#why have that wonderfully dramatic moment if you aren’t going to do something with it

[loveourfuture-c]

If they don’t address Eleanor telling Ben “it hasn’t always been him” this season, I’m going to lose it.

[mizunetzu]

I'm gonna cry- Im so glad you're somewhat back! You're one of my fave authors so it's good to see you again! Can i have kuroo x small reader? Kuroo teases him and the reader was in a bad mood so he couldn't take it anymore and cried and then kuroo comforted him and stuff yah know those fluffy stuff ehe, tysm!

sure thing ! ! this is shorter than what id usually do, i used to always push for a minimum of 1000 words, but i think 766 words isnt too shabby for my first fic back ! ——————

Kuroo x reader - A Little Too Far

⚠️ Warnings - none!!

Pronouns - male, he/him

——————

Kuroo was so unbelievably bored. 

He had accepted (Y/n’s) offer to hangout with the intent of, you know, “hanging out,” but (Y/n) obviously seemed to have different plans in mind, with the way he had left Kuroo stranded bored on his bed while he studied. Kuroo groaned dramatically and slid down the bed like a deflating balloon. 

“Pay attention to meeee…” Kuroo pouted, hanging upside down with his limbs sprawled out atop the bed. (Y/n) gave a hum of acknowledgement from his place on the ground, not taking his eyes off of his notebook. “(Y/nnnnnnnnnn).”

“I’m studying, Tetsurou. I invited you over to study with me- so why don’t we study?” “Bullshit! You said ‘hang out!’ We can study another time (Y/n), lets watch a movie or something!” Kuroo made grabby hands towards (Y/n), just for him to stick his tongue out and go back to his work. Kuroo pouted. 

“What are you even studying for? Midterms aren’t till like.. next month.” 

“..Well,” (Y/n) flipped to a new page on his notebook. “You can never be too prepared, right?” 

Kuroo let himself slide onto the floor ever-so-gracefully. He sat himself upright and looked blankly at (Y/n). (Y/n) didn’t look back, nor seem to notice Kuroo staring at him. Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in his head. A smirk found his lips.

“What, are you worried you might fail or something? Is it about that last chem test you bombed, (N/n)?” 

(Y/n’s) pencil halted abruptly, followed by a rather-red (Y/n) whipping his head back to a rather-sly looking Kuroo. “No it is not! Shut up!”

“Oh, oh I think I get why you invited Mr. Chemistry God over to ‘hangout’ now~” Kuroo rested his chin on the palm of his hand, soaking up the red, blushy mess that was his boyfriend. His lips were pursed, and his shoulders were tensed up. What a wonderfully cute expression. Now this was entertaining. 

“There’s no shame in admitting that you needed help, (N/n), or is it just because you wanted me to teach you?” Kuroo stalked closer to (Y/n), placing his hands around his shoulders. He leaned down, next to (Y/n’s) ear and said: “No need to disguise this as a ‘hangout’ (N/n)-”

Kuroo’s voice caught in his throat once he caught sight of the stray, damp droplets of water seeping into (Y/n’s) notebook. Kuroo’s eyes widened. 

“I’m trying my best, so shut up…” (Y/n) violently scrubbed at his face. His voice sounded raw. Kuroo felt a lump of guilt grow in his throat. “I shouldn’t have invited you here after all-” “(Y/n)-” Kuroo’s voice caught in his throat once again. (Y/n) shrugged off Kuroo’s grip harshly, scooting away from him. God, he felt like the scum of the earth. 

They sat there in silence, (Y/n) desperately trying to scrub away tears that kept growing, and Kuroo, dumbfounded sitting there watching. His body wouldn’t move. He sat there, staring shamelessly ashamed of his handiwork. 

Eventually, Kuroo snapped to his senses, his legs finally decided to respond, and he made his way towards the shriveled little ball of soft sniffles that was (Y/n). 

“Hey- hey now..” Kuroo sat next to (Y/n), just to have him scoot away again. Kuroo pursed his lips. “I was just teasing, I swear..”

Kuroo’s voice was barely above a whisper, like anything more than that would somehow break glass. “You know I was just joking, I don’t mean a thing I say…”

(Y/n) hadn't said anything for a good moment. “I’m trying my best..” he rasped out. 

Kuroo had known (Y/n) missed two weeks of school, and was desperately trying to catch up. He knew that he was having a hard time catching up the most in chemistry, yet something still compelled him to say such stupid things. He should’ve known! Stupid!

He shook off his thoughts. “I know you are..” Kuroo wrapped his arms around (Y/n). He let his head loll onto Kuroos shoulder, while he rubbed soothing circles on his back. “I’m sorry for teasing, I know how hard you’re trying. I shouldn’t have said anything, (N/n).” “Though,” Kuroo inhaled. “I’ve seen your notes. You’re adjusting fine. You deserve a little break.. There’s really no reason studying if you’re too burnt out to remember anything.”

(Y/n) said nothing. Kuroo continued, wiping off the last of (Y/n’s) stray tears. “Lets take a little break and I’ll help you catch up, yeah?”

“Yeah,” (Y/n) sniffled. Kuroo smiled a gentle smile. “Yeah.. that sounds nice.”

——————

first fic back lets GO

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt - Wen Ruohan insists that Jiang Yanli come to the Wen "lecture" as well...

ao3

Jiang Yanli tended to deal with stress in one of two ways: cooking and taking care of people. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the Wen indoctrination camp provided many opportunities for both, although not with the people she might have expected.

Wei Wuxian spent most of his days being valiant and light-hearted, trying to give them strength and courage, and Jiang Cheng followed his lead the way he always did, brave and serious and thoughtful and – well. It’s not that she didn’t appreciate both of them, because she did, but it was only that her own anxiety was more easily dealt with when she could distance herself from her current situation and focus entirely on someone else.

She might have tried to take care of Jin Zixuan, but the Jin sect disciples closed ranks around him, glaring at her as if she were the one who broke off their engagement. Either way, she won’t go where she’s not wanted, and so she backed off and went elsewhere to look for someone that needed her.

Luckily for her, Nie Huaisang was very loud and very vocal and very, very needy.

They made for a surprisingly great fit.

Jiang Yanli had perhaps been forced to step into a maternal role a bit too early – Jiang Cheng had always been a soft child, and their father’s dislike of him had hurt him deeply where it had always seemed somewhat unimportant to Jiang Yanli, and Wei Wuxian was of course a big baby masquerading as a man. Her mother had always been disinterested in playing the mother, more fond of training and discipline, and so they’d turned to her when they were young, and still did today. Back at home, they would often descend to bickering and playing for her attention when she was around, knowing how much she liked it: Wei Wuxian demanding to be called A-Xian and fed spoonfuls like a toddler (albeit one capable of eating extremely spicy food), Jiang Cheng too proud to go that far but somehow managing to lose at least ten years of maturity, always looking at her hopefully to affirm that he did well and to sneak him treats behind everyone’s back.

That was the way she liked it, too. Possibly more than she really should, but it made her feel wanted and useful in a way that her weak cultivation never would.

Nie Huaisang, in contrast, had always been babied - by his father, by his over-protective older brother, by his long-suffering sect that nevertheless indulged him in everything. He’d suffered some things (his father’s death, first and foremost) when he was very young, and it sometimes seemed as he’d reacted to that by purposefully staying that age forever: useless and self-indulgent, spoiled and with a tendency to fuss, an unreasonable expectation that he could just turn his big eyes on anyone in his vicinity and they would immediately feel moved to cater to his every need.

Nie Huaisang, in other words, was just her type.

He was calling her ‘Jiang-jiejie’ within a shichen, putting his head on her shoulder a shichen after that, and kicking up such a dramatic fuss about everything that even Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng – who had come over with threats in their eyes about a strange man, even one of their friends, sticking himself so close to her – had ended up encouraging her to see what she could do to calm him down a little.

After they left, she looked down at his pathetic form and said, “You did that on purpose, you little brat.”

Nie Huaisang looked up at her with an impish grin that somehow still suited the tear stains on his face. “That’s true, but Jiang-jiejie won’t tell on me,” he said, as certain as any child. “Besides, this way we get to spend time together – and if we’re together, my guards will protect you as they do me, and your brothers won’t have to worry so much. Aren’t I smart?”

“Such a thoughtful child,” she praised, and he puffed himself up. “But you shouldn’t mislead your big brothers like that, you know. You could have just told them what you were thinking.”

“But where’d the fun in that be?” he said, and put his head on her shoulder again. “Jiang-jiejie will take care of me while I’m here.”

“Of course,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t punish you if you’re naughty, either.”

She did, too. She made him food out of the terrible provisions they received, she brushed his hair and let him teach her how to do his braids, she tucked him in at night before heading back to her tent, and even sat with him and helped him with his memorization and his chores – and when it was called for, she smacked him lightly on the backs of his hands that he held out to her for the specific purpose, scolded him and made him apologize.

She didn’t have any time to spare to worry about the Wen sect.

It was great.

“Uh, shijie,” Wei Wuxian said after a while. “Are you sure you’re okay with Nie Huaisang? He’s really…sticky.”

“He’s adorable,” Jiang Yanli said.

“He’s taking advantage of you,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed how he gets to sit with you in the shade instead of working with us.”

“He sits in the shade because the Nie sect disciples do his share of the work,” Jiang Yanli pointed out. “Just as you do for me.”

“Yeah, but…”

“He’s harmless,” Jiang Yanli said, even though she suspected that if he were pushed to it Nie Huaisang could escalate from brat past menace into actual threat. Hopefully it would never come that. “And it’s good to have company.”

“What do you even talk about?” Jiang Cheng asked. His cheeks were oddly flushed red, and he was averting his eyes – even more oddly, so was Wei Wuxian, who she previously would have said was too shameless to be embarrassed by anything.

“Art, mostly,” she said, puzzled, and even more puzzled when they both flinched. “Recently we were discussing famous landscape artists from the southern part of Gusu.”

“Oh, landscapes,” Wei Wuxian said, exhaling in relief. “That’s all right then. Glad you’re having a good time, shijie.”

“Have fun,” Jiang Cheng agreed, bobbing his head up and down like a fishing bird.

Later, Jiang Yanli narrated the conversation to Nie Huaisang and gave him a stern look when he started giggling. 

“Would you care to explain the joke to your Jiang-jiejie?” she asked, and he waved his hands for a moment of time to catch his breath before explaining to her that he had spent most of his time at the Cloud Recesses acting as a purveyor of a very different type of art.

Jiang Yanli rolled her eyes – fondly, of course, she was always very fond of her boys, even when they forgot that she was three years older than they were – and said, “All right, then, and when were you going to share some with me?”

“I was trying to figure out what types of things you liked first!” Nie Huaisang protested, and this was why she spent so much time with him even when her other boys were also here – he didn’t forget that she was the jiejie, the one who took care of him and made the decisions about what was appropriate, and he was the didi. He didn’t assume that being a man was more important than age, didn’t put aside their “games” of caring in favor of a valiant warlike demeanor; he remained, wonderfully, the same. “I’d gotten it down to three – here, you take this one; let me know what you think.” He winked. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out to make sure no one comes by while you’re reading.”

“If it’s anything too filthy, you’ll be punished,” she told him, and he looked so delighted by the notion that she suspected she was going to be getting something very filthy indeed. “Little boys don’t need to be looking at such things.”

“Without supervision,” he clarified, and sat down next to her with bright eyes full of anticipation, somehow even more shameless than Wei Wuxian. “From a qualified adult. Like Jiang-jiejie!”

The artwork was utterly filthy, but it was, in fact, just the sort of thing she liked when she snuck into her mother’s rooms to sneak peeks at books filched from the high shelves – better, even, and Nie Huaisang seemed to have an endless supply of it even though he complained bitterly that he’d only brought the cheap stuff that he wouldn’t mind losing, and that the best of that had been mostly bartered away.

That was what it was for, she discovered. Nie Huaisang was selling pornography to bored Wen sect retainers in exchange for creature comforts – better food, a nicer resting place, leniency when he inevitably failed to complete some chore or another – and using the conversations to elicit information.

Not spying, per se, that was far too serious for someone as determinedly frivolous as Nie Huiasang, but it was nice to know when the Wen sect was planning a surprise inspection in the morning or if it was a good day to put on their worst clothing because they were going to be wading through mud.

“You could be quite dangerous if you wanted to be,” she commented to Nie Huaisang one evening while she was brushing his hair. He was very particular about his braids, but he let her do the brushing and oiling; the repetitive action calmed his anxiety, and seeing him calm down and relax into her care in turn calmed her own. “You’re very good at being underestimated.”

“I think I’m estimated at just about right, actually,” he joked. If it had been Jiang Cheng saying it, he would have been turning a dagger on himself with the words; if it had been Wei Wuxian, he would have been boasting; with Nie Huaisang, it was just a joke. He had the confidence to be openly useless – the surest sign of a supportive loving family, she thought wistfully. “What about you? How dangerous are you when you’re not thinking about how to take care of someone?”

“I’m always thinking of that,” she chided him, and tugged lightly on his braids in chastisement; he shivered and quailed very satisfactorily when she did that. Such a good boy for her, when he wanted to be; a very good little brat the rest of the time. “And you know I’m not much of a cultivator.”

“Neither am I,” he said. “I still think Jiang-jiejie could be very scary if she put her mind to it.”

It was nice that he thought so. Nobody else did – perhaps what was why she’d become so interested in caring for people, in making food that they liked and brushing their hair and taking care of their clothing, the sorts of feminine arts that puzzled her mother and weren’t even necessary for a sect leader’s daughter to know how to do. She did it because it was something she could do that, and after a while it became something she longed to do.

Jiang Yanli loved taking care of people.

And Nie Huaisang was so very good at being taken care of. 

Even better than her little A-Xian, if she would allow herself the traitorous little thought – Wei Wuxian liked to play the child for her sometimes, to be spoiled, but he would get bored soon enough, staying only long enough for a few bites of soup and then running off to bicker with Jiang Cheng or to be the brave and chivalrous da-shixiong of the Jiang sect.

Not so Nie Huaisang. He was her little brat all day long: whining and in need of comfort one moment, running too far ahead and in need of a scolding the next, always pushing his luck to see what he could get away with. He was soft, like her; bad at cultivating and good at things like painting and cooking and gossip, feminine things, domestic things, which meant that they had an endless supply of things to talk about that no one else cared about. He made mischief but was obedient, and he thrived under the structure she provided for him, coaxed into doing what he ought and directed away from doing what he shouldn’t.

He was adorable, in a way that she’d never felt about her actual brothers.

Her newest little didi, her A-Sang.

They were, perhaps, growing a little too close.

(But no, Jiang Yanli still maintained the boundaries of being a proper young lady, good obedient Jiang-guniang. Even if she had picked up a very specific pornography habit – but she was never going to tell anyone about that.)

Still, it came as a surprise when they were all in the dark, wretched cave, when the Wen sect threatened them and the corrupted Xuanwu lashed out against the walls to bring down rocks, when one of the Nie sect disciples pushed her behind a rock, shouting, “Take care of Nie-gongzi!” to her as if they really expected her to keep him safe.

“Your men trust me too much,” she said into Nie Huaisang’s hair – his arms were wrapped around her, his eyes watching the battlefield, flicking from side to side as he tracked the course of battle with far more expertise than her. “Don’t you think they meant for you to take care of me?”

“They want you to help keep me from being upset,” he said, and disengaged from her long enough to pick up a fallen sword and throw it with surprising accuracy into the fray – it pieced one of the Wen sect soldiers from behind, breaking their battle line, and the Nie sect disciples overwhelmed them. 

It was a masterful stroke, but Nie Huaisang recoiled from his own hand as if he’d been burned by it. His eyes were wide and white all around the edges, old fears rearing up to rend him into pieces from the inside - she knew the look of it.

“It’s all right,” she said, whispering in his ear. “You did well, didi.”

His shoulders relaxed.

Whatever had made Nie Huaisang so very afraid of shedding blood must had hurt him very deeply, Jiang Yanli thought, and the Nie sect knew it. It all made sense now: that was why they indulged him, why they spoiled him, why they allowed him to grow up as useless as he was, even as they feared him falling into danger. 

It wasn’t that he couldn’t be dangerous - but he wouldn’t be able to bear it.

(Jiang Yanli was very curious to meet the older brother he spoke so very much about. Nearly as much as she spoke of Wei Wuxian or Jiang Cheng, in fact, and didn’t that say everything she needed to know?)

“You should be careful, Jiang-jiejie,” Nie Huaisang murmured as they watched from their safe place as the battle raged on. Every once in a while, he intervened, each strike perfectly placed to cause maximum damage and showing that no matter how much he whined about training there was still muscle and deadly instincts beneath his skin; after each move, she would squeeze him tight and help him regulate his breathing, suppressing the panic attack he immediately fell into so that it could be postponed until a more convenient time. “I might grow to rely on you, and then where would we be? You’d have no choice but to come back to Qinghe and spend your life there with me.”

It was an offer, she thought in surprise, however gently phrased.

It seemed she wasn’t the only one getting a little too close. 

As it happened, Jiang Yanli didn’t have time to respond before the battle finally ended as abruptly as it had started, the Wen sect fleeing the Xuanwu and closing off the exit to the cave, trapping them inside with a ravenous Xuanwu – although one that couldn’t reach them in the corner where they cowered away from it.

The valorous men and women debated what ought to be done next.

The useless ones sat around and waited for their fates to be decided.

Oddly enough, this was the part that began to wear on her. The battle had passed almost without her noticing it, all her attention on caring for Nie Huaisang, but this aftermath - or preliminary, depending on how you looked at it - was utterly agonizing. Watching her brothers ignore her (useless in a fight), think nothing of her (they don’t need her to care for them), no one thought anything of her (what use is she if they don’t need her?) – and then watching them yell at each other and argue and fight without quarter, without mercy, and knowing that she couldn’t intervene, that she was pointless. Her own stress began rising rapidly, her heart beating hard, her breath starting to come short –

“Hey, Jiang-jiejie,” Nie Huaisang said.

She looked at him.

He smiled at her. “I’m hungry. You should make me some soup.”

“Brat,” Jiang Yanli said automatically, and her shoulders slowly came down, calm returning to her heart. He was obviously saying it to comfort her, she wasn’t stupid, but at the same time the request somehow suited her down to the ground and did the trick the way nothing else might have – after all, if her cowardly little brat had enough energy and attention to spare to be begging for food, things couldn’t be that bad. “What type of soup were you thinking?”

His smile widened as he watched the Xuanwu thrashing in the lake, dissatisfied that it could not capture them and rend their bones with its teeth. “Turtle soup.”

(They served it at their wedding.)

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed The Radio Star - Chapter 6 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hello! I’m sorry for being so inactive, I just started up college again this semester and it’s been a long week and it’s only Wednesday. I think I might try to update Sunday every week starting next week so we will see how that works out!

Warnings: Soft mention of drugs once again, They are just talking again and things are being put in motion. 

Plot: Spencer and you have conversations and make some plans. You have a certain kind of dream. 

Word Count: 2.1K

Spencer could feel his cheeks grow warm, a grin creeping its way onto his face. There was the pesky idea of fate repeating in the back of his mind. Spencer suppressed the idea, not wanting it to ruin the moment. He was too busy zoning out, thinking about how easy the smile on his face appeared when he heard your voice, not noticing the growing silence over the line. “Spencer?” your voice called through the phone.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I’m here!” Spencer laughed quickly, clearing his throat nervously. “Why are you up?”

He heard you laughing over the phone, nervous knots twisting in his stomach. “Spencer, it’s seven o’clock.” You giggled, feeling lighter than you had all day. You heard him laugh nervously at himself as he muttered an embarrassment, “Right.”

Spencer licked his lips, “Why did you call?” he questioned, trying his best to relax on his couch.

You felt the weight in your chest replace the butterflies, swallowing hard. You had kept it all in, it was hard to pick the reason for your call. You took in a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. “Things have just been piling up, and I feel like I need some help.” your fingers pinched the comforter between your thumb and index.

