#like oh fuck oh no but also excuse me edward how dare you be so raw and hot

[janeeyreheresy]

New Fortune, New Family

One snowy morning, St John visits Jane in her new little cottage. He starts telling a tale. The tale is familiar to us, it is a tale of an orphan child, mistreated by her aunt, later schooled at Lowood, etc etc. He gets to the point where the heroine of the tale, now a governess, escapes from Thornfield. It is of most importance that she is found. 

Where does St John get all this from? He has had a letter from Briggs the solicitor, giving him the details about Jane Eyre.

So St John knows the truth. She is found out. He knows her real name is Eyre, not Elliott.

And what is the first thing Jane has to say to this?

The first thing out of her mouth is: what has become of Mr Rochester.

I can't with this stupid girl anymore.

WHO CARES???? WHO LITERALLY GIVES A SINGLE FUCK? I HOPE HE FELL INTO A HOLE AND DIED!!!!

Ugh. She's just been told the solicitor was looking for her and instead of asking why, what does he want with me, as would be natural, you know, when someone wants to find you, she asks about Rochester. 

Excuse me while I go bang my head against the wall.

St John tells her that he knows nothing of Rochester, apart from his attempt at a fraudulent wedding, and no, nobody has seen him and the person whom Briggs communicated with was Mrs Fairfax. 

I felt cold and dismayed: my worst fears then were probably true: he had in all probability left England and rushed in reckless desperation to some former haunt on the Continent. And what opiate for his severe sufferings—what object for his strong passions—had he sought there? I dared not answer the question. Oh, my poor master—once almost my husband—whom I had often called “my dear Edward!”

When did you call him "my dear Edward"??? All you ever called him was "Mr Rochester" or "sir". Mr Rochester, Mr Rochester, Mr Rochester, waah-waah-waah! 

I like many ships. I enjoy all sorts of dynamics. I'm rarely disappointed about how things end (I liked the ending of Game of Thrones, for goddsake). But the type of couples that tend to get on my nerves are those that are, as I put it, too "waah" about each other. This is why I gave up on Outlander after one season (also because I apparently misunderstood it as a historical series and didn't realise it was actually a romance centred around a couple I give not a single fuck about). And, by gods, Katniss from Hunger Games. Peeta, Peeta, Peeta, waah! waah! waah! You pick up the third book, expecting a fucking revolution but instead get Peeta Peeta Peeta waah-waah-waah. Jane is like that with Rochester. Not as bad, okay. But almost.

She nearly fucking died. If it wasn't for the kindness of the Riverses, she would have. Yet her biggest concern is what that fucking douchnozzle of an an ex boyfriend is doing. 

The "I felt cold and dismayed" line comes straight after St John mentions Mrs Fairfax. Does Jane at all stop to think, I wonder how that good lady is? No. Does she wonder how little Adele fares? No. Does it occur to Jane that her precious master might have taken it out on his suffering wife or the poor servants? No. Does she show any sympathy for the women she believes Rochester is bamboozling on the Continent? No. Nobody matters to Jane, nobody but Rochester. 

“He must have been a bad man,” observed Mr. Rivers.

“You don’t know him—don’t pronounce an opinion upon him,” I said, with warmth.

St John knows enough about him to pronounce an opinion. Not like you know Rochester either, girl. (YoU dON't knOW HiM waaaaah, Don'T PRouNOounCE An opINIon uPOn hIM WAAAAAAAH!)

By the way, St John found out Jane's real name after she, subconsciously, signed her name on one of her drawings. She still draws, so at least she has some other interest apart from Rochester.

Jane continues waah-waah-waahing over the Roch. She asks if Mr Briggs knows where Rochester is. St John answers:

Briggs is in London. I should doubt his knowing anything at all about Mr. Rochester; it is not in Mr. Rochester he is interested.

Wise man. It would do you good to be more like Briggs, Jane. 

St Joan of Arc. He was John Eyre's solicitor, who put a stop to Rochester's dishonest scheme. Why would he give a sliver of a single fuck about the dude??? That's like the prosecutor caring about the defendant after winning the trial. 

St John is a good messenger. He informs Jane that her uncle in Madeira is dead, but that he has made her his heiress and now she's rich.

My uncle I had heard was dead—my only relative; ever since being made aware of his existence, I had cherished the hope of one day seeing him: now, I never should.

Except you cherished no such hope. You only thought of him after you got engaged to the Roch. And that was because the reality of your uneven match had hit you. 

Seriously, when did she imagine she would meet him? Last she was told he was on his deathbed. 

The fortune is twenty thousands pounds. Which was a lot then. Our plain Jane is now rich. I like the fact that she is worth less than Bertha, ha!

Jane is not actually low born. Her father was a poor curate and her mother was from a rich family, who disowned her when she married him (Reeds are indeed of the society, remember that Lord Ingram saw Georgiana during the season in London). She clearly knows she's above the servants. She was being self-deprecating when she referred to the plain veil as one more suited to her "low born head". Or else she felt that way next to Rochester. Which is telling.

St John has all this information because it turns out he's related to Jane. He, Diana and Mary Rivers are Jane's cousins. Their mother (deceased many years ago) was a sister of the Madeira guy and Jane's father. What are the chances, eh?

Maybe it was the divine hand that led her to them. So not going to a city was the better decision in the end. I must say though, this amazing coincidence bothers me less than Rochester's appalling behaviour. Besides I think it was a common trope in Victorian literature.

The friendless, poor orphan is now in possession of a fortune and new family. It's working out great for our heroine. And she decides to split the twenty thousand between the four of them. The reason John Eyre disinherited the Rivers siblings was because of a quarrel he had with their father. Jane feels they deserve their share. Diana and Mary are working as governesses to get by, so now they won't have to. It was a really good, generous thing of Jane to do. She's a much pleasanter person when she's away from Rochester and not constantly thinking about him.

Only she says things like "I will never marry and nobody will have me for love". She's what, nineteen now? What a bleak outlook on life.

When she closes the school before Christmas, she's thinking of her pupils--simple country girls--and this is how her thoughts go:

...the British peasantry are the best taught, best mannered, most self-respecting of any in Europe: since those days I have seen paysannes and Bäuerinnen; and the best of them seemed to me ignorant, coarse, and besotted, compared with my Morton girls.

Hello xenophobia, my old friend.

She wasn't very flattering about the Morton girls the first time she started teaching them. 

#jane eyre #st john rivers #john eyre #jane eyre meta

[wizzard890]

heretic update - oh shit

I have to be honest guys, things went absolutely catastrophically for Andreas last session. he lost everything on a wave of his own choices, made hotly, sometimes intelligently, always passionately, and the consequences have set him back so hard that his only way out of darkness was a terrible and genuine spiritual awakening. 

it’s great. 

when we last left Andreas, it was with his friend Bernadetta accused of witchcraft. her only chance was the successful recreation of an ancient Christian ritual that Andreas hoped to enact while she was on the pyre. he did not believe in God’s grace or goodness, or the inherent power of the story. instead he wanted to trick a miracle out of God, to create the same circumstance in which He had interceded before. 

it didn’t work. 

Bernadetta indeed ended up on the pyre. she actually started to burn. nothing Andreas had done protected her, and as he became aware of his awful mistake, of his arrogance, he heard her through the smoke, calling out to God. he heard her start to sing as her eyes were opened by something he was blind to. just then, when all hope seemed lost, it began to rain out of a formerly clear sky, dousing the flames, and lightning struck the tree above the pyre, blasting any remainder of Andreas’s carnival of a ritual apart. Bernadetta was saved by a miracle, one she had earned. she said, afterward, nearly insensible but with a blazing focus in her eyes, that she had seen an angel. 

Andreas had seen nothing. he had seen nothing, and found himself suddenly arrayed against a God, a divinity, who had reached out of heaven and granted Bernadetta a vision. he didn’t know where his path was supposed to take him now. all his anger, all the furious questions he wanted to spit at God’s feet when he found Him - they seemed to shrink. they seemed, with a painful clarity, questions for a man. one who had never loved him, who had hurt him. they were questions for his father, recently dead at Andreas’s own hand. 

then the English army arrived. 

(do not forget, never forget, that it’s 1347.)

Edward, the crown prince of the very same, remained imprisoned under Andreas’s sorcery, forced to protect the young comte with his life. the two of them had formed a certain rapport, something that grew out of the scaffolding of watching one another like cats for a mistake. guess which of them fucked up first?

Andreas planned to surrender to the English, on the condition that he and his friends would remain unharmed. as a French noble in the Aquitaine, Andreas somewhat welcomes English rule, and more to the point, if the French took Poitou, Edward would mastermind the rest of his campaigns from Andreas’s palace, which would keep Blanche nearby. Andreas swore, over and over again, that he would do whatever was necessary to stay with her. 

so he and Edward agreed: Andreas would stand down without a fight, Edward would rule from Poitou, and Andreas would remain with him, protected, certain of his friends’ safety, and able to take Blanche, Edward’s impersonally betrothed, as his lover. 

it was a really really great idea, and a really really fucking stupid mistake. bind the prince of England with dark magic, this prince, and all you have is a jessed hawk, just waiting for you to drop your glove and turn your back. 

the English army wasn’t in the palace for fifteen minutes before Edward had Andreas, Philippe and their allies seized and thrown in the dungeons. Blanche was swiftly placed under lock and key. only Bernadetta and Tomassin managed to escape unharmed. 

for three months, Andreas rotted away in the cells, very credibly accused of witchcraft. they were the same cells he’d been held in as a boy, as exorcists tortured him for weeks on end. he was fed and well taken care of - any harm visited on him would be refracted on Edward’s own body after all, and the crown prince was no fool. Andreas tried to hurt himself, just to make Edward feel an ounce of pain, but he failed. it’s hard to stab yourself, actually, or break your own fingers, or refuse food. it’s hard to hold onto your sanity in a stone room where your nightmares were born, with no hope of escape, knowing that you were the reason the people you love have been trapped and even killed. 

so Andreas waited. in the dark, filled with resentment, scraping himself back together every day out of pure spite. Edward wanted him caged and helpless. but from the very bedrock of his soul, Andreas refused to oblige him. maybe it was that refusal, that hatred, those repeated attempts to open his own skin out of sheer enmity, that brought the dark visitation. 

it began appearing in the blackest corners of the cell. not a shape: a presence. a formless predator. something with a terrible focus, the awful held breath at the very edge of a blade. and as Andreas became aware of it and how he could fit between its jaws, it advised him to be patient. to bide his time. it inquired, silently but with force, who his enemy was. it bid him to offer up their soul. Andreas named Edward, and promised the prince’s death to his visitor. for its aid and its vision. the pact was struck. 

it was the first sight of something Beyond this world that Andreas had ever encountered. it was the first thing that had ever gripped his soul and brought it shuddering to attention. Bernadetta saw an angel on the pyre, yes. but there in the dark of his cell, Andreas was visited by the Black Captain.

so he held onto the word that had been provided for him by that inhuman advisor: patience. he found that the hallucinations brought on by isolation began to fade. he felt himself getting stronger and sleeping better, though he didn’t need the latter much at all. it was like a transfusion of something hotter than blood. 

weeks passed. 

and then one morning, a young woman in a nun’s habit entered his cell, accompanied by a Spaniard with a sword on his back. the woman asked Andreas directly if he was a witch. shocked at the sight of the pair, he denied it reflexively. in response, she...read him, somehow, Andreas didn’t know what was happening, just that he felt some watery intrusion into his mind before she withdrew, seemingly satisfied. 

they needed to hurry, she told him with a grin as the Spaniard swung the cell door open wide. the guards would be coming soon. and if they wanted to get out of here alive, they needed to move. 

-

next update: escape! and what comes after. 

#anyway EVERYONE is asking what's going on in the campaign so here you go!!! #I figure I'll do this every two or so sessions #because let me tell you this shit is unreal #I was screaming last session #in shock and excitement and delight and oh christ no #this is why I love love love playing in this campaign with aria as my dm and only myself to blame: #andreas reaps what he sews and it's truly fantastic #I was literally clutching my face when edward betrayed (I mean 'betrayed-ish' let's be real) him #like oh fuck oh no but also excuse me edward how dare you be so raw and hot #the conflict I feel you guys #(also andreas's new fealty to the black captain means that we've completely abandoned the catholic code of ethics) #(and written one from scratch for here on out) #(it's an entire ethos that newly determines his ethics rolls and I have named it and am sickeningly excited about it) #(a moodboard is surely forthcoming) #anyway this is how I'm staying sane in quarantine and it whips ass #if thou but settest foot on this path thou shalt see it everywhere #ride or dice

[nevermindirah]

Dorothy Freeman facts

By facts I of course mean headcanons, because Nile's mom doesn't get a first name in canon (or even confirmation that her last name is Freeman). All we know about her is the picture on Nile's phone lock screen (which is Kiki Layne's real-life mom and brother!) and a few lines that Nile tells Andy about her. I’ve been collecting my Dorothy headcanons for a while now to eventually make a post, and @mprosperossprite​‘s excellent post giving non-Americans context for what it means that Nile is from the South Side of Chicago prompted me to go ahead and share this. Disclaimer that I’m white and I will absolutely make corrections if it’s pointed out that I’ve caused harm with any of this.

