,” Mrs Black interrupts. “This was the Noble Blood of Black being spilled by a filthy monster that should be removed from society!”

“Really, Mrs Black, we are yet to determine-”

Once again, Minerva is interrupted, this time by the arrival of a man.

“Lady Black, my apologies for my tardiness, but I came as you requested,” he says, ignoring Minerva in favour of focusing all his attention on Mrs Black. The man is short, with sharp eyes and a pointy face, and he looks at Mrs Black with reverence.

Mrs Black scoffs. “Quit wasting time then and get to work.”

The man starts opening his briefcase, taking out a quill and parchment.

“What is the meaning of this?” Minerva demands. “Who are you? What business do you have here?”

“Mr Hesner is from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,” Mrs Black replies. “And he’s here at my request to make a report of the situation.”

The colour drains from Minerva’s face. Being expelled is bad, but nothing compared to an official Ministry report. If a Lycanthrope is reported to have somehow been involved in an attack on a witch or wizard, the Lycanthrope will get the annotation ‘Feral’ in the Registry. All hopes of ever finding a job or a place to live will be lost. The Lycanthrope will have to report at the Ministry at frequent and irregular times, and any failure to report will lead to the Lycanthrope immediately being locked away. The Lycanthrope will be out on the streets without any money or prospects, and even the smallest transgression will lead to being locked up. Almost every Lycanthrope with the ‘Feral’ annotation will be either locked up, or forced to flee to the mountains within a year. Remus Lupin certainly does not deserve such a fate.

“Is... is that really necessary?” Minerva asks.

“Very necessary indeed,” Mr Hesner replies. “If you had any sense of morality, you would’ve contacted us yourself, Ms McGonagall. Luckily, we could count on Mrs Black to do the right thing,” he says, with a grovelling smile in her direction.

“Can you imagine if that beast would’ve bitten him?” Mrs Black shudders. “What a stain on the family tree that would’ve been, to have a Lycanthrope in the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black!”

To make sure no one will make the mistake of confusing her fear for shame on the Black family name with fear for her son’s well-being, she doesn’t mention that her son might not have survived the bite, or that he would’ve had to live with an extremely painful, chronic condition for the rest of his life. She probably would’ve burnt the boy off the family tree herself, and sent him to go live in the mountains.

“That would’ve been such a waste,” Mr Hesner agrees, before turning to Sirius Black. “Well, young Mr Black, I need an official statement containing your description of the events.”

Sirius Black looks thoughtful for a moment. “I was... attacked. By some kind of creature.”

“Describe the attack please,” Mr Hesner instructs without looking up from his parchment, quill at the ready.

“Oh, the creature was... round.” Mr Hesner’s eyes snap up, but Sirius Black continues. “Like pumpkin-shaped. But huge. Like a huge pumpkin. Only covered in bright yellow feathers. With bulging eyes in between. And two glittering horns on top of its head.”

“You’re treating this like some kind of a joke!” Mr Hesner says accusingly, pointing his quill in Sirius Black’s direction.

“Why, sir,” Sirius Black says, pretending to be shocked. “I protest. I would never!”

“If you can’t be serious...” Mr Hesner says, gritting his teeth.

Sirius Black blinks innocently at him. “Ask anyone, Mr Hesner, and I’m sure they’ll all tell you that I’m always Sirius.”

“I’ve dealt with Magical Creatures for longer than you have lived, boy,” Mr Hesner spits. “And I know such a creature as you described does not exist.”

Sirius Black shrugs. “Who knows what creatures the Forbidden Forest hides?”

“Did the attack meddle with his brain?” Mrs Black demands.

Minerva shakes her head. “Madam Pomfrey has assured me that his mental state is unaltered.”

“So I have to believe he was attacked by a horned ball of yellow feathers?” Mrs Black snarls.

“Who knows what creatures the Forbidden Forrest hides?” Minerva repeats Sirius Black’s exact words. Sirius Black gives her a pleased smile, which she gladly returns.

Mrs Black, on the other hand, gives her a nasty glare, and then switches her attention to Mr Hesner, who shrinks in on himself. “His chest is covered in Werewolf marks the day after a full moon. It’s obvious what happened even without his statement.”

Mr Hesner gulps. “I... I’m sorry, lady Black. I’m not allowed to report an attack without an official statement from the victim. I mean, only if the victim had died I could’ve...” He trails off.

Mrs Black now directs her glare at her son, like she regrets the last isn’t the case. “I’ll make you pay for this.”

Sirius Black becomes even more pale, but he continues to defiantly meet his mother’s gaze.

“I do not tolerate anyone threatening my students,” Minerva speaks.

Mrs Black turns her head to her. “He’s my son. I can do whatever I want when it concerns him.”

Minerva takes a step forward. Her eyes are like stone and her voice is like ice. “Not in my school.”

To her great satisfaction, Mrs Black takes a step back and swallow. She quickly recovers though, and pulls her cloak tighter around herself. She gives Sirius Black a quick glance and hisses “I’ll see you this summer,” before walking out of the room in quick strides, Mr Hesner having to dribble to keep up, her robes billowing behind her in that way only purebloods ever seem to manage.

“Are you quite done?”

Minerva turns around to see Poppy standing behind her, her arms crossed over her chest. “Really, you don’t have to be a professional to know that a recovering patient needs rest, not all this uproar and noise. That goes for you too, Minerva. You might run this school after Albus, but I run the Hospital Wing. Now leave. My patient needs to sleep.”

A few days later, Minerva makes her way over to the Hospital Wing. Sirius Black has had some days to recover, and luckily, his recovery is going well. She hopes he has also been able to process everything that happened.

A difficult conversation still needs to be had.

She’s immensely glad Sirius Black hadn’t wanted to report Remus Lupin at the Ministry, but still, he could’ve been killed, and she can’t imagine he’ll be okay with there being no repercussions at all. She thinks she might be able to talk him out of demanding Remus Lupin to be expelled, and in the best case scenario, she can convince him to keep it quiet.

It’s not that she thinks Sirius Black is in any way cruel or anything like his family, not at all. She has a very high opinion of the boy. It’s just that Lycanthropy prejudice is very strong throughout the Wizarding World. Even the best person has some negative thoughts regarding Werewolves. The sentiment is especially strong among the pureblood community, and Sirius was raised with their norms and values. Regardless, she can’t imagine anyone would be okay with finding out a person they thought they knew is a Lycanthrope. Remus Lupin will definitely have to move out of the boys’ dormitory, maybe even to a private room. No one would be willing to keep sharing a dorm with someone that tried to kill them. Maybe she can-

Minerva stops in her tracks as she reaches the Hospital Wing, all thoughts of appeasing Sirius Black disappearing from her head.

Sirius Black isn’t alone. Remus Lupin is with him. Like actually with him on the bed. Remus Lupin is curled up at Sirius Black’s side, his hands gripping Sirius Black’s robes and his head resting on Sirius Black’s chest. Sirius Black has one arm firmly wrapped around Remus Lupin, and with his other hand he’s gently threading his fingers through Remus Lupin’s hair. The boys haven’t noticed her presence.

“I am so, so, so sorry,” Remus says, and probably not for the first time.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I did it.”

“You can’t control it.”

“I could’ve stayed away from you,” Remus argues. “I can control that. A filthy monster that should be removed from society.”

Sirius huffs. “That’s just a bunch of pureblood bollocks only stuck-up twats with half a brain still living in the Middle Ages actually believe.”

“Your mother thinks so.”

“I rest my case.”

Remus chuckles and presses his face closer to Sirius’ chest. “I can barely believe you’re real. I don’t deserve you.”

“Moony,” Sirius says with a sigh. “I told you, The Wolf wasn’t even trying to hurt The Dog. You weren’t feral! The Wolf wanted to play, and didn’t know his own strength, and kind of forgot dogs aren’t as strong as Werewolves. Even transformed, you never meant to hurt me.”

The Dog? An absurd thought enters Minerva’s mind, a thought that surely sheds a different light on what may have happened. Absurd for sure, but also... plausible? And if anyone can do it...

No. Minerva firmly pushes the thought away. It might be true, or it might not be. Either way, she doesn’t need to know. After all, what you don’t know, you can’t report to The Ministry.

“And even if The Wolf fancied himself some Padfoot for breakfast,” Sirius continues. “I still wouldn’t have blamed you. It’s not you.”

“You’re going to have a scars for the rest of your life,” Remus murmurs against Sirius’ chest.

Sirius gently tilts his head up. “Then it’s a good thing I think scars are sexy,” he says with a wink, making Minerva wonder whether it might be more than just close friendship she’s looking at.

A faint blush spreads across Remus’ cheeks, and he slightly shakes his head. “You can’t accept my apologies that easily.”

“Oh no, Moony. Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Sirius says, tapping his finger fondly against Remus’ nose, which again makes Minerva question their level of intimacy. “I have, in fact, not accepted your apologies, as I refuse to accept an apology for something someone could’ve done nothing about.”

Remus scrunches up his nose. “You’re stubborn as a mule.”

Sirius chuckles. “I could teach mules in stubbornness. But if you insist on making it up to me, I suppose you can help me win the bet.”

“The bet?”

“I’ve made a bet with Prongs that I can make at least half of the Gryffindors believe I was attacked by a pumpkin-shaped yellow feather ball, while Prongs says I won’t even make ten.”

Remus shakes his head. “You’re an idiot,” he says, though it sounds fond.

Sirius grins. “But you love me.”

Remus leans forward and presses a kiss against Sirius’ lips, making Minerva blink, but confirming her doubt. There must be something more between those boys for sure.

Remus pulls back, but gently rests his forehead against Sirius’. “Merlin, I do love you, Sirius Black.”

“I love you too, Remus Lupin.”

Minerva smiles to herself. There’s no need to worry after all. If one thing is stronger than prejudice, it’s love.

[b612sunsets]

Let’s analyze the preview of episode 15 a bit. Take most of what I will say with a grain of salt. If it was that simple to predict things, there wouldn’t exist plot twists in a kdrama of this genre. Most of it is my wishful thinking bc I’m Yohan biased. He could turn out to be completely evil even if I don’t see it and I’ll have to accept my fate.

Here’s the synopsis: “with Gaon's revelation, Jookchang's trial is postponed. Although he believes he is doing the right thing, for some reasons there's something bothering Gaon's mind. On the other hand, Yohan who is again hurt by someone he's come to believe, is now acting unlike his usual self. On another hand, after the postponement of Jookchang's trial, the directors of the Foundation move forward & even start to plan to get rid of Seonah... Will Seonah be able to win in this lonely fight against the Foundation Directors?”

This will be in the start of the episode after the failed trial:

This part will probably be in the middle or end of the episode, look at Gaon’s clothes. It’s daytime and he’s well kept. He got a tip from Jungho and encountered or not Sunah or she was just talking with a different person. Jungho is so sus and annoying. Why he had Soohyun’s notes? And why was Soohyun all smiles when meeting Gaon next to Yohan if she really found something bad about Yohan and wanted to tell Gaon before dying?

Gaon will see the Joseph guy or Jukchang. Then someone will die (my guess is Joseph? Idk, seems like a young man), Gaon tries to make a call before or after finding the body, I think before bc he looks okay and he’s not crying yet but he’s still in the same red lights, he will think he “saw it clearly” (more like judging things on what you see again, love) and blame Yohan for whatever reason he got manipulated into believing:

He will contemplate killing Yohan that same day after everything happens and having the audacity to do it while still staying in Yohan’s house or having the free will to come and go as he pleases. After trying to betray him, Yohan is too effing fond of this boy for allowing him to get away with that. It needs a limit in this situation, your hubby isn’t that sane at the moment nor completely on your side. Gaon is using the same clothes, but a little more disheveled, there’s still light outside (or its night but there’s a light outside the window):

Yohan holds the knife in his hand like Soohyun (the symbolism, yes we know Yohan is Gaon’s new and true love), we can see more than five fingers on it. He was calmly reading a book when he stopped Gaon’s attempt of murder. Gaon didn’t do it with the man that was worse than Yohan responsible for killing his parents and many other awful things until the very end without regretting it, but as soon as Soohyun is gone and there’s a “plausible” reason to kill Yohan, he goes for it? Kill the murderer electrocuted? I mean, it’s too radical on national TV where kids can watch too. But his reasoning was “Nah, Soohyun would hate that, but if it’s me killing Yohan, it’s okay. She would love it bc she didn’t like her love rival anyways”. Why are they like this? They only want to follow the law and do what is right if it’s for their own advantage. I hate hypocrisy. I love you son, but get your facts and logic straight.

Yohan says Gaon would regret it for the rest of his life. He broke their promise of never attacking Yohan again, on top of betraying him. Like Judas after betraying Jesus and having him killed:

Then Yohan’s quiet demeanor is gone and he shouts about Gaon meeting Joseph. I’m leaning towards my theory that Joseph is the key for Yohan to win his revenge and prove publicily at the right time what really happened at that fire, he was trying to keep Joseph safe and hidden, but bc of Gaon and Soohyun’s meddling, other people found out about him (the president, Sunah, Jungho to name a few) and it could have lead to Joseph getting killed. Let me guess, Gaon calmed down a little and told (more like accused after assuming) Yohan about it only after acting on impulse and the mess was already made (same old sh*t but a different day. Like when Gaon thought Yohan was the one that attacked Soohyun and Yohan warned him to never let it happen again, tsk tsk). So that’s Yohan losing his only hope (for now) of solving all this:

I might be completely wrong as I have been before or not. Let’s see. I don’t want to analyze much or expect anything from now on, I’ll just go with the flow, I’m accepting any crumbles thrown my way.

It’s so crazy how Yohan was ready to fight the world, risk everything and do anything as long as he had Gaon and Elijah, he trusted Gaon and let him in, enough to put him in the same place of importance as Elijah. But Gaon is so far from doing the same after all the development their relationship seemed to be having. All it took was some manipulation for Gaon to change so drastically. He should value the people he still has in his life that love him, instead of pushing them away and hurting them like that.

But I can put myself in his place and understand just a little bit. It’s easy for me to say bc I’m a third person watching everything, even what they don’t see. So I can’t hate Gaon or put the full blame on him. I think I never will unless he actually ended up killing Yohan with his foolishness. I’m still on the team lawful family and want to see the three of them alive and happy. I have faith in you Gaon, you’re our only and final hope. You can give or take it away from us.

[lovehotelreservation]

(Re)spite

Summary: Hathe and Emet-Selch needed a break.

For Hathe, it was to preserve her energy and ease her nerves before ascending The Ladder for the daunting task of putting an end of Vauthry.

As for Emet-Selch?