“What kind of things have been piling up?” Spencer asked, straightening as he listened.

You pinched the comforter tighter, jaw clenching down. You didn’t want to cry with Dr. Spencer Reid on the phone. Maybe it was because you hated feeling vulnerable. You tried your best to relax and remember that he wouldn’t judge you, he said to call if you needed anything, and you did. “I don’t want to say something stupid,”

“You won’t,”

“Well, it kind of started when I left the hospital. I had a dream, a memory, one night. I could feel her, she wasn’t there, because she’s dead! Then,” you let out a calming breath, “Then, I was in my mom’s kitchen, and I saw this pink light. I was back there, like in the room, I could feel it, smell it.” You shivered, overwhelming anxiety dawning on you.

You felt safe with Spencer, you couldn’t explain why you did, but you did. Was it because he was the first face you saw that day? Or because he had come to check up on you in the hospital?

Despite your overwhelming feeling of trust towards Spencer, you couldn’t stop the tiny voice in the back of your mind that told you he thought you were crazy. Clammy hands rubbed against your pajama pants in a desperate attempt to dry them.

Spencer wanted to spew statistics, say something about how many victims experience post-traumatic stress disorder, but he stopped himself. He wanted to dig deeper, he wanted you to know you weren’t alone. He cleared his throat, trying to sound calm. “I know what it’s like, to feel like they’re still around. It seems irrational to think that a dead person is around, that getting saved was all a dream, but I know what it’s like.”

Your heart rate slowed at his words, closing your eyes as you chuckled gently. “You just have to say that because you're my federal agent,” teasing him softly over the phone.

“Hey, that’s Doctor federal agent to you.” Spencer joked, a tiny chuckle building up in his throat. “I’m saying it because I know,” he ruffled his hair as he tried to think about what to say, falling back into a silent panic. He wasn’t used to talking to people about it, especially people that he didn’t know. He tried to recall his emotions, trying his hardest to remember. He wanted to be a beacon of light for you, something to follow, something to trust. He swallowed hard, “About two years ago, I was kidnapped,”

“Spencer,” your tone was so soft, so sweet, he felt his chest pound. “You don’t have to explain anything to me,” You heard a gentle protest on the other line, shushing him. “Spencer, really, it already means the world to me that you gave me your number. You didn’t even have to pick up and yet, you did.”

Spencer hesitated, wanting to insist that he was fine with talking about it, to insist that it didn’t bother him, but he kept his mouth shut. He knew that it wasn’t something he was comfortable with talking about and you were right. He didn’t even know you, but here he was trying to convince you that you were safe. That you weren’t alone. “I’m sorry,”

“For what?”

Spencer grinned, feeling lame as he searched for an answer. After a few moments of silence, you spoke up again, “Spencer, I’m not working right now and I’m always alone,” you trailed off, your cheeks flaring, “Well, I was wondering if I could keep calling you. As long as you aren’t busy,”

You were waiting to hear Spencer’s calming voice reject you, but you could hear the excitement in his voice as he answered with an enthusiastic “Yes,”

You felt your chest tighten, “I’ll call you tomorrow at eight?”

“Eight sounds good,”

“Okay,”

“Okay,”

You quickly said a nervous goodbye, hanging up after hearing Spencer bid you farewell.

---

It was night, cool breezes blew through your hair, as you looked up with a smile. Your arms wrapped around his neck, large hands holding your hips. You ignored the excitement shooting down your spine, your body feeling nuclear under his touch, your emotions being the bomb and his touch was the impact. You felt so wonderfully warm if something touched you, you were sure it would heat up in a second.

You felt his hands move away, pulling at his neck for a thick scarf, wrapping it around your neck delicately, pulling you closer by the ends of it. He laughed, peppermint filling your senses, leaning down quickly. You caught a glance of hazel eyes before you woke up in your lonesome bed.

A pit formed in the bottom of your stomach as you push yourself up on your bed, blinking as you registered who you were just dreaming about. You let out a whisper of a desperate no, dramatically falling back down onto the bed with a groan. Your hands rubbed your eyelids, trying not to picture Spencer leaning down, trying not to remember how he smelt of peppermint. How did you even know that? You scolded yourself as you got up, throwing on some semi-appropriate clothes and heading for the door with your crutches.

You needed some air, you knew he was in your dreamland of romance because he was the last person you talked to last night. After the phone call, you spent the rest of the long night on your bed with a copy of The Picture Of Dorian Gray. Why couldn’t demonic Dorian Gray live in your dreamland? You limped into the coffee shop, holding back a giddy smile as you gave Spencer Reid’s lips one last thought.

You had spent the rest of your day, doing mindless tasks; you read, you cleaned, watched mindless television, anything to keep yourself distracted. Your mind kept drifting towards darker ends, today seemingly worse than the last. Your body yearning desperately for numbing bliss, a gentle reminder that despite all of your romantic dwellings you were still living in an unbearable existence.

You were about to endure another episode of staring up at the ceiling when there was a gentle knock at the door. You welcomed the distraction with a grin, hobbling as fast as you could, over to the door. You opened it to see a delivery woman smiling back at you as she handed you a tiny package, you signed for it quickly and politely shut the door. You sat at your kitchen table, opening the package with a tiny struggle.

It was free from all the tape now, but you couldn’t stop the sick feeling from eating at you. What if you had another stalker? How stupid were you to just bring a package into your house? After everything that had happened, you cursed yourself for your carelessness. You swallowed a quick gulp of air, opening up the package slowly. You let out the air with a tiny gasp, seeing a tiny card on the inside that read Spencer. The note was right next to a box of peppermint tea and a small copy of Oscar Wilde’s The Nightingale and the Rose.

You tried not to let it get to you as fire decorated your cheeks, you opened the note quickly, reading messy handwriting.

Y/N,

Since you said you were always alone, let this keep you company.

-Spencer

You bit the inside of your cheek, heart racing as your stomach filled with the fluttering wings of butterflies. Before you could let your mind go any farther, you suppressed them, choking the life out of beating wings in your stomach. It wasn’t fair to him, to Spencer. He was too good and you were here in your apartment, yearning for a drug to satisfy you. He didn’t need that. He shouldn’t have to fix you and he wasn’t going to be your coping mechanism.  

You stood up, grabbing the peppermint tea, slipping it into the cabinet with a dramatic huff. On your way back to the couch you grabbed the book, sitting down and letting it do the job of keeping you company.

After a cup of peppermint tea, you called Spencer’s phone. You felt a very familiar lump grow in your throat as you heard the first ring. Despite being in the good company of a good book, you couldn’t stop thinking about Spencer. It seemed that thoughts of him kept you more company than anything Oscar Wilde could produce. You let yourself be convinced that he was just a friend, that he was just someone trying to help you get through a rough patch. He was just someone who understood.

Another ring. You squeezed your eyes tight, the sudden urge to hang up the phone was becoming slightly overwhelming. You were about to hang up the phone at the third ring, but then you heard a very breathless “Hello?”

Anxiety exited your system, warmth replacing the void effortlessly. “Hi,” you chuckled, hearing a heavy pant on the other end of the line, “Did I interrupt a workout  routine?”

“No,” Spencer let out a breathy laugh, relaxing at the sound of your voice. It was a welcome distraction from his day, they didn’t have a case, it was just a long day. “I was just cleaning up,”

“Is the doctor dirty?” you questioned, the word choice setting in as your cheeks became a light pink, stuttering to fix your mistake. “I mean, messy! Are you messy?”

Spencer didn’t think the question was all that odd till he realized that it could have been taken out of context and then he let out a tiny chuckle, shaking his head slowly. “No, I’m not dirty, just cluttered,” he answered, a smile on his lips. “Did you get the package?”

“Yes,” Your voice rising in volume with excitement, “I did, it was perfect. Thank you so much.” A tiny piece of guilt slithering into your mind as you stole a glance over at the book next to you. You were about to speak when Spencer cut you off.

“I was just thinking about what you said last night and thought it would cheer you up,”

Your guilty thoughts came to a halt, a blush creeping its way towards your ears as you let out a gentle, “It did,”

“I’m glad it did,”

You let out a soft hum, trying to come up with something to say. You wanted to ask him how his day was, or ask him how he was feeling. But all of those questions seemed weak. You could’ve told him that you wanted to be friends, but your emotions decided for you. “Would you be alright with going out, like as friends?”

“As friends?”

“I would like us to go out as friends, yes.” your voice shook slightly with anxiety as you waited for his response.

Spencer couldn’t fight back the laugh bubbling in his chest, chuckling at how nervous you seemed. “I would love to,”

“Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, you might think I’m weird or something?”

“Y/N,”

“Yes?”

“I would want nothing more than to go out with you, as a friend, that is.”

[life-rewritten]

Gifts of BL! Aka Christmas Goodies For BL Fans Who Want Important Discussions About   Representation.

Oh wow, we're closer to Christmas. Where has the time gone?. So here's a gift for you all—another list of great BLS that will make you have a great time. If you find it fun rewatching and feeling all the emotions from these love stories, then I hope you enjoy these. Today I bring you guys a list of recommendations for our sometimes serious, sometimes heartfelt, sometimes innovative educators in BL that are very much needed.

Ah, The educators, the teachers, the serious topics, the displays, the emotional moments. Some of these shows decided to surprise me when I came in expecting something odd and not realistic; only for them to break my heart but also humble me and teach me and others some of the crucial conversations we need to have about LGBTQ+ representation in BL. We have couples discussing about their sexuality accepting they are gay or bi(Yes not just in love with only one person but they actually embrace their sexuality), we have essential coming out scenes and looks into the mindsets of people who struggle with coming out and being in the closet, we have supportive families that have to learn and show our characters warmth because of their own experiences, and we have metaphorical outlooks of what it feels to have to please society with the result of losing ourselves. These are the great BLs, they break our hearts, but they make it hopeful to see people who go through their issues and come out in love, strong and protected and supported. Their journey is worth it, so if you want to find some shows that give you these feelings, then join me and let's look at these great representations in the BL genre. 

BL has a bad rep. How could it not when the reason BLs were created was for straight girls who fangirled about two boys kissing. Not that I even hate fujoshi's, you're allowed to be whatever you want, like whatever you want as long as you don't cross the line and make people uncomfortable with outrageous demands or actions (like the fujoshi's in some BL shows). But BLS has become something more, though some people refuse to take them still seriously and doubt their authenticity, some people refuse to accept some shows as BL, they instead just call it a queer film or tv. But why? BL has become a place for people to run away into a fantasy of stories where there's drama, romance, comedy, mystery, passion and more. BL can be anything, and in 2020 BL showed it could be anything, it could be serious and well produced and not filled with its past problematic enquiries, it could be funny and still tug at the heartstrings, it could be deep and painful and full of lessons but still have a happy, hopeful ending, it could be any genre it wanted, from supernatural, action, thriller and more. BLs improved and also became a source for the representation of LGBTQ+. And I think that's beautiful. It might have a taken a while for people to learn, for own voices to find a way to write new shows, for risks to be made. But 2020 saw the influx of BLS that weren't just fan service but actually art or just good stories with a great message. Here are some of them. 

Thai 

Dark Blue Kiss

It's weird to say that Dark Blue Kiss is an excellent representation for the qualities needed in this list. But what can I say apart from the overbearing, jealous plotline and some irrational over reactiveness with some of our characters. Dark Blue Kiss and Kiss me again has always been a show that has been worth it. Dark Blue Kiss is one of the first Thai BLs, where we saw a supportive parent, and that's Pete's father. He's incredible; he's everything that's healthy, understanding and helpful. He makes jokes with Pete about his relationship but also supports and gives him advice. He's protective and sweet when it comes to Kao and Pete, and they are themselves when they're with him even daring to speak about things like intercourse etc. It's incredible; he was a breath of fresh air for parents we usually encountered in this genre. He had discussions with his son, and in doing so, we saw his son also have more conversations and discussions with his partner about what their sexuality was, why they should come out as a couple, why they were scared to do so, what was holding them back etc. Pete's dad isn't the only supportive parent with advice and warmth, we later also add Kao's mum to the list, she's always known about Pete and Kao and was waiting patiently for Kao to come on his own and tell her. It's incredible. Dark Blue Kiss brought out conversations that didn't seem meaningless, there was an actual exploration of the fears some people have with coming out, and it was brilliant and wonderful to see on screen. Honestly are we shocked? It's Backaof as the director; all his shows should be on this list, every single show of his explores these topics with care and heart. And it's incredible.

Why it's a gift

Deep conversations and moments where you see two people learn and wonder about their sexuality and how the world may react to it. Supportive parents that are understanding, helpful and sweet. A relationship that's incredible despite its flaw, shown wonderfully and thoughtfully. Even the hurtful moments like when Kao gets outed and also has to struggle with claims of being a predator is done well and leads to Kao finally accepting his fears and coming out to the people he loves. By the end of it, all Pete and Kao are back together, happy, finally healthy and mature. Dark blue kiss also explores these two ambitions, their dreams, their ideas for the future and more. And it also has a great friendship group worth stanning. Pete and Kao aren't the only couple in this show worth praising and noticing you also have Mork who goes through his own acceptance of his sexuality once he falls for Sun, they're also great and also have their own plot revolving around dreams, jobs and character and angst. A great side couple in BL.  It's amazing. 

Special mention:

My Dear loser: Another Backoaf directing, no words this is incredible, I think everyone knows how great this is despite the BL coupe being a side couple, that may have an ending that feels unfinished. You can watch both this and My sky for a full experience. This deals with everything so well and also has a great support system from friends. Chimon is such an amazing actor in this.

As always I leave a gift: 

LINK HERE FOR MY DEAR LOSER IN/SUN CUT

DARK BLUE KISS EDIT FOR PETE KAO THEIR STORY

I told Sunset about You

I mention this show on every list; it's like not even a surprise anymore to see it. There's a reason why this show is incredible why people prefer to see it as a queer film instead of BL. Why people think calling it a BL is an insult (which I think why? A BL should be allowed to be seen as a good form of representation). This show has it all. Honestly, a great production company behind it, acting that's phenomenal, and a story that will blow your minds each time you watch it and try to piece it together. What's even more respectful about ITSAY is that it's a coming of age done well, it showcases feelings of the youth and how feelings are seen as a storm that can't be stopped. 

Especially when you are struggling to understand your sexuality, we have two characters, Teh who learns as he grows that he has uncontrollable, addictive and crazy feelings for his best friend, they're drawn to each other, but Teh can't understand what he feels, he doesn't know what this means. He struggles to comprehend it as well with his struggles with ego, pride and selfishness because of his young age. Then we have his best friend Oh Aew he knows what he is, he also is torn apart by feelings when Teh reenters into his life, he also struggles through losing his self, individuality and his confidence because of his feelings for Teh. It's brutal, but one thing stands for sure, these two are meant to be together, these two love each other. Why is this so great? Because the directing and production of this show is serious, every single scene counts, every single action has a meaning, but also this show has incredible moments that show you the struggles of internalized homophobia. 

It's something that's always mentioned in BLS as a struggle. Still, this show used scenes to show it, like for example, OH wearing his mother bra because he wished he was born a girl to be with Teh. Still, then he breaks down in self-loathing only to later stand up and embrace who he is, and Teh who finally comes out to his brother in a heart-wrenching scene; another supportive and healthy relationship who understands him and tells him it's okay to be who he is, to be with Oh, to be brave and take a leap to what he wants. His brother's conversation is everything someone who struggles with the same issues wants to hear; it's a healing effect, a hopeful and painful realization that some people don't have someone like Oh and Teh's family who help them and let them accept who they are. 

It's a journey of discovering the truth about how so many people have to go through this fear because of what society put in our heads, it's a wake-up call, but the fact that ITSAY has a happy ending despite all the realistic representation and angst is a hopeful meaning for everyone who saw themselves in Oh and Teh. It's incredible. 

Why it's a gift:

It's unbelievable; it's not told to you but shown to you the amount of struggle some people can have when they're coming of age and realizing their sexuality. It's a beautiful representation of what it's like to fall in love: the angst, pain, healing but also sabotage, and the growth. It's produced with so much effort and hard-work and research on what would be an excellent story for LGTBQ to see. One of the best made BLs; this is not us being dramatic. 

.A Gift for You

GREAT OST PLAYLIST OF ITSAY

An Edit For Teh/OH 

He's coming to me

Another Backoaf, directing masterpiece. This show is incredible. Like words can't explain how good this show is. Words can't describe what a gift this show still is. How much a BL like this was needed. First, this show is already unique; it deals with supernatural world-building, with ghosts and mysteries of death/murder, it deals with also coming of age, and falling in love and accepting your sexuality. It has two confirmed gay characters who we see explore and finally reveal who they are, they've both known and as they fall in love, they have to go through the angst of what it means that they love each other. 

It's incredible, not just because of the fact that Thun's ability to see ghosts and his need to hide that also mirrors his need to hide his sexuality, the way he breaks down later after realizing that people won't let him just be him or the way people made him feel bad for being who he is. The way that Mes also went through the same thing before he died, and the person who connected them was Thun's mom. She's incredible, and I still believe the coming-out scene of Thun to his mum is one of the best as incredible as his confession on the rooftop to Mes as he breaks down in the rain because he's afraid he's been left. 

The amount of repressed feelings these two hides is insane, and when they later confront it,  it's like OMG really they knew about their feelings all along? It's incredible, with a show that already has an incredibly well thought out plot about ghosts and supernatural, but it also has two characters that are fleshed out, who both have discussions with everyone around them about what they are and the way they have a happy ending after all the angst and tears. It's worth it thousand times over and over again. This show is just great. And no one else can do it like Backaof he just has the most excellent formulas: supportive family members, supportive friend unit, serious conversations about sexuality and feelings, important relationships and no censorship, unique plotlines and risks. He's incredible. No words.

Why this is a gift?

The actors are also one of Thailand BLs veterans. Both of them are incredible and nuanced in their scenes; they make you cry, scream, sigh, and swoon. They make you learn, and it's fantastic, they're amazing people. They're worth it both Ohm Pawat and Singto, their performances are incredible. Every character in this show is fleshed out and necessary, the plot makes sense and isn't written haphazardly, and the directing is phenomenal. Watch it. 

A gift for You

He’s coming to me the whole show

PINOY

Gaya Sa Pelikula 

This time we have the Philippines if Thai isn't your cup of tea I guess. This show is just, so great? It was made with the intention for representation, a love story to the LGBTQ community, actors devoted to researching and learning about the topics presented in the show. This show is outstanding, no words, it's not preachy, but it's still educative. Not one episode goes back when you don't see the effort and brilliance of this show; each message of each episode is so important and needed. The story isn't afraid to explore topics which haven't been shown correctly in this genre, and it's so good they did. 

We have two characters, one a gay out guy (Vlad) who is very bitter about everyone and how they treated him, he's dying to be loved for who he is, and he's desperate to find a safe space where he can be himself loud and proud, he falls in love with another (Karl) who is more in the closet, with secrets that you discover later about his circumstance he's not sure of who he is and as the show progresses he and us get educated about everything. He learns to accept that he is gay. 

This show is about self-acceptance, love and healing. By falling in love; our characters are forced to question everything about who they are, what they've gone through and how that shaped them, and we realize that both perspectives is right in their own way. The show is for people who feel like the guy who's out, who wants to be proud and tell the world he's in love but also it's for people like his partner who feel guilty for struggling and having anxiety about accepting who they are, but this show doesn't force him out, it doesn't force them to be together, it just becomes a realistic story full of hope about the future of these two. It's a healing show; it makes you question your self, it makes you go through your own journey of how you feel you're perceived in the world, it takes you on a trip of your own self-learning, exploration and discovery. And it ends making you feel grateful for the experience of it all.