So here have some fun facts about the version of Mama Freeman who lives in my head rent-free:

Her family and growing up:

she was born in the mid-'60s and named after Dorothy Dandridge

I can’t decide whether she was born in Chicago or moved there later on (maybe with Nile’s dad?) and when in the waves of the Great Migration her family left the South

she came of age in the "post"-Civil Rights movement and went to college in the mid-80s when a lot of what are now the foundational classics of Black feminism were being written

she was a young adult when Anita Hill risked so much to report that a Supreme Court nominee had sexually harassed her, and as a result she HATES Joe Biden

Marriage and babies:

she met Nile's father — I can’t decide how they met and I have two competing headcanons for his name, either Gideon for the hefty Biblical masculinity vibes (Giddy for short among family, that man loved to laugh) or Carl, which started out as a shitty Carl’s Jr burger chain joke that turns out to be perfect (it means free man!), and @knoepfchen​ used it in the sequel to if you do take a thief where Carl is alive!! — and Dorothy was a little skeptical of his near-religious devotion to the military but he was really hot and really devoted to her and they made it work

she's a little pissed that she was right but it's unbearable if she thinks about it too often

it's going to be a long, long time before she can look back on pictures of Baby Nile stomping around the house in her dad's combat boots (this is a Gina Prince Bythewood headcanon, whyyyyyyyy can I not find a link to where she said this)

she named their second baby Indus, Indy for short (this is nearly as established fanon in Book of Nile circles as how much Booker loves eating pussy, and Indy Freeman as a young adult is portrayed by either Aldis Hodge or John Boyega I don’t make the rules)

Work:

Dorothy did some office jobs but nothing really grabbed her, and she was probably gonna have to move for her husband's career, so she decided on teaching — high school humanities

she’s been active in CTU (one of the strongest teacher’s unions in the US) her whole career and one year she was on the bargaining committee and her babies know damn well never to trust a boss, not even one who says all the right things — if she ever finds out the way Nile said "like Quynh?" when Andy promised to protect her, she will lose her mind with pride

(Nile was 18 and freshly graduated from high school in 2012 when CTU went on strike for the first time in a generation and she brought her mom snacks on the picket line)

one of her very favorite things is getting her students to laugh despite themselves at her "oh my GOD you're so EMBARRASSING" old-people jokes

she's one of those teachers who can get 30+ teenagers to go dead silent with judicious application of body language

she's known to occasionally go easy on grading subjective things like essays when she knows students are having a particularly rough time at home, but the second she gets the feeling they're taking advantage and not trying their best that shit is over and they better mind their Ps & Qs

she's the kind of person who says old-people shit like that

she gives her students assignments like "help 5 neighbors register to vote" and "write a compare/contrast table about the candidates in this local election" and "research 5 different ways you could get grant money to do X" and other practical civic-minded shit

standardized testing is her supervillain origin story, just kidding it’s Rahm Emanuel, why the fuck did Obama trust that asshole

After her husband died:

she would have lost her goddamn mind if it weren't for her church friends after her husband died, people from the church raised money so they could make ends meet while his pension paperwork was taking forever, church friends watched Indy so Nile could go out for the soccer team, etc etc

she sold her and her late husband's house and moved to a 3-bedroom co-op unit when Nile started high school, it's more affordable and it meant she didn't have to worry about household repairs in the same way, she can use a wrench if she needs to but she doesn't have time and it just makes her grief flare up (co-op housing has a long history in Chicago and other US cities (like Washington DC where I live) as a way for Black people to access decent, affordable housing in the face of entrenched discrimination)

the move meant putting a longer commute between her and church, but she didn't even bother looking for a church closer to their new home, she loaded the kids into the car on the weekends, parking is hell in their new neighborhood but it's worth giving up a hard-won parking spot to not have to wait so long for the L on Sunday mornings

Indy lived with her through college and he was gearing up to get his own place when Nile died, Dorothy was planning to move into a one-bedroom in the co-op building because she doesn't need so much space anymore, Indy took a day off from his new job (not so new anymore, her baby's so grown!) to help her sort things to donate when those dress-uniform Marines came to their door

part of her wishes she could've been home more and not had to rely on Nile so much for help with Indy, but he's turned out such a kind young man, and he's a much better cook than his sister is (was, oh God — no wait, is! she’s alive! what do you mean you’ve been alive all this time??)

some of the girls from church are encouraging her to check out this social dancing thing, nobody's pressuring her to date but there's definitely been some ribbing, and with Indy out of the house... maybe? probably not, but maybe

Her feelings and beliefs and likes and dislikes:

she's an absolute badass and also she's a soft human woman with lots of feelings

she's very, very traditional in some ways, and part of her mixed feelings about Nile following in her dad's footsteps is gender stuff, she's proud of her daughter and would never stand in the way of what Nile wants to do with her life, and if Nile came home and told her she's a lesbian she would never reject her, but if Nile came home and told her she's bisexual maybe she can just try focusing on men? “I love you sweetheart and I want you to be happy I just know how hard it is already for us in this world” type shit

she has been on team natural hair basically her entire life and one of the worst fights she and Nile ever had was over Nile wanting to straighten her hair as a pre-teen

Indy takes more after her and Nile takes more after their dad, she's so proud of both of them, but Dorothy's activism was mostly wearing her natural hair to work and daring bosses to give her shit, Indy's out there marching in the streets like her parents had and she WORRIES

she teases Indy for going to so many protests like he's using it as an excuse to meet girls, but she WORRIES

when she turns 60, she gets box braids with streaks of dark purple, subtle enough that it's still work-appropriate but it makes her smile, she may be old now but damnit she’s still pretty!

she loves Grey's Anatomy and Star Trek and she watched Bridgerton all in one day

she has a dirty-old-lady celebrity crush on Chris Hemsworth

if she's ever masturbated thinking about Donna Summer, well, that's nobody's business but her own (do non-Americans know about the queen of disco??)

If you want to read fic featuring Dorothy:

I won't have to leave alone, 1000 words, Nile has a nightmare and decides to go tell her family she's immortal

I See Your Eyes Seek a Distant Shore, 65k, Nile adjusts to immortality and does a lot of soul searching about what it means to "do what we think is right", Booker goes to grad school for trauma studies, the working title of this fic was Booker Reads Edward Said and Gloria Anzaldúa and Goes Down on Nile and the final product has an annotated bibliography in the author's notes if you’re into that kind of thing, a lot of my Dorothy Freeman headcanons were born of my process writing this

Gather round the table, we'll give you a treat, 2279 words, college AU, Nile brings her Jewish boyfriend home for Christmas

a contribution I made to Shitty Old Guard Deaths: (Booker, USA, 2025, cause of death: a mother’s righteous wrath)

#nile freeman #nile's family #dorothy freeman #tog headcanons #tog meta #mine #long post

[headinthestaticsky]

The Phenomenon of the Immortal Sun: Jasper Hale x Fleur Swan, Chapter 5

None of the characters in Twilight belong to me, all rights go to Stephenie Meyer.

"Where did I go? When did the sun rise? How did I fall? Got lost in the moonlight."

Where did I go, by Jorja Smith.

At first, I didn't know where I was the room was pitch black. But then, I heard the water, my eyes opened... I was here again. The part of my mind that I was in during my transformation of being a vampire. But this time, a small yellow light filled the room. Its soft warm glow pulled me in and unfroze me from the wind that held me down. It was familiar yet nothing I had ever come across. I reached out to touch it, it was just out of my fingertips grasp when...I woke up... The sun was set by the time I woke again, it looked late out.

"Fleur...you're awake." Jasper said relieved, a small smiling was on his face.

I looked around the room, I saw the Cullens, my dad, Bree and... Seth? What was Seth doing here?

"What...happened."

Carlisle looked a little wearily before speaking.

"Well... I found out why your eyes have stayed red all of this time."

"Yes?..."

"Sometimes depending on the health, the human's body is in when they're turned into a vampire there blood can protect certain organs and systems...during the venom change, preserving it to be in its human state that before the human was turned."

"Uh, that is very interesting Carlisle but you do know my father is here right?"

"I know everything now Petal... I got a slight hint when you pushed that thing into a tree and it snapped in half..."

"Oh...okay. Wait, certain organs can be preserved by my human blood?"

"Yes...including the reproductive system..."

Dad, Alice, Dean, Emmett, Bree, and Seth left the room, wanting to leave the 4 of us alone.

"Oh..." I had to wait a few seconds for Carlisle's previous statement to sink in.

"OH..."

"Wait a second are you telling me I'm."

"Pregnant...yes." Jasper interrupted. He looked so happy, his eyes were lit up with joy. Rosalie looked like she was going to explode with excitement. I, on the other hand, was in shock.

"Umm...Not that I'm not happy with this pregnancy but...how can I conceive exactly... Jasper's a vampire..."

"Well certain aspects of a vampire area are replaced with venom, tears, saliva..." Carlisle started

"Okay, I think I got the idea. So me fainting in the woods was triggered by my son?"

"Yes, it...wait your son?" Carlisle inquired with a tinge of humor in his voice.

"I just have a strong hunch it's a boy," I replied.

"I don't know darlin, I think it's a girl."

"I'm with Jasper on this one Fleur... it's totally a girl." Rosalie added.

I giggled before my mind began to wander off...

"Carlisle, I can't even fight off a vampire without passing out, how am I going to be able to hunt? Is he a vampire or human?"

"We'll figure something out feeding wise but when I took an ultrasound I got a heartbeat, so I believe it is human... its heartbeat was slightly faster than a human baby but it's a heartbeat nevertheless."

"Do you know how long the pregnancy will last?" I asked.

"We're not sure, it is growing quite quickly so I don't think it will be a full 9 months."

"Okay, how did dad react to... everything?"

"He thought it was a joke at first." Jasper replied.

"But he eventually believed us, he's glad he knows everything now." Rosalie added.

"C'mon darlin, let's go to the lounge," Jasper said.

I went to get up but my legs were like jelly, I collapsed bracing myself on the table I was laying on.

"Whoa." I said quickly.

Rosalie and Jasper helped me up and guided me to the lounge room. I saw Seth and Bree sitting down with each other, holding hands and just talking amongst themselves. I laid down on the white couch, everyone was observing me.

"Uh... I called Bella, she said she and Edward are coming back early she said she wants to talk with you. She didn't sound to happy. " Dad explained.

"Dad... why did you call her? She's gonna try and kill me for taking her away from her 1 on 1 Edward time." I whined jokingly.

"Petal...you're a vampire, I don't think she'll have a chance," Dad said chuckling.

"Wow, that's a sentence I never thought I would say." Dad mumbled to himself.

"Edward hasn't turned Bella yet?" I inquired raising my head up to look at Carlisle.

"No, he didn't trust himself enough to do it."

"Well, I love you Petal I better get going, I'm beat." Dad leaned down and kissed my forehead.

"Love you too dad." The front door closed a few seconds later.

"So how long do I have before Bella and Edward come back?"

"They'll be here early tomorrow morning, 4 or 5 am," Esme answered.

"I'm going to end up getting my head ripped off." I mumbled, my head had begun to pound.

"I'm sure Edward will be fine with the situation." Esme comforted.

"And Bella?"

"Ehh... we'll see." Esme said ensuring.

Timeskip: 4:19 AM

I hadn't been pregnant for long and already my body was starting to feel its effects. My head constantly pounded and my thirst seemed never-ending. I couldn't move very far and I felt quite dizzy. Rosalie was sent out with Carlisle to collect animal blood for me since I wouldn't be able to hunt on my own. The rest of the Cullens left Jasper and I alone knowing I was overwhelmed with everything that happened. My head was on Jaspers lap and he was stroking my hair back, it was comforting. I could sense Bella and Edward had made it back to the house, her blood still made me sick. It was as if my senses were heightened, I could hear and smell even farther than I ever could before. I groaned and turned my head toward the couch.

"What's wrong darlin?"

"Bella and Edward are back...her blood is making me sick."

"Her emotions are giving me a headache," Jasper complained.

"Haha."

"You're so cruel."

Before I could rebuttal I heard the front door fly open, and the sound of two stomping feet entering the room.

"Why in the hell did I have to leave my honeymoon?" Bella asked demandingly.

I slowly raised myself up and turned toward them, both of there faces were screwed up with anger.

"Well one: dad got attacked by a vampire and found out our secret and two..." I stopped and looked at Jasper, an unsure look was on my face.

"She's pregnant," Jasper said for me.

"WHAT? That's impossible!" Bella screeched. I rolled my eyes and held my head.

"We need to get that thing out of you." Edward spat out, walking toward me. Jasper immediately got up and got in his face.

"Back off." He hissed.

"Guys! We could use some help in here!" I yelled.

Alice, Dean, Emmett, Bree, and Esme rushed in.

"What's going on here?" Esme asked, a stern look was on her face.

"How could you let her keep that...thing?!" Edward yelled.

"Excuse me, it's a baby dumbass." Emmett snapped.

"Oh, how do you know that?" Bella said, rolling her eyes.

"Carlisle said that when she was changed some of her human blood protected her reproductive system, so she could still have children. It's why her eyes have always been red. He also said the baby has a heartbeat so it's human." Alice said, I had never seen her so angry at Edward before. She was always so close to him.

"Just leave them alone Edward." Bree jumped in.

"You guys can't seriously believe that it's actually a baby, that things going to be evil just like her." Bella snided.

"Will you two ever shut the fuck up?" I mumbled.

"If you guys aren't going to take it out of her I WILL." Edward roared.

Jasper pushed him back, he fell into a piano smashing it. It reminded me of what happened to Dean a few years back. He got up to go back toward me but Emmett put a hand on his shoulder holding him back.

"Edward, Bella... all this fighting isn't good for Fleur right now!" Esme stated.

I heard two whooshing sounds, I looked over and saw Carlisle and Rosalie with bags of blood.

"What...the hell...what happened?" Rosalie stuttered.

"Oh I see it now, Rosalie must've convinced her to keep it." Edward said, Bella nodded in agreement.

"Edward...don't go there." Emmett growled. Edward didn't seem to listen and smirked.

"You're so desperate to have a child you're willing to let this...demon fulfill your pathetic fantasy."

Rosalie stepped up, her eyes turned black and the look on her face was set to kill.

"I never hesitated to kick your ass before but if you dare go near her Bella's going to have to chase your pretty little rolling head down the hill." Rosalie hissed at Edward. Edward slowly backs away from Rosalie, knowing he took it too far.

"Edward..." Carlisle started.

"Get that thing out of her." Edward snapped.

"If you call my baby a thing one more time I will kick you through the glass wall," I growled.

"Look... you guys came back so Bella could finally be transformed into a vampire, let's get this done already. Fleur doesn't need all of this stress right now. Since she's a vampire she'll be able to survive the encounter but it will still be stressful on her body." Carlisle states, walking both Bella and Edward into his office and closing the door. When they left I sighed and laid back down.

"I don't think I'll be getting any gifts from them." I said.

#jasper whitlock x oc #jasper whitlock #jasper hale x reader #jasper cullen #carlisle cullen #emmett cullen #esme cullen #alice cullen #edward cullen #jasper hale #jasper hale x oc #twilight saga #bella swan #twilight

[randomoranges]

sometimes fights happen. the last of the relationship arch and technically the first. would come before Jello and Relationship Status: conjoint you don’t need to have read the others.

Apology [Accepted]

20XX

They’re out and about, Étienne bringing him on his usual whirlwind visit of the city, not wanting him to miss out on anything going on during his time here. It’s been an overall pleasant day and they’ve taken a small break to enjoy a treat on one of the many terasses the city has to offer. They’re sitting close, Étienne having no real notion of what personal space is, and Edward finds he doesn’t mind. It’s nice and he likes that Étienne hasn’t put up his usual guard. His boyfriend has been regaling him with some bodacious tale, when he is interrupted, halfway through, when another person comes up to them.

 “Étienne?!” The person says, astounded and surprised to find him here.

 Étienne automatically puts some space between them, as if suddenly aware of where he is and Edward watches as his boyfriend’s eyes grow wide and a grin etches itself on his face, “Oh mon Dieu, Malik, allô! Ça fait longtemps!”

 There’s the usual exchange of kisses on cheeks and pats on the back, followed by catching up on the latest. Edward watches, from the corner of his eyes, as Étienne once more seems to know everyone he runs into and something starts stirring inside of him that he can’t quite name.

 “Aye, scuse, j’avais pas vu qu’t’étais avec quelqu’un.” Malik says and both of them turn towards him and Edward offers a polite smile and wave.

 “Oui, c’est mon ami, Édouard, yé-t-en visite pour encore une semaine!” Étienne beams and Edward – Edward stills, that one word ringing and repeating itself over and over and over again as an ugly, long forgotten voice returns to whisper fears in his mind, feeding off the feeling from before.

 He tries to ignore it, makes polite chit-chat with Malik until they leave, but the word festers and colours his mood. He remains quiet as Étienne picks up their previous conversation and his mood only sours as the rest of the afternoon progresses.

 He thought – he had dared to think that things were different now.

 He supposes he’d been very wrong.

 Étienne would never change. He isn’t sure why he’s surprised.