He just needed for the glint of that painfully familiar shard to stop tormenting him so.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: WoL!OC/Emet-Selch

Continuation to “Mea Culpa”

BEEP BEEP SAD GRANDPA SEXINGZ ON THE WAY !!!

THANKS SO MUCH TO MY LOVELY COMMISSIONER FOR THIS BLESSEDLY ANGSTY OPPORTUNITY!!!

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

It just wasn’t the same.

There was a time when Emet-Selch set his eyes upon the Warrior of Light as something more than just a pawn in his plan, more than a fascinating subject in his observation of the mortals within the First.

An era long lost, but one he yearned so dearly to return to--it was during those blessed bygone days when he mockingly called out to the savior of the realm as not “hero”, but Azem.

As much as he wanted to deny it, he preferred truth over delusion.

The shard of his beloved Azem was here, lingering within the possession of the Warrior of Light.

Hathe.

But now, as he found himself lingering around the proximity of The Ladder in the mortals’ ongoing efforts to thwart Vauthry’s plans while the Kholusian sun mercilessly bore down upon him, his eyes were not softened with affection as he gazed towards her, but fixed in a scrutinizing stare.

It just wasn’t the same.

Hathe’s aether.

Corrupted cracks had since formed during her adventures in the First, all because of her misplaced faith in the Crystal Exarch.

Honestly, for all the glares and huffs that he received from her, it truly was baffling that she did not do the same to The Crystarium’s leader.

His lips were beginning to form a pout from this biased treatment.

“How are you not boiling in that thing?”

But then his lips curled into a grin as his gaze shifted to the eyes of the inquiring voice.

Lounging beneath the shade of one of the old workshops was Hathe, who retreated to this distant corner of The Ladder to preserve her energy before the ascent up to Mt. Gulg while the other Scions and the Eulmorans worked together to get the Talos running once again.

Clicking his tongue in a tsk, Emet-Selch threw his arms open wide in overexaggerated faux shock as he remarked, “My, my, hero--how brazen of you.” 

He approached where she sat in a saunter, crossing between the distinct line on the pavement to where the blazing sunlight treaded no further into the cool shade as he continued, his voice donning a playful innocence, “Did you wish for me to strip for you so badly?” Tilting his head, he pressed a thoughtful finger against his cheek with a smirk as he purred, “Have you missed my warmth in your bed that much?”

A roll of her eye and a sigh out of her painted lips.

“I should have just stayed quiet and enjoyed the peace.” Shaking her head, her arms folded over her chest as she reclined further back against the wall. Her eyes shut, hoping he would take this as cue to leave her alone.

But the sudden presence that appeared right by her side entailed otherwise.

As did him crouching down, a silent affirmation of his intentions to stay.

Not even the sensation of gloved fingertips cradling her chin had her look towards him, let alone fluttering her eyelid open to perceive his existence.

“Oh come now, you act like my presence hasn’t enriched your life for the better--”

He drew closer to her.

“--truly, wouldn’t you prefer I over the Exarch?”

The heat of his breath fanning over her ear never failed to make her shudder, a sensation that she was ever reluctant to enjoy.

She had a feeling as to where this was going. Though her better judgment would have her shoo him away before matters progressed further--especially given their relatively close proximity to the rest of the Scions and the others--it was either indulging in pleasure or quietly stew in thought over both the task of sending Vauthry crashing down while dealing with the Light that was poisoning her aether.

But that didn’t mean she was going to be that compliant with the man who was meant to be her nemesis.

And thus her eye opened, the sight of which made him wish she didn’t have to keep that eyepatch of hers on.

Azem’s eyes were among the features he cherished most about her after all.

But as ever the contrast between his lost love to the fragmented soul who stood before him, she huffed in defiance, “I’d prefer you let me relax before I pick up the pieces of your meddling.”

Her tone was soft, but the irritation laced around each word was as prickly as could be.

Emet-Selch only smirked in response.

“Meddling I object to, but letting you relax--” His thumb traced over her lips, caring little for the smudge of rouge that stained the whites of his glove--if anything, he relished it.

Continuing on, he kept her right in his sights as he tsked haughtily, “--honestly, by now you should know to be more direct with me on with your desires, hero.” 

The distance separating them closed further as he drew his thumb away, eliminating the space between his face and hers until their lips were barely an ilm apart as he mused, “Has anything else even come close to having that beautifully battleworn body of yours be at ease like my touch?”

She expected a kiss next.

But ever full of surprises, Emet-Selch only smirked as he teased, “Save for those ruffians who have felt the might of a keg of ale smashed upon their heads during those bratty youthful days of yours, of course.”

Hathe’s eye narrowed with sheer annoyance. “Gods, you really need to shut up.”

And it was with those huffed words that her hands cupped his face as she brought his lips to hers in a kiss.

A kiss for distraction.

Hathe and the tumultuous road that she was due to tread any moment now.

Emet-Selch and a yearning that he never could bring himself to ever relinquish in the days that have passed.

As delightful as it was to indulge in the gorgeously toned physique of the renowned hero during their many trysts in the nights since passed in her personal suite, it was still an utterly peculiar experience for his fingers to roam over physical familiarity with a soul that thought him to be a stranger, an enemy.

Ever more the thorns that had long formed around his heart embedded further and further.

In the end, she was just to be a vessel to enact his life’s work, his purpose to continue and carry on the will of his people.

And yet, he still found himself being so attentive, doting even, to Hathe’s pleasure as he shifted her clothes around--being mindful to not rip, else risk being punched back to The Source as she warned--, his lips kissing over her breasts, his tongue skillfully lapping over her nipples while his gloved fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her pants, seeking to press and caress over her panties.

A warrior like her could handle some roughhousing, as he would often tease while fucking her into the mattress during his numerous late night visits to The Pendants.

But here, in this moment, hidden away in the shade, while she was more eager to peel off his robe, he was more in mind to take his time with her.

Bodies intertwined, an affair meant to exist only in the shadows.

She lied beneath him upon the ground while he eased his cock in and out of her core. Far from pounding but nowhere near delicate, he pumped himself at a lively pace. More kisses than bites were pressed onto her neck, one hand clasped around her waist while the fingers of the other slipped between their bodies to rub slow--and dare he say sweet?--circles against her clit.

It just wasn’t the same.

“What’s with the tenderness?” Hathe murmured breathlessly, her back arching as she continued to find her senses stimulated all the more. Though there was a teasing inflection to her voice, he could hear a layer of pure curiosity at its foundation.

The question genuinely caused Emet-Selch to halt in place.

Even if just for a few seconds.

Only before he snorted, his lips curling into a smirk. “You will never see Ascians as capable of love, do you, hero? Since you insist--”

His hands reinforced their grip on her waist, squeezing tight as he quickened the pace of his thrusts.

She was right, however.

Tenderness, affection, love--those were reserved for Azem.

A shallow copy of the woman he loved most was in no need of such pure and precious joys, especially when she was fated to become a vessel for his plans.

The leading role of his grand theatrical production was to take her place in the showstopping climax of the show, and he was ever so delighted to have front row seats.

And yet, his mouth still sought out to kiss hers nonetheless.

A kiss longing for someone he couldn’t have anymore.

A kiss affectionate for someone he needed for greater purposes.

But as they rode out their orgasms, soon falling into one another in a pleasured heap, he still embraced her close to his chest with a grip that did not want to let go in the slightest, his face hiding into her neck.

So familiar and so far at the same time.

It just wasn’t the same and never would things return to how they would and should have been in a kinder life.

[the28thofseptemberr]

helloooo!! i didn't do a fic rec last month because i was so busy with my exams and barely had time to read, so this month's post is going to comprise of mostly fics i've read in june but also some i've read in may.

thank you to all of the incredible writers, please go support them!! and remember to read all of the tags and possible warnings before reading the fic! here is the list of fics (mostly below the cut):

read

•° — led by your beating heart by @missandrogyny 29.4k | E | famous harry/non-famous louis

Nick leans over. "Oh," he says, his voice smug. "Who is that?"

Harry just blinks at his phone. "Um," he manages to stammer out.

"Who's that, Harry?" Nick asks again, but this time he raises his eyebrows and smirks. Harry knows Nick is just teasing, and that he's not really looking for new Harry Styles gossip, but, um. He might have found something. Accidentally.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is another 'um'. He really needs to work on translating his thoughts into words. But then it probably wouldn't be any help right now, would it? His mind is as blank as a newly erased etch-a-sketch.

"Oh," Nick says again, this time gleefully, seemingly having picked up on Harry's distress. "Looks like we've got a story here! Are you going to call or delete her number?"

Her number. So Nick thinks it's a girl. Well, Harry can't blame him: 'Lou' is kind of an androgynous nickname. His stylist's name is Lou.

But this Lou, well, Louis, he's kind of, really, really not a girl. He's really pretty though, which, is something.

(Or: AU where Harry's in One Direction, Louis isn't, and they reconnect over a game of 'Call or Delete'.)

note: this was so funny and cute and well written, and everyone was characterized so perfectly!! i adored the chemistry between louis and harry, this fic kept me smiling for the whole time while i was reading <3

•° — sounds like love to me by @neondiamond 14.6k | G | kid fic

“Do you want to hear the heartbeat?”

Louis watches as Harry’s face falls with the realization that this is one of those things he won’t be able to experience. For a second, Louis considers saying no, to show Harry they’re truly on the same boat through all of this. But he nods in the end, reaching over for Harry’s hand as the doctor flips a switch. Noise fills the room then, and it takes a few seconds for the sound to become clear enough for Louis to make out the baby’s fast heartbeat.

“It’s really fast,” he voices his thoughts out loud as he uses his thumb to tap against the back of Harry’s hand, replicating the rapid rhythm of the baby’s heartbeat. It takes the younger man a little while to figure out what Louis’ doing, but a huge grin breaks out on his face as soon as he does.

“Is that them?” He signs with the other hand, his own eyes starting to tear up when Louis nods.

OR: Harry is deaf, Louis is pregnant. They figure it out.

note: i'm not a fan of mpreg or kid fics in general, but i stumbled across the fic post for this on my dash and the summary sounded really intriguing to me, so i had a go at reading and it did not disappoint!! it was really sweet and fluffy but also so touching and heartbreaking in some parts. plus, i really enjoyed how harry and louis worked together and supported each other.

•° — this restless dream by @afirethatcannotdie 5.6k | NR | first meetings

“Hiii, I called earlier about the dogs?” he asks, taking a few steps closer to the desk where Louis is standing. He’s taller than Louis, with a dimple when he smiles and bright green eyes. There's a cute eagerness about his whole presence. “Do you have any puppies?” He’s a bit like a puppy himself, actually.

AU. Louis works at an animal shelter and Harry wants a puppy. Things don't go quite according to plan.

note: this was so so adorable and soft, especially since i have a soft spot for h&l with pets. i also have a soft spot for h&l being oblivious lovesick idiots and this was perfect!!

•° — all i see is you, lately by @runaway-train-works 2k | G | first meetings

Harry noticed him for the first time three months ago. He couldn’t not, really, what with the man being so pretty and all, and Harry remembers it well because it was three days before his birthday and he had joked to himself that seeing someone so gorgeous for three days on the trot must be an early present from the Gods.

Or

The one where Harry has a crush on a fellow commuter.

note: this one was quite short but so sweet and perfect and lovely!!

•° — the things i'd do to wake up next to you by orphan_account 36.1k | M | amnesia fic

AU. Harry wakes up to a pregnant Louis Tomlinson and a wedding band on his finger.

note: this fic was incredible, i'm always up for an amnesia fic and this one was heart-breaking and realistic but also sweet and fluffy as well :)

•° — this glorious mess by theweightofmywords 14.2k | M | post-breakup

His head lolls to the side, and his eyes float open to focus on what used to be his bedside table.

It’s empty now, devoid of the framed photo of the two of them. And Louis knows that he has no right to feel hurt, but somehow, this only confirms what this really is.

“This is the last time,” he cries, his voice breaking both from pleasure and pain.

“I know, baby,” Harry breathes, burying his face in Louis neck.

note: this is the third mpreg-centric fic i've read this month and... i don't even like mpreg?? but god the premise of this fic intrigued me so much, and it was lovely and emotional and beautifully written.

•° — BLAH BLAH BLAH there's a moment you know (you're f*cked) by @mercurial-madhouse 3.2k | M | spy au

Anyone impulsive enough to betray their country is either foolish or overly-confident. Louis’s too cunning for the former. So his inflated ego tips precariously close to the edge between pride and hubris. In sum: He may be an expert, (as proven by the .32-cal Beretta Alleycat Harry found strapped to his back) but ex-agent Louis Tomlinson will explode like a busted bullet misfiring in a broken gunbarrel if Harry can find his trigger.

___

Or, the spy AU in which Harry thinks he's prepared to meet Louis only to find he's not.

note: the banter and tension in this fic was so good and so fun!! i need moreee

•° — every lonely place by @ham-palpert 38k | E | time travel/alternate lives fic

Facing the fact that he’s been prioritizing his career over his relationship, Harry proposes to his longtime boyfriend Louis on a whim. But when yet another work emergency takes precedence over their plans, Louis decides he’s had enough. Harry goes to bed drunk and alone, and when he wakes, he finds himself in an entirely different world. Over and over again, Harry visits a lifetime he’s once lived, across time and dimensions. And wherever there’s a Harry Styles, there’s a Louis Tomlinson.

note: this was such a unique fic! and such an emotional one too, love the message it sends and the character arc and development was so good

•° — tick-tock by bubblegumclouds 6k | G | soulmate au

When Louis was born to Jay Tomlinson with a tiny 2 years on his clock, it starts the most beautiful love story. Even if things are missed, fate finds a way to make it work.

note: this was just so, so cute and fluffy and sweet! i loved it

•° — baby baby, you're a caramel macchiato by @missandrogyny 3.2k | T | coffee shop au

So, yeah, Harry doesn't think it's that far of a stretch to call himself a good barista. There are some particularly bad ones, and some particularly good ones, and, with his work ethic, his skill, and his charm, he'd probably be lumped in with the latter group.

note: this was so lovely, and i especially really loved the little section talking about louis' name and how it suits him!

re-read

•° — one shines brighter by @afirethatcannotdie 11.8k | T | wedding fic

“Hi, baby. You doing anything fun today?” Harry shrugs. “Dunno. Thought I’d see how I was feeling before making any plans.” “You wanna get married?” Louis asks. Harry’s face breaks into a smile, and he nods. Louis’ lips are just brushing Harry’s when Gemma appears in the hallway. “You two are in so much trouble.” Harry's wedding was never supposed to be the happiest day of his life. No, that was going to be the day after, when he finally got to start his marriage. Unfortunately his family (and Louis) have other ideas.