Why it's a gift:

 I think the best thing about this show is the other extra gifts it brings. It's music playlist, it's like your own gift bundle of new artists to explore and listen to every song is beautiful and needed, with different messages and feelings, you will find one music you love in this playlist, and you'll end up spending hours weeping about them. But it's beautiful, it's euphoric, and the show is worth it. The show has amazing actors and a great team of people behind the scenes. The writer is brilliant, poetic and serious; he knows how to make a plot. He knows how to teach you without you feeling patronized, he knows how to humble you if you didn't know anything before. He's just great. 

A gift for You

GSP OST PLAYLIST- THE BEST

Gameboys 

I haven't mentioned this show on here before, which is sad because it really should be praised. It's an outstanding show that showed up during a time where the world was on pause. Gameboys provided a gift for everyone who looked for something during the lockdown in the pandemic. The fact it revolves around events in the pandemic, it uses it as a great plot device and has important moments that touch your heart and make you reflect on the situation without being too heavy. 

Gameboys is incredible; it also has a unique storyline, a Gameboy and his fanboy who falls in love with him and is confident he can win over his heart. Except, our Gameboy Cairo has to go through some self-exploration first, some self-healing and acceptance, some coming to terms with guilt and self-hatred he feels for things that happened to his past. This show makes you cry, so bring the tissues, I mean every show on this list probably does, but this show has so many moments, we have supportive parents, but even in a more heartbreaking way, we have warnings of what happens when people selfishly out people, the consequences of that, how much anxiety and fear you can have as you deal with internalized homophobia and being in the closet, how it affects family members, and what it means to finally accept who you are and stand up for who you are. It's brilliant, painful, but it also makes you grin from so many heartfelt moments we needed during a dark time. The actors are also amazing, and they make you feel everything they feel so naturally, they're also three dimensional and have exciting character arcs. There's a great support system as well in this show, with the best friend, who makes you smile whenever you see her. This show is worth it. 

Why is it a gift? 

I feel like without knowing it Gameboys was an actual gift for everyone who was struggling during the pandemic, it showed the reality of what was going on, but it also showed healing and hope and happiness derived from being in quarantine and lockdown. It showed that even in lockdown nothing had to stop, we could still fall in love, grow and learn about our selves if we wanted to. It also had a great love story to follow that was both funny, romantic and heartfelt. The directing was genius also, and it touched many people. It was outstanding. 

A gift for You

ALT GAMEBOYS: A SIDE STORY FOR ONE OF THE CHARACTERS

JAPANESE

Cherry Magic 

Finally, we come to this gem of a show. What else can we say about Cherry Magic? Oh I know, no one expected this Japanese BL to be so full of heart, joy, magic but also depth. This show is just ridiculously good, it's not as painful as the other shows, it's slower and more softer than the other angst in the other shows, but this show still tugs at your heartstrings and makes you laugh and cry. It deals with everything that has already been mentioned: self-acceptance, questioning of sexuality, trying to please society that you lose your self, being brave and finding your self, loving your self, etc. 

It's just so great, it's also unique a story about magic and reading minds that our main character has. As he realizes his person (Kurosawa) loves him, we watch Adachi struggle through self-hate, self-deprecation and anxiety to finally come out of his shell and become who he wants to be. This show has an incredible love interest who's just wonderful, he's the ideal man, but that doesn't mean he's one dimensional or stale. 

He's also deep, and has his own flaws and hurts, and the way he loves Adachi is just breathtaking and frankly makes you so jealous. Why is this show for representation? Because it's a slice of life of an office romance, it deals with what people go through in life, the gruels and requirements from work whilst also watching both our characters choose to be brave and come out to each other and pick each other despite their fears about what their environment thinks. 

These two are each other's healing, comfort, support system and they both have incredible personalities. This show is also quite deep, you wouldn't think so, but when you listen to the dialogues and watch some of the scenes, you'll see how deep this show can be for its characters whilst still being fluffy. It perfectly represents the fear of coming out and coming to terms of having feelings for someone you weren't expecting. Its message is more hidden, but it's still great for conversations about representation, in my opinion. 

Why it's a gift?

It was made as one; the last episode is coming on Christmas haha. This show takes some tropes of BL and chooses a healthier option, it also just fleshes out its characters incredibly, you watch how Adachi and Kurosawa changed each other's life without knowing and how their love keeps being needed by each other in many ways. It also is called Cherry Magic, because this show is magical, it makes you grin, be happy and excited from seeing one episode, it tugs at your heartstrings whilst making you blush and squeal from happiness. Its softness is something to look forward to after a hard day of whatever real life looks like to you, it has a healing effect, a warm effect and it makes you smile and forget your troubles in those few minutes. It's wonderful. 

A gift for You

Adachi and Kurosawa EDIT

I hope you enjoy these shows they’re all incredible, they’ll surely make you smile and be happy. They’re all important in their own way, if you haven’t seen any have a go and see which you love. Let me know if I’ve missed some, to be honest I chose the ones that had scenes with important discussions that make you think or scenes that bring out emotions and feelings but also make you learn and realise something. Hope you enjoy the recommendations or if you’ve watched them before hope you enjoy the reviews and commentary. Merry Christmas guys :)

Other recommendations

GIFTS OF BL FOR FANS WHO LOVE ANGST, DRAMA AND PASSION

[misterewrites]

Cheers from Newton Haven ( Mirror’s Edge)

Hey everyone E here with a surprising amount original works. haha so you can blame my good friend @hains-mae for this because she enabled me. So long story short I love writing. I love creating ideas, story plots, characters all that jazz. Often there's a lot of leftovers that i put away in word document just so I have stuff to work with or ideas i can use later. Most of the time I might write something just to get it out of my system but it usually just ends up gathering dust in my computer.

I've been getting more into modern urban fantasy stories and watching the unsleeping city which is a modern dnd show (highly recommend it. first season's free on youtube over at the dimension 20 channel) and naturally I wanted to write some so here we go.

I don't know how often I'll be writing this because this accidentally became my side project whenever I need a break from the underground but who knows might turn into another big layered project.

so basic summary is there are a group of friends, associates, reluctant allies, organizations and frenemies who work together to keep the peace of the supernatural world in check and to ensure it remains secret to everyone else while living their lives as best as they can. Today's chapter includes Finnrick Drift a private investigator wizard and his best friend Casey Remington, cleric of the hearth

that's it for me. have a great week! stay safe, take care of each other. wear your mask, wash your hands, get the vaccine if you can and I'll see you soon!

and if you wanna an easier place to read and leave me some good old comments or reviews you find the chapter right here https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

Not gonna lie i promised I’d try to promote myself more and it’s weird. it feels so weird. haha 

It was a busy Friday afternoon in Midtown. People in designer named suits and dresses bustled across the sidewalks in all directions, too caught up in last minute phone calls or sudden late night work orders to notice anything else. The buildings that scraped the bottom of the sky were clean with a fresh coat of paint and maintenance, a testimony to the wealth and power that was found here.

So naturally Casey felt as out of place as fish out of water in his purple baseball jersey and black shorts just standing outside some fancy restaurants doors with his friend.

“Finny” Casey started awkwardly, his sea green eyes darting back and forth awkwardly “Any reason we’re out here being creepy? I got a Neighborhood Watch meeting at like 6.”

Finnrick or Finny as Casey referred to him, was no better dress than he was for the environment. A long black trench coat that was more stitching than fabric, a matching frayed faded fedora sitting comfortably on his head. He wore a nice collared dark red shirt tucked in a black vest but even that felt cheap and tacky compared to the thousands of dollars worth of clothing that passed them on the street every second. At least his black dress pants were dark enough to hide the patch up jobs and naturally the only kept squeaky clean were his loafers.

Finnrick sucked on the thin white stick for a moment before speaking up “I’m debating if it’s worth the trouble. I didn’t realize you had a meeting tonight.”

“Well we always meet up on the fifth. You know talking about treaties, clean up jobs, if any undead hordes have been spotted. My birthday cake.”

“Ah shit” Finnrick rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his dark brown eyes apologetic “It’s your birthday? Did you want to go? I think I can handle it alone.”

Casey lifted the hat off Finnrick’s head and playfully ruffled his already messy black hair “You getting old Finny. My birthday is the tenth.”

Finnrick waved off his assault “I’m six months younger than you.”

“But” Casey gestured to the smattering of sliver streaks in Finn’s hair “You look older.”

“At least I don’t look like I’m 15. Dude you need a haircut. Everyone here thinks you’re a hippie.”

“A good looking hippie.” Casey gave a dramatic shake, his wavy dark brown hair flowing in the breeze.

The pair burst out laughing, doubling over trying to catch their breath as the business suits eyed them distastefully.

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” Finnrick made his way over, smiles and charm as they approached the doorman.

“Your cigarette sir.” The doorman spoke dully.

Finnrick pulled out the now finished lollipop “Don’t smoke but done anyway.”

The doorman gestured to the nearby trashcan but Finnrick opt to tuck it away in coat pocket. Disgusted but professional, the doorman gave strained smile as he allowed them entry into the building.

Casey nudged Finnrick curiously “Wizards? Warlocks? God not druids.”

“Probably. This is guy doesn’t have an ounce of magic in him but I wouldn’t doubt he’s got some casters on the payroll. Try not to leave anything behind.”

“I’m a freaking walking carpet here!”

“That” Finnrick grinned playfully “Is why you need haircut.”

Casey gave a fake snarl “Shut up and call the elevator.”

Finnrick whistled, amused by the near silence of the opening doors “Such fance. Barely a sound.”

“So what’s the plan?”

Finnrick scratched the little bush of hair he had on his chin thoughtfully “Ask some questions. Probably get no answers. Be threatened more than likely.

Casey cracked the tension in his neck “Think it’s gonna get ugly?”

“Depends on how many witnesses.”

The two made their way to the seventh floor, the elevator smoothly slowing to a stop before the doors opened with a ding. Two burly men in suits were waiting, flanked on either side as they gestured to an empty restaurant dining room.

“The boss will like to speak to you.”

Finnrick and Casey shared a look.

“Sure!” Finnrick beamed cheerfully, patting both the brutes arms as he passed “I was hoping to talk to him anyway.”

The men growled in annoyance but did nothing as Casey and Finnrick made their way to the center talk, unsurprised to find two glasses of wine waiting for them.

“After you” Finnrick joked, pulling out Casey’s chair for him.

Casey gave a mocking smile “Such a gentleman.”

“Only one I bet” Finnrick whispered before taking his seat.

Casey could hear the low hissing of whatever spells were on their chairs being dispelled.

Yep there was going to be trouble.

Casey eyed the room carefully in search for options: The room itself was pretty dark, dark reddish walls with dim lights to set the mood. Most of the tables had been left alone for whatever event this room was scheduled for later with the chairs stacked in the corner. A few feet to their left was the bar, unmanned but well stocked and a window to the outside nearby.

“Well, well, well!” A voice called out from some shadowy part of the room “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting this fine Friday afternoon?”

Finnrick rose to his feet, politely motioning to himself and Casey “My name is Fredrick and this is my friend Charles.”

The man’s hazel eyes shone with suspicion “No last names?”

“Of course” Finnrick grin “But there’s no need for friends, right? We are friends Robert?”

Robert paused, a barely contained rage shimmering just under the surface. His slicked back graying hair and tailored perfect dark blue suit were signs of a precise, irrational control. This was a man that was never told what to do and considered himself above everyone and anyone.

“Of course.” He answered a moment too late. He was not happy. “Of course. What are polite manners among friends?”

“Thanks Bobby!” Finnrick gave a friendly wink before retaking his seat.

Robert fumed but followed Finnrick’s example as a trio of secret service wannabes took their spots across the room: Inhumanly beautiful men with dark suits and shades. Something was off about them but Casey couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What do I owe the pleasure Freddy?” Robert sneered, hoping to see how Finnrick a taste of his own medicine.

“Well Bobby.” Finnrick went on, purposely ignoring the older man’s jab “As you know you have been stealing countless money from your employees.”

Robert chuckled darkly “I am afraid wherever you have been getting this claim is very misinformed. I am a simple, honest businessman.”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Of course. Of course. That’s how you can say that with a straight face. Honest businessman of mundane practices.”

Casey felt his hair on his arm stand on end as the atmosphere in the room tensed. The brutes growled unhappily, the trio of bodyguards shifted uneasily and Robert’s eyes shone with understanding.

“I see.” He spoke simply “You’re from the other side.”

“Naturally.” Finnrick confirmed “No need to peer around the bush, is there?”

“No need at all. It is refreshing for such transparency. You don’t get that often in the world of business.”

“I doubt you give much either Mister Walker.”

“Enough games. What are you doing here? Some kind of union rep for magical freaks? Blackmailing me?”

Finnrick sat up with pride “Private investigator. Building a case against you actually.”

Robert carefully studied both men before him, trying to piece together their plan, their angle.

“Either.” He spoke after a few moments “You have all you need or more than likely you have nothing and you are simply here to smoke me out, hoping I will give you something to use against me.”

Casey felt Finnrick’s hand move underneath the table and a rush of chilly air brushed his leg.

Casey gave a quick nod to let Finn know he understood.

Finnrick cleared his throat “You’re aware of the works of Tolkien Mister Walker?”

Robert was caught off guard “What?”

“Elves.” Finnrick answered with a calming voice “Elves are the most famous of his characters that aren’t humans of course but there’s more: Elves, dwarves...”

“Hob…” Robert began but Finnrick cut him off.

“That’s a legal matter but yes. Wonderfully fantastic creatures.”

Robert narrowed his eyes “And?”

Finnrick leaned in close, smile mocking and cold “I hate when people take advantage of them.”

Robert was a cold, calculating heartless man who was used to being the smartest one in the room. The one who rigged the playing field in his favor, held every ace in his hand and led his prey exactly where he wanted them to be. He played with people before he destroyed their hope. He was the apex predator in the world of business.

It was satisfying to see that swagger and pride drain out of his face.

The businessman went for the button hidden underneath his side of the table, no doubt the switch to trigger the holding spells on Casey and Finnrick’s chairs. Of course Finnrick had dispelled them first chance he got and since the only other caster in the room was Casey, no one else noticed.

Robert’s face was the second most beautiful thing Casey had ever seen (first being Jaime but there was no need to tell her that). The panic, the fear, the utter confusion. Just poetic justice at its finest.

Finnrick shot to his feet with a surprising speed given his unremarkable build. He muttered the words of power, a magical incantation as his hand made the proper gestures to complete the spell.

The shades squad went for their weapons but Finnrick had gotten the drop on all of them. He pulled his hand back, a burning flame sitting peacefully in his palm. He pitched the flame forward, lobbing directly at the closet goon. The inhumanly beautiful man rose his arms to defend himself in time. The flame, mostly pressurized air, splashed over him harmlessly as the force of the attack shoved him back into the wall.

Casey followed Finn’s example. He stood as well (not as quick as his friend), a soft gentle light glowing from his hands. He glanced at the two remaining shades and aimed directly for them. A bolt of pure light burst forth from his palms. One goon got a chest full of holy energy and skidded backwards but the other was ready. He leapt to the side and narrowly avoided the attack as he slid out of sight.

The brutes charged towards the pair, murder in their eyes. Finnrick barely spared them a look as he snapped his finger. The two flames sigils he had imprinted om them when he grabbed their arms ignited, twin fires eating at their sleeves and sending them into a panic.

“What’s the plan?” Casey shouted, sending more holy bolts towards the shades.

“Up and over the counter.” Finnrick answered, tossing another fireball.

Casey quickly made his way closer, prepping to leap over the bar when Finnrick crashed into him, a strange whistling sound piercing his ears one moment then silent the next.

“Over buddy over!” Finnrick repeated, grabbing Casey by the collar and heaving him ontop of the counter. Casey flailed for a moment before glancing backwards. Finnrick was right behind him, hand outstretched as a blue translucent field of protective magic hung before the two while the shades opened fire with crossbows, the jet black bolts barely visible in the dimness of the room. They bounced harmlessly off the barrier but Casey could see the cracks starting to form.

Casey hopped over the bar gracelessly, struggling for a moment before clearing the jump. Finnrick tucked himself backwards, allowing himself to roll over the counter top and land on the other side with a thud.

“Remember when elves were honorable?” Casey huffed, quickly scanning the various bottles.

Finnrick scoffed “They were never honorable. They just acted better than everyone.”

“Remember when we were kids?”

“Vaguely. Pass the absinthe. I want to really make this hurt.”

“Blue bottle? These are all in German and Russian.”

“Green liquid. Come on Case I taught you better.”

“Right. I miss when the cartoons used to tell us the mafia was honorable.”

“Criminals these days.” Finnrick shook his head disappointingly “Just don’t make them like they used to. It’s all corporate shit.”

Casey began picking other bottles at random, wrapping them tightly with the tape he brought “It’s disillusioning I tell you. How right is he?”

Finnrick smashed a pane of glass. He took the jagged edge and slowly inched it over the counter, catching sight of the trio of shades for a moment before a crossbow bolt shattered the glass.

He flexed his hand, trying to relax his muscles. They were elves alright. They might be dressed in suits and ears hidden by some sort of glamour illusion magic but old habits died hard. Elves habits never died given their long lives. The trio had fallen into a close knit triangle formation: one fires, one reloads with the last taking aim.

“He had this whole operation locked tight. No one was talking. Either bribed them or made an example of them. Broken bones or horns. I had enough evidence to implicate him but bringing him to trial in the mundy court was going to be pointless.”

Casey moved the bottles back and forth to ensure they wouldn’t come loose midair “So what are we doing here?”

“Given his limited knowledge and the numerous magical violations I counted in this building alone, I figured he’s not registered with the Council.”

Casey’s eyes lit up in understanding “Gotcha. How long we got?”

Finnrick shook his hand back and forth “I’d say 10 minutes knowing the Council. Magic in an unregistered area requires a subtler approach for them. “

Casey snorted “Fake beards and stilts for the gnomes you mean? Robert will be gone by then.”

Finnrick’s face scrunched in concentration “He’s still here. Cowering under the table. He’s not used to dangerous wizards up in his face. Let’s scare him put huh?”

Casey spared his friend a glance “Big shot?”

Finnrick nodded in agreement “Aim high Case.”

And with a synchronicity only achieved through years of friendship, the two stood up at once. Casey threw the makeshift bomb high into the air as Finnrick formed the magical shield once more. Arrow after arrow bounced harmlessly off its surface as the bottles sailed through the air. Finnrick focused directly in the center of the payload. The shield dropped but the elves had broken formation and were all reloading at once. Finnrick pinched his thumb and finger together, murmuring under his breath. A small spark of flame fluttered wildly on his finger. He flicked it as quickly as he could towards the bottles. The spark spun and twisted as it floated towards the payload. The spark expanded, growing in size, and intensity, rapidly without warning. The air warmed as the spark exploded, smashing the bottles and engulfing the alcohol within. Flaming liquid, glass and hot air shot out in every direction. The elves were blasted off their feet and crashed against the far wall with sickening series of crunches. The floor above now had a massive hole in it and the brutes sprawled across the floor. Robert himself was thrown onto the ground, ash and soot covering his face as he struggled to breath.

He tried to call for someone but his ears were ringing and everyone was down for the count. He tried to search for the trouble makers but the smoke that filled the room was too thick.

The elevator dinged open once more and three pale suits came scuttling out. They clung to the walls on all fours, unnatural and repulsive. Their blood red eyes shone in the dimly light room, their fangs barred and ready for blood.

“Vampires!” Casey rubbed his eyes tiredly “This fucker has vampires. Loose by the way.”

“Right?” Finnrick shook his head “There are just so many regulations being violated right now.”

The vampires did not care. They dropped to the floor, gliding effortlessly midst the smoke and flame.

Casey took a step closer to the encroaching undead. He outstretched one hand towards them while the other clasped his necklace tightly. The vampires tilted their head quizzically at the symbol that adored the chain: It was a house of all things, a simple shape of rectangles and triangles no different than what a child would draw.

The vampires chuckled, their eyes bright with hunger.

Of course in their bloodlust they had forgotten something important: It was not the symbol but the faith behind it that was their bane.