 Of course, despite everything Étienne had told him – the confessions and the promises and the affirmations – it had meant nothing. They were only words. Étienne didn’t really like him. They were only words to make him feel better. To dupe him into a lie. He was and is just Some Friend. Some idiot Étienne keeps around for when he’s bored. A simple ami. Not a boyfriend. Not even a vulgar chum.

 Un ami. A friend. Nothing fucking more.

 Étienne probably is ashamed of him. Humours him by having him over. Even now, after all these years. He doesn’t know why he thought otherwise – why he believed Étienne when he’d told him the contrary.

 How stupid of him. How utterly naïve.

 He deserves this, really. Deserves to be mocked when the signs had all been there, really. Everyone had told him that Étienne only played games. He’d been blind to them is all.

 Eventually, Étienne quiets down himself, realising that Edward’s enthusiasm has withered and the rest of the afternoon is a quiet sullen thing. They head back to Étienne’s place afterwards and Étienne lets him be for a moment, while he tends to Mercury and it’s only later, that he goes out of his way to find him and sits beside him.

 “Alright, are you going to tell me what’s eating you or are you going to be a miserable old sack for the rest of the evening?” Étienne sounds a little annoyed and Edward thinks it’s a good thing. He wants him to be annoyed. Wants him to stew and be miserable. Just like he feels now.

 “It’s fine. It’s nothing you should concern yourself with. I’m just a friend, after all. No one important.”

 Étienne gives him a look as though he’s been slapped in the face, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Hell, he even sounds insulted.

 Edward sighs, annoyed and frustrated because why would Étienne have the decency of understanding? “I don’t know, you tell me!”

 Étienne blinks, clearly confused, “What are you talking about?”

 “Can’t believe I have to spell it out for you, but then again, I suppose I also shouldn’t be surprised about this either. After all, you’re the one who dismissed me as your friend earlier, when your friend came to chat you up.”

 “You mean Malik? What the hell else was I supposed to call you? Was that too much?” Now, even Étienne sounds annoyed and it’s evident from the way his eyebrows are knit close together and the tightness of his mouth.

 “Your boyfriend! Or are you that ashamed of me?!” He finally near yells.

 Étienne looks at him, surprised. He remains quiet and simply looks. Edward is a little unnerved, but even more so when Étienne lets out a dark and bitter sounding laugh.

 “Oh this is fucking rich coming from you, Murphy.”

 “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

 “You’ve gotta be kidding me, clearly. How the fuck was I supposed to know I could call you that to others when you’ve spent decades avoiding anyone seeing us even walk down a street together in broad daylight!”

 There’s a small voice – very small and very annoying – at the back of his head that tells him Étienne has a point, however Edward ignores it and instead charges on, politeness be damned.

 “Well maybe if you had given me some inkling of a sign that you were into me I would have let you!”

 “Please, you were so far buried into your closet that even your precious Gretzky coming out and fucking you wouldn’t have been enough.”

 He’s aware they’re both going for where it hurts. That they’re using their own deep and buried hurt as a weapon and that they should stop. However, there is something raw that has been unearthed and there seems to be no going back at this point.

 “Of course it’s my fucking fault! You’re too perfect and self-centered to have any flaws.”

 “What does that have to do with the fact that I didn’t know you were okay with me telling people you’re my boyfriend? You never let me know! You’re still not comfortable with PDA! I was trying to be nice, for Christ’s sake!”

 “Yeah, well, it looked more like you were ashamed to be seen in public with me!”

 Étienne scoffs loudly and rolls his eyes at him, “Me? Ashamed of you? Please, it’s always felt like the other way around! I’ve been trying to reach out for you for decades. You’re the one who pushed back and would swat my hand away. And I figured, fine, you weren’t out, whatever. So I kept my hands to myself and didn’t say anything. And even now. I don’t know what you’re comfortable with, so excuse me for fucking wanting to give you space and not knowing what the fuck was actually going on in your head.” Étienne makes to get up and most likely get some air, but Edward isn’t done. He’s not letting Étienne walk away.

 “What the hell?! You can’t honestly believe I was ashamed of you! Why the fuck else would I keep coming back here to see you?”

 “Because I was convenient! An easy escape! You said so yourself! It was easy for you to come here and be whomever. I could have been literally anyone else and it wouldn’t have changed anything.”

 Edward wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all and nearly does. “Of course it was convenient,” He starts and cuts Étienne off before he can go on again, “You were-are my friend so it made it easier. But not because of the reasons you believe.”

 They both fall quiet and stare at each other, an impasse being more or less reached. Eventually, Étienne runs a hand over his face, after removing his glasses and cleans them off his shirt before putting them back on. He takes a deep breath and then sags a little against the couch.

 “So, are you telling me that we both got worked up over some giant misunderstanding and you actually don’t mind me telling people you’re my boyfriend now?” He sounds a little tired, as if this issues has been plaguing his mind for years and Edward feels, for the first time since this whole debacle has started, that they might finally be back on the same page.

 “Something like that... And yes, I don’t mind. I should have told you.” He says a little quieter, a little calmer.

 “And I should’ve asked.”

 They look at each other, hazel meeting green, and it’s a timid understanding that is reached. One formed over embarrassment and apology.

 “I think there are still things we need to discuss.” He doesn’t want this to happen again. For as much as he doesn’t mind clearing the air, he also doesn’t want to hurt Étienne.

 “You mean there are still issues we’re carrying around that could blow up at any time in some toxic way and threaten the foundation of what we have?” Étienne says, mock surprised as he brings a hand to his chest, feigning shock. Edward lets out a puff of air that forms into a little laugh.

 “Yeah, something like that.” He reaches over for Étienne’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “I was never ashamed of you. Honestly and I’m sorry if you thought that.”

 Étienne twines their fingers together and if his grip is a little tight, Edward doesn’t mention it.

 “I know. Logically, I know that. I guess, hearing you say that woke up some old fear inside of me... an old insecurity. We do need to discuss this. I’m sorry – for what I said and hurting your feelings. I’m not ashamed of you. I’ve never been ashamed of you either.” Étienne tentatively scoots closer and Edward carefully places an arm around him, letting Étienne put his head down on his shoulder. He notices a bit of tension ebb away from Étienne’s face and finally, he feels that this too will come to be solved with time.

 FIN

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #fic #projocanondoko

[kaitycole]

Black Dahila

Summary: Liam and Drake finally learn what happened when Constantine confronted Eleanor and Jackson about their affair.

Word Count: 3328

Pairings: Constantine x Eleanor, Jackson x Eleanor, Jackson x Bianca

Warnings: Mentions of adultery, murder, illegitimate children

Song Choice: n/a

Part 19 of WP. To catch up, read here.

It’s not until he goes to sit down and catches a glare from Bastien that it finally hits Jackson why his former mentee is here and he makes sure to grab Luke’s arm when he goes to sit down.

Liam sits down in the arm chair that is close to the sliding glass doors he assumes leads to the backyard. He scrunches up his brows when notices Jackson’s hesitant to sit down. It has been three years since he took the throne and the weight of his title still hasn’t fully clicked with him.

“Oh no, please sit. I’m not here as King, this is your home after all.”

Jackson nods, slightly embarrassed before he lets go of Luke who sits on the left end of the couch closest to Liam and Jackson sits in his usual chair, one that is across from Liam.

“It seems a lot has changed in Cordonia.” He lets out a nervous chuckle, the atmosphere starts to feel heavy, like all the weight was resting on his shoulders.

“Leo abdicated for love, truly pulling an Edward VIII. Olivia had a lot to say about that.”

“How is Olivia?”

“She told me not to even bother to come here.” “Sounds like her. And Lythikos?” “She rules with a silver dagger, the people love it, the suitors not so much.” Jackson lets out a laugh and Liam feels himself untense for the first time since they pulled back in front of the ranch. It startles him at first, the fact that he could feel almost comfortable with the one person he wanted to set on fire. But it is truly rare that he gets a moment to just chat with someone.

“The Beaumont brothers, how are they? Bertrand married to some insufferable noble woman yet?”

Liam and Bastien share a brief exchange before the corners of Liam’s lips threatens to twitch into a smirk. “You’d honestly be surprised at who he married. He even has a son.”

“Poor woman.” Jackson jokes which gets Bastien to crack a smile.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Liam stands up, holding up his ringing phone before walking out the glass doors behind him.

“I don’t suppose we could share a drink and talk about the old days, could we?”

“I am on the clock.” Bastien continues to look straight ahead, trying to simply just avoid his old mentor. His first concern is Liam, next would Drake, then maybe once they were back in Cordonia could he worry about his own feelings on the matter.

To say Bastien is hurt would be a gross understatement, he is angry, pissed the fuck off and devasted that the man who taught him what he knew didn’t feel the need to clue him in on what happened. The fact that he had spent most of his life raising Drake and Savannah like his own because of how much he owned Jackson all while pushing down the grief and guilt he felt over their alleged deaths.

“How is that if Liam isn’t here on King’s business?”

He finally lets his eyes flick over to the man he used to look up to, keeping his face emotionless. “My job is to protect the King regardless of the business matter. You should know that or have you forgotten the duties you had sworn to uphold?”

“That was Drake, he’s almost here.” Liam walks back into the house, unintentionally interrupting their conversations. Bastien just nods, his glance refocusing on the wall in front of him, eyes scanning across the family photos lined up on the mantle.

There was no doubt in his mind that it was Eleanor’s idea to have so many photographs taken, she was like that when she married Constantine. Even before Liam was born, she had pictures taken of them with Leo, of Leo through the years and once Liam was born, even more were taken. She made sure Olivia was included in the family pictures they took, even if the official royal family photo didn’t have her in it, she still kept the ones with her in her personal photo albums. Bastien makes a mental note to have the servants look for them when he returns so that Liam will have them if he wants to see them.

*                      * “Luke, why don’t you go bring the cattle back in?”

Drake arrived just moments ago, taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch to Luke, meaning he’s closest to Jackson. Liam asked to hear Jackson’s version of Eleanor’s pregnancy which prompted Jackson to basically ask Luke to leave.

“This involves me too. I’m staying.”

“We can talk about this later, Luke.”

The young man simply crosses his arms, shaking his head. He wasn’t going anywhere, after everything he’s learned over such a short amount of time, he honestly didn’t trust his dad to tell him the same details he gave his older brothers.

“I’m old enough to know. You will literally be talking about me, I’m staying.”

“I really don’t see any problem with Luke being present. He must have questions just like the rest of us.” Liam’s regal tone comes out, while Drake is used to it, the other Walkers look at him amazed. A small smile curls the left side of Jackson’s lips, he could see so much of Eleanor in him.

*                      * With shaking hands, she pulls the tests out of her pocket and hands them to him; she had taken four of them. He looks at them, unsure of how to act and he feels himself unable to breathe. The unsureness of what this meant left him with a mixture of fear and unease.

“Please say something.” She pleas, tears swelling in her eyes.

“Congratulations.”

She reaches out for his arm, the plastic tests clattering against the floor as she drops them, throwing herself into his chest, “it’s yours.”

Jackson stumbles backwards, the reality crashes into him like a strong wave, leaving him breathless and fearful for another. The question on his tongue leaves a bitter taste, knowing that the words will hurt her, wondering if she’ll react the same way Bianca did when he asked her a very similar question.

“Are you sure?”

The Queen pulls away, her expression resembling a wounded puppy whose owner just pushed it away. She sucks in her bottom lip, eyes filling with even bigger tears as she bites down on her quivering lip. She lets out a shaky breath, nodding repeatedly before she turns and walks away, leaving him and the pregnancy tests behind her.

Liam stands up, anger radiating off of him which Drake quickly picks up on, standing up as well. “I’m sorry, did you really question my mother?”

“Liam…” Drake steps forwards, hands reaching out, trying to calm his best friend.

“How dare you? How fucking dare you act as though she was just some common mistress.”

Drake’s hands are on Liam’s shoulders, pushing him backwards even though he knows Liam can easily push him out of the way. He quickly looks towards Bastien who is watching, but not moving, honestly, he’d be completely fine if Liam beat Jackson to a pulp. He was completely surprised at Drake’s behavior, growing up he would throw a right hook without hesitation and for a lot less than everything Jackson’s done over the years.

“I know what it seems, but you have to…”

“I don’t have to do shit.” Liam pushes Drake off of him, sitting back down in his chair. “She risked her life, her family, everything for you and you dared to treat her that way.”

The room quiets, no one saying anything or even moving, the tension can easily be felt. Liam feels torn, torn between saying fuck it and leaving, returning to Cordonia as if none of this ever happened, but also wanting to know more about the events that led to his mother’s behavior. Drake is torn between his dad and his best friend and Jackson is torn between doing the right thing and telling the events for what they are or saving face with at least Luke.

“Would you like to call it a day, Sir?” Bastien takes a step closer to Liam.

“No,” he shakes his head, “I can’t continue to drag this or the trip out.”

*                      * Eleanor’s stomach drops, it isn’t uncommon for Constantine to have a guardsman summon her to his office, but something feels off. The last time she had even spoken to her husband was roughly two weeks ago, the day that he picked up on her sour candy craving. She has managed to stay holed up in her suite which wasn’t too bad seeing how her morning sickness was horrific this time around.

Jackson’s nerves twist even tighter when he sees Eleanor walking towards him, seemingly going in the same direction. He had been at home when Novak came to get him, telling him the King needed to see him immediately. For the last several days he’s tried to see the Queen, to apologize, but based off the maid gossip she had locked herself in the Queen’s suite, not even letting Liam in to see her. He tries to make eye contact with her, wants to try to give her a soft, comforting smile, but her eyes stay locked on the tips of her shoes.

Novak is standing outside the King’s office, opening the door when they both get close enough, a small bow for Eleanor and Jackson suddenly understands why he’s been called when Novak’s gaze avoids his.

The scene in the office isn’t reassuring for either Eleanor or Jackson, Constantine is standing with his back to the door and Timothy is standing to the right side of the King’s desk. Jackson can see something on the desk but he can’t make out what it is. 

He turns around, sitting slightly on the edge of his desk, looking at both of them, a stone-cold expression in his eyes. Constantine stares at his wife, trying to or more like hoping that she will give him some reason to forgive her. He wants to be wrong, he wants things to go the way that they should. He wants to be told that he’s just been overthinking and connecting invisible dots, but when all signs point one way, it’s hard to go towards the other.

“How long have you been two sneaking around?” “Constantine, I…”

“I think it’s important to remind you that I already know the answers to the questions I plan on asking, there’s really no reason to lie at this point.” His words are often chilling, but the coldness of his words sinks deep into their bones, a shiver creeps down their spines.

“Over a year.” Eleanor wraps her arms around herself, trying to calm down her racing heart that’s lodging its way in her throat.

“And this?” He holds up the pregnancy tests, tossing them to the ground between them. The thin white plastic tests clatter against the floor, bouncing a bit on impact. It had been reported to him that a maid found a few tests in the guardsman suite not to mention there were some found in the Queen’s bathroom.

“Three or so months.”