Featuring a pair of moms who only want the best for their kids, meddling sisters with too much time on their hands, and a groom who gets caught up in the fairytale.

note: i adore this fic!! it's so so so adorable and so soft and well written, and you can feel how in love h&l are with each other. so so good!

my own fics

•° — under your bed in new york 33.4k | T | exes to lovers

"We know you're still in love with Harry."

Louis' nostrils flared up. "I'm not—"

"Louis."

"I'm not!"

there are many things louis likes to tell himself. we broke up for a reason. it's been so many years. and of course, the classic: i’ve definitely moved on from him. but when he suddenly finds harry back in his life after three years, louis realizes he might be a little less moved on than he thought.

au; spilling coffee onto an ex, being set up on dates, and having a nosy puppy might be all louis needs to find love again

note: i didn't actually write or publish this one this month, but i did edit, revamp and make a fic post for it this month so i thought i'd put it in here anyway. reblog the fic post here!

[kumoriyami-xiuzhen]

Hakuoki SSL Store Bonus Drama CD 《Their Youth~ Student Council Helper Episode～》

....Why are people subscribing to me on youtube? like i get that people subscribe for the otome stuff i translate and subtitle (which i only really do so that i can have a copy of it for myself), but i don’t really think that people should be subscribing if they expect more Gokushufudou content since I don’t have anything else that I can or want to translate for that series....

anyway, this is my translation of the 薄桜鬼SSL -sweet school life- いまじんWEBショップ特典ドラマCD「彼らの青春 ～生徒会助っ人編～」 drama. I was only able to obtain the audio for this from a certain site that doesn’t allow for sharing... so I am unable to put anything else out for this... unless someone shares the audio and an image with the cd and their username or w/e on it (alternatively, if it shows up on bilibili or something then i’ll be able to use that), though I will edit it when i make my own subtitles for this. lol. sorry but not sorry?

anyway, enjoy~  image used is from suruga-ya.

Hakuoki SSL Store Bonus Drama CD 《Their Youth~ Student Council Helper Episode～》

Translation by KumoriYami

Yamzaki: The private school, Hakuo Gakuen. The school we attend, based on the school principal, Kondou-sensei's, intentions, we adhere to his educational policy of "becoming warriors with indomitable spirit", not just while learning and when participating in club activities, but while also working harder for the community, or so it should be.... but there are always exceptions to everything in the world.

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Hakuoki SSL Store Bonus Drama CD 《Their Youth~ Student Council Helper Episode～》

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(knocks)

Yamazaki: Excuse me, is Hijikata-sensei here?

Hijilata: Oh? It's Yamazaki. What is it?

 Yamazaki: Sanan-sensei asked me to bring these materials over to you. 

Hijikata: So it was like that. Thanks. By the way, Yamazaki....... Do you have a moment right now? 

Yamazaki. yes. I'm not doing anything right now.

Hijikata: In that case, sorry...... can you go to the student council to do something? Today Amagiri and Shiranui both happened to take the take the day off today, and there apparently is insufficient manpower on hand. 

Yamazaki: The student council.......is it......?

 Hijikata: Uh, the average person would react like that... I've already asked several people before asking you, and as soon as they heard "student council," they immediately ran away.

Yamazaki: I can sympathize with those students. because I am not really good at dealing with the student council president. 

 Hijikata: When it comes to that guy, I believe that if you searched the entire world, that you wouldn't find many people good at dealing with him. Nothing can be done though, I'll go help this time...

Yamazaki: Wha...!? How can Hijikata-sensei personally attend to this matter! In that case, I'll go help the student council!

Hijikata: Can you? To be frank, this is a chore.

Yamazaki: A gentleman's word is his bond!

 Hijikata: Then I'll leave it to you.... But if something goes wrong, you need to immediately report to me. 

Yamazaki: Yes! I'll be going to the student council room now!

(Yamazaki leaves)

Hijikata; Yamazaki is too straightforward... I hope he doesn't overdo it...

(student council room)

Yamazaki: (knocks on door) Excuse me. I'm the second year, Yamazaki. Hijikata-sensei entrusted me to help you.

Kazama: By Hijikata? Che, he's meddling into other people's business/can't mind his own business. He most likely coaxed you into helping, but whatever the case, if you think you can help, I will provide you this opportunity.

 Yamazaki: (Obviously he's in the position of receiving a favour, but why he so overbearing/arrogant?!)

Kazama: Did you say something? 

Yamazaki: I didn't say anything! Returning to the topic/Anyway, what can I help you with?

Kazama: here, put these clothes on first. 

Yamazaki:...What's with this collar and Japanese-style school uniform?! Our school's official uniform is a suit/Western-style clothes. 

Kazama: This uniform is of the same style as Amagiri's uniform. Although it's only temporary, you'll need it to wear this is you are to complete the student council's work [gave up rewording all of this].

Yamazaki: Even so! Modifying the uniform goes against the school rules... 

 Kazama: Hey! As student council president, I am saying that there are no problems! I am the school rules! 

Yamazaki: (How did such a person become the Student Council president?)

 Kazama: Good, now that you understand, hurry up and change clothes in the dressing room, then get to work.

Yamazaki: ( No other choice but to resign myself.... [tl uses an idiom that can mean "submit to hte will of the heavens," "resign (oneself to fate)," or to "leave it to luck"]) Understood!

(door opens)

Hijikata: Oi, Kazama! you there?

Kazama: It turns out it was Hijikata. What brings you here? If you want to leave please turn right and head straight.

Hijikata: Someone just came in, why are you already trying to chase them away! I was just worried about Yamazaki, so I came to check on him. 

Kazama: Yes. Then if you're done, hurry up and leave.

Hijikata: You bastard.... Anyway, where is Yamazaki?! I don't see him...

(door opens)

Yamazaki: Kazama-senpai, excuse me. I've finished changing clothes...

Hijikata:……Yamazaki?!

Kazama: Hrm. As expected, people rely on clothes [clothes do make the man? or clothes bring out a person? can't exactly think of an equivalent right now tho]. Such an appearance is barely passable. 

Hijikata: Wait a moment! What's with that strange uniform?!

Kazama: This is a custom-made uniform made for the student council. Since he's helping the student council, isn't it common sense to dress like this?

Hijikata: What common sense! That clearly violates the school rules... 

 Yamzaki: It's fine, Hijikata-sensei... 

Hijikata: Nn?

Yamazaki: I'll think of this as a a work uniform! Anyway, Kazama-senpai, about the content of that work...

Kazama: Che, don't tell me that you aren't able to do unless you receive orders from me? It's such a waste that you are unable to understand your superior's mind, and require someone to explain everything to you so that you can act. 

Yamazaki:...!!

Hijikata: I'm afraid that if you searched the entire world, the only person who would be able to understand your mind, would be Amagiri?!

Kazama: No choice then. I shall mercifully/gracefully provide instructions to those that are stupid. There will be a meeting to pay for club activities/budget meeting for all of the clubs tomorrow. However, only a handful of reports have been submitted, and what has been isn't sufficient to be used as materials/ a reference to approve of the clubs' expenses. In other words, you should go investigate for me to see if all of the club activities are actually being held. 

Yamazaki: Understood! Which clubs [tl is for "department] do I need to investigate?

Kazama: Needless to say, it's all the clubs within Hakuo Gakuen. The deadline is today.

Hijikata: Don't be so forceful [ridiculous!]!! Have you even thought about how many clubs there are at this school?!

Kazama: Amagiri and Shiranui would complete this within an hour, which this trivial matter cannot be considered a problem. If this can't be done, I won't force it. This only proves to me that you do not have a good eye for talent from the help you recommended to me, Hijikata [gave up rewording after 8 times].

Yamazaki:...I understand. I will certainly be able to investigate all of the clubs today!

Kazama: When the moment comes, don't go back on your word. This is a list of all the clubs at Hakuo Gakuen. 

 Yamazaki: The total number of clubs at Hakuo Gakuen is... 108?!

----------

(footsteps)

 HIjikata: Ah... it's been a while since Yamazaki darted out of the student council room... Is he really okay? I hope he didn't get involved in anything strange...

 Yamazaki: L-Let go of me! I, I hate this sort of thing!! 

Hijikata: Nn? 

 Yamazaki: Even if you say that you can't understand the specifics of this club without personally trying it, I don't want to do this...!!! Let go of me!!!

Hijikata; That voice just now.... Yamazaki? (runs over) Oi! Yamazaki!

---------

(bouncing sound [haven't listened to this drama in a while so this might not be accurate, tho the tl does say bouncing])

???: Ah....... Hijikata-sensei......

Hijikata: Oi! What's with this huge stuffed animal?!

Yamazaki: It's me! Yamazaki!

Hijikata: A-ah..... nn, nn.... I, I can hear your voice..... but, but what I hear doesn't sound like the Yamazaki I recognize...! 

Yamazaki: That's because of this [i think?]! I am the genuine Yamazaki! I'm just wearing this costume! Ah... sorry to trouble you, but can you please help me pull the back zipper down?

 Hijikata: Ye-Yeah...

Yamazaki: Hah... finally escaped from that...!

Hijikata: You... why were you dressed like that?! 

Yamazaki: Because.... when I went to the costume club, their members said they just finished these clothes, and that I had to try it on....

Hijikata:....Those animal overalls are part of a costume?

Yamazaki: No matter what happens, I never want to come back to the costume club!! But... normally I wouldn't have such a chance, and after seeing it with my own eyes, I now know that there are many clubs at our school.

Hijikata: That's because when Kondou-san was thinking about club establishment, he said to respect the individuality of the students. As long as the activities' content and purpose are clearly stated, provided that they aren't bad, and if the number of club members reaches a certain level, any club can be established.

Yamazaki: I think, by using the costume club as an example, there are actually quite a lot of informal clubs... 

Hijikata: It seems that it will be necessary to re-examine those clubs in the future.... Anyway, which club are you going to next?

Yamazaki: The mountaineering club. Judging from the club's name, the content of the activities should be straightforward. To be honest, I feel relieved. 

 Hijikata: No, that club... 

Yamazaki: Then, I'll be going there as fast as I can. I'll be taking my leave first! 

(Yamazaki leaves)

Hijikata: Eh... I remember they were supposed to go climbing today.... Going back to their activities, isn't mountaineering difficult [tl for mountaineering can be interpreted as "climbing," "to climb a mountain," and "mountaineering."]?!

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

 Yamazaki: (All sorts of problems kept on occurring after that during the inspection. The drama club was infected with an influenza virus [no idea how else to reword that right now], and all of their members were sick so I was unable to investigate their activities in detail; I wasted time at the kendo club because of Okita-kun's pranks; the mime club didn't speak during their activities, which resulted in even the most basic communication not being achievable... Will it really be possible for me to inspect all of the clubs today?)

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

(knocking)

 Hijikata: Oi, Kazama! I'm coming in. 

Kazama: Hijikata. It's really rude for someone to enter without being given my permission. 

Hijikata: Didn't I knock and say greetings in advance? It's almost the end of the school day, is Yamazaki back yet?

 Kazama: Not yet. I thought he was a bit capable, but I apparently underestimated him. 

Hijikata: I believe in him. Although he has a tendency to overdo things and often fails to get the key points, once he makes up his mind, he will surely be able to complete any task.

Kazama: Hrm~ that's the same as someone else/you're two peas in a pod. That being the case, let's bet. 

Hijikata: I'm not interested in betting with students. But if we were betting, I'd bet that Yamazaki will be able to accomplish his task. 

Kazama: Then I will bet that he did everything in vain/will be useless. 

HIjikata: I won't feel sorry for you if you lose. 

Kazama: Hmph. Don't steal my words. Look at the time, the school bell will be ringing soon. 

(Running then a door opens)

 Yamazaki: (gasping) Inspections on the club activities... it's all done.... hah....

Hijikata: That's great! Well done, Yamazaki!

Kazama: Che......

 Yamazaki: Hu..... Thank..... you..... (collapses)

 Hijikata: Oi oi!! Are you okay?! 

 Yamazaki: I..... I'm..... fine......

Kazama: Really, I'm blaming you for messing up all of the materials.... Nn?

Hijikata: What are those documents?

Kazama: They seem to be reports on the club activities.

Hijikata: Ha?! Didn't Yamazaki write the reports for that?!

 Kazama: Nn. These are all...

Hijiikata:....Oi! That can't be....!!

Kazama: It looks like Amagiri wrote yesterday. But he actually tossed them into the piles of documents of here, which resulted in no one knowing that he had written such reports. 

Yamazaki: What.....!!

Hijikata: That......!!

Kazama: Hmph. It looks like I won, Hijikata. All his efforts turned out to be worthless.

Yamazaki: Ho-How is that possible...!!

Hijikata: You're not feeling even the slightest bit guilty, are you even even speaking as a human?! This is all your student council's fault!!

 Kazama: Hmph. Go and complain to Amagiri.

Hijikata: You need to take responsibility for the lack of supervision! Besides, what the hell were you doing when Yamazaki was running around everywhere complete that task?! If you were doing a good job, you should have been able to notice this!! 

Kazama: Of course I'm working. My job is to complete the ambitious project called "Writing down all of My Wife's 100's Strengths/Virtues/Good Qualities"! These forms took me a week to complete and it is a magnificent written masterpiece! 

Hijikata: You bastard... you were doing something this stupid while Yamazaki was struggling!

 Kazama: What are you barking about? What's more important than this?

Yamazaki: I tore it up to show you————!! [im guessing this is more "i pushed myself" or "I'm going to tear that up." probably the latter]

Kazama: Nn? What do you think? Do you want to look at it? Although your efforts were futile, I will mercifully/graciously acknowledge your actions. Alright, I'll lett you look. But you have have to treat it carefully.

Yamazaki: I'm blaming this for what happened—!!! (tears up Kazama's documents)

Kazama: Stop that! My week of hard work! Hi-Hijikata! Why are you grabbing me?!

Hijikata: You reap what you sow! Obediently accept reality!! 

Kazama: My priceless masterpiece———!!!

~END~

got ME:LE working last weekend... and omg it’s like a walk down memory lane lol. finished the first game though im going to have to do an insanity playthrough for the achievement later. 

[pathofcomet]

'cause all that you are is all that i'll ever need

fandom: bridgerton series / bridgerton tv 

pairing: colin/penelope

summary: 5 times Penelope said ‘I love you’ to one Mr. Bridgerton, and one time it was out loud. (AO3)

There are many ways to fall in love, surely. It’s called a fall for a reason: mainly that it hurts and it comes at the most unnecessary moments and it’s an entirely ungraceful matter. Just as one might fall down the stairs after too many glasses of champagne, or fall unconscious after being punched in the face, or fall because one’s ankle decided to twist most rudely – so do people fall in love in a various of ways.