Casey held the symbol as high as he could. The vampire shrunk away from him as his eyes blazed with holy energy, the symbol of home glowing with a harsh light. The vampires barred their fangs as a symphony of noises overwhelmed their senses: the soft hum of an air conditioner, footsteps thundering about, the chill of winter, the heat of summer, the overlapping sounds of cars and buses as the roar of crowds boomed in their ears. The city, the hearth of so many people, filled this room for a moment.

The vampires drew back, white smoking curling off their charring flaky skins. They ducked back into the elevator, hiding in whatever corner they could manage until the doors shut with a satisfying ding.

“Come on” Finnrick gestured to the window “I don’t want to be written up for unauthorized magic in an unregistered area.”

Casey and Finnrick scampered to the window. Casey’s face turned a sickly green when he realized how high up they were.

“Ugh I don’t feel good.” his stomach churned queasily.

Finnrick broke the window with his elbow, the fresh smoggy air of the city bringing some color back into Casey’s cheeks “I know buddy but it’s only eight floors up.”

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Okay cool jump now!”

Robert regained enough sense to see the troublemakers leap out the window without hesitation. He struggled to his feet when flickers of something began to form. Before he knew what was going on, the previously empty room was now filled with various creatures: Elves, dwarves, a gnome on silts had appeared out of thin air. They weren’t dress in any ancient medieval garb but rather dark blue jackets, jeans and combat boots with the initials M.R.R.D stitched on their clothing. They were no different than any one on the street aside their more unique physical features.

“M.R.R.D!” the gnome cried out, brandishing a strange clockwork pistol “Everyone freeze! We sensed a magical disturbance and a violation of the Arcane Veil!”

Robert rose to his full height “I am Robert Walker and I…”

The gnome opened fire and Robert could feel exhaustion overtake him. Sleepiness began to ebb at his resolve and before he could mutter another word, he closed his eyes. A dreamless sleep until he woke up in a council prison cell a few hours later.

-----

Casey didn’t scream as he fell through the air. He was too busy trying to keep his lunch in his stomach.

Finnrick waited a moment to make sure everything was in place and with a wave of his hand, the two began to fall much slower. They landed on their feet as if they had taken a step off the sidewalk instead of several stories up.

Casey began hyperventilating, trying his best to get his stomach settled. Finnrick began fanning his face when a man walked up to him.

Casey and Finnrick said nothing, waiting for the Arcana Veil to fill in any blanks they were missing. They could’ve told this man anything but they found from experience that it was just easier to roll with whatever the magical blanket that separated the mundane world from the magical decided.

The man peered at them, his gaze unsure and confused.

“Hey, you guys okay?” he asked helpfully.

Casey and Finnrick remained silent.

His eyes glazed over for a moment, a strange shimmering sheen within his pupils telling the duo that the veil was in effect.

“You guys are oddly dressed for window washers.” the man chuckled.

Finnrick glanced back to find a ghostly image of an electrically operated scaffold behind them, water buckets and squeegees included.

They shared a look.

“Would you believe it’s national window washer day?” Casey filled in.

Finnrick added “Yeah, they let us wear whatever want today. It’s only one day out of the year anyway and most of the time we work by ourselves so no harm done.”

the man nodded like that was the most reasonable thing he had ever heard “Right sorry. I’ll just be on my way.”

Finnick and Casey ducked out of the alleyway behind him, heads low and nonchalant as the human M.R.R.D members began to shut down the restaurant from the outside.

“Well that sucked.”

“Just a little. Here let’s go some dinner on me.”

“Damn straight on you Finny. Brutes, elves, vampires?”

“Oh my.”

“Now I’m ordering extra bread for that.”

[tomhiddlestonfanfic]

Taking Out the Trash

NUMBER OF CHAPTERS/ONE SHOT: One shot WHICH TOM CHARACTER: Actor Tom PAIRING: Tom Hiddleston/Reader GENRE: Drama

Taking Out the Trash

You sat curled up into a ball in front of the entrance to your apartment building. Your entire body was shaking and your bum had numbed from sitting on the cold asphalt for what felt like ages. You sighed heavily and groaned at the sight of your warm breath looking like smoke as it left your mouth. 'I could kill for a bloody cigarette right about now,' you thought bitterly. You had recently quit smoking for what must have been the fifth or sixth time, trying to convince yourself that this time it would be for real, that this time you would finally succeed in adopting a healthier lifestyle.

"Fuck," you muttered angrily to yourself and wrapped your arms tighter around your body, desperately trying to regain some body heat. "I don't understand how homeless people do this," you mused and restlessly tapped your fingers against your knees. You were scared half to death when you suddenly received a reply from the shadows.

"I'm guessing they don't have much of a choice." It was a man's voice. You squinted as you tried to discern if there really was anyone there, or if you had finally gone insane. A tall figure approached from the shadows and you were met by an amused smile directed at you by the handsome stranger.

"Oh, thank God. I thought for a moment that I had finally begun hearing voices," you uttered with relief and returned the man’s smile. "Do you live here?" you asked hopefully and proceeded to stand up on your frozen stiff legs.

"Yes, in fact I do. I take it you do too? Did you lock yourself out, dear?" the man replied sociably as he pulled out his keys to unlock the entrance door.

“Yep. That’s what I get for finally taking the trash out. Or rather, trying to take the trash out,” you explained, motioning towards the plastic bags on the ground, causing the stranger to laugh. “Well, I couldn’t get into the trash room without my keys,” you added, beginning to feel a bit self-conscious. There you were talking to an elegantly dressed, rather good-looking stranger with a charming smile and a wonderful laugh, whereas you were humbly dressed in a pair of oversized sweatpants and a worn out hoodie.

“Oh, where are my manners? I’m Tom,” the man introduced himself and held out his hand towards you.

“[Your name],” you replied and took his wonderfully warm hand in yours. You could feel a wave heat spread across your cheeks as your eyes met briefly, and you immediately lowered your gaze to look down at your feet. As if your other clothes weren’t unimpressive enough, your feet were placed in a pair of once white slippers that should have been thrown away years ago. In contrast, Tom was wearing a pair of rather expensive looking shoes without a sign of abrasion.

“You’re cold as ice, darling. For how long have you been out here?” Tom wondered concernedly.

“I honestly don’t know. What time is it?” you asked and looked up at him again.

“It’s about half past twelve,” he replied after a quick glance at his designer watch.

“It’s past twelve?! You’re kidding me right? Then I’ve been out here for over two hours…” you replied, sincerely surprised by this new information.

“Why don’t you go inside and I’ll throw away the trash for you,” Tom offered as he unlocked the door, holding it open for you.

“You’re an angel,” you replied, beaming at him before you got inside. “Thank you so much, Tom. I really appreciate it,” you added as you pressed your cold hands against the warm radiator.

“No worries, [Your name],” Tom assured you before he went back outside. You got butterflies in your stomach at the sound of his pleasant voice uttering your name and bit your lip to stop yourself from grinning widely like a fool in love. You couldn’t possibly fall for someone you just met, right? You didn’t get that much time to reflect over your feelings, before the door was once again opened by Tom. You frowned slightly as you found that he was still holding the plastic bags in his hands.

“Are you sure you meant to throw this away?” Tom questioned, pointing to one of the bags on which you had scrabbled the words ‘for charity’. You gasped in horror and covered your mouth with your hand.

“Oh no,” you groaned into the palm of your hand before moving it away from your mouth. “This is so horrible. Then I must have put my trash into the clothing donation bin this morning. Oh my God,” you said exasperatedly and buried your face in your hands in shame. “I am such a bad person. Please, tell me this didn’t happen.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, darling. It was an honest mistake. That doesn’t make you a bad person,” Tom assured you and smiled warmly at you as he walked up to you. “Do you mind if I walk you to your apartment? Just to make sure that you get home properly,” he offered, adding the last part quickly, realising that it might have sounded like he had an ulterior motive with his request.

“Please do,” you replied with a smile. “Do you want me to carry the bags?” you offered, after all they were all yours.

“It wouldn’t be very gentlemanlike to have you carry the bags, now would it?” Tom smiled at you as you proceeded to walk up the stairs.

“I suppose not,” you laughed, leading the way. “Here’s me,” you announced, stopping in front of a door after two flights of stairs.

“Seriously? I live just across the hall,” Tom announced with a smile.

“You’re kidding me right? I’ve been living here for almost a year now, and not once have I seen you,” you said, placing a hand on the door handle to your apartment.

“It’s been a busy year for me. My work includes quite some travelling, and lately I’ve been away a lot more than usual,” he explained.

“Ah, I see. Are you like a businessman or something?” you asked, thinking that would explain why he was so well-dressed. "What the hell?" you groaned as you tried to open your door. You pressed down the handle and pulled for your dear life, but the door wouldn't bulge. With a frown, you stared at your name on the mailbox.

"Did you lock yourself out from your apartment as well?" Tom asked, suppressing a smile as you groaned and threw your arms out dramatically.

"It shouldn't even be possible to do that! What sadistic arseholes constructed the door locks like that?!" you complained. "Oh crap, I'm waking the entire building with my wailing, aren't I?" you asked, adopting a much lower tone of voice.

"Probably just half the building," Tom said humorously and winked at you. "You don't have any children or pets in there that are in acute need of your care, do you?"

"If I had any children in there I most certainly would have bothered a whole bunch of people in order to get access to my apartment. What horrible mother do you think I would be?" you asked fiercely, but the anger immediately drained from your face once you looked up at your neighbour who seemed to be highly amused by your defensive reaction. "Oh, you weren't assuming I had... great. I'm coming off as a bit of an arse, am I not?"

"Not at all, dear," Tom assured you. "I wouldn't be in a good mood either if I were in your situation. Would you like to come over to my place? You can spend the night and we'll call the rental host first thing in the morning," he suggested and to your delight this seemingly so confident man was indeed blushing a little. "We would of course sleep separately, if you were to accept my invitation," he added with a somewhat embarrassed smile.

"I got that," you assured him and smiled brightly at him. "And I would love to stay the night, if you don't mind. I promise, I will try my best not to be in your way," you added.

"You wouldn't be in my way," Tom told you and motioned for you to follow him across the hall. "Quite the opposite actually, I welcome your company."

[lordeasriel]

a memory: a man with a mission

Chapter excerpt from my WIP sci-fi novel, The Timekiller. If you check it out, I’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback. The novel is divided into normal chapters, that follow the present timeline and its plot, and the memory chapters which are flashback chapters of different moments, like memories, telling key events from the past (and future).

--

December 23, 1946.

Duke’s powers manifested in a way he couldn’t quite understand. He was a man hailing from the far gone future, born amongst robots and artificial intelligences, raised in a world where the AI had rebelled against the humans and their oppression. He was a war child, for all intents and purposes, yet he never quite felt like a soldier. There was a scholarly aspect to him that made him stand out amongst his peers in the resistance and what granted him the alias The Duke, which was often shortened to just Duke; his name had only been known by his fiancé and a few friends, close friends.

He walked into a pub, in London, in an environment that was the most foreign thing he had ever seen, despite the fact he had been to London in his own time. He was shocked to realise his attempt to time travel that far in the past had worked, but he quickly gathered his wits, and stole clothes so he would fit in, and suddenly he blended wonderfully into the post-second war background world, with matte colours and broken buildings, yet with a spirit of renewal only known to those who have witnessed mayhem - and survived.

Doing justice to his scholarly spirit, Duke had done his research in the time he wanted to visit, and thus he knew vaguely how to communicate, and what to say and how to say it. How to dress, what to order for food and drinks, and how the culture worked. It was hard work, but he managed just fine, asking for a pint at the bar, while glancing around the place.

There weren’t many people there, but there were only a few tables vacant, despite the fact it was nearly christmas. Cold weather mostly sent the people in, couples, elderly men, veterans and so on; it was a workers’ pub, mostly, so not many posh people were to be seen. He kept a quiet, low profile, watching around, looking aimlessly. He had to wait until the far night to do what he had come here to do, so spending his time amongst folk was a good idea. He realised these people had good food and drinks and peace.

“Poor lass.” The barmaid told him, a tough looking woman with red hair, cleaning up the glasses in front of him. He raised his eyebrows, inquisitively. She nodded in a specific direction. “She’s been sitting there all day, sipping her lukewarm pint. That has to be the tenth moron who has been to nag her.”

Duke hummed, slightly uninterested, but the woman didn’t mind his lack of interest.

“Ah, she keeps on saying she’s waiting for someone, but I think her lad might have stood her up, oh yes.” Duke nodded, just to appease her sense of communication, drinking his beer quietly. “Do you know her?”

He lowered his glass, and turned to see in the direction the barmaid had pointed out. In the corner of the bar, a few meters away from him, there was a woman occupying a single table, holding a glass mug of beer with a dishonest disinterest. She was dressed simply, with a plain skirt and white blouse, her coat on the chair she was sitting, her hair done modestly, keep in those hair nets Duke thought were so funny.

She raised her eyes to him, and her bland expression disappeared, replaced by the smallest hint of a smile. She would have been in her thirties, maybe late twenties, or so he guessed, strong eyebrows and light-coloured eyes that glittered under the soft, warm light of the pub. Something about her was disconcerting, he felt as if the entire room was staring at her, as if she was the sole focus of a picture and the only thing worth looking at. She was pretty, but it wasn’t that that made her such a magnet of attention, it was something else. It scared him, astonished him. He locked eyes with the woman, and he blushed for no reason he could explain.

“Never seen her.” He said, truthfully. He turned away because the woman’s gaze was making him uncomfortable. Somehow he felt she knew what he was doing in that time period, but the mere idea sounded insane to him. How could she know?

“She’s been looking at you an awful lot, though.” The barmaid smiled at him, a bit wicked. “Hope you aren’t the married type.”

Zohariel watched him from her chair, intensely, her fingers fidgeting on her lap as she was focusing on expanding her presence so he would be drawn to her. Usually she did the opposite, quieting down her spirit so people’s lives wouldn’t get caught in the strength of her being, but this time she wanted him to notice her. She needed him to, otherwise he would commit the worst mistake of his life.

He looked, at last, confused and intrigued. No doubt he had a dozen questions, and no doubt she could have answered them patiently and carefully and gently, but he had a determination in his eyes that made her wary. One tiny wrong move, and the timeline would’ve gone to hell and Zohariel would be in an even bigger mess. She was intent on avoiding that. Unlike him, she knew who he was and his entire fate, but she never shared that with him, not until a long time in the future.

He resisted her presence, as much as he could. She had expected that. He was strong-willed and his abilities had a similar root to hers, no doubt her own fault. He sideeyed her from his place, wary; while her presence was strong thanks to her different frequency, she couldn’t control how people reacted to it. Some were attracted to her, some were terrified, some hated her on principle; it was a roussian roulette of psychology and emotion. Zee was beginning to feel hopeless when he finally moved towards her table, two mugs of cold beer in hand and he stood in front of her, his jacket too big for him, a clear sign those clothes didn’t belong to him.

“Do you mind?” He asked, quietly, almost shyly. It was rather unbecoming of him: she has expected him to be more forceful.

“Not at all.” She gestured with her chin to the chair across her.

Everyone at the pub watched as that strange fellow, for no apparent reason, sat down with that even stranger woman, whose attention had been craved by many, all whom she denied politely, so gently it was nearly cruel.

He slid the mug at her, pacifyingly. She let go of her empty one and closed her grip on the new one, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

“Rumour has it you have been dumping men left and right, tonight.” He said, taking a sip from his mug, his eyes locked onto hers. There was faint music playing in the background, an old tune, filled with white noise. The conversation resumed as Zee toned down her presence as much as she could.

“I enjoy the loneliness.” The corners of her mouth twitched up; he observed her carefully. She knew he was trying to figure her out; people from his time spot were terribly suspicious of anything odd.

“Yet, I’ve been told you can’t take your eyes off me.”

“You’re an odd one.” She said, jokingly, but there was enough truth in it to satisfy him. It didn’t, however.

“So are you.” He crossed his arms over the table, and she leaned in to whisper back at him.

“And together, the two of us make quite a pair in this trivial place.” She tilted her head. He hummed, the closest thing to a laughter he could give her. She leaned back on her chair, her drink in hand. “You look like a man on a mission, if you don’t mind me saying it.”

He hummed again, and his eyes lost focus and he was invaded by a sadness she was well familiar with. He wouldn’t know, of course; there was so much he didn’t know.

“You have no idea, miss.”

“Oh, I might.” She blinked slowly, but he barely reacted. He didn’t believe her, and she could scarcely blame him. Most time travelers struggled in their first months, even years; it was not the sort of thing one could easily adjust to. But Zee didn’t have time to do things subtly; Duke was about to make a very common mistake between time travelers who just discovered their powers: he thought he could change history. “Tell me, what brings you here?”

“Just passing by.”

“How vague! You sound as if you don’t want to talk, yet you’re the one who approached me.” Her amused tone sparked something in him, but by his attitude, it was probably something bad.

He looked at her, puzzled, baffled. She knew how this conversation would follow, it always happened the same way, the few times she had done it before, when she was still with the League. I don’t know why I did it, he would say, his senses betraying him, his mind being engulfed by the everlasting presence of her high frequency.

Being from another universe, Zohariel’s atoms vibrated in a frequency suited for her own universe, and her frequency was so high that in the universe she lived in, she disturbed the natural order of things. Some resisted it for longer, like Duke, but it was pointless; in the end, she could change their lives dramatically by simply existing in the same vicinity for long enough.

“I don’t know why I did it.” He said, looking around, carefully. “You were looking at me.”

“Was I?”

“Yes. A lot. Why?”

“I don’t know, I do a lot of things for no good reason.” She finished her glass and put it down with a soft noise. Her eyebrows had a crease between them, more about doubt than confusion. “You may not want to hear it, but I have some advice for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. That which is consuming you right now, it is the sort of ailment that afflicts every one of us. You don’t believe I understand, I know, but I do." She sighed when he shook his head. "Grief is overwhelming. It feeds off our energy, our hopes, our fears. But it will pass, eventually, or at least fade to something bearable. Until then, you must persevere."

"How do you know I'm grieving?" There was a legitimate curiosity in his question.

"It's in your eyes." It was true, anyone who looked at him would have seen the pain he was in, but she knew more than just that. She knew everything and more. My responsibility, she often repeated to herself, my fault. Everything he was and would be and do was on her head and she wanted to make sure he didn't do anything stupid. "All over your face. You could use a shave, no offense. I like the beard, but these folks… They're on a different time."

"More free advice? Who would have thought?" He mocked, but there was very little malice in his attitude. He thought of her as odd, quirky. A weird woman in a weird time spot.

"What can I say, I appreciate being helpful and advice from me is a common item to spread around." She raised her eyebrows, amused. "I hope you will heed my words."

"I don't believe you told me your name."

She smiled, sweet and mischievous.

"While my advice is free of charge, my name is a luxury item, in this silly metaphor." She tapped at his hand, gently, and he pulled away as if she had given him a shock. He checked his watch and she observed, quietly, hopeless, intrigued. He brushed his thighs before he stood up, and Zohariel thought he looked exhausted.

He must be, she thought, he probably has no idea how to properly time travel.

The first mistake of a rookie was to go back or forth in time without mastering their powers, which could also be translated to, without knowing how to go back to their time spot. They'd get stuck, and create anachronisms which would then trigger the League. If they did little damage and were untrained and not dangerous, the League would do nothing more than fix the issues, and give them a reprimand and invite them in - very few people refused an invitation like that. However, as Zohariel knew because she had used the League's rating system, Duke was to be considered a red alert threat; he was an anachronist who would stop at nearly nothing to achieve his goal and neither would the League. Worst fate was to have his memories deleted and have him do mild paperwork, while keeping him on his own time spot. It was cruel, in Zee's opinion; worse even than just erasing his existence entirely.

"I appreciate your kindness, but you don't really understand." He nodded before walking out of the pub. Zee watched, almost as if that was a film.

She knew where he was going and she knew she had to stop him before the League did.