Constantine’s stomach drops, but he doesn’t weaver from his stoic nature. He couldn’t exactly calculate when she could’ve gotten pregnant, but he could be for sure that she was in no way carrying an heir. But even with this reveal, he had already known that, just not really wanting to accept it. Accept the fact that he’ll most likely go down in history as the king that lost two wives.

“But there’s a chan—”

The King starts laughing, amazed at just how far his wife is willing to go to try to save her lover. She has to know that he wouldn’t have called them both there if he didn’t have all the evidence that he needed.

“These prove that to be a lie.” He grabs the thick envelope off the desk, walking closer to Eleanor, who tightens her grip around herself. “Or do you need a reminder?”

She lets out a gasp at the explicit nature of the photographs of her and Jackson, face turning red from embarrassment that her husband had seen them. It’s the first time since the pair had returned from Valtoria that she felt shameful of her actions, curious as to how he actually felt at her betrayal but scared of what his plan was.

“What’s going to happen?”

Constantine walks to his desk, sitting in the thick leather chair before swirling it around to face them, a sinister look on his face. He wants to laugh, the fact his wife cheated on him with a man that hasn’t even tried to take some of the blame baffled him. Even when Liana had left, when he knew he had nothing to do with her choice, he still carried the burden of blame because to him, a real man wouldn’t be able to tolerate the woman he loves name being tarnish in any way.

“Despite the obviousness of the paternity, I had an appointment made for you under Ellie Rhys, your two highest maids will help you disguise yourself.”

Eleanor just nods, what more can she do, she’s already done enough. Jackson still hasn’t said anything, if he was honest, he hasn’t thought much of the fact Eleanor had told him she was pregnant. He doesn’t want to think that it could be his because it means that everything will come to the surface and he isn’t ready for that. He’s not ready to own up to what he’s done, for all the damage that will be the result of his selfish actions.

** The week’s wait is dreadful for Eleanor, especially on top of her hellish morning sickness and practically nonexistent energy level. Towards the end of the week she’s surprised to see Constantine slip into her room, asking how she’s feeling. But when she tries to reach out, to get him to really look at her, he excuses himself, his only warmth being given to the unborn child.

She’s summoned to his office just a couple days later, this time without Jackson which has her completely worried, but he assures her that he just wanted to speak with her privately first. He has Timothy hand her the sealed envelope from the doctor’s office, telling her it was addressed to her not him so he didn’t open it.

He doesn’t have to ask for her the results, he can read it on her face and while he had a strong feeling it wasn’t his, a teeny piece of him had thought it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. She looks up at him, tears in her eyes, but receives no sympathy from him, his expression as icy as ever. He waves Timothy who goes to the door and lets Jackson into the office.

“You two are to leave the country, actually this side of the Atlantic. What’s that things Americans wanted?” Constantine snaps his fingers as if that gesture would trigger his memory, “ah yes, a white picket fence. Surely you two could have that ideal now.”

She sniffs, wiping a few tears from her cheeks. “What am I going to tell Liam?” “Nothing, he’ll think you died, a pretty standard death of a noble when there’s a coup.”

“A coup?” Jackson finally speaks up, much to the royal couple’s surprise.

“Ah, yes.” Constantine taps his chin before looking at Timothy, “care to explain.” “Yes, Sir.” Timothy nods before turning back to Eleanor and Jackson, proceeding to go into detail about how things will happen. That they’ve been investigating a radical group called ‘la Force de Pert’ and staging a coup, under their name, could help them take action against them.

He tells them that an announcement will be made that says the Queen was taken hostage by the group and Jackson made the heroic decision to go rescue her without backup. That night after the media left, the two of them would be escorted to a private airport where they’d be taken somewhere in America, free to live their lives however they please.

Timothy makes sure to emphasis what the King has just said, that they are never to return back to Cordonia or anywhere in Europe for that matter. That the fifty states that America has to offer should be big enough for them, even the US territories were up for grabs, but once they landed, they weren’t to cross any ocean for any reason. They weren’t to talk about their prior stations, anything related to Cordonia, the two of them were to simply fall off the face of the earth.

“You expect me to just leave Liam? Leave him here with you?” Her voice breaks, she tries to understand what is being said but the only thing she can think of is her son. “I won’t, I’m taking him with me.”

Constantine chuckles, pushing himself out of the chair, slowly striding towards Eleanor, his hand cupping her chin, forcing her to look at him. “It’s almost cute how someone in your position thinks you can tell me how things are going to happen.”

“Please, Constantine.” Her lip starts to quiver, but he tightens his grip on her face.

“You have no room to make demands.” He drops her face, turning to go back to his desk.

“I’ll just come back and take him! You will NOT keep him from me!”

“If you step foot on this side of the Atlantic,” he stops, turning around on his heel, “I will have him killed.”

There’s a heavy silence that drops over the room, it’s almost smothering as Eleanor tries to catch her breath. Tears cover her cheeks, shaking her head, trying to understand his callousness, how he could threaten his own flesh and blood.

“You wouldn’t! He’s a prince of this country!”

“He is the SPARE!” His voice booms throughout the room, causing her to flinch, his ice-cold tone ripping through her.

“Constan—” Jackson stops when he sees the bewildered expression on the King’s face.

“You may be on personal terms with the Queen, but I assure you that we are not.” He sits back down behind his desk, “I should hope you also know the same sentiment goes for your children, if you try to return.”

Jackson just nods and Eleanor looks at him horrified, confused as to how he could willingly agree to this, agree to give up his children so easily.

“Don’t look so down Ellie, it’s honorable for a guardsman to die a hero, isn’t that right, Jackson?”

“I can’t just leave my son, Constantine. You can’t ask me to do that!” Eleanor cries out, unable to stop herself from falling to her knees.

“You’re right, I’m not asking, I’m telling.” He leans back in his chair, “but are you even thinking about Liam when you shout things like that?”

She looks up at him, tears still blurring her vision, a broken expression on her face, “of course I am.”

“Tsk.” Constantine shakes his head, “think about it. If you came back for him, you’d basically be telling him that your bastard baby is more important than him. If Liam really mattered to you, you wouldn’t have put yourself in this situation to begin with, you didn’t think that I’d find out and just let it continue in the palace, did you?”

“What about Drake and Savannah?” Jackson quickly asks.

“Ah, yes. Bianca will receive a sizable compensation for her loss so they will be taken care of. They will be more than welcomed to stay at the cabin, as long as they don’t threaten Liam’s reputation.”

“Excuse me?”

“Although he is the spare, Liam has an important role to fulfill as prince. It doesn’t look good for people of his station to be involved with those with yours. Just look at the predicament at hand.”

#choices #the royal romance #witness protection #witness protection au fic #trr liam rys #trr drake walker #trr constantine rys #trr jackson walker #trr eleanor rys #oc luke walker

[rchtoziers]

69 (nice) + reddie 🥺

69. “We finish it the same way we started—together.” (nice)

kenna i give u permission to k*ll me because i took so so so long to answer this and i’m SO SORRY but i love u and i hope you enjoy it i tried to make it fluffy and funny xoxo

also i know it’s february but fuck it they’re at a carnival also pennywise doesn’t exist because fuck that clown

*

“Oh my god,” Richie gasps. He tugs on Eddie’s arm, stopping Eddie from walking any closer towards the Ferris Wheel. “Eds. We have to. Please. I am quite literally begging.”

Eddie sighs, mostly just for show, because god knows he always gives in to Richie’s antics, but when he turns to see what Richie is pointing at his heart drops into his shoes.

“No. Fuck no. Absolutely not, Richie!”

Richie lets out a high-pitched whine that has several people turn to look at him. Eddie tugs him away quickly. “Baby, why not?! It’s the perfect excuse for us to cling to each other for thirty minutes. Maybe we could even sneak off and find a place to make out.”

“I’m not making out with you in a haunted house!” Eddie snaps. “Those places are health hazards enough as it is, especially shitty ass haunted houses that come along with carnivals, and it would be a waste of our tickets because it won’t even be scary!”

“If it won’t even be scary then why does it matter?” Richie challenges. “Eds, please. I’ll buy us more tickets. We can go on the Ferris Wheel after. I’ll even bribe the guy to stop the thing while we’re at the top so that we can have that movie-perfect kiss I know you’re hoping for.”

Eddie’s cheeks go red. “That’s not what I was hoping would happen,” he lies. “I was gonna push you out.”

Richie lets out a wounded noise, covering his chest with both of his hands like he’s been shot. His eyes go all wide and his face is so obnoxiously hopeful that Eddie knows he’d be an idiot to refuse Richie this at this point. He knows it’s a little bit pathetic, but if he’s being honest with himself there’s not anything he wouldn’t do if it meant making Richie happy.

“Fine,” he says with a sigh. Richie whoops loudly and actually pumps his fist in the air. Eddie’s so in love with him he feels like he could die on the spot sometimes. “We can do the stupid not scary haunted house if we really get to go on the Ferris Wheel after. And you have to win me a stuffed animal at one of those arcade games.”

“They’re rigged,” Richie protests.

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll win you the best one I can, though,” Richie says, and a happy grin splits his face. That makes all of this worth it. Eddie ducks his head so it’s not obvious how hard he’s grinning back, and he lets Richie take his hand as they both start towards the haunted house.

Eddie looks skeptically at the painted zombies on the side of the building, cartoonish and gory in a laughable way. He wrinkles his nose. If anything, this just proves how fundamentally not-scary this whole thing will be.

“Keep an eye out for rogue zombies, and don’t let yourself get bitten,” monotones the bored teenager who takes their tickets. He doesn’t even look at either of them. “They’ll keep you in there forever.”

“Terrifying,” Richie says solemnly. Eddie stifles a laugh behind him and smacks Richie’s arm to make him walk forward.

About halfway through the house, Eddie realizes he probably should have taken this whole thing a bit more seriously.

He’s in the middle of swearing up a storm and cursing Richie out for allowing them to come in here in the first place when a zombie waits for Richie to pass before jumping out at Eddie, screaming at the top of his lungs. There’s a prop axe in his head and, somehow, his eyes are glazed over. Eddie screams back and shoves Richie forward, desperately rushing towards a corner that looks safe.

“This shit is way scarier than they advertised,” Eddie hisses, leaning against a wall. “And it’s just getting scarier the further in we get, I fucking hate this. How the fuck do we finish it?”

Richie gives Eddie a corny grin that still makes his heart flop in his chest. Eddie’s almost charmed when Richie reaches forward and twines their fingers together, but then Richie says, “We finish it the same way we started—together.”

Eddie snorts, unable to stop it. “Okay, Harry Potter, calm the fuck down.”

“Harry Pott—how very dare you ruin my romantic moment by comparing me to fucking Harry Potter? You realize that makes you fucking Voldemort, right?” Richie asks. “Harry Potter. The audacity. I was trying to be sweet.”

“Richie, I know for a fact you can be more romantic than one corny line in the middle of a haunted house at a carnival,” Eddie says. He tugs Richie forward by their clasped hands and grins wolfishly when Richie’s body practically presses him against the wall.

“Why, Edward,” Richie drawls, in his worst Southern accent yet. He trails his free hand up Eddie’s side, underneath his jacket but over the shirt. “Don’t tell me this haunted house has got you all riled up.”

Eddie huffs. “It’s not the haunted house, jackass, it’s the moron taking me through the haunted house,” he says. He lets go of Richie’s hand so that he can pull Richie closer by grabbing on to fistfuls of his shirt. “Now we probably only have a few minutes before the next group comes by, and this might be the only place where there’s no fucking zombie waiting to jump out at us. Are we gonna make out or not?”

Richie’s grinning when he leans forward to capture Eddie’s mouth in a kiss.

And it’s worth it, again, even when they do get caught not even five minutes later. It’s worth the blush on Eddie’s cheek as he tugs Richie through the rest of the haunted house because the second they’re outside, Richie is still grinning from ear to ear and he laughs loud and boisterous and happy and it’s enough for Eddie.

#reddie #richie #eddie #my writing #kissrichie #answered #i don't know what the hell this is i really don't!!! but i hope it is cute #me vs never knowing how to end anything i write ever #ANYWAY KENNA #I LOVE U #I HOPE U ENJOYED THIS XOXO #THANK U FOR SENDING ME SOMETHING TO WRITE IM RLY SO SORRY I TOOK ONE BILLION YEARS TO DO IT

[naysaltysalmon]

Shoutout to @tiburme for tagging me~!

Rules: Name 10 favorite characters from 10 different things and then tag 10 people.

Oh, massive spoilers below btw.

1. Gon Freecss from Hunter x Hunter: My favorite shounen protagonist by far. At first you think he’s your typical happy-go-lucky bouncy boye :D who definitely doesn’t have abandonment issues or self-destructive tendencies that literally actually almost kill him later on, and then, uwu... The amount of complexity that Gon has as a protagonist who hardly ever has stand-alone development is nothing short of astounding. How during the Chimera Ant Art his characterization totally dips off to the side to become an unknowable entity even to the audience, while still retaining amazing character development regardless -- not to mention how brilliantly daring his decision to threaten Komugi is that nearly every other author with such a happy-go-lucky protagonist would shy away from in cowardice -- is absolutely surreal to me. The more I think and write about Gon, the more I fall in love with him. If I ever meet his father, and by that I mean his real father, the creator, Togashi, I have nothing else to say but,,, well done, sir.

2. Tanjirou Kamado from Demon Slayer: I’m really hoping the Demon Slayer movie comes out soon because I absolutely love this boy and how charming he is. Unlike most protagonists, not just of shounen anime but of seemingly macho story lines that involve power-ups and training in general, Tanjirou never lets go of his kind heart. (Welp, except maybe in some cases when he’s facing the Upper Moons later on -- I haven’t caught up yet -- but WE’RE GONNA IGNORE THAT for now.) From the beginning, Tanjirou’s kindness isn’t an obstacle holding back his power, though other characters pose it that way, but rather he cultivates his empathy to grant peace to the demons he faces. He smiles in the face of anyone who treats him poorly because of his cluelessness, and that’s just so heartwarming to see, and dare I say subversive to the hardened, calculating, and cocky male protagonists we so often get. Good job, Gotouge.

3. Joseph Joestar from JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Giorno Giovanna was a close second, but I gotta go with Joseph. He’s the one who made me fall in love with the series, and with the later parts too. Unlike Jonathan Joestar, who was chivalrous and manly, Joseph was a riot: colorful, arrogant, funny, but also extremely clever. I absolutely loved his, “Next you’ll say...!” because at first I expected it to just be him being an overconfident asshole and eventually he’d be proven wrong at the ~Dai Pinchi Moment~ (please excuse my weeb speech, I legit didn’t know what else to call it), but then he hit the mark every time and eventually I was just waiting for when he’d pull that out and it was so hype. Also I surely can’t forget his transformation as an old dude in Part 3 -- him screaming “OOHHHH MY GAAAWDDDA!” and “HOLY SHIIIT!” murdered me every time. And of course, last but not least, the raw fucking emotion when Caeser died -- the dude actually gave a shit and wasn’t made entirely of wit and absurdity, but heart too. Joseph set the tone for what JJBA was as a whole for me (fuck off with that “but Part 3/Part 4 is the best Part” bullshit, Part 2 will always be top tier for me because of Joseph Joestar’s brilliant, bright, and beautiful absurdity -- but Part 5 was really good too). Araki really is a genius.