Benedict Bridgerton swears it was love at first sight, like being struck by lightning. Laying his eyes on his beloved that fateful day, and knowing with insane certainty that he was going to spend the rest of his life by her side. Then Daphne’s murmured admissions, that it’s like a sigh you didn’t know rested in your chest releasing, rush of comfort and certainty when touching the other’s hand. Eloise scoffs at all of this, but Eloise can scoff because she has refused six marriage proposals, while Penelope sighs, because she hasn’t had one caller in a decade of London’s most notorious seasons.

Romantic stories wouldn’t fit with Penelope, she agrees. Her mouth doesn’t really know how to work half the time during social situations, and her dresses are most painfully unfitting. And if those were her only problems, but she is, to put it delicately and kindly, definitely not what seasonal diamonds want in a friend, not what loving mamas wish for their sons and not what men desire in a woman. It stung only the first time around, afterwards it was most expected. So no, Penelope Featherington’s love story is not romantic because she’s not a typically loveable person.

It doesn’t make it any less precious in her heart. When her bonnet flies with the gust of wind, consequently covering one Colin Bridgerton’s face while riding, and consequently having him fall down his horse directly in a fresh puddle of mud, she is mortified, certain that she is about to ruin her life before it even began. But then he laughs – not to mock her, not in jest and not in anger, unlike any of her past experiences with a man’s laughter, especially thrown in her direction. He doesn’t even look angry, not at her anyway.

And Penelope falls, too, even if not quite literally as Colin. She’s not sure how she recognizes it exactly as love – maybe the desperate flutter of her heartbeat against her wrist, or the fact that she can’t quite unglue her eyes away from his face (though that seems like an overall Bridgerton issue). Regardless, the truth and weight of the moment hung deep in her chest. Instead, what she manages to say, between the warm blush and their mothers’ chatter, is just an apology.

“I’m the one who should apologize.”

But she has a meddling mama, and he’s nothing but a young man despairing at such nagging, and despite how much she cares for this first moment, she knows she doesn’t quite yet exist in his life. And then – with her debut, with her growing friendship with Eloise, she suddenly is.

***

“Enjoying the evening, Mrs. Featherington?” Colin asks, having materialized himself near the refreshments table.

Penelope chokes on her drink, her cheeks reddening, the fingertips of her gloves now stained.  She has been sipping at her glass for the best part of an hour now, wondering how much longer she can wait for everyone to get so drunk that they won’t notice her grabbing one of the cakes on the table. The answer is obviously an eternity, for a lady should never eat in mixed company, especially if she is a debutante. But although this is barely her fourth ball this season, Penelope has already learnt the most important lesson of her life: that she is not what others would necessarily call a catch. Just because that is true, however, doesn’t mean she can do as she pleases, no matter how incredibly tasty the chocolate cream might look to her right now.

Colin obviously seems to have no problem with such rules, as he pops a biscuit inside his mouth. This one Bridgerton son is known for his appetite in particular, and social circumstances seem to not make much of a difference to his need. And the amount of food he ingests seems to not make much of a difference on how handsome he is.

Penelope pushes her glass on the table, straightening her back, though she immediately hunches back, aware that she’s wearing one of her mother’s absolutely horrid choices, and hell-bent on making it as unobvious as possible.

“Absolutely entertaining,” she answers, though the enthusiasm in her voice most certainly does not match her words.

“I’d rather agree,” Colin retorts. “I haven’t been this bored since Anthony got drunk and drawled on about the responsibilities of the first son.”

“Mr. Bridgerton!” she says, raising her fan so she can hide her smile behind it.

“Keep it a secret, Mrs. Featherington, would you? The Bridgertons tend to be quite unforgiving about these things.”

She thinks of Eloise and her adorably brilliant tendency to throw a tantrum about every single thing that bothers her about her siblings, whom she loves very, very much at the same time, which only makes her smile even larger. They’re such a lovely family, and with time, they’ll only grow to seem even more so in her eyes.

She nods her head in agreement, meeting his eyes over the edge of her fan. He looks, suddenly, quite proud to have her on his side. From across the ballroom, Eloise spots them: sending a nasty look at Colin, and waving her friend over.

“And please, Colin,” he leans a bit to whisper this to her, as the orchestra starts playing another song. “As it seems we will be seeing each other quite a lot.”

“Then, Colin,” she breathes, the name still foreign in her mouth, the roll of it on her tongue so strange that she’ll test it out many times over, in the darkness of her room long after she’s supposed to be asleep. “You may call me Penelope.”

She tries not to fixate on the sound of her name in his mouth (or his mouth in general, that’d be a good idea as well), and fails immensely, everything Eloise tells her that night flying over her head.

***

Penelope isn’t sure when the habit actually started: serving her tea once a week in the company of the Bridgertons. Of course, the number always changes, depending on the day’s circumstances, but it’s always more lively than her own home, in the most pleasant sense. Even the gossip doesn’t feel as cutting in here, with the warm banter and somewhat friendly threats. Eloise is now entangled in a complicated conversation on the virtues of marriage with her sister Daphne, and they’re sure on two different sides on the topic. Violet Bridgerton, the matriarch, just sighs. She meets Penelope’s eyes over the heads of her children, and smiles in a kindest manner. Eloise just rejected her second marriage proposal, while her best friend is yet to receive even a caller in her drawing room.

She recognizes the smile as the pity it is, and yet even that doesn’t feel as bad in here. Penelope has always taken only what has been given to her and made the best out of it. It’s hard when that is actually nothing, indeed.

“Pen,” Colin greets, draping himself in an armchair close to the side of the sofa where she is seated.

He doesn’t yet know how incredibly appropriate this nickname of his is, which is why Penelope smiles so brightly when she turns towards him. Violet’s attention has already moved towards Hyacinth and George, her youngest children, fighting quite loudly over the same colour that they both want to use right now in their paintings. She fails exactly to notice Daphne’s on them now, maybe out of lack of familiarity with the eldest sister.

Colin hands her a piece of paper, and she raises her eyebrow at him before taking it. He’s immediately replacing it with a piece of cheese from the numerous platters on the table, and that’s how she knows he is, in fact, quite nervous about whatever this is about. So she opens the piece of paper.

“The itinerary for my Europe tour,” he provides, though it wasn’t necessary, as she obviously recognizes the most famous locations. “Wanted to know what you think.”

The paper almost slips from her hands, unfair as he is right now. Of course, he has no way of knowing that he’s asking the one who loves him what she thinks about having him away. Penelope manages to somehow smile in-between the thundering of her own heart.

“You’re asking the opinion of a soon-to-be-spinster who has never left London?”

Joking is safe, she can cover her misgivings so easily with some humour – and Colin is so good at picking it up, matching her in her banter.

“No,” he says, and his thumb is over his lips, where he’s licking a spot of jam, and Penelope is quite distracted by the sight of his tongue in-between his fingers. “I’m asking my friend.”

Her neck snaps with how quickly she moves to meet his gaze. There’s a warmth feeling spreading all through her body, overwhelming with how pleased she is at the simple fact that he considers her a friend, how shocked at such admission.

“Are we not? Friends, that is.”

“Of course,” she adds, a bit too fast, and he smiles.

“Then?” the tone of his voice now turns teasing again.

“Colin,” she says, and her mouth twists in a smile just at the syllables making up his name. “You’re a young man: if there’s a world out there you wish to see, all you have to do is go.”

Even if she has to say goodbye, even if she has to see him go, just because she knows it’ll make him happy.

***

Penelope can feel herself getting physically sick. It’s been years now, of her silent love growing and growing in her chest – and it would seem that this moment would destroy it all.

Colin, standing in-between his brothers, having just shouted at the top of his lungs that he will never marry one Penelope Featherington, looks quite livid now that the exact person has been standing in the doorway for long enough to have heard him. Their eyes meet, and she wishes, with all the strength she is capable of, that he would say something. She waits – five seconds: the eldest, Anthony, starts finding excuses for his brother, but there’s really nothing else she wants to hear right now.

She knows her hands are trembling, which is why she hides it by fisting the material of her dress. She knows her voice cracks, when she says his name, but that’s just because she will absolutely not cry in front of three perfectly fine gentlemen over something that is entirely her problem. All things considered, she thinks she handled the situation more gracefully than a lot of others would have.

And when the other Bridgerton men leave the room, and Colin is left stumbling through his apologies, she discovers how meaningless she actually finds them. Because even with her heart breaking exactly because of the one she loves, she finds herself unable to love him any less. Yes, her pride is wounded, but he has said nothing that she didn’t know so well so far.

“I assure you, it is quite alright.”

The pain is there, sharp and terrible – but she will play pretend and she will say whatever words he needs to hear right now, because while he was unnecessary cruel, he was never so in front of her, on purpose, and there’s no need for her to be mean in return. And most of all, because she loves him so desperately, she doesn’t want him to be pained over this, not like she is. Anguished, really, and when Colin shakes his head, knowing that whatever apologies he’s given aren’t enough, but certain enough that he can’t give more, she almost runs in her haste to get away from him.

To get somewhere where she can cry her feelings out. Though her love, as every time, always lingers.

***

Her mother should get an award for the most optimist person, seeing how even with two of her daughters married, she still insists on parading a third one through ballrooms and promenades, as unsuccessful as they prove each and every time, and as old as they both keep getting.

Her mother should also get an award for way less flattering awards, seeing how she insists on dressing her daughter in the most terrible, happy colours, and pointing at third-rate suitors even as they’re standing right in the middle of the ballroom and it’s incredibly embarrassing.

In her defence, once they’re there and once it’s obviously clear Penelope is as unsuccessful as during any other social gathering before, she is left pretty much alone the rest of the time. She’s a wallflower, so just standing on the side of the dance floor and looking awkward is what she does best. The worst part is that this situation puts one quite in the spotlight of everyone else present, especially those old enough to have no other occupation but gossip.

Violet Bridgerton elbows her son in his back, hard. Who knew his mother has such incredibly sharp bones, or such a demanding tone? Colin has been home for a total of two days before he’s been dragged to the first ball, and he’s allowed three sips of his drinks before all attention-seeking young debutantes and their sharp mamas accosted him (which included his own dear one). Colin balances his options, and without even hesitating, he walks across the room to join Penelope in her sulking.

“I imagine these fine gentlemen are all waiting for their chance,” he says, looking around at several old lords, twice her age, which he knows she would not consider an eligible match no matter how desperate, “but would you maybe do me the honour of the next dance?”

She snorts. “I see you’re back and as amusing as ever.”

“You find me amusing?” he asks, already grinning.

“Colin Bridgerton, I’m not complimenting you again, lest it gets to your head,” she retorts.

“I missed you too, Pen.”

And it’s true. He didn’t realise it until just this moment, when they’ve fallen to their usual dynamic with no bit of awkwardness, even after the past months with his absence. It shames him just the tiniest bit that it has taken his mother’s most unkind pressure to even come by her side.

The orchestra starts its next song, and he extends his arm to her, which she takes with a blush and a shy smile. He is in fact her first dance for the night, and she has no doubt it’ll be the only one as well, which is a shame, since she always quite enjoyed dancing. Dances with good partners are the highlight of a party. Dances with Colin Bridgerton are the highlight of the season.

“Thank you,” she says, and if Colin wasn’t already leaned quite close to her, he maybe would have missed it entirely.

***

Penelope really should have learnt better by now – that her heart is never entirely safe with Colin. Be it that he has a tendency to step all over it, or that it makes it beat so fast, that she starts understanding all the ladies who faint all over during a season.

Being engaged with him doesn’t really change the situation. Not when his kisses make her feel like everything that she’s considered so bad in herself is worth the entire world, and then more.

With his hands now swiftly unlacing her dress, the shadow of his room all around them – she finds she cannot keep another secret for this man that is to be her husband,

“I love you,” she sighs. “I have loved you for years.”

“I know.”

How unfair he is, to the bitter end. Even as he essentially accosted her in his carriage, even as he asked her to marry him, even as he defended her in front of her numerous family, getting offended on her behalf, getting worried on her behalf… Terrible man that she loves, terrible man that Colin is, he drags out his own admittance as long as possible.

And she loves him for it, too.

[maxwell-grant]

Have you read the short story Norvell Page wrote as a wedding present for a Big Name Fan about Dick and Nita's first meeting? Any thoughts on it? My main is that Page does not go where you expect him to based on that description.

I did! Actually it was one of the first Spider stories I read. And yeah, to an extent, it's absolutely not what you'd expect from something set in The Spider's world. And on the other hand, it's absolutely what makes the most sense for these two characters. Because, yeah, Norvell Page could have done what he usually does, and written some over-the-top action where Dick and Nita happen to meet during it.

But no, that wouldn't work. Because, for all the turmoil and chaos in The Spider, for everything that he and Nita go through, there are many times when, sturdier even than Dick's resolve is their love for each other, the deep understanding and affection that carries them through hell itself time and time again.

And so, when it was time to showcase how such a romance started, Page wisely deviated from his usual narrative style, and instead told a very, very intimate and personal story, a long and extended conversation between the two, and more importantly, between Page and the reader. Between The Spider, and You, peering into The Spider through the eyes of Nita van Sloan.

I think for a start, it's an interesting coincidence that this meeting takes place on a cruise ship, and it involves Dick rescuing Nita from suicide. I say this because Margo Lane's first meeting with Lamont Cranston, in the pulps, was stated to have taken place on a cruise ship, and of course, the first time we see The Shadow in the pulps, he's rescuing Harry Vincent from suicide, and both Harry and Margo are The Shadow's main supporting characters. I'm not saying it was intentional, but it's an interesting fact. And more so because Dick doesn't really rescue Nita.

Her scarf whipped in the wind on deck, and it blinded her... and a hand touched her arm, and a voice spoke to her.

"If it's intentional, don't let me stop you," the voice said, "but you're heading straight for suicide."

Nita looked then at the stop toward which, blindly, she was going, and it was a chain barrier beyond which was the sea. And she looked at the man who had stopped her and it was Richard Wentworth. And his words had been a shock to her.

"You wouldn't try to dissuade me from suicide?" she asked.

Wentworth's brows were tilted whit a hint of mockery, but his eyes were very grave. "Every man is master of his own soul, and hence of his body," he said. "And your eyes are wide open and awake. So it would be a considered action. I'm not sure, under those circumstances, that I would have a right to meddle in another's business."

Nita said, "I think you can help me."

Wentworth shook his head. "Only you can help yourself," he said, "but it may be that someone else could help you find the way."