[merakiui]

Day Team Slumber Party

(I wrote this on a whim based off of Ethan saying he’ll get nightmares if there’s too much on his mind and if he forces himself to rest, and June suggesting that everyone should sleep together to solve the problem. lol There’s no point in this, but I want to think it’s an enjoyable read. Now I’ll get back to working on everyone’s requests!)

It’s Louis who complains about the not-so-perfect sleep he had the other night. His fellow teammates look at him, and it’s June who asks for an elaboration. Ethan wishes he wouldn’t, and Theo can only force a small smile while he takes extreme interest in his chopsticks.

“What could be giving you trouble, my brother?” June practically shouts, slamming his drink on the table. “Are you suffering from any nightmares? Is it a vengeful spirit? Tell me and I’ll make sure no one gives you trouble! We’re brothers for a reason!”

Louis, having been given an opportunity, feigns a forlorn expression, holding a gloved hand over his chest. “Your overwhelming kindness is but a mere balm to soothe my pain! Surely you understand the horrid imperfections an improper sleep brings.” He sighs, wiping a faux tear from the corner of his eye. “If this continues any longer, my beautiful skin shall be tarnished! The mirrors may crack if I walk past, and I simply cannot let that happen.”

“Ah.” It slips from Theo without his meaning to, and he figures a small explanation won’t hurt. “Louis, I’m sure you’ll sleep better if you stop worrying.”

“Worry? ‘Tis a silly implication, my handsome Theo! Alas, what shall I do if I’m not as beautiful as the sun? Which, if you haven’t noticed, must shine brighter than everything else!”

“Well, you are the sun, aren’t you?” He means it as a joke, but he knows better than to assume Louis will laugh.

June grins. “I agree with brother Theo! It is just as he says. We must fix this problem of yours so that you can continue to shine as bright as the afternoon sun. That’s what our team represents, isn’t it, my brothers?!”

Ethan rolls his heterochromatic eyes. Though these types of shenanigans are a common happening within the Day Team, it doesn’t do anything to dispel his annoyed state. “We really shouldn’t be enabling such a narcissistic fool. Don’t you have anything better to do than to weep about something so insignificant?”

“How can you say that, brother Ethan? A good rest leads to a healthy mindset!”

“And a lovely lifestyle,” Louis adds, posing dramatically before the three Reapers.

“Why don’t you drink something that’s bound to make you fall asleep? Chamomile is known to treat insomnia, so I could brew you a cup if you’d like.”

“A perfect prince such as myself would never fall victim to that disease you call insomnia!”

It was worth a shot, Theo thinks, deflating. I’m afraid there’s no getting through to him.

“I doubt you’d know what a disease is,” Ethan says, crossing his arms. “You’re quite the disease yourself.”

“Your words wound my already fractured heart!” Louis slumps against the table, woefully sighing. “How cruel of you.”

“Insults won’t fix anything either. Maybe you’re reading too much into this. Everyone’s had their fair share of sleepless nights. You’re no different, Louis. The problem might lie in the fact that you’ve been sleeping in an uncomfortable position, or you’ve had too many heavy thoughts. Whatever it may be, I’m sure you’ll be able to overcome it in no time,” Theo says, shifting so he’s slightly in between Ethan and Louis. “You just need to fix your sleeping habits.”

“That’s it!” June jumps up from his seat. “The answer to your problem is simple! We’ll spend a night together!”

“Excuse me?” Ethan raises a brow.

“Um...” Theo trails on his words. “I don’t think that’s—”

“A marvelous idea! Truly spectacular, my dear June.” Louis applauds him, all traces of sadness gone from his face. “Please tell me more.”

“I’ve heard about it from the manager. They used to participate in a tradition where their closest friends came together for an evening of fun! Something called a slumber party.”

“That sounds too noisy. I’m not going to lose sleep because someone can’t seem to turn away from his own reflection at night.”

“Ethan’s got a point. Aren’t parties a bit too exciting for a time when we should be asleep? Won’t the manager be upset if we’re too tired to work the following day?”

“Nonsense! The manager should join us! They’ll get a chance to see the flawless Prince Louis in his silken night clothes. ‘Tis a sight to behold. Manager may go blind from how perfect I am, even in the late hours of the night.”

“If the manager’s going to be there...” Theo’s cheeks redden at the prospect of spending time with the manager outside of work hours. “I guess it wouldn’t be all that bad.”

“Brothers!” June gathers everyone’s attention, which isn’t a difficult task because he’s practically got the entire cafeteria watching him. “Have you forgotten about brother Louis? We must help him get a good night’s sleep! Therefore we’ll try this slumber party the manager mentioned, and it’ll restore his well-being!”

“I’m declining, so don’t ask again.” 

“I’d rather sleep by myself, if I’m being honest.”

“A little company never hurt anyone.”

“We have to stick together in times like these. When one of us falls, the others should be there to help him up! That’s why we’re brothers!”

There’s not much of an argument here, and it’s not like either of them will give up—or listen to logic for that matter. Besides, a slumber party—whatever that may entail—can’t be entirely bad, right? Theo’s willing to give it a try if it means hanging out with June more, but Ethan refuses to even accept the idea. He thinks it’s a waste of time that’ll only make the issue worse. And he can’t be blamed for his thoughts, no matter how cold they may be. 

If only any of them knew the true purpose of a slumber party.

-----

“All right! Everything has been prepared. The futons are laid out, tea has been brewed, and we’re dressed appropriately. Let us commence our first slumber party, brothers!” June laughs energetically, pumping a fist in the air.

“Sure.” Theo already regrets agreeing. The manager is absent, and somehow Ethan’s managed to join. “I’m glad everyone’s here.”

Ethan scoffs under his breath. “What’s the point in trying to sleep alone now? I’ll just hear you from outside my door.”

“What are we supposed to do, though? I’m a little confused.”

“Good question! Allow me to enlighten you.” Louis is holding a rose between his fingers as he speaks, twirling it as though it were a lock of hair. “You are to sleep wonderfully with the deepest of dreams! Naturally, that shouldn’t be a problem for us. After all, it’s called a slumber party for a reason. With this, I’ll finally be able to catch up on all of that precious beauty rest I missed.”

“Oh. We’re just supposed to sleep, then?”

“Precisely.”

Theo turns to June for confirmation, who says, “We’ll do all sorts of things to tire ourselves out so that we can sleep without fail!”

“That sounds fun, but I’m already tired. I’ll just finish my tea before heading to bed.”

Ethan nods, agreeing with Theo’s easy escape method. “I suppose I’ll do the same.”

“That’s hardly enjoyable,” Louis states, admiring the flower’s vibrant petals while letting out his signature laugh. “Doesn’t this color match Ethan’s charming hair? Perhaps he was born amongst the rose bushes to have gained such a blessed hue!”

“You talk too much.” 

“And you hardly talk at all! We should enjoy this night to its fullest potential. I propose we admire my beauty for the rest of the evening! My face will surely lull you to sleep, as will my splendid voice. Consider yourselves lucky! I’ll sing a lullaby for you, my sleepless friends.”

Louis makes a motion to begin singing, and he’s promptly cut off when a pillow is thrown at him, hitting him square in the face. On the other end is Ethan, whose brow lowers in a fierce glare. The perfect prince is shocked, mouth slightly agape at the audacity of his fellow teammate.

“My face!” he exclaims, bolting upright to get to the nearest reflective surface. 

June lets out another laugh, grabbing the pillow and testing its softness. “Excellent aim, brother Ethan! This seems like a worthwhile game. Catch, brother Theo!” 

Theo has just enough time to set his teacup down before the pillow makes contact with his chest. “Junee, I wasn’t ready!” There’s a hint of a smile on his features. “Louis, your face is fine. This pillow couldn’t hurt even a vengeful spirit.”

“How can you be so sure? Check the material! Anything could be a hazard to my endless perfection.”

June stands up to drag Louis back, an arm slung around him. “Fear not, brother! You’re glowing!”

“If you say so, then it must be true. You have an eye for perfection, June!” He swoops down to grab another pillow, eyeing it with a hint of mild distrust. “This should tire us out thoroughly!” 

The three Reapers toss pillows back and forth with the objective of hitting one another. Catching seems to be thrown out the window in favor of playing such a childish game. Every now and then, a pillow grazes Ethan, and despite his grumbling he ends up returning the throw, whacking June in the side. So begins a worthless contest of agility, strength, and endurance between Reapers who are far too giddy to continue this strange version of a pillow fight. 

“Isn’t this great?!” June asks when the constant barrage of pillows has slowed down. “I’m proud to spend this night with my brothers!” 

He tackles all three of them at once, which results in a pile of Day Reapers landing on the plush surfaces of their futons. Louis crows about his face once more, while Ethan sighs, more so bothered by the sudden act of affection than the actual fall itself. And Theo is just glad to have tried something new, despite the arbitrary implications of the events that led up to this moment. Nevertheless, it’s oddly fun. He’s never experienced this sort of glee before, and he’s certain the others haven’t either. For once, they’re closer than they’ve ever been, and that’s not just because they’re still on the ground in a tangle of limbs.

“This is like a new type of training! Let’s do it once more!” June is the first to get up, already gathering his own arsenal of pillows. 

In the beginning, Ethan wanted to ignore them and simply sleep like any normal person. Now he just wants to get the others to settle down. Against his better judgement, he reaches for a pillow. 

Theo chuckles, sensing where this’ll lead. Thankfully, he managed to clean everything earlier, so dust and germs won’t hold him back. “Junee, let’s do this together.”

“Nothing can stand in our way, brother!”

“I’ll be unable to forgive either of you if you leave so much as a dent on my fragile appearance! Have mercy on those who are good-looking.”

“Stop whining and get a pillow. This battle won’t be in their favor.” 

There’s an air of pride to Ethan, and rightfully so, as he’s ready to put a swift end to their antics. Just for tonight he’ll team up with the self-loving prince. He must be extra tired if he’s willing to side with him and take part in such a senseless game, but there’s nothing he can do now. He’s already committed, and he isn’t one to regret his decisions.

-----

The Day Team stands before both (Name) and Nyang Lead Manager the following morning, dead tired and yearning for a few more hours of coveted sleep. 

“We received lots of noise complaints—meow. Would you mind explaining yourselves?” Nyang hisses at the quartet, a bone-deep scowl on his furry face. 

“I’ll take care of it. You’ve got a lot of work to get to, so you shouldn’t have to stress over this,” (Name), their ultimate savior, offers kindly.

Nyang looks like he wants to protest, but he decides that they’ll execute a punishment per his orders. “Then don’t let me hear their ruckus again!” With another hiss, he exits (Name)’s office.

“So,” they say, analyzing each Reaper’s expression. Three out of four appear guilty, but they all seem groggy. “Now I know why June was asking me so many questions about slumber parties.”

“Manager, please forgive us. We’re truly sorry.” Theo attempts an explanation, but (Name) holds up their arm to silence him. 

“Are you kidding? You guys had all that fun and I wasn’t invited? We should hold a slumber party for the entire 14th Department! Then everyone can join in on the chaos.”

June overcomes his tired haze to nod enthusiastically. Theo looks like he could just faint on the spot, and Ethan is stone-faced. As usual for such an icy Reaper. 

“I’m just surprised Louis isn’t worried about his hygiene. You know, all of that beauty sleep and whatnot.”

“The light in here is simply horrendous!” Louis waltzes over to the windows, peeling the curtains aside so that he can bask in the warm light. “That’s much better.”

To everyone’s surprise, there’s no sign of sleep deprivation.

“Aren’t you lively today?” (Name) smiles, taking in Louis’s refreshed appearance.

“So you noticed! I slept like an infant in a castle of clouds. Ah, this is truly a wonderful morning. I’ve awoken, beauty sleep reclaimed, and have blessed everyone in the Department! Rejoice!”

Theo rubs his eyes, at a complete loss. “He...actually slept.”

June blinks twice, holding back a yawn. “Brother Louis truly is as radiant as the sun. So cool!”

Ethan sighs, already intent on moving forward from the previous night. “This was pointless to begin with.”

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

another prompt! as you and the Company take a rest in the monastery you grew up in, you are approached by old friends who are 1) very intimidating and 2) very touchy. kili and fili don’t approve of the last

Used some DnD stuff here since I don't know enough about actual monks and also some Avatar the Last Airbender thingggsss. Sorry the ending is so rushed, I couldn't feel my hands at one point and my doc told me to rest... which I havent been doing lol

---

The majority of your life was spent in a monastery.

As a child, you were left upon the steps of that abbey, and in that very place did you learn everything you know today.

Why would your parents leave you an orphan on the steps of a monastery, you ask? 

Because they feared that power you possess within. A power, a control, over fire that is not unheard of, but definitely rare, dangerous. How they knew so early on, you have no clue, but if they were so willing to give you up over something like that, you don't want to know them anyways. 

There, in that monastery, you were understood. You were taught how to harness those raging flames within you and to use them for good, for the health and benefit of others; and once they could teach you no more, you set off on your own to use your knowledge and skills for whatever you deem fit. 

And for a while you just wandered, helping people out with minuscule things, arresting criminals, that kinda stuff. 

It had been rather tame and relaxed up until you came across a Wizard who had, specifically, sought you out. 

He actually went to your monastery first in search of the supposed person with control over fire, a person who draws their power and strength from the sun, and when he heard that you hadn't been there for a few years now, he immediately went on a search and asked around, tracking you down. 

You, of course, offered to help when he mentioned that it's a journey to reunite some lost dwarfs with their fallen home, regardless of the treasure, and that's how you found yourself in on this wild expedition. 

The very first thing you were asked when you showed up in that little hobbit hole in the Shire, is what the hell you're doing there.

Gandalf explained that for you, stating that you're a very important piece to their little game her, and while you don't exactly know why he thinks as such, you just agree and go along silently with it. 

You actually didn't even realize that they didn't know of your abilities or the word on the street about you, so the first time you utilized your power... well, suffice to say they were shocked. 

It was night, it was cold as hell, and they were having trouble starting the fire, so you walked on over and took a seat, then exclaimed happily, "Allow me!"

The dwarf attending to the fire, Bofur, laughed and shook his head, telling you that it's useless since the wood is too wet. 

"No, really, I'll take care of it." You had insisted, much to the amusement of everyone else. 

They didn't know what tricks you had up your sleeves, and so when Bofur conceded and gave you the flint, he was totally expecting your efforts to flop. 

You looked down at the flint with an odd expression on your face for a time before you tossed it off to the side and picked up one of the logs, heating it with your hands carefully so as to not char and destroy it. 

Everyone watched on with confused expressions for a few moments, though Gandalf watched on with amusement of his own (for a different reason), and when the log burst into flames suddenly, there was a lot of shock. 

Some of them gasped, a couple of their mouths gaped, there was many questions, and Gandalf just laughed. 

"How did you do that?" Kili asked with wonderment, his eyes wide with shock.

And then you had to explain it to them which wasn't a big deal, and they wanted to see more. 

You made a fireball in your hand, used your fingers as candles, and got the fire to rage on even more; each thing you did made them gasp and look on in awe. 

It felt pretty nice and stroked your ego wonderfully, and you found that you didn't quite dislike having all of this attention. 

Anyways, the longer the group traveled the closer you got to Erebor (and the closer you got with those in the group, especially Fili and Kili), and pretty soon you began to recognize the paths you're taking. You all aren't even a day away from the monastery in which you grew up - this is the perfect opportunity to rest and resupply (to bathe too). 

And when you bring the idea up with Thorin, he readily agrees and praises you for offering the suggestion in the first place. 

When you all first get there, you're met with suspicion, but once you step out into view, they welcome you with open arms and no further questions. 

They give you all a couple of rooms to share amongst yourselves, a wonderful and plentiful dinner, and access to a proper place to bathe. 

You stick with the group primarily since you haven't been back here in the past few years, also because Thorin's Company becomes weary left in such a place all alone. 

After dinner and a nice bath, Fili and Kili ask if you can take them on a walk around the monastery, wanting to see more of where you grew up, and you agreed happily. 

You take them to many places including the training grounds, the wing in which you grew up, and a few other places as well, and each thing you point out to them and each area you take them to seems to excite them. 

And then you see 3 familiar faces and all thoughts of showing the princes around fly from your head. 

"Y/N!" One of your friends, Ezra, yells when she sees you. 

Your expression brightens right away and when they run over and immediately go in for hugs, you return them.

Genesis, Ezra, and Leonel are their names, and you've known them ever since all of you were children. 

"Oh, it's been so long!" You say excitedly, a smile etched on your face and joy in your eyes. "I-I've missed you all so much." 

"Too long! You never visit." Genesis grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest, "We didn't even know if you were still alive, always meddling and getting in to things." 

You glare at him playfully and roll your eyes, "I do not meddle! I intervene. There's a difference." 

"Not with you, there isn't." He shoots back, making Ezra and Leonel laugh. 

Leonel takes a step forward and grasps your hands in his, lifting them up between the two of you while he states energetically, "There's so much you have to tell us! Not much happened around here since you left, but I'm sure you've had plenty of excitement." 

"Well-" You cut yourself off when you suddenly remember the brothers standing just behind you. 

You release Leonel and step back between them, placing your hands on their lower backs while you urge them forward, "You haven't met my friends yet! Fili, Kili, these are my friends Ezra, Leonel, and Genesis." 

"Right, hello." Fili greets curtly, seeming rather uncomfortable with being the center attention suddenly. 

"Hello." Kili greets at the same time, glancing at his brother with a similar awkward countenance and stance. 

You frown slightly when you notice their discomfort, and you feel bad for putting them on the spot like that. 

"Oh, well, they're rather short now aren't they?" Leonel comments, looking down at them with that same easy going smile as always. He didn't even realize his comment might be seen as mean!

Your frown increases and you scold irritatedly, "Leonel! Mind your manners, these are your guests and my friends." When you say this you step forward and cross your arms over your chest, that frown coming off as more of a pout than anything else. 

"Come on now, Y/N, don't be so sensitive. It was only an observation." He sasses back, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you up into his side. 

When he pulls you closer you whine and squirm around over dramatically, grabbing his wrist and pulling it away from your head (he started to give you a nuggie). 

He grabs your hand in his when you pull his arm away and looks over at Ezra and Genesis who are laughing. 

Your gaze slides over to Fili and Kili and you see that they're watching with odd expressions on their faces, so, wanting them to feel included, you ask, "Now do you understand why I left? Look at how they torment me!" 

Small smiles tug at their lips when you make your comment, meanwhile Leonel gasps over dramatically and grabs your other hand. "How could you say such a thing?" 

You glare up at him for a few moments and begin to heat your hands, and, once it gets to a burning temperature, he yelps and lets you go. You, of course, begin to laugh as he fans and blows on his smoking hands, and Ezra joins you. 

"You burned me!"

"Y/N, what have you been told about messing with your abilities?" Genesis scolds, crossing his arms over his chest with a very disapproving expression on his face. "This is why you never should've left."

God, he's always such a worry wart. 

"Genesis, relax. I didn't actually hurt him. And you can't deny that he deserved it." 

Ezra snickers from his left and nods her head, "He certainly did deserve it. Making fun of Y/N's friends and then manhandling 'em all in one minute?"

"I suppose you could say I was playing with fire." Leonel pipes up suddenly, a huge smile on his face despite the fact that you guys are basicaly making fun of him. 

The joke earns matching groans of disgust from all of you. 

The three fall into conversation suddenly about your new friends and why they're here, though they don't address you directly. 

Since they're busy, you turn back to Fili and Kili and say softly, "They are certainly a lot to deal with, I hope they didn't offend you." 

Fili shakes his head quickly and replies smoothly, "No, they did not. And even if they did, you surely avenged us in burning his hands." 

That brings a smile to your face, and you laugh lightly at that, "Just a little singe, he will survive." 

"It appears that such a long time away has put no barrier up between you." Kili comments, looking up at you with that same odd expression on his face. The one that you can't quite place your finger on. 

"No, it hasn't. It only made me realize how much I missed them, how much I missed this place." 

That right there, sprouts a feeling of panic within the brothers. It almost sounds like you long to stay. 