4. Link from The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess: My love for this series is a bit older than the series I’ve already mentioned, and TLoZ: TP was actually probably the first time I got seriously obsessed with a fandom. I love all the Links in their own ways, but Twilight Princess really drove home the “lone wolf chosen by the gods, fighting against the world” narrative for me. It made me feel important and strong at a time when no one cared about me. Seeing Link struggle silently through his quest with villagers who meant well but did nothing for him, and Midna who started out as a reluctant acquaintance and eventually became so much more, meant so much to me at the time I played the game. I will always love Twilight Princess the most because of what it did for me at one of the darkest times in my life, and because I felt completely and utterly immersed in every part of the story and gameplay through Link’s character, who was, and in many ways, still is, so relatable to me: Silent courage really is what I use to get through every day.

5. Greedling from Fullmetal Alchemist (Brotherhood): For once I’m not naming the protagonist of a series! Lissen, I still smile whenever I see the slightest reference to Edward Elric, but now he’s more of my childhood love. He’s just a part of my personality already? LOL. Anyway, FMA(B) has so many good characters that choosing just one doesn’t feel right (I mean, same with HxH tho). I say Greedling because that encompasses both Ling and Greed though, two of my favorite characters from the series! Ling’s apparent childishness in constantly running away from fights, making other people pay for his food, and failing to grasp the seriousness of the situation (until Lan Fan’s arm gets cut off lol oops) is so adorable and entertaining. He’s the best kind of idiot asshole, and I especially love how he teases Ed. After him and Greed fuse, Ling’s stout heart becomes even more apparent, as he constantly eggs Greed on to remember his past life, his friends, and become someone outside of Father/the Dwarf in the Flask. Conversely, Greed’s nonchalance and (of course) avarice are nothing short of entertaining and heartbreaking. Greed’s realization at the end, when he finally admitted to himself that what he wanted all along were “friends like these,” completely crushed me the first few times I watched FMAB. And when he’s screaming in the tunnels under Central after having killed Bido, remembering his friends, and he doesn’t understand why, and later attacks Wrath/King Bradley... that shit was so entertaining and cathartic to watch. None of his development feels like forced redemption, nor like it was too little development, since it mostly happens in the background and away from the “validating eyes” of the protagonists other than Ling. And at the end, when Ling and Greed work together to take down Bradley and all the soldiers invading Central HQ... it’s so beautiful. Many have said this before but I’ll say it again: Hiromu Arakawa wrote the perfect series.

6. Ciel Phantomhive from Black Butler: Another protagonist! And another older obsession of mine. Ciel remains in my mind to this day mainly for his heartlessness in relation to his age, and the fluidity with which Toboso tells his story. Normally when authors write younger characters into their serious stories, they make “child adults” of sorts, but Ciel feels totally realistic to the extent that he is both childish and adult to me. Obviously, Ciel is responsible and (normally) level-headed due to being the head of the Phantomhive household, but also from trauma. Yet, his cruelty at times is what sticks in my mind the most: You really feel that he’s someone who feels he’s been abandoned by the entire world, given his experiences, and that makes him disregard or use others sometimes in order to reach his own ends. Normally, authors would be too cowardly to let their protagonists, let alone child protagonists, go to such lengths to avenge their family, or carry out their duty as the dog of the military (looking at you, Arakawa -- she’s still a goddess tho). But Ciel is unforgiving. He lies to Snake and tells him his troupe is still alive. He murders the entire troupe because he’s triggered -- a childish decision, but driven with adult-like power due to trauma. It’s devastatingly riveting, and I cannot forget his unrelenting, contained rage to this day.

7. Ahsoka Tano from Star Wars: The Clone Wars: This one may come as a shock to most of you, because I hardly ever post Star Wars let alone Ahsoka content on here -- but it’s true. Other than the blatant, half-assedly inserted heteroromantic partner they gave Ahsoka in, like, idk season 3??, Ahsoka is a fucking goddess. From her origin as a wee baby in the earlier seasons who didn’t really know what she was doing and was a bit of a cocky brat, to how she matures and becomes wise, resourceful, and fierce in the later seasons, I just love Ahsoka’s design and character to this day. The episodes that stick in my mind aside from the obvious are when she’s possessed by the Dark Side of the Force on that Force balance planet and her arrogance becomes so exaggerated that she threatens and attacks Anakin, her teacher. It was so fucking cathartic. Normally female characters, let alone young protagonist female characters, are never allowed to show the ugly sides of themselves in fiction, since women are always portrayed as perfect beautiful majestic angels or some bullshit like that. (Or they’re cocky/sexy/slutty villain women. ‘Kay then.) Seeing Ahsoka devolve into her basal desires and come out of it like hardly anything happened and she’s still a perfectly valid character was so amazing to see on a meta level; it wasn’t about her learning a lesson or anything, it was a thing that happened like any other character and then they moved the fuck on. I also distinctly remember the episode where she was trapped on that island/planet and she had to take out the aliens that were after her all by herself. That was so fucking empowering to watch and god fucking dammit I need to rewatch this series now. And of course, let us not forget the fact that the entire time, we were all expecting Ahsoka to just be another domino in Anakin’s downfall -- and she was, but not through the refrigerator -- but through walking away from it all. That was so powerful and moving -- and heartbreaking. By the end of TCW, her character carried weight and agency in the narrative, and god, I only wish whoever wrote her could write more female characters in the future.

8. Tigress from Kung Fu Panda: Maybe another surprise, but I think she deserves this spot. Tigress is a female character who starts out as kind of an antagonist, given how she outright tells Po to leave the kung fu temple within the first day of him arriving. She’s even jealous of the fact that he’s chosen as the Dragon Warrior rather than her -- but that’s due to the backwash of years of trying to live up to the memory of Tai Lung in order to please Shifu (which means “master” in Chinese but ok I’ll shut up now), her master and mentor over the years. She never says this out loud in the movie, which is what makes her character more believable. Others even joke about how stoic she is (and not in bad taste). Her character development is definitely present for those who are looking -- but I put her on this list because I’m so happy the movie doesn’t make it some huge dramatic emotional thing, because so often in media women are depicted as being overly-emotional and here Tigress is just a hurt child trying to make her mentor happy. But, she gets over it, her and Po become allies, even friends to each other -- she and Po talk like equals in the second and third movies, and she even tells him to back out of the fight with Lord Shen and he listens (I mean he doesn’t stay put but he doesn’t undermine her opinion either lol, like most jokesy protagonists of Western media would -- looking at you, Marvel). I like Tigress because she’s an antagonist without being a bitch, she’s powerful without being overpowered, and she’s not sexualized despite being a well-trained, at times jealous, and even emotionally awkward kung fu master. And I almost forgot to mention the best part: There is never an indication of romance between her and Po, or any other character, for that matter. She’s perfectly capable, complex, and lovely on her own terms. And that’s that on THAT.

9. Bilbo Baggins from The Hobbit: I wanted to include at least one character protagonist from a live-action movie/book, lol. I feel like Bilbo’s pretty self-explanatory. He doesn’t wanna go on an adventure because he likes his doilies and warm sheets, but then Gandalf seduces him with the call to the outside world and possible death (LOL), and he fucking goes for it, grumbling the entire time. Isn’t that what any of us would do if given such a proposition? I like to think so. Bilbo obviously has his own gradual, evil transformation with the One Ring, becomes murderous and uses it to disappear, and grows a strong bromance with the King Under the Mountain (which happens in both the movie and the book), but I think what I like about him is that he really feels... down-to-earth? Like even though the adventure changes him, it never feels like he’s been stretched in a way that makes his core character traits of grumbling and bluntness disappear. He gets better at the whole adventuring thing, for sure, but he remains Bilbo, at least, to me, throughout the journey. It was heartwrenching watching him try to save Thorin in The Battle of Five Armies, honestly, but Bilbo’s the kind of character that I feel like has his own story and mythology aside from The Hobbit, and maybe that’s just the result of J.R.R. Tolkien writing the lore for every aspect of his universe, but My Point Still Stands. He feels like his own man apart from the series he’s in, yet he’s still so much fun in his series.

10. Barley Lightfoot from Onward: And last, this one is because I saw Onward yesterday and was pleasantly surprised by the characterization in it -- and anyone who thinks differently can kiss my *ss. :) I was not expecting the movie to take the twist of fleshing out the “annoying” (more like adorable) overconfident nerdy big brother. Normally those characters are swiped to the side because God Forbid The Comic Relief Have Any Sadness In Them. I was expecting the movie to focus on Ian’s journey to meet his fatha and that the movie would pull something stupid at the end like “oh actually there’s another phoenix gem underneath the school” or “actually since only his legs appeared then you still have 24 hours with him” or some shit like that, but I guess this isn’t an anime so those absurdist explanations wouldn’t hold water anyway. But still, for a kid’s movie, I was NOT expecting this movie to go so hard with the characterization. For once, the main character doesn’t get what he wants at the end, and instead realizes it’s his big brother, Barley, who’s been looking out for him his entire life. Meeting his dad would betray that reality. What happens instead is that the lovable big brother never actually said goodbye to their dad before he died, because when their dad got sick, said brother ran away from the hospital room in fear of all the life-sustaining equipment. (Is this some meta thing about Chris Pratt and Guardians of the Galaxy? Off topic and call me stupid, but I didn’t realize Chris Pratt plays him until I saw everyone freaking out about it afterward on Tumblr laksjdflak.) So instead, the lovable big brother talks to the dad at the end, and unconfident younger brother grows confidence and thanks big bro for being with him his entire life. It was so touching, dude. I cry. But the moment that sticks in my mind the most was when Ian was crossing the invisible bridge... Ian needed to have confidence in himself to be able to cross over a chasm in their path, and Barley knew that if Ian didn’t believe in himself, he would fall and die. They tie a rope around Ian for good measure, and Barley encourages him the entire way, but halfway over, the rope comes loose and slips off. Barley sees this and starts panicking, but of course continues to encourage Ian so that Ian will get to the other side. What got to me wasn’t the fact that he faked it for Ian, but that there are actual tears running down his face as he’s encouraging Ian to get to the other side, because he knows otherwise Ian wouldn’t have the confidence and would fall to his death. Like dude, that raw, complex emotion in a kid’s movie?! DUDE?! I was fucking surprised. The clear anxiety and grief in Barley’s face as Ian’s totally clueless and even dancing around in the air was just too much, omfg. Of course, then it’s played off for laughs, but... I guess that makes sense for the annoying overconfident nerdy big bro character. :’)

Okay these are way longer than I anticipated and I’m sorry, but also I’m really not. Hope you enjoyed reading my thoughts on my favs!

Seems I don’t talk to that many people on here anymore: @stupidbluejay @mirycactusito @chronicstarlight

#Nay talks #a lot #i'm sorry but not sorry #TL;DR: Deku isn't on here because Tanjirou is a better boy sorry #Fullmetal Alchemist #Hunter x Hunter #The Legend of Zelda #The Hobbit #Onward #Kung Fu Panda #Star Wars: The Clone Wars #Black Butler #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #Demon Slayer

[melodiouswhite]

Classic literature vines compilation: crossovers pt. 02

A/N: The second part of the crossover compilation. :)

STRETCHING HABITS

Victor Frankenstein: *The Screamer*

Dr. Jekyll: *The Sexual Stretch*

Dr. Moreau: *The Tarzan*

Van Helsing: *The Exorcist*

Herbert West: *Death Metal*

Hyde: *struggling with his shoes*

Dorian Gray: *laughs* Can't tie your shoes?

Hyde: I can't tie my shoes, but I can fuck your bitch!

Van Helsing: And when we go in there, let's show Victor, that we're happy for him!

Dr. Moreau: But I'm not.

Dr. Jekyll: Well, then fake it.

Dr. Jekyll: Look at me, I could be grinding on the fact, that without my stabilising telescope mount, he never would have found that stupid, little clump of cosmic Schmutz.

Dr. Jekyll: But I'm bigger than that!

Dr. Moreau: … Fine. What do you want me to do?

Van Helsing: Smile!

Dr. Moreau: *smiles creepily*

Dr. Jekyll & Van Helsing: … O_O

Dr. Jekyll: Oh crap, that's terrifying. O_O

Van Helsing: We're here to see Victor graduate, not kill demonic entities. -_-

Dr. Jekyll: Try less teeth.

Dr. Moreau: *still smiles creepily*

Dr. Jekyll & Van Helsing: … O_O

Van Helsing: Close enough. Come on. -_-

Victor Frankenstein: I'm so angsty!

Dr. Jekyll, to Herbert West: Hold my champagne.

Dr. Jekyll: It was destiny, that we met! ;)

Herbert West: Did it hurt, when you fell from heaven? ;)

Victor Frankenstein: … *very fast* Do you want your mouth on my mouth? Darling. I'm out. >///< *runs off*

The other two: …

Griffin: At what point did you forget that WE'RE TRYING TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD!!!

Edward Hyde: Who gives a shit, GET THE FUCK A LIFE!!!                

Everyone else: *clapping in approval*

Dr. Jekyll: I'm not angry. Nooo! *laughs* You thought I was angry? Quite the contrary! I feel … splendid, I do! ^^

Dr. Jekyll: *knees Dr. Moreau to the chin* My knee hurts a little bit now, but that's okay. Because, I'm … I'm a gentleman! A gentleman never gets angry. ^^

Dr. Jekyll: A true gentleman keeps his calm cool. And he … he … he respects his environment …

*Victor Frankenstein appears and taps him on the shoulder*

Dr. Jekyll: And he is nice to people-FUCK YOU!!!

Victor Frankenstein: :(

Victor Frankenstein: I'm so troubled!

Dr. Jekyll: Hold my champagne.

Edward Hyde: Hah, joke's on you!

Dorian Gray: There is something on me?!

Edward Hyde: Uh, no, that's-

Dorian Gray, shrieking: GET OFF ME!!!

Edward Hyde: But-

Dorian Gray, hellish voice of hell: GET OFF ME OR I'LL KILL YOU!!!

Edward Hyde: …

Herbert West: Yo, what do you wanna eat?

Victor Frankenstein: What do I want to eat? How can I eat, when life is an illusion? An elaborate-

Herbert West: So, like pizza, or what?

Me: Story time! For some reason Victor Frankenstein and Dr. Henry Jekyll are fighting. Again.

Victor Frankenstein, proudly: I created an artificial human, when I was nineteen!

Dr. Jekyll, drily: Yes, by committing grave-robbery and using rotting flesh and then you wondered, why he didn't turn out the way you had imagined. Also, why does your creature have to be so tall?

Victor Frankenstein: It was easier to form him that way!

Dr. Jekyll: Then you must really suck at sculpting.

Victor Frankenstein: Excuse you?! Your creature is just as hideous as mine!

Frankenstein's Creature, thinking: Why am I still here …

Dr. Jekyll: *glares* First off, don't call him hideous! He may look creepy, but he's not ugly! Except for being very small and pale, but that's not the point! He gives off the impression of being ugly, that's a difference!

Dr. Jekyll: Secondly, he's my alter ago and my other half. The only one who's allowed to call him a creature is me!

Victor Frankenstein: You were already an old man, when you created him!