The whole text is a great example of how wonderfully realized of a character Nita van Sloan is in ways so unlike the typical pulp or superhero girlfriends at the time, because the text is written from her perspective, and half of the text reads like an extended character breakdown of who Nita is as a character and person. And the other half of the text is almost entirely comprised of Dick Wentworth spouting philosophy and talking in-depth about his reading of her and what's upsetting her, talking about God and fate and so on. And like so many other attempts to explore serious theological/psychological/philosophical/etc concepts explored through pulp fiction, half of it is bullshit, and half of it is fascinatingly disturbing and thought-provoking bullshit.

"Self-contempt," Wentworth's words were very quiet now. "Is second only to self-pity among the greater sins. Self-analysis is a dangersous thing. You need so much charity. And any person who is advanced enough to think about himself at all is apt to be over-stern in his judgment of himself."

He said to her, "If you don't honor youself, who will honor you?" And, a few moments later, "There is conceit in ruling others, but none in mastering yourself." And, "There is no arrogance so great as self-righteousness."

Nita clashed with him violently, "You are being self-righteous in judging me!"

Wentworth laughed. "I am speaking only truism. It is you who judge yourself, not I." He was serious, then. "My dear," he said, "I would be presumptuous to try to teach you. No man can teach another. But one who has been along that same trail would be less than a man if he failed to mark certain signposts and certain places where there is water to drink so that another, traveling that same road, may know where another struggled and what he has learned. But, as no man can travel a road for another, so no man can teach another. You must work out your own salvation."

"That sense of separation between the inner and outer self," Nita rushed on, "between yourself and the world ... while you were talking, I could almost feel that difference disappearing. The feeling is gone now, but ..."

"All progress is three steps forward and two back," Wentworth said, slowly, "and this is good because thus all ground is three-times covered and triply learned."

And I should probably clarify by this point that, it's not so much Dick Wentworth talking in this story, as it's Norvell Page himself. In fact, he admits as much in another letter he had sent to his readers that he was prone to talking philosophy by this point.

There was a time when the burden of writing just one more Spider seemed too much to undertake. (After all, the magazine is in it's ninth year!) But I never feel that way any more. I know now that the Spider actually does help people; that there are those who appreciate his idealism even though it is expressed in violence.

Especially in the last half dozen Spiders, beginning with the 100th I believe, I have tried very earnestly to teach a little of the philosophy and faith, of which we all need so much in these days.

Here's the thing about The Spider: It's not that the character is mad. Well, okay, he IS mad, I don't pull these over-the-top maniacal cartoon meme descriptions out of thin air, but that's because he lives in a batshit insane disaster horror world where there IS no sane response other than joining the carnage to overcome it. It's not just that Wentworth who is a madman. It's that Norvell Page was a mad man, and Dick Wentworth was Norvell's Page alter-ego, by the man's own admission.

Friends have informed me that I moved about the company as one in a trance: there were some who were concerned about my health, so oddly did I behave. Of course, only my body attended that occasion. My mind was entirely engrossed in Dick Wentworth's big problem - back in my study on a sheet of paper stuck in my typewriter

I did not dream that night; in the morning I restlessly paced my floor thinking, thinking, thinking. I sat down at the typewriter, stared at the words and the keys. Suddenly, as if by magic, Dick Wentworth seemed to move of his own volition. My hands raised, my fingers literally flew over the keyboard.

No matter how ridiculous it seems, I will always feel that Dick Wentworth, creature of my own fabrication, guided me through that tough scene.

No two people can live together without being influenced by each other to some extent. So constantly has Wentworth been in my mind, it is as if we were roommates - partners in everything.

Page has talked about how close of a connection he feels to the character, about many ways he's emulated his mannerisms, even some pretty embarassing anectodes where he claims to have "accidentally" used the character's "indomitable will" to scare waiters or drawing connections between The Spider's cast and real people he's met. Others who met him remarked that he talked of the "Spider" characters as though they were members of his family, or drinking companions.

Even before I got into The Spider, I had heard of rumors that he used to present or discuss stories in his office by putting on a cape and jumping from desk to desk, swinging a yard stick in his hand, and I can't find any source that confirms it, but I don't doubt it in the slightest. A lot of pulp writers had really weird lives, and Page was no exception. He was a journalist who frequently dug into his newspaper clippings for grisly stories to incorporate into narratives. I mean, just look at the dude's eyes, he's seen some shit.

When he was 3, his mother fell down a manhole while they were walking down a Chicago sidewalk. Norvell, terrified, thought she had dissappeared and never quite got over the experience.

When he was a little older, according to some family members, his parents had tickets for the Titanic and escaped disaster when Norvell begged them to cancel the trip for reasons unknown.

Norvell again played a hand in the family's escaping disaster when, one Christmas the family home caught on fire. Candles on the tree had been left burning. He quite arguably saved everyone's life. Waking first, he threw his mattress out of his window, grabbed his infant brother and sister and ran screaming through the hall as he went back to jump to safety. His screams woke his parents who then jumped to the mattress themselves.

Norvell lied about his age and experience to the Norfolk "Observer", claiming to have been writing for Richmond's "Times Dispatch" and was hired there.

His father managed Thomas Edison & Hugo Wurlitzer's ad accounts, and had always encouraged him to write, envisioning him as another Poe, whom his Great-Uncle had worked with as an editor

It is rumored that, in NYC, while at the "World Telegram", he became involved in fellow editor Varion Fry's effort to rescue artists and scientists from occupied Europe. President of the American Fiction Guild, he edited their newsletter for some time. Among his closest friends were fellow writers Ted Tinsley and L. Ron Hubbard and Surrealist painter Max Ernst.

WRITER'S REVIEW 35.08: Norvell W. Page, whose bloodthirsty Spider novels would do justice to Ghengis Khan, demonstrated his bloodlust the other day by accidentally killing a sparrow.

He wrote until 1943, when he abruptly stopped without warning. He dissappeared, for all intents and purposes, from both New York, the arts world and the pulp world for good.

His wife of 20 years, Audrey, had died and this, along with the U.S. involvment in WWII, led to his returning to VA where he would go on to be an intelligence worker in the Truman, Kennedy and Eisenhower Administrations.

He died suddenly of a heart attack in August of 1961.

Surviving family members do not know where he is buried.

I think this is a story that Page might have told differently had he written it earlier in his career, before he got tired, before he underwent his depression and loss of weight that caused him to briefly stop writing pulps all together, in a time period before the World War had cast an oppressive miasma on the world. In a time period where most of the horrifying nightmares he infused into the stories were really just that, nightmares, that he didn't live long enough to see turn into prophecies.

Because that's another thing about The Spider that makes the character more than just a batshit vigilante: As over-the-top as the stories were, a lot of them also inevitably turned out to predict some form of catastrophe in real life.

Written with an eye to the horrors festering in Germany at the time, The Mayor of Hell now reads as an infernal vision of the Homeland Security Act.

The poisoned products found in The Red Death Rain and The Pain Emperor call to mind the Tylenol killings of the summer of 1982, and the hundreds of poisoned products cases that followed.

Bio-terrorism plays large in the Spider mythos, with bubonic plague in Wings of the Black Death, rabies in The Mad Horde, and cholera in The Cholera King foreshadowing the Anthrax scare of 2001. The same could be said of the terror gases from Kingdom of Doom and Green Globes of Death and the nerve gas attack in the Tokyo subways in March of 1995.

Masters of the Death Madness unfolds as a nightmare meditation upon suicide, which has become one of the principal weapons of modern terrorists. One scene involves suicide bombers.

Another scene chillingly presages the Jonestown massacre of 1978: a grand procession lines up to drink from a bowl of poisoned wine while surrounding gunmen pick off anyone who refuses to drink.

The modern reader will recognize the psychological and sociological effects of a citizenry living under the threat of terrorism, so chillingly evoked by Page: the grating loss of safety, the imminent threats lurking in familiar objects, the way security can no longer be taken for granted, the kind of skittishness that empties a building at the first sign of an unknown white powder.

The eeriest of all the modern terrorist parallels appears in a novel called The City Destroyer, originally published in 1936. It features a set piece involving the collapse of a fictitious gigantic building, supposedly the tallest in New York City, called “The Sky Building.” When it fell, it wiped out five city blocks and claimed 1,000 lives. And perhaps it’s worth noting a further parallel that occurred in the 1970’s, when Pocket Books tried to revive the Spider; they repackaged him in a paperback series, striving for an image of what was then cool and thrusting Richard Wentworth into a contemporary setting.

When Pocket Books reprinted and updated The City Destroyer in 1975, the collapse of the Sky Building was replaced with the collapse of the World Trade Center - Stuart Hopen's essay on The Spider

Regardless of how much reality Page was infusing into his stories (because, again, he took a lot of his material from newspapers) or how much he foresaw intentionally or not, writing The Spider definitely took it's toll on him, and as the magazine neared it's final stretch with him on the helm, certain parts did began taking a more philosophical or religious tone, as more of Page's own beliefs, more of Page's attempts to use it as a vehicle to do good, began to bleed through the page.

And ultimately I think that's also what the story of Dick and Nita's first meeting is about, sort of an extended analysis not just of Nita, who Page himself said was a character he conceived as "the epitome of womanhood" and everything he thought admirable about it, but also of Wentworth's own character, and the things Page wanted to get through in his time.

Religion crept deeper into the series with each succeeding year. By all accounts, Norvell Page was a man of deep faith and spirituality who just happened to be writing the exploits of a hero whose idea of mercy was a bullet in the brain instead of the stomach.

In the 100th novel, Death and The Spider, Wentworth battles Death itself - or so it seems - and on Christmas Eve, he is shot so badly while protecting the President from assassination that everyone believes he's dead - including himself.

Dead or not, he forces himself to fight on, sustained only by reciting the 23rd Psalm over and over again.

Nita laughed and accepted a cigarette. "I don't know how to thank you."

"Don't," Wentworth's voice was sharp. "I told you I am only a channel. Don't confuse me with the Source."

It stopped words on Nita's lips, and it gave here a new respect and a new and sudden attitude toward this man beside her, this man who could laugh and jest with everyone about him, and who could teach like a very oracle ... and who carried about him such a sense of dedication to high purpose. He might seem apart from the world, but he was utterly and completely of it.

Nita said, half-laughing, half-serious, "May I like you? And may I admire your ... adjustment?"

"Don't envy my adjustment," he grinned at her. "Have one yourself." He snapped flame to her cigarette with his lighter, and his lean, strong hand was steady and sure as his eyes, as his voice. He was speaking to her but he was looking at the lighter. "I have found my mission," he said quietly.

[mewtonian-physics]

my ranking of the alex rider original series (stormbreaker through scorpia rising) from ‘book i least enjoy rereading’ to ‘book i most enjoy rereading’ let’s goooo

spoilers for all 9 books under the cut

9. Ark Angel

...He went to space. He went to space. Also the entire plot could have been avoided if Drevin had actually bothered to provide a photograph of his son. I’m sure he had one. I still like this book but it’s literally so insane that I just don’t know what to do with it. 

It is however really funny that Webber just goes and gives a speech insulting this super high-profile ecoterrorist group and acts like it’s no big deal and then they kill him. Shock of shocks.

8. Skeleton Key

Okay, points to this book for terrifying the shit out of me. God damn it does that shark scene scare me. Also, points for making me feel a little bit bad for a man who wants to nuke his own country because he thinks it will fix the place up. I’m still not entirely sure how that’s supposed to work, but that’s probably a good thing. I feel like understanding his thought process would say bad things about me. Still, I actually did feel sorry for him, if only a little. Dude was clearly mentally unstable and I doubt his son’s death helped at all. I also got sad about what happened to Carver and Troy. (Yeah, yeah, I’m a cringe fail American who has the American release. So sue me.) What a nightmare that must’ve been to endure... Otherwise, though, I’m not super into this book. The opening is just kind of meh and the way it leads into the rest of the plot seems a little bit unbelievable. Also, this might be an unpopular opinion, but Sabina annoys me. I would not get along with her at all and I can’t imagine her as a girlfriend. Skeleton Key does, however, absolutely excel at the emotional scenes. 

Also, why are all the spy agencies so comfortable with sending in a 14-year-old? Especially when they outright admit that the other attempts have all died horribly? Bureaucracy’s a bitch.

7. Point Blank

Boo, Dr. Grief! Boo! We hate your white supremacy! I’m so glad you got a snowmobile to the face, you deserved it. (Perks of books written by Jewish people--we aren’t afraid to give the neo-Nazis an unpleasant death.) Anyway, this book definitely isn’t bad, but I wouldn’t really say it stands out in the series. It definitely does hammer home the point of just how trapped Alex is, since MI6 isn’t going to just let him go after one mission, and let’s face it, the plot with the clones is creepy as hell, if highly improbable. But I’m largely just here to see the neo-Nazi get snowmobiled. That’s right, I just completely changed the definition of a pre-established word. I’m a rebel.

Also, I hate Fiona Friend so much and overall think she just didn’t need to be in the book, but the line about ‘I’d rather kiss the horse’ made me laugh so hard. Alex, you sass.

6. Snakehead

Okay, let’s talk about how genius the plan in this book is. I love it! I love how Yu wants to kill the people involved in the peace conference without making them into martyrs, so he comes up with this whole elaborate plan to stage a natural disaster. It’s incredible. This dude was thinking so far ahead. And he would’ve gotten away with it, too, if it weren’t for that meddling kid... But anyway, I don’t see a lot of books where the villain really acknowledges that killing their enemies could just cause more problems for them via turning them into martyrs for a cause. Also, the way he’s so polite and soft-spoken while also being a complete monster... This book genuinely gives me chills. Extra bonus points for the part in the hospital, the absolute nightmare of having all your organs slowly removed and sold off and everyone around you is being so nice about it? ‘Oh, don’t worry, Alex, it won’t be so bad. Here, take your medicine. Do you need anything?’ Literally just. What the fuck. 

Also Ash can fucking fight me. You put your own godson in horrible danger on purpose! You killed your best friend! Bastard. 

...And just in case the book wasn’t disturbing enough, Yu’s fate at the end lives in my mind rent-free and I think about it on a concerningly regular basis considering that the chances of that happening to me are so low they’re practically in the negatives. Damn you, Horowitz.

I would also be remiss if I did not mention just how much I love the tagline ‘once bitten, twice spy’.