"Anyways, it's getting late. You two should head back and get some rest- you've earned it." You lean down slightly and pinch their cheeks lightly, enjoying the way they look so annoyed at you for doing it. 

"Aren't you going to come with us?" Kili asks, eyebrows furrowed as he glances over at his brother. 

"Maybe in a little while. I want to speak with them some more." You look over when they call your name suddenly, and it seems that Ezra is waving you over. "Oh, I'll be right there!" 

When you look back, however, they are both already walking away.

This makes you frown and it kinda hurts your feelings that they didn't say even a good night, but you just push that away and return to the three. 

---

Little did you know that, that whole exchange worried Fili and Kili greatly. 

The way you so longingly looked upon the halls of your former home, how easily you fell into conversation with those you left behind, how you fit in so well... they fear that you may want to stay behind. 

They discuss it between themselves instead of going to bed like you told them to, and came to the conclusion that if they don't do something you'll end up staying or coming back at some point and leaving them- er, the company, behind. 

"What should we do about it though?" Fili wonders out loud, rubbing his whiskered chin as he mulls over the question. 

"I haven't a clue... other than speaking to Y/N directly." Kili offers up the dialogue option hesitantly, for he isn't sure if it's a good idea or not. 

Fili doesn't reply right away, thinking over what his brother said, before he sighs, "That is really our only option now, isn't it?" 

"It appears so."

"But what do we even say?" Fili is beginning to feel frustrated, and he looks it too. 

"We can try being honest..." 

Sudden footsteps catch their attention, and when they turn there you are.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, apparently. 

"Oh! Why are you two still awake?" You ask, stopping right in front of their seated forms with your hands on your hips. "It's late, and tomorrow is going to be an early morning-"

"You can't stay here!" Kili blurts out in a rush before you even finish speaking, immediately cringing at how he sounded just then. 

Your eyebrows furrow and you're taken aback by his sudden outburst, what in Eru's name does he mean? 

They both hastily get to their feet and Fili speaks next this time before you can get even a word out, "I know this place is your home, but we- t-the company I mean, needs you. Gandalf said so himself, you're important to the journey." 

"I know you miss your friends and being in the place you grew up, but we'll miss you greatly!" Kili adds right after. 

"And who else will set the fires at night? Bofur is horrible at lighting the wood." 

"And you heat up the food wonderfully!"

"You're an excellent fighter too- we need lots of those." 

"That humor of yours keeps everyone happy too!" 

"Staring at Dwalin all day is hard on the eyes too, we need someone who doesn't look so awful after a few missed days of bathing." 

"Our uncle likes you, you make him less grumpy." 

"And-"

"Enough!" 

Your sudden snapping at them shuts them up successfully, but the way their faces fall makes your heart pang uncomfortably. 

First, you take a deep breath, and once that's done with and you're a bit calmer, you say slowly, "Where did you get the idea that I was going to stay here?"

Uh oh. 

The two glance at each other nervously since neither of them have an answer to that, and when the silence persists you speak once more. 

"That's what I thought." Your arms are crossed over your chest and gaze pointed as you stare at their ashamed and slightly red faces, and, once you're done torturing them, you add, "I signed up for this journey and I intend to see it to the end." 

"No, it's not just that- A-After the journey is over... you're going to come back once we're finished, aren't you?" Kili's voice sounds so sad, it makes your heart hurt some more. 

"Where are you two getting these ideas? I never said that!"

"You didn't have to. The way you look at this place, how fondly and longingly you stare and speak of things, your recounting of memories and that desire to be here..." Fili trails off and sighs heavily, "It's, of course, your choice... Forgive us. We just... do not wish for you to go." 

You slowly take a seat on the ground and look up at them with a raised eyebrow, "I wasn't planning on it. Now if you two are done berating me on staying with this company after we reclaim your mountain, I would like for you to go to sleep." 

"You weren't planning on coming back...?" Kili asks, slowly settling down onto his knees with his eyebrows knitted together and a questioning expression on his face. "B-But you said-" 

"I said I miss this place, not that I wanted to come back forever. I would miss you two too much to leave." You feel no embarrassment admitting this, for it's true. "I've grown too fond of you fools to just up and leave." 

It seems they quite liked that.

"So... you intend to stay in Erebor once we complete the quest?" Fili asks more hopefully this time, also taking a seat next to his brother with his legs crossed. 

"Yes." 

"Because you would miss us?" 

"Yes." 

That certainly silences them, and the flabbergasted expressions on their faces makes you laugh lightly. 

"And I guess this ambush has shown me that you also prefer me being her- you like me much more than you want to admit." Your voice is teasing, but you mean it. 

Fili sighs once more and looks at the ground, "I suppose that's true." 

"Well, good." You lean forward a bit and grab one of their hands each, "Now, I won't say it again. It's time to go to bed. Tomorrow we will have to leave early." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

[dazais-guardian-angel]

☕️+ what things do you wish they did with descole (because I am weak and he’s my fave)

Apologies for the late reply to this; tbh I almost didn’t want to answer it, cause I feel like nothing I’ll say will be something others haven’t already discussed (especially since I just saw you asked someone else this same question), and also I’ve only ever played the prequels once back when they first came out and I haven’t reached them again in my replay yet, so I’m not fresh on everything done with his character and all the Azran/Targent stuff. But nonetheless:

In general, obviously, I wish Desmole’s character “arc” if you can even call it that as it is now + plot twists/identity had been much more fleshed out from the get-go and consistent with who they ultimately made him be, that is, Hershel’s brother and someone who never should have legitimately wanted to hurt him or people close to him. While I think the worst of this really only comes out in Eternal Diva, where he literally tries to swordfight Hershel to death and kill Luke on one occasion cause he goes insane once Hershel out-puzzles him, there really just should have been more nuance to him in the first two entries especially (and in Miracle Mask too of course, but he’s barely in that game so) where he shows some level of frustration and hesitance to go up against Hershel and his crew, even if he still does so because he absolutely has to carry out his revenge plan. Just SIGNS that there’s more to this guy than just a walking one-dimensional mysterious deadly flamboyant badass, beyond just Hershel going “hm he feels familiar”, like no of course that’s not near enough. Even if Desmole’s true identity still wasn’t going to be revealed until Azran Legacy, there still needed to be hints, breaks in his facade/character, hesitation, signs of remorse, even if some of these hints are not outright foreshadowing to a familial relationship/desire for revenge. He could still lose it in Eternal Diva, but just make it seem more desperate and broken, and less kill-crazy. Give him moments of humanization, show that Descole can be kind, such as around Melina or Nina; what I honestly wanted to see was him having interactions around girls other than Aurora where his fatherly nature might show (not that him and Aurora aren’t great, I just wanted more); he had to have spent a lot of time around Melina while making the Detragan, and the potential for their relationship while she was dying is so much. Hershel should have had more moments of familiarity, and thinking about him when he’s not around, trying to figure him out, demanding to know who he is because he feels like he needs to know for some reason he can’t describe, and Descole’s answers/non-answers are extremely telling/bitter/curious/thought-provoking. And Descole should imo have had a scene to himself at the end of every entry pre-Azran Legacy where it’s increasingly obvious this guy has Angst(tm) and some beef with Hershel that seems personal and not just to do with getting in the way of his plots, along with all the earlier hints obviously (iirc he had a final scene at the end of Last Spector but it was nothing more than showing “hey we’re not done with this guy!!”, so that definitely should have had more to it; at the end of Eternal Diva I REALLY wanted to see how he survived his fall, probably with Raymond saving him, cue more ~mysterious reactions to Hershel~ as he thinks on how Hershel cried out his name as he was falling despite the fact that they were enemies, etc; and then the one at the end of Miracle Mask is okay I guess, but I still wanted more to it, more, idk signs of regret or remorse or sadness from him before he goes after Bronev, and not just “grrrrrr finally my revenge is close I’mma take you down all I have is angerrRRRRR” also for him to not look so damn stupid when all Bronev has to do is knee him to take him down, like this is DESCOLE, THE KING OF BADASS, THAT ENDING IS SO PITIFUL; WE DIDN’T NEED THAT FOR A FAKEOUT UNMASKING SCENE THAT LEADS NOWHERE).

tl;dr, Desmole’s story being planned from the very beginning would have made it possible for the writers to foreshadow and develop him properly before you finally see him as Desmond, and make you attached to and interested in him much more than just as a cool badass you kinda wonder the identity of but mostly just enjoy watching be badass and evil. The PL series had never had an overarching villain in the main trilogy aside from Don Paolo, who was more of a comic relief villain who they could afford to not make up his beef with/connection to Hershel until the final game because it was a very insignificant reason in the grand scheme of things, and Don Paolo just..... wasn’t that integral to the plots of that trilogy, he was more of a bonus background villain not meant to be taken seriously or have any true emotional impact. But then you have Descole introduced as the key threat over the majority of the prequel series (you think it’s the Masked Gentleman this time, but no lol, it’s still Descole!!), and needless to say, “actually the protagonist’s long-lost brother trying to get revenge on their corrupt father, both of which are involved in an ancient civilization that ruined all their lives in multiple ways” is a biiiiiiit more important than... “jealous dead girlfriend rival” lol. And so there’s a jarring disconnect between pre-Miracle Mask Descole and post-Miracle Mask Descole, because the Azran aren’t even a thing until Miracle Mask at ALL, and so in Last Spector and Eternal Diva Descole just seems like this mad scientist with a dramatic flair and nothing more, who mayyyyyyyy be searching for eternal life? Since that seems to be the running theme with the golden garden and ambrosia? But even then literally nothing is revealed about him in that game and movie so who knows (and unrelated but it seems like those two places have literally no connection to the Azran aside from an offhanded mention of them in Miracle Mask? idk man); the point I’m taking way too long to make here is that it’s very clear the writers had no endgame plan for him until Miracle Mask at the earliest, and even then I wonder how much of it was completely hashed out (considering the... sort of mess that Azran Legacy is, I almost wonder if most of it was literally not decided on until then). My guess is that Descole was super popular after Last Spector so they decided to bring him back (his final scene in that game could have just been to show that he survived and was still “out there somewhere”, whether or not he came back next entry), but then realized they didn’t have a backstory or identity for him so they had to think up something way too late; I can’t confirm this though of course.

Then you get to Azran Legacy, and honestly, despite how bizarre and weirdly unimportant and filler-ish 90% of this game’s plot feels, I love the inherent idea of Descole finally coming to Hershel as himself. Hershel always shows up and gets in his way? Fine, he’ll come to him. He always sees through his disguises? Fine, he’ll come to him in the best disguise he has: himself. Ask him for his help in a mission his curiosity won’t let him refuse. Because then, of course, even though Desmond is doing this to further and finish his plot, and use them as tools, essentially, there’s the wonderfully painful obvious second reason for why he chooses to do things this way, and that is he wants to spend time with his brother, whether or not he consciously realizes this. This way, Desmond can be himself, he doesn’t have to hide his appearance or (most) intentions and can freely express a lot of his regular personality while still working towards his ultimate goal, but at the exact same time there’s so much he can’t show, that he can’t reveal or let himself do, and this has to be a hundred times harder than when he’s posing as Descole because now he’s friends with Hershel and the others, and a part of him must want so desperately to just stay with them forever as he spends more and more time with them and grows more attached to them, (again, no matter how much he may realize this). But this is where his “arc” continues to fall flat in that aside from one or two hints towards his daughter and having a brother, there is literally no depth in Desmond’s behavior in Azran Legacy pre-Descole/brother reveal, just like in all the entries before it. He should have shown small signs here and there of something being “off” with him, of sadness, of hesitation, of trauma and mental instability; strange things said to Hershel alone that makes him and the player start wondering things, just like with Descole. Everyone immediately goes, upon seeing Desmond for more than five minutes, “oh that’s Descole obviously” (plus Raymond is just... there lol), but it’s not for the right reasons; there’s nothing wrong with a predictable plot twist, but there needs to be some kind of hints towards it to make you emotionally invested in what you realize is coming, because you’re waiting for it and you know it will hurt but you just don’t know when and how it will happen; not that you guess it for no other reason than “well there’s this new character who isn’t an existing friend of Layton’s and everything is suspiciously calm and we’re 90% of the way through this and Descole has yet to show himself; it’s probably him”. For the record, I actually think Miracle Mask does its predictable plot twist a lot better, even if that game still has issues; I see a lot of people complain about how predictable Randall being the masked gentleman is, and it is, but honestly? The flashback plot mechanic in that game is EXTREMELY effective in 1) making it VERY clear who the masked gentleman is very early on, like they’re not trying to hide it in any way, but also 2) punching you in the gut to maximum effect when you get to the end of the flashbacks and pair it with the present-day plot. Like, they could have just told the player in dialogue/infodumps throughout the game who Randall was and what his connection to Hershel, Angela and Henry was, like Desmond does to Hershel near the end of Azran Legacy, but that would have been tedious and boring and the player wouldn’t care near as much, and the game wouldn’t have been long enough. Instead, you see it firsthand, you experience it with Hershel, and although I’m frustrated at how little is done with masked gentleman!Randall and showing connections/hints to who he used to be (look, my exact problems with Descole) and making Hershel more involved with him at the end, which would have been the icing on the angst cake, the entire flashback half of that game honestly left a huge impact on me and I think that’s why I spend so much time talking about/getting emotional about Miracle Mask despite always saying that Diabolical Box is my favorite, because getting to know Randall and see that friendship and see how it ended just makes it all hit so much harder, as flashbacks should do. The writers knew it would be obvious who the masked gentleman is and they leaned into that, it was a very deliberate choice, what the entire game revolved around, because the point wasn’t that it was unpredictable, but that you would feel for that character and it would hurt so much more. And while I don’t necessarily think Azran Legacy needed full-on flashback gameplay segments for Desmond like Miracle Mask had, I think having vague flashbacks every once in a while throughout that game, vague enough to not directly tell you it’s him or naming/showing Hershel/Theodore much but clear enough that you can reasonably guess it is Desmond, would have done a world of difference, along with all the little behavioral/dialogue hints I mentioned. Similar to the diary entries in Diabolical Box, or if anyone’s ever played Super Paper Mario, the flashbacks in that game after every chapter about an unknown person that it becomes increasingly obvious as you play through the game is the main villain. I just.... really, really wish, out of all the prequel entries, Azran Legacy gave Desmond so much more emotional depth and resonance once we finally see him as Desmond instead of Descole, so many more scenes with Hershel, and to a lesser extent the others, so much more development of his character, so much more of an emphasis put on his prior family and how much he’s hurting and caring and yet at the same time refuses to give up his revenge; all of this, no matter how obvious it made his identity as both Descole and as Hershel’s brother. The brother plot twist, too, feels slightly lame and overdone and out of nowhere, but honest to god I wouldn’t fucking care at all if they just foreshadowed it properly and made it so painfully obvious how much Descole/Desmond wants to be with Hershel and this family and how much it kills him to turn on them all again at the end of Azran Legacy even if he still goes through with it, and how much he regrets everything as he lays dying in Hershel’s arms, but we get none of that goddammitLevel5whydoyoudeprivemeofsomuch-

*ahem* apparently I still had a lot to say. i just wanted so much more for him; he’s SUCH a tragic character... the stupid wannabe phantom of the opera bread man still makes me cry, despite everything, because i am trash. Oh yeah and he should have held Aurora in his arms as she died. And Azran Legacy should have ended post-credits with Hershel opening his door with his hat off (to show that this is after Unwound Future), his eyes widening, then it shows the bottom half of the person’s face, just enough to see the bread hair tips, and the slight sad smile, and then cut to black. level-5 just hire the PL fandom to make the Desmond spinoff game pls

[cynicalclassicist]

Doctor Who: Visitors to the Vault

By Toby Sutton-Long.

This isn’t mine but was done by another of the Lockdown writers who very kindly sent it to me.

“It’s the eyes.” “Oh yes, and the hair.” “The eyebrows, definitely.” “The way he shapes his mouth.”

The students were all furiously looking around to see where that gossip was coming from. A few near the front were taking notes so quickly they went through multiple pens. The more experienced of them wondered why, it’s not as if the Doctor set essays or exams or anything. In fact nobody knew what exactly he was paid to lecture on, but his tutorials were always the most popular, the one thing that would get any student straight out of bed after a hangover. Sometimes the people who came weren’t part of the university at all, but had somehow heard of this marvellously clever and wonderfully bonkers man. But none were as noisy as the two gossiping older women four rows from the back.

Sarah Jane Smith and Jo Jones.

Back at Bannerman Road a week before, Mr. Smith had reported some strange alien detections coming from St Luke’s University. Sarah hadn’t considered that odd, but she was quite surprised to hear that they’d been emitting since 1947. She just couldn’t figure out how this had gone unnoticed for seventy years. At this point she’d say something to Luke or Clyde or Rani or even K9, but they’d all gone and flown the nest, and she’d found hunting aliens just wasn’t as fun by yourself. She thought about asking Osgood or Jack, but dragging UNIT or Torchwood into something like this never usually went well. Ace was too well known to go undercover, and the Professors Chesterton were presenting a tour of talks in Europe about the Aztecs. But she knew she wouldn’t have as much fun with anyone other than Jo, who luckily was in England for a bit, looking after her grandson Quito, who wanted to try a year at a “normal school”. And so the two old friends went all the way down to Bristol in Sarah’s magical car, which she refused to give up for anything.

Within about ten minutes of them parking up they decided to follow the large congregation of students piling into the big hall. They had a cover story all prepped, if questioned they would say they were the aunties of some fictitious second-year biologist who got lost. But nobody seemed to notice them at first, even when Jo managed to knock someone’s orangeade all over their laptop. It was only until they both seemed to have the thought at the same time that this man was the closest a human could ever get to the Doctor, that they began to draw attention to themselves. Seemingly everyone got the same thrill from watching him bounce across the stage, talking at a million miles an hour about nonsense. There was a beautiful girl who stared right at him, her big eyes looking in amazement and the biggest smile you could ever see, a look of privilege just from knowing him. If this man was the Doctor, this girl was certainly the current lucky companion.

“You can almost imagine him doing some Venusian aikido!” giggled Jo. “I wonder how many jelly babies he eats a day?” responded Sarah in an equal fit of laughter. At this point they looked round and noticed how many of their fellow audience members were tutting at them, and the ladies resolved to head back outside to search for the readings further. Sonic lipstick in hand the two investigated the four corners of the building, but found nothing especially alien that couldn’t be explained by the presence of thousands of students. Sarah longed for K9, he could have been a great deal of help, but he was on the UNIT Moonbase with Luke. As the midday sun glistened over the gorgeous building, Jo leant over a gate to have a moment’s rest, before seeing a portly little man in a brown duffle coat rushing down the path. He was looking round shiftily, but did not spot her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it but he looked suspicious, perhaps alien.

Jo acted quickly, rushing over to Sarah, who was scanning some soil in a flower-bed. “Sarah Jane, I think I’ve found something, someone!” Jo excitedly gushed. The two held arms and rushed in the path of the strange man. He had disappeared by the time the two were by the other side, but luckily Sarah had noticed an open basement door leading down a dark and dingy flight of stairs. Treading carefully but not wanting the man to evade them, they made their way down what looked to be a very abandoned basement, full of bats and spiders’ webs in every upper corner. After four of these flights of stairs, the adventurers saw several aggressive flashing red lights reflecting onto a wall, before turning to see a huge door casting a massive shadow. The sonic lipstick appeared to go mad in Sarah’s jacket pocket, pre-tuned to the readings clearly coming from the other side.

“It must be programmed for sonic devices.” murmured Sarah as she aimed the device at the door. Some noises responded back, as if the door was decoding itself. “Oh my, Sarah Jane!” Jo cried back in horror, “Maybe it’s a trap for the Doctor?” “That’s what I’m worried about.” Sarah kept pressing on the sonic lipstick as a desperate attempt to get it to work faster, but eventually the door opened to reveal a massive, white spacious chamber. In the middle there was a piano where a woman very much resembling a Victorian nanny was playing some grand number, and generally ignoring her visitors. She looked extremely comfortable with her surroundings, and after about three minutes she spun round on her stool and finally noticed the women.