Dr. Jekyll: Yes, I spent decades of scientific work, research and theorising! You just decided to reanimate a corpse out on a limb, like the immature teenager you are. And when you succeeded, you ran away. Like a coward, leaving him to his own devices.

Frankenstein's Creature: First trauma of my life.

Victor Frankenstein: *gasps*

Dr. Jekyll: Yes, I just went there!

Victor Frankenstein: Well … you're also a coward! As soon as your alter ego What's-his-name caused trouble and got into shit, you claimed that none of this was your fault!

Dr. Jekyll: That's true, I admit it. One of us has to be the adult in this argument after all. Still, your creature killed almost your entire family and your best friend and you did nothing to stop him. Hyde killed one man.

Victor Frankenstein: Fuck you, old man! At least I don't have a split personality! Your alter ego is a psycho!

*Suddenly Edward Hyde appears visibly in a nearby mirror*

Dr. Jekyll, noticing his alter ego: Why don't you say that to his face, Victor?

Edward Hyde: No thanks, I heard everything. I just showed up, because I have to tell Frankenjerk a thing or two.

Edward Hyde: Alright, kiddo, first off: leave Henry alone. Because if you make him upset, I will take control and tear you to pieces! The only one who's allowed to bug him is me! Also, don't try to be the smart one here: you're a college drop-out, he's an actual doctor and professor.

Edward Hyde: Secondly, I may be a freak of nature - I stand by that - but Jekyll is not, so shut the hell up. Also, even though we don't get along, he still treats me better than you treat your creature. At least I have a name, a place to stay, papers, a bank account and he lets me have fun once in a while. And he didn't immediately book it when he saw me, just because of my appearance!  He may be hypocritical, but he's not as superficial as you! You're an arsehole to your creature 24/7. You didn't even name him! But don't bother, Jekyll and I already did that for you. His name is Adam Frankenstein now.

Frankenstein's Creature: *nods* It's all true.

Victor Frankenstein: YOU DARE GIVE HIM MY NAME????

Frankenstein's Creature: *grins gleefully* Indeed.

Edward Hyde: Try to bloody stop me. He's your fucking son, so deal with it. Moving on.

Edward Hyde: Thirdly, Jekyll may be fifty, but he's still gorgeous. Unlike you. Seriously, how old are you? Twenty? And you look older than he is.

Dr. Jekyll: O///O

Victor Frankenstein: *gasps* Oh no, you didn't just-

Edward Hyde: *smirks* Yep, I just went there.

Victor Frankenstein: *stomps off angrily*

Dr. Jekyll, to Edward Hyde: *blushing* … Thank you.

Edward Hyde: Eh, it's nothing.

Dr. Jekyll: Why did you defend me?

Edward Hyde: Hey, you're still my creator and my other half! And that little shit certainly has no right to talk shit about you. If anyone does, it's me. It's my privilege and mine alone. Do you hear me?

Dr. Jekyll: Duly noted.

Frankenstein's Creature: Ahem!

Dr. Jekyll: *startled* Ah, I'm sorry. Do you want to come over for tea?

Frankenstein's Creature, surprised: Really?!

Dr. Jekyll: Sure. Well, unless you mind having Mr. West and Dr. Moreau for company.

Frankenstein's Creature: Of course not! Count me in. :)

Dr. Jekyll: Great, let's go! ^^

Victor Frankenstein: I got 'A's in both my tests last week.

Dr. Jekyll: That's great.

Victor Frankenstein: And I was productive today!

Dr. Jekyll: Awesome.

Victor Frankenstein: So this is happiness! O_O

Dr. Jekyll: … Ew.

Edward Hyde: Can we go yet?

Dorian Gray: Not yet! Gotta do make-up! ;)

Edward Hyde & Dracula: *groan*

*later, after Dorian styled them both up*

Dracula: Never mind, this was an amazing idea!

Edward Hyde: We look so good!

Herbert West: Today we're gonna show you how we keep this delicious pie we just made taste fresh. ;)

Victor Frankenstein: And how we're gonna do that? ;)

*later, after they gobbled up the pie*

Herbert West: Eat the whole thing at once.

Victor Frankenstein: *burps*

Griffin: This homework is impossible!

Victor Frankenstein: I already did it.

Everyone in class: ANSWERS?!?!?!

Victor Frankenstein: Uh-oh. O_O

Dr. Jekyll, the professor: Boy, you better run.

Victor Frankenstein: *runs from a mob that wants his homework*

Dr. Jekyll, the professor: No one is answering? I guess I'll just have to call on someone.

Victor Frankenstein: GET DOWN!!!

Everyone in class: *panics and goes down*

Dr. Jekyll: *points at Griffin* You.

Griffin: Uhm … 42?

Dr. Jekyll: WRONG!

Griffin: x_x

Herbert West: THEY GOT GRIFFIN!

Victor Frankenstein: I bombed this test! :(

Herbert West: Yeah, we all did that, I got-

Victor Frankenstein: -Ninety-seven!

Everyone in class: *throws their paper away in frustration* 

Victor Frankenstein: I'm so bad at baking.

Dr. Jekyll: Recipes are step-by-step instructions.

Victor Frankenstein: Yeah?

Dr. Jekyll: So you're actually telling everyone you can't read. 

Dr. Jekyll, to the class: Alright, who's happy to be back?

Victor Frankenstein: Absolutely no one.

Dr. Jekyll: Me neither, let's get the heck out of here.

Everyone: *boarding the next train* YAAAYYYY!!!

Victor Frankenstein: *struggling to catch up* HEY, WAIT!!!

Dr. Moreau, sternly: Where is your project?

Herbert West: Uh, right … here!

Herbert West: *holds up a dog* PUPPY!

Dr. Moreau: *gasps* PUPPY!!!

Everyone in class: *squeals in delight*

Frankenstein's Creature to Edward Hyde: You ever thought about shaving your body or cutting your hair?

Edward Hyde: You ever thought about why your dad left you?

Frankenstein's Creature: …

Edward Hyde: Oh crap.

Frankenstein's Creature: *starts to cry*

Edward Hyde: I'm sorry!

#the picture of dorian gray #The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde #dracula #the phantom of the opera #frankenstein #the island of dr. moreau #reanimator #the invisible man #dorian gray #Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde #Dr. Jekyll #henry jekyll #Mr. Hyde #edward hyde #count dracula #abraham van helsing #van helsing #erik #phantom of the opera #frankensteins creature #victor frankenstein #dr moreau #herbert west #griffin #invisible man #vine compilation #sorry not sorry

[theonecndonly-blog]

hey there, hi there, ho there~ just your friendly neighborhood blob, Bloo (23, she/they, CST). got stuck at work all day but I’m finally around to introduce myself and one of my oldest muses tbh. Flynn here has been wandering from home to home, but hopefully we’ve finally found a place for him to stay for a long while! I’m already super excited to get to interacting with you guys -- there are some seriously great characters in here like. holy shit, I love them all. well, enough of me gushing, here’s my ice king of a romantic!!

(GASPARD ULLIEL, 32, HE/HIM/HIS, CISGENDER MALE) BILLY FLYNN MOTIER joined the trip! exciting right? they’re usually known for being a MECHANIC SHOP OWNER and people have definitely described them as PASSIONATE and CYNICAL before. apparently OH DARLING by PLUG IN STEREO currently describes their relationship status too. i don’t know about you, but CALLUSED HANDS COVERED IN GREASE, FADED BLUE JEANS WITH THE HEMS ROLLED UP, and WORN-IN TAP SHOES CLATTERING EXCITEDLY AGAINST WOODEN FLOORBOARDS makes me think of them. can’t wait to see what they get into! (BLOO, 23, CST, SHE/THEY) 

whoa, whoa, whoa. what’s this? a very detailed statistics page??? heck yes!

HISTORICAL RUNDOWN:

trigger warnings: alcohol mention, traumatic experience (drunk driving), death

the elder child of a humble mechanic and his Broadway superstar wife, who’s actually the daughter of the first iteration of Billy Flynn in Chicago -- Jerry Orbach. more of a fun fact really but, needless to say, performing might as well be genetic.

his family moved down to Louisiana where his pop’s from and lived rather modestly there while their names were big and they even had a seat amongst the B-list of Hollywood, Broadway wasn’t making as much as it used to by the early 90s. high-cost productions didn’t mean high-profit margins, after all.

his mama was gone every other season for the first 10 years of his life, usually falls and springs so she’d be there when her kids were on break from school. while some may say she was “absent,” Flynn didn’t mind too much since he knew she was pursuing what she loved and he greatly respected that aspect about her.

eventually, his pop decided to move the shop up to New York City so she could take it easy and didn’t have to waste money and time moving places. this was the perfect excuse for him to go out and see his mama perform sometimes, really see her sparkle and inspire him.

while he dreamed wholeheartedly of his name in lights just like his grandpa and mama before him, Flynn spent his afternoons when not rehearsing for a school play at his pop’s shop if not helping around the house, fully expected to know how to take care of himself and not rely on someone else to do shit for him.

though he nailed his first audition and was cast as Lumiere on Broadway’s Beauty and The Beast almost immediately after getting his Bachelors at Yale, his parents encouraged him to continue his studies.

he transferred to Tisch so he could be in the city where his new job was. he lived with his childhood friend, Helen Edwards, who was between waiting tables and doing small indie projects to fill her acting resume. though they’d always been close, they grew infinitely closer and eventually eloped.

it was a New Yorker socialite scandal the moment they announced their engagement all over again, just like with Flynn’s parents before them. after all, a natural-born big shot and a nobody? how dare he. they soon shut up when she got her chance to shine in Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides.

were quietly and happily wed in 2013 once the attention died down, and they moved to Los Angeles, California since she was due for a new acting project next spring. however, in early 2014, they fell victim to a drunk driver’s mistakes... and only he made it out alive.

trying to run from the memories and the paparazzi asap, he made his way back to New York City, where he spent some time moping and hiding away at his parents’ home. ofc his pop wasn’t going to let him take it sitting down and got Flynn to work at the shop to take the frustrations out on the cars instead of keeping it all in his head. so when his pop retired, it wasn’t a surprise that he transferred ownership to his son.

hasn’t managed to escape his own grief sooo his sister decided “fuck it, we’re going on vacation.” and here he is now!! stuck with darling Roxie and her best friend who, well. he kinda likes but also doesn’t really know how to get out of his rut and get over his nerves so he can admit it. fun times.

PERSONAL TOUCHES:

he can hold friendly enough conversations, but it doesn't take much for the cynic to come out and make sarcastic, self-deprecating remarks. especially when alcohol’s involved.

though he used to wear his heart on his sleeve, Flynn has since taken it and shoved it deep, deep down in his chest. that doesn’t mean it’s not there, it’s just hard to get to with his ribs like an iron cage around it to deflect all the potential hurt.

however, there are few ways to slip between the bars and get it into making an appearance -- namely dance, film, music, theatre. karaoke’s a guilty pleasure. he gets both the classics and more pop culture, modern stuff. Flynn’s so big on fine arts that he’s probably put money where his mouth is and donated a big chunk of his Broadway earnings to fund schools and recreational programs in New York City. not that he’s gonna boast about it, ofc. he keeps them anonymous.

definitely can be summarized as a diamond in the rough who tries to dress to intimidate others in keeping away. it may take a lil while for him to warm up to someone but, once they’re there, he’s a real gentleman. got a super soft center. 

if he views anyone as part of his family, do not fuck with them. especially friends that he sees as being like his children (cuz spoiler alert: he lost his unborn child that fateful accident, so now he really feels the extra need to protect young ones).

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

Roxanne “Roxie” Motier. his younger sister is a pain in his ass, first of all. she’s everything he used to be with the addition of extraverted as heck -- he was the quieter, laidback one. she’s the reason why he’s even on this “all expenses paid” (press X to Doubt) vacation. but I guess Flynn can’t complain too much since he’s not at the shop for once in his lifetime, and he finally gets to accomplish some bucket list things by exploring new places.

Roxie’s Best Friend. she’s been with her soul sister for years now and has known the family since they moved to New York City. she’s just as dedicated to the fine arts as him with the difference that she’s never lost their spark; something that Flynn envies and yet also can’t help but be pulled in by. whenever they’re in a room together, they’re almost inseparable, with or without Roxie’s influence. she wants him to let her in, and he wants her to stay, but it’s difficult for either to actually say so cuz of him with his PTSD and related trauma, her with whatever pain’s she’s been through~

Peas in a Pod. someone who can vibe with him as far as heartaches go. or at least with romance- and relationship-based complaints. a fellow pessimist that he can forget about the hurt with late at night, drinking and eating/making good greasy food. classically smashed burgers and pinot noir go together, right?

Honorary Motiers. at some point, were graced with the title of being sibling-like to Flynn and now will always have to deal with a highly protective but also very worldly mentor figure. he might not be able to physically outfit you with anything, but he can teach someone how to do a perfect triple pirouette or how to find their vocal sweet spot (which he’d like to note is called a person’s prime voice, thank you and good day). you know, tools of the trade from a person who studied or 6-7 years in the fine arts.

#delicateintro #delicateooc #— HEADCANONS;

[mochibuni]

I wasn't going to say shit because fandom and my space carved out on tumblr is a happy and good time for me, but if I'm going to continue to be bombarded with this, then I'm going to be upfront about why I may need to start asking for tags I can block or just unfollowing because I accept that this is on me.

I suppose this also counts as character hate which is something I don't like doing, either, but here we are.

I don’t like Kylo Ren. Or more specifically, I try to avoid the fandom around him, and it has everything to do with my abuser.

Kylo Ren is my ex-boyfriend that abused and assaulted me. He's every entitled white boy with ~issues~ that tried to dominate me. He's every gamer that verbally abused and harassed me. He throws temper tantrums and commits genocide and uses his powers to force himself into people minds to torture them. He’s an absolute creeper with Rey that he tries over and over to dominate, and it’s hard not to equate it with sexual assault because of our culture even though I don’t think he’s interested in her romantically. I try not to go there, but fuck it just reminds me so much of my experiences.

Kylo Ren is absolutely allowed and should be a complex character, or at least be a compelling villain. I'm not saying he shouldn't exist or the characterization and narrative we have for him right now shouldn't exist, and I wholly expect a redemption arc for him because that is what Star Wars is. But media is not in a bubble, he's in a time where gamergate happened, where the alt-right nazis are happening, when white men mass shoot, when white men say they went on a rampage at a college campus because a woman told them no. When we as a culture make excuses for them by saying oh they're just mentally ill, they're just misunderstood, better mental healthcare will solve all of this and not also address the problem that men should not do this, women deserve to be treated as people.

Kylo's history of being manipulated and abused by Snoke, I absolutely accept that as his canon, but it's not in the movie. It is not made explicit yet. Therefore I do not expect or accept that as an excuse or justification to not be critical of what his character says to the masses. When we condemn the Edward Cullens and Dorian Greys for their harmful portrayals of acceptability, Kylo Ren shouldn't be allowed as the exception to the rule. I think the movie has been perfectly clear on Kylo's acceptability and it pains me that parts of fandom have woobied him.