5. Crocodile Tears

Ah yes, the book that kickstarted my drift away from the church... I kid, of course. I drifted away from the church for completely separate reasons. But Desmond McCain is always going to scare the shit out of me. The ability to kill countless innocent people while blissfully quoting Bible verses (that he takes wildly out of context and uses for his own self-serving means) is... well, I could actually say a lot about what that reminds me of, but I’m here to rate books, not religion. Moving on. This book has some really stellar antagonists, and the plot is chilling in a way that feels a lot more realistic than most of the other books. Even if some of it is a bit farfetched (sabotaging a nuclear power plant? Really?), the idea of using disasters for your own profit... well. I’m sure I don’t need to elaborate on why that is so believable. The Poison Dome is also a really cool and chilling scene--even Alex, who has the luck of the devil, can’t get out of that one unscathed. Further scares come in with the fate of Harold Bulman--imagine having your entire existence wiped and your identity changed while you were asleep! The breakdown he has over it is almost enough to make me feel sorry for him, even though he was ready to exploit a teenager and make his life a living hell just to turn a profit. Note the word almost.

Also. The opening makes me cry. Specifically the line talking about how Ravi’s kids would ‘never meet Mickey Mouse’. I lose my goddamn mind every single time I read it. That little personal touch turns the scene from a statistic to a tragedy. Once again: Damn you, Horowitz.

4. Stormbreaker

Yeah, this one gets the special cover shot. And why not? What we are looking at here is the birth of a legend. Move the fuck over, James Bond, Alex Rider is on the scene now. Anyway, yeah, this book is pretty damn spectacular. It has its stumbles, but as the first book in a series, that’s to be expected. Still, it pulls you in from quite literally the first line and keeps you going right up until the end. (If you came here from my post of memes, you know how much the line ‘Killing is for grownups, and you’re still a child’ destroys me.) It has the debut of much-beloved characters such as, of course, Alex--but also Jack Starbright, and of course, the best MI6 agent of them all, which is to say Smithers. Hell, even Yassen Gregorovich, especially once you get through Russian Roulette... Man, that was a rough one. 

Seriously, though. This is a really good book. The scene with the Portuguese man-o’-war still gives me the chills to think about. (Have you ever looked up pictures of those things? They’re beautiful, but holy shit will they make you regret being born. Nature is funny like that.) 

We also get the introduction of, of course, Alex’s patented sass (his response to Sayle saying he relates to the man-o’-war is HILARIOUS) and we get the inherent humor of Alex screwing up an alias one time and then just going by Alex for the rest of the series so he doesn’t do that again. Really, kid, I know you’re not a trained spy or anything but did you never play pretend growing up? Ever? You can’t pretend your name is Felix for a little while? That sounds like a you problem.

3. Scorpia Rising

I distinctly remember when this book came out, actually. I was on vacation at the time, and I remember my brother annoying the hell out of the poor workers at a bookstore we frequented there to see if/when they were going to get it in. They did, finally, and we bought it immediately, and I was of course absolutely desperate to read it. He got to read it first, though. -_-

This is a great book, an absolute emotional rollercoaster all the way through. The way Blunt tricks Alex back into service by staging a shooting was exactly the kind of cold, brutal behavior I’d expect from him. Seeing Julius come back was shocking, but very exciting, too. And Razim makes an incredibly chilling villain, with his absolute disregard for human life and his desire to measure pain. Also, seeing Smithers’s house was so much fun. Smithers in this book was just really fun in general, but he’s really fun in every book, so... nothing unusual there. But also, I want an unwelcome mat. Please?

2. Eagle Strike

‘But Penny,’ you might ask, ‘why is this book so high on your list? It has so much of Sabina in it, and you said she annoys you.’ That is true. What does not annoy me, however, is basically the entire rest of the book. I love the tense opening, and then reading through Alex’s real-life ‘playthrough’ of Feathered Serpent is still one of my favorite scenes. Cray is absolutely incredible as a villain, with the way that he truly believes in his cause--which is undoubtedly a good one! Yet the extremes to which he will go for that cause, and the fact that he very nearly succeeds, are what elevate him to one of the most dangerous villains in the series. That scene with Charlie Roper and the nickels is something I can never seem to stop thinking about. Actually, I think about it basically whenever I think about large amounts of money paid in small increments... 

Also, I really enjoy how he gets into the whole plot in the first place, and I really enjoy Smithers saying ‘ah, fuck it’ and helping him out anyway. Go, Smithers. You once again prove me right in saying that you’re the coolest adult in MI6.

The revelation that Yassen knew Alex’s father is one that absolutely blew my mind first time around. The way his life was threaded into the lives of the Rider family--he worked with John Rider, was saved by him, killed Ian Rider, and then died for refusing to kill Alex Rider--wow. Wow. It gets to me. It really gets to me. This book is a masterpiece. I heard that it’s going to be what the second season of the TV series is based off of, and I’m so hyped for that. We love to see it, we really do.

1. Scorpia

I don’t believe anyone who says this book didn’t get to them at all. I just think they are lying. I don’t think it’s humanly possible to not be affected by this book. God. Just thinking about it reminds me of why I don’t think it’s possible. I mean, come on. We get all this backstory about Alex’s parents, we get tricked along with him into thinking MI6 killed his father, then bam, that was a lie, and Alex may have just fucked himself over big time. Also, that plot is terrifying! (And I bet anti-vaxxers had a field day with it, huh.) Julia Rothman is a really great antagonist, one of the only ones who didn’t go and explain her plan in great detail to Alex--the fact that she didn’t actually being a plot point was something I personally found pretty clever. In general, this book is... I tend to hate when people say they ‘can’t put it down’ because it’s usually an obvious exaggeration, but that really is how I feel reading it.

And again. If that ending didn’t get to you... Well, I just think you are lying.

[longitud-de-onda]

piece of your heart

pairing; javier peña x female reader summary; javi takes you out dancing and drunkenly starts saying things in spanish that you can’t understand rating; t warnings; alcohol, drunkenness (and the vomiting that comes after), unrequited feelings (or not?), and angst. word count; 2.4k requested; by two anons. requests under break. a/n; combined these two requests and wrote this on a plane. there’ll be a part two 😉

“javi request where he takes the reader dancing 🥺 something similar to the dance in 3x1 of narcos thank u sm and ur the best !! 💖”

“You are at a bar after work with Steve and Javi. Javi asks you to dance with him. He is drunk & kind of grinding on you and he starts to say some things in Spanish. You don't speak Spanish very well, and assume he is saying lewd things, but when you go home, you remember some of the things he said and you put them in Google Translate and he is actually confessing really sweet things like he loves you, you are the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, an he is so screwed.”

“So, tonight? Wanna go out dancing with some of the others?” Javier has just walked up to your desk and sat on top of your work, staring you down.

“Dancing? No thanks,” you tell Javier.

Going out dancing with Javier Peña? That involved alcohol and lowered inhibitions and you aren’t ready to do that. You’ll admit, having him here, asking you to go dancing with him, it hurts. You can imagine in another life, one where you weren’t living in Colombia and meddling with international politics in a way even the US President would likely disapprove of, you could be brave, step up and tell Javi how you felt. But you were both in a line of work that didn’t allow for relationships, and catching feelings was the worst illness that could befall you.

And you had caught the virus.

“Come on, it’s been a hell of a week for everyone. There’s about seven of us, going over to the disco downtown, we can get plastered, forget about work, have a bit of fun?” he smiles at you, and you shake your head.

“Not tonight, Javi,” you say. “Anyway, it’s Friday, and we work tomorrow.”

You’ve said yes before. That night sucked. You watched him flirt with every woman in the bar, watched him make out with a young woman in a booth. You cried the entire drive home, and on your way up to your apartment, you passed his first-floor apartment and could hear the moans coming from inside. There was nothing crueler than wanting someone you couldn’t have, someone who would sleep with anyone, except you.

The feeling had weighed heavy on your heart for a long time now, and while it was easy to avoid the man, given that you worked in different departments, he managed to find a reason to visit you. Sneaking him classified documents. Helping him with a wiretap. Doing background checks. And every time he asked you’d comply if only to get a few extra minutes of his presence. A bit more time where that smile was directed at you and not one of the many other women in the building. A few moments where you could pretend that he cared.

“You sure? It’s not really a night without my favorite CIA agent,” he says, putting on the sly grin he uses to bend anyone’s will. The one he uses to get informants to reveal a bit more than they intended.

You want, so badly, to say no. To not force yourself to survive another night of suffering. But you’re weak and probably a masochist. And there’s the fact that he’s asking you, begging you, to come with him. To spend time with him. Even if it means you’ll end the night in tears, historically you’ve never been one to turn down time with Javier, no matter how much it hurt, and you weren’t going to stop tonight.

“Fine, but you’re buying the first round,” you agree.

“Good!” He jumps off of your desk. “It’s gonna be great. See you at eight.”

“Eight, okay...”

He leaves the room, a bit more bounce in his gait, and you smile to yourself, knowing that you were the reason for his excitement.

The day passed slowly, you had too many reports to read through and not enough coffee could keep you going. When you finished for the day, you were one of the last ones still in the office, and you headed home, looking forward to a shower and some warmed up leftovers for dinner.

You don’t have plans to drink too much. You don’t want to be hungover at work, and you had a tendency to spill secrets when wasted. With Javier around, that wasn’t something you wanted to get involved with. Still, you make sure you’ve got enough food in your stomach and drink some water so that the inevitable multitudes of shots you’ll be coerced into drinking don’t go straight to your head.

At eight, you’re waiting in the foyer of the complex, along with Steve, Connie, Marta, the current ambassador’s secretary, and Anthony, one of the other DEA agents that lived in the complex. You were going to be meeting another 5, apparently, at the disco. It was turning into quite the evening, especially considering that you had work the next day. You were told the plan was to take two cars over, so two groups could head back whenever, and if you were too drunk, it was close enough you could probably walk or just take a taxi if things went south.

Javi is obviously rushing as he bursts out of his apartment, still buttoning up his shirt. You let your eyes roam over him from the back of the group. He had put some effort into the look for the evening, a nice pair of slacks than he usually wore, and he had done something with his hair.

It makes you feel more than a bit self-conscious of how unimpressive you look before you mentally slap yourself. You’re not here to impress Javier. You don’t need to put in an effort, even if you did he still wouldn’t go for you.

“Ready?” Javier asks, and you all exit the building.

Two hours into the evening, you’re sufficiently tipsy after a couple beers. You had resisted Connie’s multiple offers of shots, but you didn’t stop her from dragging you onto the dance floor for a solid hour. You’re sweaty and a bit tired already, back at the bar where some of the guys in your group are gathered.

You watch as Javier starts knocking back shots of tequila with Anthony, something you weren’t expecting. He was always the one to slowly sip at a glass of whiskey over the night, or drink beer. He must really want to get drunk tonight.

You slip onto a barstool and order a bottle of beer. Javier is a couple feet away, and he’s already acting like he’s lost all control, and you worry about his fate in the morning. He wasn’t usually this careless with his alcohol.

He sidles up next to you, “Y/N! We should go dance.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, trying to pull you up off your seat.

“Javi, no,” you say. You should be jumping for joy. Happy that he actually wants to spend time with you. But you know that it’s only because he’s so incredibly drunk.

“Please, darling? I didn’t invite you out so that you could sit here.” he drawls out, his Texas accent appears in moments like this, and you wish it didn’t make you feel things.

He drags his hand down your bare arm, wrapping his fingers around your hand and pulling you up.

“Okay.” You must hate yourself.

He pulls you through the crowds into the center of the dance floor. Arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you yelp in surprise.

“¿Todo bien, compañera?” he laughs in your ear, something light and fluttery.

“Javi you know I don’t speak Spanish,” you say, bowing your head.

“You should, it would sound so beautiful coming from you,” he says and you close your eyes, reminding yourself that he’s so far gone he doesn’t know what he’s saying.

He starts to sway to the music, and his hands on your waist radiate heat straight through your dress. The whole disco is hot, but you feel even warmer wrapped up in Javier. The music thrums through your body, and you look up at his eyes, glittering with the almost-goofy smile he wears.

You want to imagine that this is real. That he’s here, hands all over you, because he wants to. You wish you could move your hands down from around his neck, or pull him in tighter, and not regret it tomorrow morning. You know you’re going to wake up tomorrow alone in bed, remembering how much could have happened if Javier cared, and that he will wake up, probably with someone else, someone who’s in this very room right now.

That thought almost makes you let go of Javier and run away, but he pulls your hips into his, rolling up against you. He lets out a moan that shoots straight to your core, and you close your eyes tight, hoping you’ll open them again for this to be just a dream.

Instead, you open them at the feeling of his breath, hot near your ear.

“Eres tan hermosa, Y/N,” he says.

You don’t know a word he’s saying but you’re pretty sure you have an idea of what he means. He’s grinding up against you, drunk and probably horny, like he is most nights, the words likely meaning something about how he’d like to take you here on the dance floor. Something disgusting and quick and meaningless.

“Me vuelves loco.”

But you’re too tipsy to get caught up on that. You want to pretend he’s saying anything but what you know he’s going on about. Want to pretend his arms aren’t slinking lower down your back until they brush over your ass. You want to believe he’s doing it because he wants to.

You decide it’s better to let go for the night. Maybe you can pretend. Just for an hour.

The music washes over you, and you move your hips along with his, and while he takes the lead, you follow, dancing as if you knew what you were doing.

“Cuando bailas así, no quiero que todos estén aquí,” he groans, “Quiero estar a solas contigo.”

If only you knew what he was saying. If you knew exactly what sort of lewd things he is saying, maybe it would be enough to knock some sense into your head and leave him on the dance floor. But you don’t.

Thank god you don’t.

It means you get to dance in his arms for a little bit more.

“No sabes, porque tu español es una mierda, pero estoy con tantas mujeres para que pueda intentar olvidarte,” he says, “Es tortura, tener alguién tan perfecta como tú, tan cerca, pero tan inalcanzable.”

When he speaks Spanish, he sounds so different. Sometimes, like now, it’s like he’s reciting a love poem. Other times, like when you hear him talking to the police, he becomes someone commanding and aggressive. Not like the Javier who spoke English to you, smiled, and sheepishly asked for favors.

“Nunca ha funcionado, no puedo olvidarte,” he says.

“Javi, you know I don’t understand you, right?” you say and he responds by thrusting his hips into you again. You bite your lip, and it only becomes more painful as you feel his bulge against your body. You’re just another body for him. And that is a sobering realization. You’re about to cry and you’re glad he’s looking over your shoulder and can’t see your face.

“Deseo poder besarte,” he whispers in your ear, “Te quiero.”

You were so stupid to fall for such a man. It’s killing you.

With one hand still on your ass, he brings the other one up, palming your breast. The moan you involuntarily release shocks you enough to push him away.

“Javier,” you say, panicking, “I can’t—“

Before you say anything more you see the twisted look on his face, somewhere between completely ravaged and utterly lost. You turn and, pushing through people, go back to the bar, where you order a shot which you quickly down before sitting down and letting the tears fall.

After fifteen minutes of looking like the saddest person in the disco, the bartender takes pity on you and gives you a glass of water and some tissues. You thank her.