“Oh, you’ve regenerated! And you’ve got Sideshow Bob doing it too!” she yelled excitedly in her thick Glasgowian accent, before squinting at them, “Which is which?” “Who are you talking about?” Sarah asked. “Ooh, intruders! How exciting! Well, I would welcome you to the House of Fun, but the guv’nor’s gonna be rocking up and chucking you out any minute!” she skipped towards them. Jo looked at her in deep contemplation. “You know my darling, I feel as I know you. Have we met?” “I’ve been in for a while love, I don’t think so. But hang on, now you mention it, you both look very…” the woman paused in contemplation, “I know! The exes!” Sarah and Jo looked at each other and then back at her, but before they could say anything she spoke again, “Never really had that much to do with each other, did we Calamity Jane? But you, you were my first. And…” she dramatically leaned in to stage-whisper in Jo’s ear “My secret favourite, don’t tell the others!” “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are.” Sarah repeated. “Neither do I.” Jo added.

“You do, silly! You know, you will obey me! Axons and Sea Devils! I suppose I do look a bit different shaved.” Jo’s light bolt moment struck, “Oh my, you’re the Master aren’t you?” The woman’s eyes lit up, “Give the girl a gold star! Call me Missy. Oh, you look a bit different. Age has improved you my dear, do you think I should give it a go?” “That’s the Master, a Time Lord like the Doctor Sarah Jane, and not a very nice one.” Jo explained to Sarah, “But I thought they’d all died?” “Oh Time Lady, I like to be old fashioned!” Missy chirped. “What are you doing back here on Earth? You’ve been stopped before, and we can stop you again!” Jo straightened herself and Sarah aimed her sonic lipstick. “Oh don’t stress yourselves! I’m a prisoner for crying out loud, for my redemption.” Missy uttered these words as if she couldn’t quite believe that she was saying them. This shocked both her visitors and there was silence for a few moments.

“Well, it’s nothing more than you deserve!” Jo shouted, but Sarah was more curious. “Who imprisoned you?” she asked, and Missy merely smirked. “Oh you know, you’ve always known. Both of you.” Jo and Sarah looked at each other, and each gulped a gulp of realisation. “The Doctor…” they said in unison and shock. “He was that lecturer…” “Of course he was!” they felt a mixture of excitement at the prospect of seeing their old friend, but also a feeling of surprise that he was staying on Earth again. He hated it so much last time, when they both knew him, he always complained about it. Was he being forced to guard this strange Master’s prison? Was he somehow doing it out of choice? “How long have you been here for?” Sarah asked, trying to figure out what was really going on. “Well, we arrived here on Tuesday, so…” Missy counted a few fingers, “I’d say just about seventy years.” “So the Doctor, the Doctor’s spent seventy years lecturing at the university, and you, you, have been here?” Jo quivered. This sounded so unlike the Doctor she knew and loved, even he wouldn’t sit back for all that time, especially as a prison guard. But was he doing it to save the world? But why on Earth, why not take her someplace else? Jo wanted to ask Missy all these questions, but when she tried to nothing would come out. “Why?” she could only ask.

“Because it’s right. Because it’s decent. And above all, it’s kind.” Jo and Sarah instantly spun round at the very hearing of a far more masculine Scots tone, the tone of the lecturer they’d seen just a few hours before. He had just entered, accompanied by the man in the orange duffel coat. “Hello Jo, my Sarah Jane.” the Doctor put a hand on each of their shoulders, “Come on, we can talk in my study. Oh, this is Nardole by the way.” Nardole sneered at them disgustedly for some unfathomable reason. As the Doctor began to walk his old companions out, Missy piped up again. “Oh, pity, I thought I was finally getting some company at last!” Missy looked pointedly at them. “Not now Missy. Nardole, you clear up here.” the Doctor commanded as he led Jo and Sarah away.

The late afternoon sun glistened pleasantly on the beautiful old building of St Luke’s. The three old friends had spent hours drinking hot sweet tea and catching up. The Doctor explained about Missy and about Nardole. It even turned out that Nardole had seen pictures of Jo and Sarah and was only running to inform him. Speaking of Nardole, he turned up briefly a couple of times and left swiftly, refusing to talk to anyone but the Doctor. And as the clock struck five minutes to six, the Doctor shot up like a light. “Right, I’ll have to chuck you out. I’ve got a student coming in any minute, personalised tuition.” he said with regret at having to say goodbye. “That’s alright, I need to go anyway. Mr. Smith’s just sent me a message, there’s been a Vervoid spotted in Bethnal Green, I’ll deal with it.” Sarah explained. “Oh yes, one thing I’ve liked these past seventy years is having every alien invasion already sorted for me. Usually by myself!” the Doctor smiled. All three stood up, and Jo and Sarah looked at the TARDIS one last time. It still looked the same.

“Do you think you’ll ever fix that circuit thing in the TARDIS, so it won’t be a police box?” Jo inquired, somehow knowing the answer. “Do you want me to?” the Doctor’s eyes sparkled and Jo shook her head. “Of course not Doctor, you know that!” she smiled. Suddenly the door burst open and a young woman appeared - the same beautiful woman who was in the lecture who seemed so in awe of the Doctor. “Oh sorry, I didn’t realise you had company! You never have company!” she gushed. “Oh yes, Bill, these are my friends Jo and Sarah Jane.” “Just friends are we?” the girl giggled, “Or is there something more…” “Yes, thank you Bill.” the Doctor sharply interrupted.

Jo and Sarah made their final goodbyes and returned to the car. As day turned to evening and evening turned to night, the two women cruised up the M4, they thought deeply about what they had seen that day. In the decades that had followed their times travelling in the TARDIS and working at UNIT they had grown and changed so much. Jo had visited every country in the world, and Sarah had met and helped out so many. Each had found a family they loved so much. But what of the Doctor? He’d always been travelling, ever since they first met they both vowed to get in touch with as many of his other companions as possible, to great success. They always thought of the Doctor living the same life he always had, helping out, saving lives, changing his face in his magical blue box. But what if his life changed, just as much as anyone else’s?

“He won’t be there for much longer, I’m sure of it.” Jo decided at first. “I don’t think so either, Jo. But if that means the Master gets out…” Sarah tentatively uttered. “He’ll stop her. Hey, the Master, a woman!” “Maybe one day the Doctor will be a woman!” There was a lot of laughter at that prospect, and when they calmed down their thoughts turned to the girl they saw, Bill. “She’ll be the next, I can feel it. We were like that once!” “All that enthusiasm! And he really seemed to care about her.” “He’ll be travelling the universe again soon enough, with her. They’ll be best friends, and then they’ll have to say goodbye one day. Everything’s a stage in life, isn’t it Sarah Jane? And then we move on to the next stage, it’s not better, it’s not worse, it’s just different. And at the moment, the Doctor makes a good lecturer!” Jo laughed, and then Sarah joined in, and they talked some more, as they always did whenever they met. Neither of them noticed the police box far away in the sky, with the Doctor looking down protectively over the ones he loved, and his new companion Bill by his side.

And the story goes on… forever.

[samthemarvelfan]

Graveyard: Chapter One

-A Pet For The King-

Summary: Is being out of a cell worth all of this? ...probably not...

Pairing: Loki Odinson x OFC

Warnings: Sexual situations, innuendos, threatening, Loki is a dick.

A/N: Here we go! Off to the races! Do these two have a history? Sure seems like it... Tags are open.

There were at least 50 prisoners ahead of you awaiting their assignments at the work shed. Thanks to Korg, you’d been released from your cell, and sent for something called Joruuda’s Judgement.

From what you gathered, Joruuda is a green guy with 2 heads assigning people to different lines. A simple grunt—all of which sounded the same to you, and one of his assistants would shove you where he decided.

There’s about 10 people to go when you feel a soft tap on your shoulder. You turn, and your gaze immediately has to glance another 3 feet higher.

“Hey Ella, it’s me Korg.” The pile of rocks smiles happily.

You smile, shaking your head in disbelief. This guy really is too nice to be locked up in here.

“Hi, Korg.”

He stands awkwardly next to you as the line begins to move again. “Whatcha doing?” He asks.

You sigh. “Just awaiting destiny.”

“That’s a funny way to look at a life time of manual labor, but okay. Hey, that King guy is here. Wanna see him?” He asks innocently.

You scoff. “Why is a guy that’s supposedly a King down in the cells? Not much regality to be found in a dungeon.”

Korg shrugs. “Not sure, but I think the Grandmaster is letting him have his pick of concubines.”

You roll your eyes. “Wonderful.”

You’re next in 2 away from being judged, “No thanks, Korg. The guys is probably a lunatic, and I’ve had my fill of those.”

“Alright, suit yourself. Hopefully you don’t get sent to the 4th line.”

Your stomach churned, “Whats the 4th line, Korg...”

“Oh, that’s the ah, the sewage department.” He smiled.

“Next!” The assistant with the clipboard called.

You step up to the line marked on the floor. “Race?” She asks you.

“Asgardian.” You reply, attempting to avoid eye contact. Most people these days didn’t like hearing that someone had visited Asgard, let alone was a citizen.

One of Joruuda’s heads turn and looks at you abruptly. His three eyes scan you up and down, before growling something to the assistant on his left.

“Alright, Asgardian. Lane One.” She says. You smile meekly, and follow the guard.

Compared to the other lanes you’d seen, lane one was relatively empty. Just you and 6 or 7 other women; of every shape and color, mind you.

A guard holding the largest blaster you’d ever seen stood at the head of the line. “Listen up, urchins! Through that door you will remain silent! Stand there...look appealing...keep your mouths shut. For those of you selected...well, congrats. Those of you who aren’t?” He smirked, “I’ll see you in the sewers.”

Selected? You thought. For what?

If you’re being totally honest, you’re not exactly sure how much worse things for you could get, so you decided to roll with it.

A buzzer sounded, and the door ahead of you shot up, opening into a large white room.

The 8 of you file in and stand on marked spots. Curiosity got the better of you, and you start to look around. It seems to just be a large white room with one door on either side. On the wall ahead of you however, you notice a small seam across the bottom where it meets the floor.

Illusionary walls. You think to yourself.

Suddenly another buzzer sounds, and a voice comes over an intercom, speaking yet another language you don’t understand.

A door on the other side of the room opened, and a guard walked in. He makes his way to the group of you and without hesitation, grabs the front of your shirt and yanks you towards the door.

Shit, shit, shit! You didn’t actually prepare for what would happen had you been picked.

Three more guards walk past you, back into the room where the other girls are awaiting their fate. “Alright ladies, to the sewers!” One says happily. The last thing you hear before the doors shut is shrieking.

“This way...Asgardian.” The guard commands. Note to self, keep your origin story private from now on.

The guard escorts you down the dark hallway, and into a very questionable elevator. Then, a transport carrier arrives and escorts you to the one building towering over the rest of the city.

Once inside, you traipse down the red and white hallway, before stopping in front of a door. “Wait here. When the door opens, you can enter.”

You nod, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention. The guard takes a few paces behind you, but waits there with his gun at the ready.

After a few moments, the door slides up. You walk in, and see people in the bright clothing and markings all over their faces. A large, boisterous group is straight ahead of you, laughing. When they see you approaching, they part down the middle.

A man walks forward, dressed in the gaudiest outfit you’d ever seen. His nails and eyeliner matched the same shade of blue, and his assistant was the surliest looking woman you’d ever seen.

“Ah, here she is!” He leaned over to her, “it is a she...right, Topaz?”

“It is a she.” The stout woman replied monotonously.

It doesn’t take you long to realized that this nutjob is the Grandmaster.

“Wonderful, wonderful! Sire, I believe this is the one you’ve selected to be your concubine du jour?” He asks suggestively.

A crowd to your left splits a path, and you sense his presence before you see him.

“Oh yes, I do believe she’ll do wonderfully.” The smirk in his voice is undeniable.

No, not here. You think.

But he is here—Loki, in all his glory.

“You’ve got to be shitting me...” you scowl.

“Hey, hey! Language missy, this is the King of Assberg!” The Grandmaster boasts.

“Asgard.” You and Loki mumble simultaneously.

He laughs suggestively, “Ah look at that, bonding already I see. Well your majesty, please feel free to retire to your chambers. Those broad shoulders of yours must be quite tense, and I can see in your eyes you’re just dying to get a taste of...” he drifts off, unsure of what to call you.

“Prisoner 7648.” His assistant said boringly.

You rolled your eyes, “My name is Ella and I will not be going with him.”

As you turn around to leave, you’re met with the whirring of a laser blaster aimed straight at you.

Putting your hands up in surrender, you spin back around.

“Oh no actually, I think you will, won’t she?” The Grandmaster queried.

“Mmm.” Topaz replied.

Loki took a step forward. “Grandmaster, might I humbly request some privacy for the day? I’m quite pent up you see, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself with this one.” He says, looking you up and down.

I’m going to kill you in your sleep. You think as loud as possible, knowing Loki is probably poking around in your head. A smirk crossed his lips for a moment, and you’re confident he read your mind.

Good.

“But of course. Feel free to join my pleasure vessel later, we embark after dinner.” He offers Loki, to which you feel the vomit rise in your throat.

I am surrounded by maniacs. You think to yourself.

“I shall consider it,” he replies. “For now, I’ll take to my chambers.” Loki’s gaze is upon you once more, but his eyes aren’t holding that signature arrogance you’re used too. They almost look...relieved?

Probably to leave this fools company.

The guards who escort you were equally as creepy as the rest, and while Loki roamed freely ahead of you, they’d chosen to shackle you—at Loki’s insistence.

“I can take it from here, gentlemen.” He said, punching in numbers on the keypad on the wall next to the door.

You keep silent as he walks you into the room, and removes your shackles.

“Now then—“

Slap!

Your hand reverberates off his cheek before the shackles hit the floor.

Loki’s face remains unphased as he grabs your wrist, squeezing it tightly. It’s hurts, but you won’t give him the satisfaction in telling him that.

“Striking the God who just saved you is not the wisest of choices.” He seethes.

His grip grows stronger, surely bruising you. “Saved me? You’re the reason I’m here in the first place, asshole!”

His tone lowers, “Careful, pet. You’ve no friends here, and I am still your king.” He warns.

You tear out of his grasp. “You’re nothing to me. Just the man who tried to have me killed.” You turn your back on him, and walk towards the window.

He laughs sardonically, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?!” You shout, “You summoned a tidal wave to chase me down and drown me.”

His face shift into something you can’t decipher. “You would not have drowned. You’d have been pull back toward the palace, but instead you decided to not head my warnings and kept running.” You hear his footsteps carrying him closer to you.

“How did you even find me? Have you charmed me? Put some sort of location spell on me?” You sneer.

He chuckled, “You’re not worth the effort it would take to maintain it. I fell into the bifrost same as you, only I was wise enough not to get myself captured.”

You turn to him and cross your arms, “and how do you expect the Grandmaster will feel when he find out he’s housing a murderous usurper?”

Loki closes the space between the two of you, “Oh pet, I don’t expect him to become aware of any of that. A gentle reminder that I’m the only thing standing between you and a lifetime of slavery to that lunatic, so I suggest you do not try my temper.”

“Or what?” You prod.

He moves his lips close to your ear, “or I’ll have you sent back to your cell to rot away into eternity.” He whispers.

When he pulls his face back, his eyes are boring into yours, “Thoughts?”

You swallow thickly, your eyes unable to leave his gaze. As much as you detested the God before you, you knew better than test him. Besides, being with him is a much better choice than being a prisoner.

...well, a prisoner in a cell anyway.

You’d known Loki your whole life. There was a time when you’d never imagine he’d hurt you, but it’s all different now. After what he did all those years ago on Midgard, and what he’s done now to Odin, there’s no predicting him. His taste for power and purpose has drained him of his humanity.

“Fine, but if you think I’m going to serve as your concubine, you’ve got another thing coming.” You threaten, though after his words, the threat comes out meeker than intended.

Loki laughs, “If that’s what I wanted of you, I’d take you...right here,” he braces his palms against the window behind you, trapping your body between it and his. “Where everyone could see you come apart, but alas, I’ve other pressing matters, I’m afraid.”

Asshole.

“Why did you pick me then? You can’t possibly think I would uphold any loyalty to you. What purpose could you have for me?” You ask, trying to shrink from his gaze.

Loki pulled away from you, moving across the room. He removes his leather cloak, laying it on the bench at the end of his bed.

“I have plans. Plans that will require someone with your skills, and if you’d like to see Asgard again, you’ll do as your told.”

The anger building within you began to bubble over, “‘Do as your told?’, I’m not a dog, Loki. I’m not a pet you can train and command.”

“Actually,” he ponders, “that’s exactly what you are. Whilst on Sakaar, my pet you shall be.”

Sakaar? Well at least I know where I am, now.

He sits upon the bench, and removes his boots. “How long have you been here?” He asks suddenly.

You shrug, “I don’t know. A month? Maybe less maybe more. The days in the cells all blurred together.”

A sort of sadness flashes in his eyes, but you ignore it. You will not fall for the trickster god’s schemes.

“Hm, well I’ve been offered to join the Grandmaster for dinner. It’s supposedly quite the grand affair, so I suggest you bathe.” He says, looking you up and down once more.

Oh gosh, when was the last time you bathed? You can’t remember, and it’s embarrassing. You were never the fairest of maidens on Asgard, but right now you looked like something scraped off the bottom of a boot.

“Don’t fret, pet. I assume life was not full of grandeur in the dungeons. Bathe, and look presentable.”

You roll your eyes, “Forgive me, your majesty,” you sass, “it would appear I’ve left all of my fine silks and jewels on Asgard.”

Loki stands, and waves his hand over the bed. Through the reflects of green shimmer, appears a silk gown. Deep green in color, and far too revealing for your taste. “Now as for the jewels, I suppose I can make my pet a collar—“

“No.”

He smirks, “I thought not. Come, let us bathe.”

Your eyes widen, “I know how to bathe myself, and I can’t exactly run away down the drain, Loki.”

He opens the bathing room door, before turning back to you. “No, but these people seem to think I’m making you come undone in every conceivable way possible,” he husks, “and I can assure you, I would not be done yet. So I will stay with you a while longer, to maintain our ruse.”

You sigh, “You disgust me.”

Loki tuts, “Now, now. My pet would have the highest obedience. We’ll have to remedy that tongue of yours.” He runs his thumb across your bottom lip, and you have to resist the urge to bite it off.

“Bathe—now.” He orders.

You traipse past him into the bathing room. Sitting on the edge of the pool, you pull off your boots and your vest, pausing when you get to your tunic.

“Turn away.” You seethe.

Loki’s eyebrows raise, “It’s not like I haven’t seen a woman’s body before.”

“That may be true, but the only way you’re seeing this woman’s body is if you’ve developed the ability to see through clothing. Now turn away.”

...and he does. Which surprised the hell outta you.

Once you’re in the bath, you submerge you’re body fully under the milky water, leaving only your head visible. “Okay.” You announce.

Loki turns around and begins stripping off his clothing.

“What in the name of Yggdrasil do you think you’re doing?!” You shout.

“Bathing. I was in those dungeons for only a moment and I feel absolutely riddled with filth.”

You gasp and turn away when he reaches for his belt. “Absolutely not! There’s another bathing pool right there, Loki!”

He laughs, then you hear the water splash, and you can only assume he’s entered your pool. Lucky for you, it’s nearly 8 feet wide, so you tuck yourself into the far corner.

“Do you not recall the escapades of our youth? Bathing nude in the sea whilst the stars danced above us?” He croons, moving closer to you.

Loki reaches behind you, grabbing a wash sponge and hands it to you. “A lot has changed, Loki.”

The water ripples as he moves away from you again. “You’re right, and I intend to keep it that way.”

The milky water is above your bosom, shielding your body from his view as you wash yourself. While it’s not the most awkward thing in the world, considering how familiar you are with each other, it is unsettling.