When it comes down to it, I don't actually hate Kylo Ren or dislike his presence in the series. For as much as he makes me uncomfortable (which I think villains are allowed to do), I still think he'll do great things for the story and I look forward to it. So what really hurts me is when he's romanticized by fandom and I am reminded of how my abuser got away with it. My abuser who is a war vet, who has PTSD, who turned his frustration into anger, who blamed me for everything people didn't love him enough for and everything he couldn't get that he thought he deserved. Whom people excused because of his service and he has issues we just have to accept, and you could have fixed him, why didn't you do better.

In short, I am allowed to have negative feelings about Kylo Ren and how he fits in our culture, and don’t you dare try to police that.

#mochi talks about star wars #mochi vs fandom #kylo ren hate #assault #abuse #let me know if you need a specific tag #this is also why i just stay away from harry potter as well

[truthofherdreams]

“Maybe he has a weird fetish.”

“He’s a stripper.”

“He’s secretly Edward Cullen.”

“A stripper Edward Cullen.”

“Girls, come on!”

Rosaline and Livia stop grinning like lunatics at each other to stare at their cousin. Juliet stares right back, unamused pout on her lips and closed fists on her hips – she thinks it makes her look threatening in some way, but Juliet is as scary as a kitten on a good day. As it is, both sisters just smirk at their cousin, not chastised in the least.

Still, the question remains – why Romeo’s cousin keeps finding excuses to skip on their gathering, and how glitter seems to be following him everywhere. Not that Rosaline really minds his absence – if he has a weird kink going on with his habit to open the legs of every Not-Capulet girl in town, then so be it. And if he can do it as far away from her as possible so she doesn’t have to spend time with him, then even better.

The less the merrier, when it comes to Montagues.

It doesn’t stop Rosaline and Livia from speculating away, mostly because they’re bored and because they particularly enjoy how frustrated Juliet gets now when they make fun of her husband’s family. Rosaline has to admit Romeo Montague isn’t that terrible, all things considered. And it may have taken a lot of warming up, but they’re finally getting along with Mercutio – mostly because he’s really good at finding great bars with cheap alcohol, and because he’s even worse than them when it comes to gossiping.

The elusive Benvolio is the only one Rosaline can’t stand, and she’s pretty sure it will remain that way forever. Because he made sure they knew he would rather fuck all of Verona instead of spending one evening with them, and because when he does indeed agree to have a drink with the group, he keeps fighting Rosaline. She wonders if he’s aware of how borderline mansplaining his arguments are, or if he even cares – probably not.

Livia leans closer to her cousin with her chin in hand, smiling sweetly. “Do you know what he’s up to?”

Juliet huffs and rolls her eyes, before she drinks from her latte. Rosaline raises an eyebrow at the obvious stalling, even more so when Juliet replies, “No, I don’t. And it’s none of our business.”

So she knows.

 …

 Two weeks later, Rosaline catches Benvolio coming home in the morning, glitter in his hair and neon streaks of paint on his arms. She crashed Romeo’s couch after the party last night, and didn’t expect to witness the other Montague’s walk of shame the following morning.

His eyes widen a bit when he notices her, but he doesn’t say anything nor does he appear ashamed.

“Good night?” she leers, standing up to go and make herself some coffee – if the snoring coming from the bedroom is anything to go by, Juliet and her husband won’t come out until the middle of the afternoon.

“Was okay,” Benvolio replies as he follows her to the kitchen.

She sips on her coffee while she watches as he scrubs his arms free of paint. Neither of them comment on it until, with one last glance his way, he goes and locks himself in his room.

 …

 “Feathers?”

“Yeah, like – bright pink and yellow and stuff. In his hair.”

“I swear to god, Livia, if you tell me…”

“He’s a drag queen.”

“That. If you tell me that.”

 …

 When Romeo asked Rosaline if she could go shopping for Juliet’s perfect birthday gift with him, she had somewhat pictured the outing to be the two of them and no one else. Rosaline should have expected Romeo never to go out with his two other soulmates, though. And let it be known that Rosaline doesn’t really appreciate Mercutio and Benvolio following them around at the mall and complaining about everything. What did they expect anyway?

She forces herself not to roll her eyes too much, fearing that they will get stuck at the back of her head before the end of the day, but they really are testing her patience. Romeo notices, and sends her a grateful smile before he calls a break and buys her a coffee and a donut. They sit on uncomfortable plastic chairs and watch people go by, all the while trying not to be disgusted by the sugary monster Mercutio calls an ice cream – he basically put all the toppings available on top of it. Diabetes in a cup.

Rosaline makes a face at him, before she focuses on her phone – the Verona Venuses group chat is in a frenzy, Bianca telling the latest gossips about Kat and her not-really-boyfriend-but-close-enough. She is typing one particularly smarmy comment toward Patrick when she’s interrupted by a kid showing up at their table.

The girl can’t be older than twelve, with pigtails and a puffy skirt, grinning at Benvolio like he hangs the moon and stars. He pales at the sight, with a quick glance Rosaline’s way before he focuses back on the kid. He offers her the most awkward smile Rosaline has ever seen in her life, and she would almost feel bad for him. Almost.

“Hi, Ben!” the little girl exclaims, too loudly.

“Hello, Maria.”

“We missed you this morning.”

He blanches even more, and all thoughts of Bianca’s drama jump out the window in Rosaline’s mind as she focuses on the scene in front of her. Livia’s voice in her head is squeaking with excitation, but Rosaline is good enough of an actress to smooth her features into a neutral face instead.

“I’m sorry about that,” Benvolio replies. “How’s your brother doing?”

“He’s okay. I came to buy him a new teddy bear for when he gets out of the OR tomorrow.”

Benvolio finally cracks a real smile, and ruffles the girl’s hair a little, which makes her giggle in response. Rosaline is mesmerized, unable to look away. “Good girl,” he says next. “Tell everyone I’ll be back next Saturday, okay?”

“Okay!”

And with that, the girl skips her way back to her mother, with one last wave at Benvolio when she grabs the woman’s hand. Benvolio waves back before focusing on his phone, so pointedly ignoring the other three around him that even Romeo raises a surprised eyebrow at his antics. Rosaline shares a look with Mercutio, hoping to get answers from the most talkative of the trio, but he just shrugs at her. Rosaline knows when to drop it.

Except she doesn’t.

Romeo and Mercutio are excitedly checking a new console in the video games store, Benvolio standing by the entrance, when she corners him. Not too obviously, just standing next to him and pretending to care about – some Pikachu plushy, or something. She has no idea.

“So what was that about, earlier?”

He doesn’t glance her way, doesn’t even acknowledge her presence, but the tip of his ears is suddenly red with a blush that doesn’t reach his cheeks. Rosaline knows a thing or two about the power of silent staring – she does have a younger sister and cousin, after all – and it only takes Benvolio about three more minute before he sighs loudly and shakes his head.

“I volunteer at the children’s hospital every Saturday morning,” he confesses. “We do arts and crafts.”

“That’s not really…”

“And I play football with the kids at the orphanage every Sunday morning.”

Rosaline is left staring at him, mouth opened in surprised. She closes it after long seconds, blinking twice, hard. But Benvolio doesn’t suddenly laugh at her and tells her he got her, simply keeps evading her eyes, like – like it pains him to admit it. Like he really didn’t want her to know he actually is a kind, selfless person.

“That’s… Oh my god, Livia thinks you’re cross-dressing.”

That does the trick, Benvolio looking at her with wide eyes. “What?”

“She…” A laugh bubbles out of Rosaline’s mouth, and she pressed a mouth to her lips to swallow down the sound even if it’s too late. “Oh my god. The feathers and – so much glitter.”

“Kids fucking love glitter, okay,” he argues back, folding his arms on his chest defensively. It’s not all that effective, when he’s also smiling a little.

“So when everybody thinks you’re just slutting your way through Verona’s crowd…”

“I’m going to sleep early ‘cause I have to be at the hospital at eight in the morning.”

“But why?”

It should maybe scare Rosaline that Benvolio understands her question immediately, understands that she isn’t asking why he does it. Benvolio and she may not agree on a lot of things, but they share a common knowledge – that of being orphans and having to take care of your own because nobody else is there for them. That of being treated like dirt by family members who couldn’t care less about you. That of being the only ones to know Juliet had eloped with Romeo for an entire week, despite trying to stop them.

So she knows perfectly why Benvolio is doing the things he does.

What she doesn’t know… He just shrugs at first, then says, “Because it’s easier that way, I guess? I’ve never really cared about my reputation, and I don’t want to suddenly be that guy who’s nice to orphans and shit.”

“Yeah, cute guy being cute to children. What a fucking turn-off. No girl will want you now.”

Benvolio shifts to face her, a smirk finding its way to his lips. “Capulet, do you find me cute?”

Rosaline huffs and puffs loudly, grateful for the shitty lightning in the store – it hides the crimson shade of her dark skin from him and his mocking words. There is no point in arguing that she was talking about girls in general, not herself, because it would only be digging an even deeper hole for herself. And he’s right anyway, kinda. It does make him cute, knowing that he cares so much about children. Not that she particularly cared about his one-night stands before – not her thing, but who is she to judge? – but she almost feels, dare she say, relieved to learn it wasn’t the case? Happy, perhaps?

Which, of course, doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t change the fact that he called her a harpy more than once, sometimes to her face. It doesn’t change the fact that she can’t stand him, or that he always finds a way to push her buttons. It doesn’t change anything at all.

He smiles like he knows things, which is even more unnerving, and adds, “You can come with me next week if you want.”

 …

 The next Saturday, Rosaline watches as a little girl with a nasal cannula sits on Benvolio’s lap and draws in a colouring book while he careful braids her hair.

It changes everything.

#still star crossed #rosvolio #rosvolio ff #rosaline capulet #benvolio montague #otp: my beloved #ff: still star crossed #fanfic

[randomoranges]

Perfect Cities

Friend

 Unrelated events between 2005 and 2015ish.  *I changed up a) the timeline of this fic to keep it more Vague and also so it could still fit with the “revised timeline” or whatever. I added a few things, but nothing major.

Étienne’s friendship with Emma is one of my favourite things and that one idea I will absolutely die on a hill for. It is the most precious thing, okay? They’re ride or die and you can’t convince me otherwise lalalala.

Also I’m not really “fixing these up” or whatever, unless there’s something I really want to reword or add to. I just want to slowly re-upload the old fics for sentimental reason kinda.

 I

“Well, well, well, Étienne, long time no see. Dropping in unexpectedly; you know, I do have a phone you could call on.” Emma greeted, opening the door to her friend. Emma wasn’t even surprised. Étienne often showed up unannounced, on her doorstep – and she was notorious for doing the same, but a head’s up was always appreciated. Especially considering the radio silence she had been getting from her friend, as of late. It wasn’t that she was worried – Étienne was a big boy – but Emma knew Étienne and his silences could mean many different things.

 Étienne gave a small shrug and it was then she noticed the redness of his eyes and his unusual downtrodden look that a warning bell went off in her head. She had seen that look far too many times to even think that this was going to be a normal visit, but she decided to play dumb and see if maybe, for once, she was wrong.

 “Come on now, before we air condition the great outdoors.”

 Étienne gripped his bag a little tighter and made his way inside, unusually quiet.

 “I don’t know who beat you up this time, but boy has the rumour mill been running!” Emma started, hoping to get her friend to at least smile. “You’ll never believe what nonsense they’ve been spewing out these past few weeks.” She tried to distract him, knowing Étienne always liked some good gossip. Usually, the two of them could sit and exchange the latest of what they had heard for hours. Étienne was a riot and always had the best running commentary, but this time, he was subdued, showing little to no interest. Still, Emma decided to go on, figuring she could cheer him up on her own.

 “Listen to this; the word about town is that your boy’s been acting mighty friendly with Calvin. I thought that was ridiculous!” She laughed, pausing by the closet to lean on its door for support, while she caught her breath. “Someone even said they saw them kiss or some other stupid nonsense. I swear, I nearly had an aneurism laughing to myself. I mean, I know you and Edward have some sort of special arrangement, but the way they were talking made it sound as though they were like a couple. Well, the joke’s on them, right? I know you like to pretend that you and Ed are “just friends” or whatever you call it, but this is me you’re talking to. I know better! Hell, you were even going on about making your Big Move to him, like, ages ago – which reminds me, you haven’t mentioned it in a while...,” She felt as though she was unto something, but the thought escaped her mind and she went on, forgetting about it, “And plus, it’s so obvious you like him – clearly he knows, so it’s not like he’d go behind your back with Calvin! Unless that was a thing you guys are doing? Anyways, I had to actually walk away from the scene, because I couldn’t stop laughing! So yeah, that was it.” She paused, waiting for Étienne to react, but when he didn’t, she continued, a little hesitantly. “I figured you’d get a good laugh out of that. I swear, they have nothing better to do during their lunch break. Y’know, during important city meets.”

 Étienne felt the words crash over him like an unsuspecting wave, knocking the breath out of him. Every word – every little casual reminder of what he once had with Edward opened up a new wound. He could feel his chest grow tight with grief and he wanted to both yell at Emma to stop and run away as far as possible from the horrible truth. Instead, he remained immobile, there in the middle of the hallway, next to the umbrella carrier, unable to say anything or stop Emma from going on, as knife after knife pierced through his whole body and he was left paralysed and bleeding, realising that he had lost the greatest thing to have ever happened to him.

 “Étienne? Are you even listening? You’re not laughing.” It was then that Emma chose to turn around and look at him. It was then that she saw the tears that were clouding Étienne’s eyes and the tremble in his shoulders. She gasped, her eyes widening in horror as she put everything together, a moment too late. Somehow, she knew that something had happened and that what she had thought had been this great, amusing misunderstanding had actually turned out to be true.

 “Oh no,” She whispered, walking over to her friend.  “Sweetie, no. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know...” She caught Étienne in her arms as he fell into them and the first broken sob escaped his lips. She held him close, hugging him tightly and let him cry on her shoulder for however long he needed. Emma rubbed his back and knew that no amount of comforting words could mend his broken heart. She had at least nineteen different questions running through her mind – absolutely needed to know how Étienne had let this happen, but right now, her friend needed her and that came first.

 II

“Alright, up you get.” Emma ordered, marching into her living room. Étienne looked up from his nest of blankets and turned away.

 “C’mon; you’ve been slouching about for two weeks now. We’re going out. Take a shower, please, and change out of your pajamas. I beg of you.” She said, poking at the blankets and effectively finding one ticklish leg.

 Étienne glared at her and then resumed ignoring his friend, after he had tucked his leg away from her long fingers. Emma rolled her eyes, made sure to hide the bag she had been carrying with her on the floor, on the side of the couch, and then went to sit next to him, ignoring his faint protests and any limbs she may have squished. She kept poking his stomach, while Étienne wiggled about and tried to squirm away.

 “Étienne – please. You really do need to shower, by the way. You smell.”  She added matter of fact, crinkling her nose for effect.  

 Étienne spared her a glance. “How can I smell? I’ve done nothing but live on your couch.” He mumbled.

 Emma took it as a small victory. She had at least gotten Étienne to talk to her. It was already better than the lack of communication he had been giving her for the past few days.