The night had so quickly turned to shit. It was so much worse than previous ones. It was a torture you couldn’t handle anymore.

“Y/N!” screams a voice in your ear, someone drunk and loud.

You turn. It’s Marta.

“What?”

“It’s Javier, he’s outside puking. You’re the soberest of us you need to take him home.”

Shit. Of course this would happen.

“Fine, but take care, Marta, I don’t want you not making it home tonight.”

She thanks you and disappears into the throngs of people.

You settle your tab and Javier’s and go outside. Javier is sitting on the curb, keeled over and emptying his guts onto the stone streets.

If your heart didn’t hurt so much, you’d laugh. You hadn’t known anyone over the age of 30 drunk themselves to this point.

“Javier?” you say.

He looks up and starts to say something, but you can see the regret on his face flash upon opening his mouth as it only brings on another wave of nausea. You look away.

When he finishes, you say, “Come on, Javi, let's get you home.”

He tries to stand and you have to dive into his side to stabilize him. When you’re in a position where you can support his weight, you guide him towards his car.

You strap him into the passenger seat and reach your hand into his pocket, finding the car keys.

The ride home he stays silent. He hasn’t said a word to you since he was whispering in your ear on the dance floor. You suppose he has a fair reason to not open his mouth now though. Probably doesn’t want to soil his own vehicle.

You get him into his apartment just fine, set him up with a glass of water and make him take some pain meds.

“Don’t die on me Javi, no choking on your vomit overnight, okay?” you say and he nods.

Back in your apartment, you sit down on your couch. You should go to sleep. You need to be at work in 7 hours.

But some vicious part of your mind reminds you of the words Javier had said. You curse your curiosity and pull out your Spanish dictionary.

You only remember three phrases, “quiero estar a solas contigo,” “deseo poder besarte,” and “te quiero.”

As you look up the words, your eyes widen. Quiero: I want. Estar: To be. Solas: alone. Contigo: with you.

Shit.

Deseo: I wish. Poder: to be able to. Besarte: to kiss you.

Fuck.

The last one requires you to look it up in the phrasebook. ‘I want you’ didn’t feel right. When you find it you almost drop the book on the floor.

Te quiero: I love you.

next part

translations;

¿Todo bien, compañera?

Everything okay, partner/colleague/girlfriend?

Eres tan hermosa

You are so beautiful

Me vuelves loco.

You drive me crazy

Cuando bailas así, no quiero que todos estén aquí. Quiero estar a solas contigo.

When you dance like that, I don’t want everyone to be here. I want to be alone with you. 

No sabes, porque tu español es una mierda, pero estoy con tantas mujeres para que pueda intentar olvidarte

You don’t know because your Spanish sucks, but I’m with so many women so I can try to forget you

Es tortura, tener alguién tan perfecta como tú, tan cerca, pero tan inalcanzable.

It’s torture, having someone as perfect as you, so close, yet so unreachable. 

Nunca ha funcionado, no puedo olvidarte 

It’s never worked, I can’t forget you

Deseo poder besarte 

I wish I could kiss you

Te quiero. 

I love you

taglist; @pascalisthepunkest​ @turquiosenights @el-lizzie​

[loruleanheart]

Desired Fate, Chapter 9

Read on FF.net

Read on AO3

Astor stood at what had been the entrance to the Yiga Hideout. Along the way, he’d passed piles of debris where there had once been a network of walls built along the canyon of Karusa Valley. The entrance itself, which had once been neatly cut into the rock, was now an angry burning hole. There wasn’t anyone in sight, the hideout was not only destroyed but desolate and abandoned.

The princess’s warning briefly crossed Astor’s thoughts. Astor’s blank expression changed into a haunting sneer, almost smiling in a deranged way.

Well played, Your Highness…. Only a minor setback… Although, I wonder if any of those banana worshiping degenerates are still alive...

Astor vanished and reappeared near his own hideout in the Gerudo Highlands. Some ways off he spotted two familiar silhouettes sitting on the edge of the canyon. Of course, the two most useless members of the Yiga Clan had retreated, the prophet mused.

Still, Astor approached the two apprehensively, knowing he was sure to get an earful.

Kohga and Sooga took notice as the Hylian neared, the two imposing figures being clearly irate as they stood.

“Why didn’t you tell us we’d get walloped? I would expect you to warn us that the Gerudo Chief is going to come trampling into our hideout to attack my men! Why were you conveniently missing today of all days?” Kohga shouted, exasperated.

Astor was smiling inside, where they can’t see it, but maintained a straight face.

Sooga was the one to approach Astor, towering over the much smaller man, and that's when Astor knew he’d overplayed his hand. He tensed as Sooga grabbed him by the collar of his robes and lifted him, Astor’s feet barely making contact with the ground.

“I’m afraid we cannot overlook this failure, ‘seer’.”

“Can’t do it!” Kohga chimed in.

Astor gave Sooga a dismissive smirk, already knowing what to say to retake control of the situation. “Fate decides all… Even this defeat. As you well know, if you decide to turn against me you will make an enemy of Calamity Ganon.”

“You slimy -” Kohga began, but before he could finish his sentence, Sooga’s fist collided with Astor’s face. The seer collapsed to the ground, looking up at Sooga in disbelief.

Kohga cheered, “Yeah! Knock his raggedy ass out! How dare he try to use our devotion to Lord Ganon against us. Thinks he’s chosen or something? You’re not special!”

Sooga leaned down, taking Astor by the collar again. Astor weakly held a hand out in an attempt to defend himself, but it was of little use against a man twice his size. 

“The Yiga Clan has served Lord Ganon for nearly 10,000 years. You can’t turn Calamity Ganon against us, especially if we kill you first.” Sooga slammed Astor’s head against the ground, followed by a swift roundhouse kick in the ribs. 

Astor gasped for air. The wind had been knocked out of him twice. He could barely breathe.

“You deserve whatever Lord Ganon has in store for you in the next realm...” Sooga drew one of his blades at his hip.

The prophet was in too much pain to move, let alone summon his orb.

“C-calamity Ganon... Avenge me…” Astor closed his eyes.

A blinding light consumed the three men and the two Yiga disappeared into puffs of smoke, scrolls featuring the inverted eye raining down in their retreat. Astor shielded himself from the light, lying prostrate on the ground, lacking the strength to rise and a little bit fearful of the presence he could sense was the antithesis of Calamity Ganon.

“Prophet of Doom, your fate is in my hands.” Hylia entreated him gently.

Astor remained very still. She came to stand in front of him, but still, he didn’t look up to meet her gaze. The goddess perceived his confusion and fear of her.

“You’re wondering why I’ve come… I’ve seen your ultimate fate, Prophet of Doom, and I know you will call out to me when confronted with the reality of Calamity Ganon’s betrayal. But it will be too late for you.  And, as proof that my words are true, already you are questioning why the Calamity would allow you to endure such humiliation.”

Astor finally answered the goddess, his voice weak and wavering with defeat. “Calamity Ganon is… going to betray me? That cannot be…” If he had any confidence left after being beaten down so horribly, then her words had ripped that away as well.

Hylia knew he believed her, but his denial and grief were so great. “Your gift of foresight is no match for mine.” The goddess reiterated.

“The grand fate I thought I had was all a lie…? Am I really just a nobody? Put me out of my misery then… I have no desire to continue an existence where I have no purpose.”

“You’re still a young man, Astor. You can still have a meaningful life.”

Astor scoffed trying to hide his tears. “The goddess is apparently dumb and blind. If Calamity Ganon is to betray me, then I have no reason to be...”

Hylia sensed his anger at her. She had revealed a truth he wasn’t ready to confront, but she knew it had to be said if he was to be saved from his terrible fate.

“I wouldn’t spare you just to leave you without a purpose.  I know all about you, Prophet of Doom. You’ve had unfortunate circumstances, but you are not inconsequential. You were a veiled birth. This was a sign of your gift, but it was viewed with suspicion, and you were abandoned. I willed that you be found. You grew up in an orphanage where you went unnoticed. They sent you away at 15 years of age. You managed to make a living with fortune-telling using a Sheikah relic you recovered. People would come to you with all sorts of questions that concerned important matters in their lives, people wanting to know the identity of their soulmate, a look at their unborn child, whatever they wanted to know could be seen in that orb. You were the same age my current descendant is now that you gathered the courage to look upon your own future. But there was nothing. You threw that orb across the room and wept. Your heart darkened and you turned to Calamity Ganon. You suffered much and you wanted to bring Hyrule to its knees. You invested yourself in serving the Calamity with such intensity it greatly diminished your desire for anything else. But, that’s what you wanted. Anything to not have to remember that you’d always be alone. You abandoned me long ago, but… even the princess’s faith in me hangs by a thread.”

Astor tensed at the mention of the princess, knowing the goddess could read him so easily, but there was nothing he could hide from her. It was all kind of amusing to Hylia.

“You… You’re the one that’s been meddling with my visions? Why are you doing this? Why would you bend fate itself to spare me? What’s wrong with you? Go mind that wretched girl who bears your blood and leave me be.”

“I’m helping her by helping you. You have the gift of prophecy, which my current descendant is sadly lacking as my lineage is weakening.”

“I’m well aware…” Astor said irritated. And then, fearful of what the goddess might read his thoughts he lashed out.  “Your lineage can rot… The only intention I have towards that girl is to ensure she never unlocks that awful power.” The prophet said, defensively.

A soft smile crossed the goddess’s lips as she knelt to whisper in his ear, and what she said frightened him so badly he, at last, gathered the strength to raise his voice and try to stand and confront her face to face, but Astor could only lift his head and raise an arm to try to summon his orb. “Hear me, Calamity Ganon, rain down your destruction on this… this…”

Hylia’s blue eyes regarded him with pity. The resemblance to the princess was uncanny, though the goddess’s appearance could only be described as otherworldly and ageless. She began to fade away. “There is no destruction, Astor. There is only…”

The goddess’s voice faded out as Astor finally lost all ability to remain conscious.

[mitsuaziel]

Rain (Barbatos x Reader)

Female! Reader

Slight angst but with a happy ending

In the human realm there you stood, under the heavy rain that wets your figure, soaking your entire being with its polluted water but you couldn't care less about how you'll get sick afterwards. No. You stare into nothingness, the heavy rain greatly limiting your field of vision to maybe one to two meters and even so, objects are extremely blurry.

The reason why you're under the rain is because you're heartbroken. It's stupid, yes, you know but he was your fiance of three years so it's heart shattering and as if your life line is plugged out when you caught him in action with another woman, balls deep into her as her moans fill the room, clearly having a good time. The reason for his cheating is because you didn't want to have sexual intercourse with him but being the religious person you are, you stated that you didn't want to have sex until after marriage but it seems that he couldn't wrap his mind around the idea.

'He only wants you for your body', your best friend said, attempting to comfort you but it didn't do much as your mind wanders to that specific moment in your life.

'He's the one missing out! It just means that he wasn't your soulmate. God has other plans for you', then why did He has to make it so painful to you?

'Fuck that guy! I hope he gets condemned to Hell', you wish too but you try to get yourself out of that mind set since it's quite the sin to wish someone that.

All these allegations are true, yet here you are, under the rain thinking negatively about yourself. Weren't you pretty enough? Wasn't your company enough for him? Satisfying enough for him? You let out a shaky breath and close your eyes, the rain getting heavier if that's possible. You really want to disappear off the surface of the Earth but you didn't. Again, it's a great sin if you did it.

So, you resorted to just being sad and crying out your sadness all alone. It was... Comforting, to say the very least and with the rain, it's easy to cover up your tears and voice.

"ARGH!" You screamed out loud. You could barely make out your own voice. Perfect.

So you screamed again and again and again until you ran out of energy. If you can't hurt or kill yourself, you might as well tire yourself and just go to sleep. But even so, you figured that you might have nightmares regarding what happened to you just yesterday so you might as well completely drain your energy until you can't move.

With one last scream of frustration and anger, you drop to your knees and let tears flow down your face. God, you just wanted to kill yourself but you can't. Sometimes you wish you weren't that religious but it's these times that you're also glad.

How long have you been under the rain? Half an hour? An hour? More than that? You don't know nor do you care at this point. You certainly couldn't care less about your health as well. You just want to hide under the rain so when you thought the rain stopped, you were confused. It's still raining yet why aren't you under it? Then, you look up.

An umbrella.

"Wha?" You breathe out under your breath as you look at the person holding the umbrella.

Due to the darkness, you can't really see his features but you can tell that he's wearing a suit and has gloves on. His expression though empty as ever, his eyebrows are furrowed as if to mimic confusion. He holds out a hand for you to grab and for a moment, flashbacks of your ex-boyfriend doing the same fills your vision and you shake your head.

The man assumes that you didn't want help and retracts his hand. You stand up but wobbled a bit due to you kneeling for so long, causing you to accidentally grab the man's arm. He was as still as a statue, seemingly unbothered by the fact that you just threw yourself towards him. You mutter an apology even though he won't hear it and didn't bother to squeeze water out your hair or clothes.

"Are you okay, miss?" He asks.

You nod and look away, slightly embarrassed of your appearance at the moment. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'll be going now."

"Wait."

You turn to him. "Do you need something, sir?"

Lightning strikes, lighting up the darkness and you only manage to see his features clearly for a few seconds. Beautiful emerald eyes, green hair gradienting to a teal down his bangs on the left side of his face and no expression at all yet it seems to compliment his handsome features. For a moment, you forgot to breathe. How can a man this beautiful exist?

"You just seem sad and I know that I'm just a stranger, a nobody to you but I do have some time to spare before I go back to serve my master." He states.

You were suspicious. The world is a dangerous place and if a handsome man like Ted Bundy can turn out to be a manipulative murderer, then surely, the man in front of you can do the same.

When no answer is heard from you, he sighs and puts a hand over his heart before bowing down to you, much to your surprise. "I am Barbatos, the butler to my master, Lord Diavolo."

"I... I see." You weren't expecting a butler to be by your side.

"You now know my name, my occupation and my master. Surely, this is enough information for you." The butler, you now know as Barbatos, said.

"Oh, uh, yeah." You awkwardly fidget around. He's just too formal with you that makes it uncomfortable for you.

"So, may I know what is the cause of your sadness? Why are you just kneeling under the heavy rain? Are you not scared of what might happen to you if you were to stay too long out here?" He shoots you question after question.

You wanted to tell him but you're scared of the thought of him ridiculing you. Your fiance's friends did, is he any different?

Barbatos sighs once again and mumbles something before saying, "I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. I do apologize if I do happen to make you feel that way. All I want to do is lend an ear. It is not too wrong of me to do so, is it now?"