“This is madness.” You mumble.

“Oh, pet,” Loki smirks, “The madness has not yet begun.”

[msjdott]

Chapter 23: Shallow

You then felt a hand slithering it’s way to hold yours, and before you could look, you were now running up the stage with atsumu pulling you from behind, not having any time to object or do anything in this situation.

“Please welcome...raises brow...Akaashi y/n?”

“Go y/n-san!” The little boy from earlier cheered, earning your attention as you now stood on stage, in front of a microphone stand.

Atsumu picked up the guitar and started a slow tune, you quickly got familiar as to what song he was about to play.

“Tell me something girl, are you happy in this modern world? Or do you need mooore?~ is there something else your searching fooor? I’m falling...in all the good times i find myself, longing-for change~ and in the bad times i fear myself”

As he continued to strum the guitar, you looked back at atsumu and he gave you a small encouraging nod.

You breathed in thinking that you might as well enjoy this moment.

“Tell me something boy, aren’t you tired tryna fill that voooid~ or do you need more? Ain’t it hard keepin’ it so hard core~ I’m fal-ling...in all the good times i find myself, longing fooor change...and it the bad times i fear myself”

You breathed in and closed your eyes, feeling the rhythm and the sound of the guitar playing.

“IM OFF THE DEEP END WATCH AS I DIVE IN, I’LL NEVER MEET THE GROOOOUND~ CRASH THROUGH THE SURFACE WHERE THEY CAN’T HURT US, WE’RE FAR FROM THE SHAL-LOW NOOOOOOOW~”

“In the sha-ha-sha-ha-low. In the sha-sha-laaaa-low. In the sha-ha-sha-ha-low. We’re far from the shallow now~”

You sung in unison, filling the silent room with the harmony from both your voices beautifully complimenting and bouncing off of each other.

It was like the tune was meant for the the both of you, playing off of the different pitches and notes your vocal chords produced.

As you were doing gaga’s infamous build up, all eyes fell on you, staring at you shocked and surprised because they never heard you sing so well, let alone seeing you perform on a stage and do it so wonderfully was a completely new sight they gladly basked in.

You and atsumu finished the song as he strummed the guitar on its final chord, then there was silence.

Even the kids who were so noisy during this event we’re all looking at the both of you, eyes wide open and jaws dropping to the floor.

You cringed at the thought that maybe they didn’t like how you performed or you just butchered the song COMPLETELY.

But then after a few moments bokuto and kuroo started crying while hugging each other, keiji and hinata along with the rest of you little group clapping while tearing up.

The kids were cheering non stop, chanting “DO IT AGAIN!” And “MORE PLEASE!”

And you looked back at atsumu who was staring at you in complete adoration and amazement in his eyes, you then ran to him not thinking for another moment and hugged him head on.

Making him fall on his back while you continued to cry on his chest.

“You idiot! Why did you drag me on stage!” You laughed while crying, using an arm to support your weight while the other wiped off a few tears.

“What did i say? You do have a pretty sweet voice” he grinned placing a hand on the back of his head as he lay there underneath you.

“Okok, break it off lovebirds, there are kids in this room” keiji clapped while assisting both you and atsumu to stand up, being followed by the rest of the group climbing up on stage.

You brushed off a few wrinkles that formed on your clothes while kuroo and the others just stared at you, looking as if they deserve an explanation.

“What? Is there something on my face?” You rubbed your cheek, wondering if there was a stray lint that made its way to your unsuspecting face.

“YOU LIAR! YOU SAID YOU CAN’T SING FOR SHIT!” Kuroo dramatically shouted, pointing a finger at you while he clung onto bokuto’s white shirt for some type of emotional support.

“Kuroo, the kids can hear you” kenma gestured to the children playing from the foot of the stage, busying themselves with the brand new toys they got from this occasion.

“What about karaoke night!? Did you fake those as well!?” Bokuto furrowed his brows, also clinging onto kuroo’s shirt for said, emotional support.

“I just didn’t wanna tell you guys! I thought i sucked, ok? And yes i did fake karaoke night”

“SUCK??? YOU WERE HEAVENLY ON THAT STAGE Y/N-SAN WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!” Hinata was looking up at you, with a very impressed look on those wide eyes of his.

“Well same goes for atsumu, didn’t know this dumbass could sing” Osamu hit the back of atsumu’s head, slightly jerking forward because he was not ready for that attack at all.

“OUCH!”

“Well let’s finish this charity event and grab some donuts otw home” kageyama spoke up, while being followed by everyone down the stage.

“Hey atsumu”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks, i guess”

You placed a quick peck on his cheek, then ran towards the direction on your group, leaving him on the stage steps, dumbfounded and smiling as he held his cheek from where your lips touched his skin.

Author’s Note: The song that was used in this Chapter was none other than Shallow-from “A start is born” by lady gaga and bradley cooper and quick fact, this is actually my favorite song ever.

☏Smau Masterlist

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[fifielady]

Something; Love

@hetaliamondaychallenge​‘s “If you meant it, kiss me” prompt challenge

Rating: T

Ship: USUK

Note/s: My internet connection suddenly cut off just as I finished this up last night ;-; but at least it’s working now. I know it’s a bit late and this is a bit rushed but I hope you guys enjoy this.

Acting is a distinguished art that involved elements crucial to the point that if done right, everyone involved will be completely enthralled and would forget for even a moment they were a mere spectator detached from the wonderfully different world onstage. Arthur Kirkland, a junior, loved it. The stage, the power, the act. He relished being both on the stage conquering the attention and the hearts of the spectators and out of their view making very sure that the play would go exactly as he instructed them all like the 'theatre tyrant' as he is. (Christened to him ever since he stepped foot inside their highschool's exclusive theatre troupe-- err, drama club.)

However! Oh God, in all things he thrived in his world, how Arthur hated improv. Well... fine, he didn't outright hate it. Improv is an art and he would not drag that down. But, oftentimes, it would drag the whole detailed and scripted act. Worse, it could undermine the whole premise of the plotline! And Arthur would outright shove the person who even dares to deviate from the scene into hell and torture them with his endless taunts to force them to utter the name of that Scottish play every single time they enter his theatre. In actuality, it was the school's theatre, then again, Arthur knows that he'll be stage director his senior year next year so he may as well call it his now anyway.

Hmm, wait... Where was he going with that train of thought exactly--

"Why?!" Alfred shouted as he deflected Arthur's lunge with his sword, every word that came out was further intensified by the clash and clang of their improvised broom-swords."Why do all this when you had it all?!"

-- Ah, yes, this. Arthur spun left when his 'enemy' thrust his broom inches from Arthur's stomach. This was one of their club's monthly destress-from-the-current-play-we-are-doing-this-spring activities. Their current stage director, Elizabeta, was a god-sent in Arthur's eyes to let everyone in the club, techies included, engage in impromptu dramas and stories; competition was always there, of course, and the club was divided into two groups.

"Ha! I had it all?" Agh, Damn it all! He pivots and strikes Alfred's upper thigh just to spite the man who caused this mess. "It-it seems you are mistaken, I have nothing. Nothing!"

Usually, Arthur Kirkland and Alfred F, Jones, would be separated into their respective groups named after the feuding families of Shakespeare's star-crossed lovers (They had personalized red and blue shirts and all). Usually. Also usually, Elizabeta happened liked to mix things up and then proceeded to regroup everyone.

That was how Arthur ended up 'dueling to the death’ against their club's upstart but excellent freshman actor during their impromptu plays. Alfred Jones was the kind of person who devoted himself to the character he portrayed. The kind of person that was so very kind, sometimes naive, and wouldn't hurt a soul to gain notoriety on the stage (which was done quite often in these kinds of environments). Arthur liked that. It didn't hurt him to like like Alfred as well as he liked Alfred's compelling air onstage.

But his feelings for the other won't alleviate the fact that he was angry because someone had the nerve to switch Arthur's 'best-friend-betrays-and-kills-the-crown-prince-because-of-politics' impromptu plot to something that of a dramatic romance just because he forgot his line and muttered something completely different in context in the middle of the fight! And Arthur was left to quickly bite a response and then his character's motives suddenly changed. ("I love my father's kingdom but you have my heart! You know this." "Lies! If you loved me as much, you would've stopped your father from attacking my family!) Someone just had the nerve to throw him off his balance and now--

The traitor used all his strength as he flung his enemy's sword, throwing it far away from the other's hands. It thunked near their audience, almost hitting a student, but both of the actors never took their eyes away from each other. Arthur growled and pushed Alfred down the dusty floor on his ass. The fallen crown prince lay there with his broom-sword meters away and the tip of his former friend's sword centimetres on the left of his chest, where his heart should be. Both of them were panting. sweating out the tension that suddenly overcame the room.

Arthur thinks it was both a wonderful and terrible scene. Wonderful in a sense he's bested the other and continued to his planned narrative for their act. And terrible in a way that if this were the reality they both lived in, the best of friends torn by society's expectation, it would hurt not only the prince but also his heart.

With steely eyes, Arthur uttered the last line of their act, "I have nothing left. Nothing to lose." He thrust his broom and Alfred shouted as if someone had really pained his heart physically and emotionally.

Arthur’s heart clenched.

But in true Alfred F. Jones fashion, he smiled a smile Arthur saw when it was only them alone under the mostly atmosphere of the library with blue eyes untainted by their acting, never lying, and completely threw Arthur's precise and thought-out chess plan in the trash. He gripped Arthur's broom, muscles quivering for effect, and whispered, "You had me... and my... love...!" Alfred went lax.

Applause.

Once again, Alfred won over the narrative and his heart.

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

Arthur listened to the last goodbyes and see-you-laters of the exiting students. His group won this month's supply of cheesecake reserved in the cafeteria thanks to their performance. It was mostly him and Alfred but he recognizes the efforts of his groupmates into contributing to their act. Personally, Arthur thinks his performance was sub-par today; he may be overly-critical of himself but he knew that when Alfred forgot his line and did improv ruined his tempo.

Alfred. His acting today almost wasn't acting at all. Those eyes and that watery smile that had held his emotions for all the world to see. Was it... love?

No. Arthur shook his head. It couldn't be. Alfred was an actor just like Arthur was going to be a stage director. Excellent and good at what they're supposed to do in their grand world onstage. Flawless.

It was upsetting, somehow. Arthur wouldn't lie that he wished it was real. Not the stab and kill my love part but the one that what Arthur was spared from the pain of unrequited love. It would be lovely, "--If he actually meant it, that he loved me."

"And if I did?"

Arthur spun around faster than his cues onstage. There was Alfred, leaning on the doorway with a no-nonsense look on his face. The intense red of the setting Sun illuminating and heightening every line he’d said and say. "What...?"

"And if I did? If love you, what would you do?" Tight, Arthur’s lungs felt like someone was choking him in the inside.

"Alfred, the activity is over, there's no need for you to continue the act." He deflected, frowning. A mix of dread something else he couldn’t describe fluttered in his chest. Suddenly, he knew this feeling; it was hard to breathe.

"What if I stopped 'acting' when I improvised my line and confessed with my real feelings. What if I told you that I meant what I said. That I love you." Alfred strode to him, purposeful and his face looking a little flushed. "What would you do, Arthur?"

Alfred doesn't lie, he acts. But not right now. Alfred was telling him, Arthur Kirkland, that he loves him. Bleeding hell, yes. He knew the other man wasn’t planning on letting him go any sooner if Arthur didn’t give him a reply in this very moment

"Well, if it were true that you love me," he licked his lips, "If you meant it, kiss me. And maybe, I'll say I love you too."

Alfred pouted but then the corner of his lips curved to a smile. "'Maybe'? Aren't you being too mean on me today? You just stabbed your best friend with a broom."

Arthur smiled back and chuckled, happiness made fluttered in his heart and warmed his cheeks. "How about a kiss for the prince for his troubles?"

"Mn, yeah, that's acceptable. A kiss for your prince from my boyfriend, right?" He leaned down a bit and was wiggling his eyebrows so much, Arthur was tempted to smack him instead. Tempted indeed.

However, a kiss on Alfred's lips was a million times more tempting. Arthur leaned a bit up into those lips and did just that.

They had something. Love.

end

[canvas-the-florist]

Communication (BomBARDed)

Warnings: Possible second hand embarrassment, stupid decisions, brief all caps, vague episode 25 spoilers(?)

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: Raz’ul and Neous reunite after years, working through emotional and communication issues one step at a time. I wrote a fic before this that correlates that might be nice for context: here. Enjoy!

-

Raz’ul was singing a song with Yashee and Randy. It was an upbeat song in some town they were attempting to help. He was trying to focus but couldn’t help searching the crowd as he sang along to the chorus. Raz’ul strummed quickly, unsure what he was searching for until he found it. Them. A fire genasi with a leather jacket. They were watching him with hands in their pockets. Raz’ul smiled as they made eye contact and turned back to the others to focus on the song once more. It finished and he immediately ran to climb off the stage.

“Where you going, Raz’ul?” Yashee asked. Raz’ul looked to her and back to where he was sure they were standing quickly. But they were gone. He sighed and sat on the edge of the stage.

    “I… Nowhere I guess.” Randy and Yashee sat next to him on either side. He leaned his face on his cheek. Yashee looked over at Randy who shrugged as if to say ‘why do you think I’d know what to do here?’ before looking back to Raz’ul. “What would you do if you hypothetically saw someone you maybe sort of liked from your home when you haven’t seen them in years?”

    Randy hummed. “And you… hypothetically miss this person?” Raz’ul nodded. “Well if you’re asking me I would probably avoid any possible chance of talking to them in case of messing up what we had in the past just in case they’ve decided to kill me over any mistakes. Obviously.”

    “Or, you could say hi?” Yashee added.

    Raz’ul hid his face in his hands and sighed. “Never mind, forget I asked, it’s fin-” He looked up and that’s when he saw them again. They had a judgemental smile on their face, that was lit up with the light of their hair. Without, thinking he jumped off of the stage and ran to them, stopped a few feet away. “I… hey Neous… What’s up?”

    Neous laughed lightly. “Well I didn’t imagine that to be how this goes but I’m doing wonderfully, My Prince.” They bowed and Raz’ul shoved them back up playfully.

    “You’ve never cared about that stuff, you don’t have to pretend now.”

    “Oh, but pretending is so much more fun.” Raz’ul stuck out his tongue as Randy and Yashee walked up behind him. Neous looked at them. “Who are these folks? Never seen them around before.”

“I’m Yashee!” Neous nodded. 

“Randy. Are you the bard that Dank’ul and Donk’ul oh so lovingly mentioned?” Raz’ul sent a nervous look at Randy, darting between Randy and Neous. “We’ve heard a bit about you.”

“You have?” Neous seemed genuinely surprised before getting their composure back. “I mean, naturally. Not sure any of the royalty could ever stop talking about me, I leave quite the impression on people, after all.” They leaned on top of Raz’ul dramatically, who froze up but didn’t move. “Mind telling me what people have said.”

Yashee nodded. “Sure! We were playing truth or dare and Raz’ul chose truth against Randy who asked him to-”

“It’s nothing!” Raz’ul cut in, getting out from under Neous’s embrace. His face was hot and he crossed his arms stubbornly. “Don’t worry about it. What have you been, up to really? I heard you didn’t… you don’t play at the castle anymore.”

Neous rubbed the back of their neck. “The vibes weren’t right, not sure what to tell you.”

“Should we be here?” Randy whispered to Yashee off the side.

“I mean we weren’t told to so I don’t know why we would.” She responded.

“Yeah, fair enough I guess.” So the two sat on the ground as Raz’ul and Neous had whatever heart to heart they needed to have. Randy got out a deck of cards and started shuffling.

The two left standing were avoiding eye contact, like that could save them from emotional honesty. Raz’ul took a deep breath to start talking but Neous broke in. “Look, Raz’ul. I don’t know why you left and I don’t really feel like asking. But I do know that I care about you enough to say that I missed you. Your decisions are your own and I’m proud of you for doing things for yourself. Just, maybe call me on the IRa glass or something sometime you know?”

Raz’ul nodded. “Yeah that’d be… cool.” He looked up to finally make eye contact with Neous. “Can, can we hug?” Neous gave a smile and opened their arms.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever been emotionally vulnerable in my life.” Neous mumbled into Raz’ul’s hair. Raz’ul tightened his grip around them. “I hated it and I’m never doing it again.”

He gave a small laugh, burying his head in the hug. “You get used to it after a while. I… missed you, Neous. I care about you.”

“Yeah, I missed you too Raz’ul.”

They broke from the hug and looked down at Yashee and Randy playing Go Fish on the ground. Raz’ul wasn’t sure how, but he was pretty sure that Randy was cheating somehow. There was no way he could be “just good at the game”. So without much else to do, Neous and Raz’ul sat down on the ground to join the game. Raz’ul quietly held Neous’s hand, pretending that no one else could see it at all. They played until the sun set. Randy sat up and stretched.

“We should probably go back to the wagon now, right?” Randy asked. 

Neous frowned as they stood up too. “Are y’all leaving soon?”

Yashee shrugged. “It kind of depends on what happens next on the podcast, we aren’t really sure the timeline of events here.” The others looked at her blankly and she continued. “But yeah, probably. We have a lot to get to, y’know?”

“Oh.” They looked down but smiled. “Well, that’s fine! Have fun on your travels!”

The three could tell that it was not indeed “fine”. Randy pushed Raz’ul forward to Neous and started walking away with Yashee. She didn’t really protest but she did seem confused at what was happening. “Well, we’ll leave you two to your goodbyes!”

Neous and Raz’ul looked at each other, once again Neous made the first move. “Your friends seem nice.”

“Thanks, they drive me crazy sometimes but I love them a lot.” Raz’ul replied, honestly. He grabbed his arm, stepping closer to Neous. “I, thank you for hanging out with us, and watching us perform. I’m going to miss you, but I guess we have a way to communicate now, right? That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, I guess it is pretty cool, huh?” Neous teased lightly. 

“Shut up, I’m trying my best here!” Raz’ul fussed, but he wasn’t actually that angry. He was happy to see Neous and glad to be talking to them again. “You’re a really cool person and it’s a little intimidating sometimes, okay?”

“Okay I know you have a crush on me but I’m also intimidating? A bit of a mixed signal here to be honest.” Neous joked, but Raz’ul did not get the memo that it was a joke, immediately thinking of his very real crush on this person. His mind went through all possible ways that Neous would KNOW, he had been trying to be subtle about it… How did they know?

“How did you find out I have a crush on you?!” 

“YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON ME?!” Neous exclaimed, extremely shocked. 

Raz’ul looked at the wagon, Randy and Yashee seemed just about done getting it ready. And while they probably wouldn’t leave until morning but Raz’ul turned around dramatically and started towards it quickly. “Oh! Would you look at that, I should really get going to the wagon! It’s important to get a goodnight’s sleep before travel, you probably get that-”

“Raz’ul!” Neous yelled out, grabbing his arm lightly. “We should talk about this, right?”

He turned back. “Yeah, but do we have to right now?”

Neous shrugged, letting go of Raz’ul. “I mean, I guess not. Do you have a time you think we’ll see each other in person anytime soon? Like, I could make it happen but I don’t think it’s that likely.”

“No,” Raz’ul sighed. “It’s not. But I’m not sure if I’m ready to talk about it quite yet. We have a lot to do and as much as I’d like to be even more emotionally vulnerable… Well you should know that it is really difficult.”

“Yeah, I understand Raz’ul.” Neous thought for a moment. “Maybe I could come with you guys! Help you on your thing, and we can work on this emotional stuff together!”

“I…” Raz’ul felt the rebuttal die on his lips, not thinking of a single excuse. That it could be dangerous? He knew that wouldn’t deter them if not make them more motivated. It seemed pretty smart. And Randy would absolutely love to make fun of them over it and Yashee would be supportive. Raz’ul wanted this to happen, so maybe he should let it. “Okay. We’re leaving in the morning, do you have a place to sleep?”