You look at the more interesting ground. "Why do you even want to listen to my problems anyway? A butler like you shouldn't help me. You must have other jobs to do and even if I tell you, it's not like you're gonna use that information."

"Maybe, maybe not. But I just want to help."

Damn, he's persistent, you thought. It's not like you're ungrateful, it's more like preventing other people from meddling into your own problems that you can handle by yourself. You didn't need or want someone else's help. You can figure everything out yourself.

And yet...

"Kill me."

The butler was surprised. "Excuse me, but could you repeat what you just said?"

"Ah..." You shake your head. What were you thinking? "I'm sorry. I'll leave."

Just as you turn away, a hand grabs your arm. "Wait."

You wait for him to talk.

"I know I have no place to say this, and it's ironic that I'm the one who's saying this, but don't do it. Life may be hard for you but surely, there must be people who love you. I don't know what happened and really, I have no say in this, if you're thinking about suicide, shouldn't you do something you love? Be with the people you love instead of suffering all alone and eventually hurting other people?"

You look back at him with tears welling up in your eyes. "This is a stupid reason and all, but I just... Can't. The person I love betrayed me. He... He promised."

Barbatos lets go of your hand. "Then, that just means he's a liar, a toxic person in your life. Is it not a relief that you found out instead of being blinded by his lies?"

You wanted to talk back but you bite back your tongue. It is true. Better now then never. You think for a while before forcing a smile on your face. "I suppose so. Thanks for... Talking, I guess. I really appreciate it."

A small smile curl his lips, enhancing his already handsome face. "You're welcome."

*****

Barbatos finally went back to Lord Diavolo's castle after buying all the necessary items from the human realm.

"Barbatos! There you are! Where have you been? It took longer than usual. Did it run out of stock or something?" Lord Diavolo asks as he goes through his endless pile of paperwork.

The butler bows down to his master as a form of apology. "I am sorry, My Lord. No, it's not because of that."

"Then, what took you so long?"

Memories of the rainy scene plays in his head but he answered differently despite knowing that Lord Diavolo can tell between a truth and a lie. "There was a fuss over a mistake I did, My Lord. Wouldn't this new generation call that a 'Karen'?"

Though he knows, Lord Diavolo was more interested in the name the humans gave for someone with such an attitude. "A Karen, huh? Call Levi here! I need to know what that means!"

The day continues on like normal but Barbatos kept on wondering why the devils did he help such a helpless human who's willing to kill themself just because of a broken heart? He doesn't understand his own actions and frankly, he doesn't wish to know why either. He's a demon, a duke, an earl, he shouldn't care so why did he help that one human?

Ahh, of course.

"Welcome to Devildom!"

"Barbatos?"

He bows down to the new exchange student and smiles at you. "Welcome, MC."

"You were a fucking demon?!" You were surprised rather than scared.

"Were?" Lucifer asks but is ignored when both you and Barbatos wouldn't answer him.

How have the Fates destined the both of you to meet again.

[1337wtfomgbbq]

I gotta rant for a second here. I hate this app. Okay maybe not this whole app, more the people on here. Specifically the people in the supernatural community. Yes talking to you. I can’t believe I’m even back into this with you guys.

I know people can pick and chose which characters they like and which they dislike. I know, for some trauma and whathaveyou also plays into what they feel towards a character.

But I am just so mad. I’m on a little bit of a rewatch, as you are, of season 1 to 3 (maybe some episodes of 4 and 5) because those are the only good seasons, and I just wanna look at some posts of my favorite character.

But my favorite character happens to be John.

TLDR: John's character is complex as fuck and people like to oversimplify and villify him, for no reason other than „BuT My DaAAadYY WaS ShiTTy!!!!“

And I get it. People on here disregard season 1-3, even the writers disregarded what JDM wanted John to be: “I don’t think he’s as screwed-up as other people do,” Morgan told EW. “I think he is a guy who’s got a tremendous amount of love for his family. He was willing to die for his sons, willing to put himself in a place to where he could lose his life for revenge on what killed his wife. So as much has been said about John or that I’ve heard about John, I think what is missing is that he shows love in different ways. Maybe he wasn’t a big hugger and he didn’t say the right things when he should’ve — and there’s a bigger picture about getting your kids into hunting ghosts that I should acknowledge — but I think at his core he really loved his family and was willing to sacrifice everything. So I never looked or played John in a way that there was any malice toward his sons.”

People project what went wrong in their lifes and with their fathers on this app SO HARD. To be fair they do that everywhere. But it's so infuriating when it's done to a character you love so much.

And as much as I wanna be understanding I am just so pissed.

Hear me out: Back when I first started watching supernatural (I was fucking 12 back then, can you believe that) and my friend was all „OMG Sam is such a treat. He's mine!“ I thought, okay I'm gonna take Dean then.

The coin finally dropped on me in 'Shadow' and I realized „Heck, screw Dean, I'm taking John!“ (Not that I told my friend that, LOL. I hadn't realized just then that I prefer older guys)

And attraction is one thing, but the character spoke to me on such a deep level too. I mean, you got a dude whos wife died in a way that he cannot explain in a rational way, only to have his eyes opened to the supernatural by Missouri. And it turns out whatever killed his wife also did some fucked up shit to his kid and is after, not only his youngest but, all of them.

So he's forced to take his kids on the run. But, he's also an ex-marine, he's a soldier and he can't leave other people to die at the hands and claws and teeth of monsters and ghosts and strigas and whathaveyou. Which leaves him struggling to ballance protecting and caring for his kids and saving people and hunting things, AND finding the thing that killed his wife.

The way John's situation was set up (ignoring for a second what we learn in later seasons) and the way Sam was brought up by him created a relationship that was bound to escalate; it was only a matter of time.

Season 1 to 3 we got a John that was distant and rough, but a John that recognized he fucked up along the way and who saught to rectify where he went wrong with his boys.

Season 1 episode 20: „You gotta understand something. After your mother passed all I saw was evil, everywhere. And all I cared about was keeping you boys alive. I wanted you...prepared. Ready. Except somewhere along the line I ... uh ... I stopped being your father and I ... I became your, your drill sergeant. So when you said that you wanted to go away to school, all I could think about, my only thought was, that you were gonna be alone. Vulnerable. Sammy, it just... it never occurred to me what you wanted. I just couldn't accept the fact that you and me -- We're just different.“

And guess what, Sam admits seconds later: „We're not different. Not anymore. With what happened to Mom and Jess... Well we probably have a lot more in common than just about anyone.“

Season 1 episode 21: „I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school, I want Dean to have a home. I want....I want Mary alive. It's just....I just want this to be over.“

John literally on the show in person, Jeffrey Dean Morgan Season 1, admits that he didn't want ANYTHING OF WHAT HAPPENED, AND WHAT HE HAD TO DO TO HAPPEN!!!!

Sure, Sam suggested to Dean that John's just „working overtime on Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later“ in the very first episode but we never see John drink alcohol, for all he's on screen in season one, ONCE. (1x1) Suggesting that John did have a drinking problem but somewhere between Sam going off to college and the pilot he kicked that habit.

Sure, Sam is clearly vindictive BUT, when faced with a kid with a clearly abusive father, he also says that, „Well, it coulda gone a whole other way after Mom. A little more tequila and a little less demon hunting and we coulda had Max' childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay. Thanks to him.“ (1x14)

We see him cry on multible occasions in season one and two, we see him hug both Sam and Dean and tell BOTH OF THEM that he is proud of them. Heck, he couldn't shut up about how proud he was of them. Like Jerry told Sam in 1x4 „Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell, He talked about you all the time.“ He kept Sam's soccer trophie, and Dean's first sawed off. He fucking died to safe Dean.

Yeah, he told Dean that he'd have to kill Sam if he goes evil but...

Let's take into consideration season 4 and 5, and John wasn't all too wrong for telling Dean this. Even if we ignore all that, as John probably didn't have the full picture, John didn't knew the extend of Sam's powers. As is always said, „With great power comes great responsibility“. We have seen in comics, shows, movies, all over pop culture and history, how easily great power can corrupt, don't matter how nice and righteous that person is.

Let's take into consideration what was added in season 4 and 5: Like John having another family, the fact that cupid had to get him and Mary together, Mary making a deal with Azazel, the few demons (not even all of them) Lucifer showed Sam who had been put into his life by yellow eyes; even that just adds more credence to the already established character.

Of course John was bound to have flings after Mary, you can't expect a widower to just be celibate forever. And it wasn't even that he bailed on her, he literally didn't know there was a child until twelve years later.

And considering John's erratic 'work schedule' and how little we know of Kate, maybe it was her that wanted John not to have much contact to her son. The whole situation with Adam isn't exactly clear, and told through the eyes of a ghoul. Plus, we all saw where John's decision to leave Adam in the dark about the supernatural had him end up (namely killed by a ghoul).

The fact that cupid had to get John and Mary together only gives more ammunition for my argument that John was only working with what was given to him. Pretty much everyone from hell to heaven was meddling in his life.

Getting ahead with headcanons here but, for all we know John and Mary would've never ended up together; for all we know Mary was a lesbian and John was bi; for all we know they could've still worked out without cupid's help. Who knows? We don't because heaven took that decision away from both John and Mary.

The fact that Mary made a deal with Azazel to safe John's life in exchange for Azazel to be able to enter her home in ten years time, again, caused something to happen down the line that affected John and the boys that John had no control over.

And I gotta thank Lucifer for his part, because it gives EVEN MORE credence as to why John couldn't give Dean and Sam a normal life. He reveals SOME of the people Azazel planted into Sam's life that were actually possessed by demons.

„LUCIFER: Look closely. None of these little devils look familiar to you? SAM: That's Mr. Bensman... One of my grade-school teachers. LUCIFER: And that's your friend Doug from that time in East Lansing. And Rachel... your prom date. Sam Winchester, this is your life. Azazel's gang – watching you since you were a rugrat, jerking you around like a dog on a leash. I know how you feel about them. Me too. So, what do you say you and I blow off a little steam?“ (5x22)

A few episodes earlier we found out that his friend Brady, the one that introduced him to Jess, was actually possessed by a demon, and the one that fucking killed her.

„BRADY (chuckles): Brady hasn't been Brady in years. Not since, oh... middle of our sophomore year?

SAM: What?

BRADY: That's right. You had a devil on your shoulder even back then. All right, now, let it all sink in.

SAM: You son of a bitch. You son of a bitch! (Sam approaches Brady, Dean holds him back) You introduced me to Jess!

BRADY: Ding, ding! I think he's got it!“ (5x20)

All of this paints a clear picture for me, of a man that got played by fate and heaven and hell and was only trying to play the cards all of them dealt him to the best of his ability. Did he fuck up along the way, yes, did he show remorse for that and did he wish he could've given Sam and Dean a better life, Yes.

I completely understand people liking one character and disliking another, even projecting onto characters I get. And I get that people's life experiances lead them to different conclusions.

But it pisses me off so much that I can't go into the 'John Winchester' tag without having to read some shit as fuck take on John.

I have to read people saying that he never told Dean he was proud of him and that the only time he did so he was possessed by Azazel. Which isn't even true, but a motherfucking lie.

Season 2, episode 1; when John WASN'T POSSESSED ANYMORE he said to Dean: „You know, when you were a kid... I'd come home from a hunt. And after what I'd seen... I'd be wrecked. And you... You'd come up to me... you'd put your hand on my shoulder, and you'd look me in the eye. You'd say, "It's okay, Dad." Dean. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to say that to me. I should've been saying that to you. You know, I put... I put too much on your shoulders. I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sam, and you took care of me. You did that. And you didn't complain, not once. I just want you to know... that I am so proud of you.“

I have to read people forget or disregard that John was literally a righteous man. Alastair tried to break John and John didn't break for a century and then clawed his way OUT OF HELL TO SAFE HIS SONS IN 2x22. John must've had righteousness in heaven (which would come through faith in Jesus) and righteousness on earth (which would come through living through the commandments) as long as that's what the writers meant with 'righteous man'.

I have to read stuff John would apparently do only because we learn in 'Dark side of the Moon' that John and Mary's marriage wasn't all sunshine and rainbows and that John even moved out for a period. Even though we don't know who caused that fight and what it was about, literally it could've been Mary's fault and John only left to cool off. And even if not, marriages aren't just sunshines and rainbows. Fights happen, bad stuff is worked out. That would be true even without the cupid spell.

I have to read someone projecting their experiance with their father onto John. I have to read about someone saying John would've been such a dick because he was in the military and fought in the vietnam war, and we all know that's what all sodiers back then were (dicks). I have to read about how homophobic and transphobic John obviously was. I have to read about how much John would've been racist to Sam and Dean if they'd been mixed.

John was born in 1954, he has to be homophobic and transphobic and racist and bigoted and everthing you can think of. It can't be possible for someone to be born during that time and not be, right. (I hope you recognize the sarcasm)

Everybody is screaming 'child abuse' as loud as they can without taking into account the unique world those characters inhabit and the situation fate, heaven and hell put John and the boys into.

Dean could dig himself out of his grave because John used to bury them alive and had them dig their way out of a coffin as training!!!? Are yall good?? Literally what did your parents do to you, what went wront in your life that you think shit like this?!

And I get it, you can headcanon all you want. I myself headcanon John as bi and that Azazel knew and used this fact.

The writers did John so dirty in later seasons, and I'm not even alone in this, JDM agrees with me.

„But it always bugged me that the John that I played is different than the John that has been portrayed since I haven't been around. I really wanted the opportunity to be able to come back and make amends in a way and try to fix the sullied name of this character. But more than that, it's three friends, life lived. It feels like we've been friends for a lifetime now, getting to reunite in a place that we love and that we met and do what we do and I think that is super cool. So not only does John win in getting to come back and see his boys and Mary again and hopefully make some amends, it's just as cool for me, the actor, to be able to come back and see everybody.“

I'm sorry, but if Snape fans are allowed to be pissed about people suggesting Snape would've been creeping on Harry if he had been female and looked like Lilly, I can be pissed about everybody and their grandma in this fucking fandom painting John in the worst light possible.

JDM created such a great character with depth and who was interesting, even in season 4 and 5 they were still respectfull to his character, but the later seasons were just *throws up *

And I mean, I get it, I disregard canon too. Like, I disregard everything after season 5, that's Sam hallucinating in hell to me. Sometimes even after season 3, cause I don't feel like dealing with the angels, and cas and destiel and all that.

I get it, I get it, I get it.

But I too have the right to be pissed off about the way people like to shit on my fav.

Long story short, I love John and how complex and grey his character is and I HATE IT how simple and 'black and white' people wanna make him out to be. I wanna punch a bitch. I wanna throw hands right now.