 “Well, you still need to bathe every so often, regardless of what you do or not do.” She paused, a smile creeping on her face. “Y’know, I can’t believe you’ve managed to shave for the past two weeks, but no bathing.”

 “Don’t like the beard.” He spat out, showing more energy than he had since he had arrived.

 She rolled her eyes. “I know, but now you will get up, wash, change, and we are going out. You’re usually a riot at the clubs and I need you to liven up this bunch.”

 “Don’t wanna.” He grumbled again, turning his back to her. He pulled the blanket over his head and figured she would leave him alone.

 He was wrong.

 Emma yanked the blanket away, ignoring his hiss and continued on. “If you don’t come, I’m revoking your bagel privileges.” Emma watched with smug satisfaction as Étienne’s eyes widened and she reached for the bag she had hidden moments ago, revealing the familiar logo of Étienne’s favourite bagel shop.

 “You wouldn’t.”

 “Oh, I would. Now, tell me you’ll do as I say and I will give you a bagel.” She wiggled the bag before his eyes and Étienne made to lunge for the bag, but then stopped midway.

 “Fairmount or Viateur?”

 “Viateur, who do you take me for? I’ve learnt my ways. I’m not some pleb.”

 Étienne nodded in approval and made to take the bag, just as Emma put it out of his reach.

 “Ah, ah, ah, you didn’t say you were gonna come.”

 Étienne rolled his eyes and consented, the idea of fresh bagels more important than not taking a bath for another day. “Good boy. You may have your bagels.” She decided to be nice, feeling bad for Étienne, and handed the bag. Emma watched with amusement as he eagerly took one out and tore into it. It was the most enthusiasm he had shown in weeks and it made her worry just a little bit less.

 “How d’you get these?” He asked, mouth full.

 “I have a friend who was coming in from Montreal today and I called in a favour.”

 Étienne nodded approvingly and munched on his bagel.

 “You know, I think going out will do you some good – hell, you might even pick up tonight.” She teased, nudging his shoulder.

 “Not interesting in picking up.” He answered, his voice going soft and distant.

 “Why not? You’re usually always looking for an excuse to get laid.”Emma knew she was being nosy, but Étienne hadn’t been himself in so long that if he was going to be moody and silent, she was going to poke and prod until he either answered her or lashed out and let everything out. The second option wouldn’t be pretty, but Emma knew her friend better than most and knew that the longer Étienne kept his feelings bottled up, the uglier it would get.

 “Well maybe I’m finally reformed – maybe I’m done with the old ways – maybe I just want a fucking break, Ems. Let it be, Christ.” He snapped, defensive. There was nowhere for him to run to and he felt trapped.

 “I just want you to have fun and live a little – don’t want you to miss out on the lay of your life because you’re head was stuck in your ass, or something.”She added, daring to joke with him, despite his mood. Emma had long ago realised that the best way to get Étienne to stop fixating on a problem was to distract him and make fun of the situation at hand, until he realised how ridiculous and over the top he was being. It was a band-aid solution, she knew it, but if it could work one more time, she wasn’t about to complain.

 “As if – everyone knows your city is boring and full of old people.”

 Normally, Emma would have hit Étienne with something, but when she saw him crack a small smile – the first she had seen since he had arrived at her place, she dared to hope the worst was behind them.

 She still decided to hit him with a pillow.

 “And yet how many cabinet members did you sleep with that one time?”

 “That was once – and they weren’t even from here.”

 “Excuses, excuses, Maisonneuve. And what about those senators, that other time?”

 “Which ones – the players or the ones from the hill?” He joked and Emma rolled her eyes.

 Étienne reached out for another bagel and usually, Emma would have chided him for it, but she let him be for now. Étienne was showing signs of his old self. She would take him overindulging in one too many bagels over the sombre mood he had been in and hollowed looks she had seen on his face. “Well, you never know. Just remember, if you do hookup, and you come back here, please tell your person not to parade naked in my kitchen. Again.”

 “C’m’om, Ems, that was like – once.” Étienne said, sounding mildly offended. He was a good houseguest.

 “Was not. There was that one guy. I did not want to see a stranger’s penis first thing in the morning, let me tell you. And then there was that girl. Also, largely uninterested in seeing anyone’s breasts while getting coffee. Breakfast with my friend’s fling of the night is already awkward enough. Unwanted nudity and sex noises are an entirely different type of awkward.”

 Étienne opened his mouth to pretest and then closed it, when he realised she was right.

 “Exactly.” She went on. “While we’re on the subject; if you bring anyone back, you can fuck all you want in the guest bedroom only. This couch, or my kitchen table are not good options. Or any other place, for that matter. Be a dear and change the sheets tomorrow, if you do.”

 “Yes, ma’am.” He interjected, saluting her with one arm, playing along as he often did. It was best to let Emma know he had understood the rules, before she went on one of her tangents.

 “I’m not done.” Étienne made the motion of zipping his lips shut. “If you decide to go off to someone’s apartment, be a dear and at least text me so I know you’re not dead in some ditch.”

 He waited a moment to make sure she was done, this time around. “Yes, boss.” He confirmed.

 “Good, glad we have that settled. Now, go change, you still smell.” She added, ruffling his hair affectionately, giving him an encouraging smile.

 III

Étienne looked away from the television when Emma plopped herself beside him and propped her feet on his thighs. She groaned, leaning back, and undid the belt to her skirt.

 “Fucking hate meetings.” She complained, one hand draped across her face.

 Étienne spared her a glance and chuckled to himself. “Busy day?” He offered, lowering the volume of the television.

 “I swear, if I hear one more asshole complain about anything, I will chop his head off and feed it to the goats.”

 “Goats don’t –”

 “I don’t care!” She cut him off. “I’m done.”

 Étienne laughed quietly, amused, and they fell silent for a while.

 “Massage my feet.” She ordered, more than asked, putting one foot on one of his hands.

 “Ew, no.” Étienne pushed her foot away, trying to make it fall off the couch.

 “Étienne, be nice to me. I’ve been feeding you. My feet are sore.” She wiggled her foot in front of his face and he tried to squirm away.

 “No, I’m not your masseur.”

 “Étieeeennnneeee...” She placed her foot directly on his face and having had enough, Étienne nipped at it gently, eliciting a yelp from Emma, who retracted her foot, surprised.

 “What the hell? You bit my foot, Maisonneuve.”

 “Serves you right! You had it in my face. ” He laughed, while she glared at him.

 “I bet you wouldn’t lick it.” She challenged him, sitting up.

 “Oh, you’re on.”

 Again, she brought her foot to Étienne’s face, just as he leant closer, tongue sticking out. Slowly, they inched closer to each other, looking at one another intently, until at the last moment, Emma pulled away abruptly, sitting on her feet.

  “You were actually going to lick it!”

 Étienne laughed and swung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him. “A bet is a bet.”

 “Oh my God, why are you like this? You’re so weird.” She buried her face in his shoulder and wondered what she had ever done to have such a strange friend, but knew she wouldn’t have him any other way.

 IV

“Ems?” Étienne called out from the bedroom door, peering inside the dark room.

 “Hmm?” She responded, shifting in bed.

 “Can I – Can I sleep with you?” He hesitated, voice small.

 “For the love of God – I’m not interested.” She tried to joke, sensing that something bigger was troubling her friend.

 Étienne rolled his eyes and stepped inside. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. Can I just sleep with you, please? It’s lonely out in the guestroom.”

 Emma sighed, but moved over and pulled the covers back, letting Étienne in. He got comfortable, fluffing the pillow and Emma spooned behind him, far too used to this. She felt her friend slowly settle and relax, as she brushed his hair away from his neck and nuzzled his shoulder affectionately.

 “Thanks.” He mumbled, drowsy with sleep.

 “Don’t mention it. You okay though?”

 “Yeah. Just lonely.” He answered and Emma didn’t want to think what exactly he meant by that.

 “You know,” She started, trying to avert Étienne’s mind from whatever dark hole it was probably going to. “I have a theory; I think you’ve spent so many nights sleeping with people that you don’t know how to sleep alone anymore.” She joked, poking his stomach.

 Étienne gave a weak chuckle and took hold of her hand, lacing their fingers together. He didn’t want to worry Emma with his vagabond thoughts, but he knew that staying alone in the guestroom wouldn’t be wise for him at this time.

 “Hmm, maybe you’re onto something.” He murmured, trying to reassure her that he was okay for the moment. “‘Night, Ems, love you.” He added, letting his friend’s presence lull him into a cocoon of comfort and familiarity.

 “Love you too, Étienne.” She responded, giving his hand a squeeze, her voice a little thick with unspoken emotions.

 FIN 49

 Started writing: May 5th 2017, 8:19am

Finished writing: May 6th 2017, 7:32pm

Started typing: August 26th 2017, 11:12pm

Finished typing: September 24th 2017, 8:57pm

#pc: montreal #pc: ottawa #étienne maisonneuve #emma whatshername #emma dubois #fic #canon whatever #perfect cities

[telltheworld-phff]

Chapter 7: Turning the tide

What Carol didn't know is that Harry was expecting something to leak. Every morning he would wake up expecting to see a missed call from Edward or his grandmother with the new tabloid's headline. He was expecting a history about how he had dinner with a co-worker in Brazil or details about his night in a Brazilian night club. He could almost see all the made up things the press would publish, but although he wouldn't admit it he was expecting that things he had told her to make the headlines. If they ever made the headlines, it'd disappoint him in so many levels. Even though he knew they all had signed NDA's, he knew that sometimes it wasn't enough for someone not to sell him. He waited the ball to drop every single day after he left São Paulo, but since after he was back in London, not a single word about the time he spent with her hit the news.

And he was grateful for that. Grateful for having trusted her with small bits of information. Some of them were true and others were not, something that he hated doing to anyone he met, but that was necessary for him to know if he could trust the person or not. Four weeks have passed since he left São Paulo, and specially that morning, he'd have to talk to her again. He was surprisingly excited. He kind of missed their banter. And Edward needed some more explanation in one of the reports she made. Harry had wanted to talk to her since he left, but he couldn't find a good reason to. And this morning he took advantage of the British punctuality to time the best hour to speak. Harry made sure to ask for Carol's report when Edward was busy and with packed work. He played an act of "I need it now", and Edward just asked him to wait a little bit before he would look for Carolina's number and call her. If it was any other day, Harry would just come back to his office and wait for the paper, but now he wanted an excuse to talk to her. "I'm going to call her myself, Ed.", Harry said already looking through the files where she added personal information in. He got her phone number and with a mischievous smile he went back to his office. He sat a his chair with her number in his hands and wondered a little bit if it was the right thing. If he was completely honest, the report was already very good and it was ready to be signed and archived. Harry had spent the last three days looking for faults in it, and it was so damn hard to find. But he found some information that hadn't made the cut (because they weren't needed in the report) and started asking Edward to change it or have someone to do it. He grabbed his work phone and added her number. It took him a couple more minutes before he texted her. H: Hey Carol. What's up? He didn't want to check on his phone every five minutes, so he set it aside and found something to work with. He started sorting his emails and trying to not think about it. He even scolded himself for being so nervous about talking to her again. She was a colleague. She's Carol. Only Carol. And he had a girlfriend. 45 minutes later an answer made his phone buzz. C: Who's it? Her phone buzzed beside her and woke her up. Who was texting her at 6:00 am? She could sleep at least 40 more minutes before she had to get ready for school and someone was daring to text her at that time of the morning. She cursed a bit before grabbing her phone to discover who was about to hear a very pissed Carolina complaining about messages at that ungodly hour of the day. She thought she was still sleeping when she saw way too many numbers in the screen. There was a message from an unknown number, from London (which she discovered after a quick Google research). She wasn't going to answer it. She didn't know anyone that lived in London anyway. She got up and went to the bathroom to have a shower. After she finished, and she was more awake now, it hit her: It might be Harry. But she then laughed at herself. Why would Prince Harry be texting her? She was going crazy. Prince Harry wouldn't waste his time texting her. But the message did say "Carol", so it wasn't just a coincidence, was it? Her curiosity got the best of her and she answered it while she was fixing her some breakfast. The answer came faster than she thought. H: Forgotten me already, have you? ;) It was him after all. She didn't have to ask. She'd recognize that tone and that sass anywhere. She stopped eating midway when the answer arrived, she even spit a bit of the orange juice she was drinking. How did he find her number? Why was him texting her? C: Probably have. Since I don't really know who you are... Harry rolled his eyes. For someone as smart as Carol, she should've noticed right away who it was. As long as he knew, the only person she knew that lived in London was him. Or Edward. Or one of his PO's. But why would any of them text her if not him. Duh. He typed and erased the answer a few times before hitting send. H: It's your favorite prince! Carol decided to have some fun and she never typed an answer as fast as the next one she sent to him. C: Carl Philip! :O How did you get my number? Harry rolled his eyes. Again. H: Not Carl Philip... C: Haakon, then? H: No, Carolina. It's not Carl Philip and not Haakon. It's the best looking prince in the UK. With his reply she laughed out loud. Harry could be so full of himself when he wanted. She was hot, of course. But she wouldn't admit that out loud... or, worse, to him. So she decided to push even further to see what he was going to say. C: George! I didn't know you knew how to type that well being only 3 years old. But yeah... How's Lupo and Marvin? H: Fuck off, Carolina. C: Your Royal Highness, what do I owe this pleasure of waking me up at 6 am? H: Oh. I'm sorry. I forgot we were in different time zones. C: That was awfully unkind of you. My sleeping pattern is a sacred thing. But since you're a prince - not the very best looking one, btw - I won't tell you off. I'm on my way to school. In that moment Harry laughed out loud. Carolina's sleeping pattern came as close as a hibernating bear. He wouldn't mention it to her, but she was the most sleepy person he knew so far. H: I said I'm sorry. So... how are you? C: I'm fine and you? How did you get my number? H: I'm alright. And I just looked through your file. But I also could've asked James Bond to fetch it for me. C: Should I know why would you disturb Mr. Bond's fight against criminals just to get a phone number? H: We need something from you... And then he explained what was needed of her and he hoped that she'd find a good enough reason for contacting her after so many time. Somehow he thought she'd know it was just an excuse to talk to her again. As always, she said she'd get to work on it when she was back at home. They texted each other for a little longer before she turned her phone off to pay attention in the class that was about to start. When she arrived home she opened her e-mail to see the message she received a few hours before. She soon did what was asked and sent it to Edward and Harry saying she was available for any necessary changes on the file. While she worked, another e-mail came in her inbox. She had been selected to participate in a job interview. The company remained in confidentiality and she'd have to be there next afternoon. She considered not going to the interview. Just because when the company didn't show it's name, it meant that it was shitty position in a shitty place. She answered the e-mail asking for more information about the job position and what field would she be working on. She turned on her radio and started singing along while she cleaned her whole house. She was doing everything she could to not think about her last encounter with Rodrigo. She could say that the love she felt for him, was disappearing. Slowly but constantly disappearing and she was looking forward for the day where she'd not feel anything for him. She actually got a reply from the company. It wasn't a detailed job position, but she could at least see that it was a communication company and that she'd get an internship in revising and editing texts and internal communication. She confirmed her presence and started to prepare for the interview: looking for the address online, getting the information about the buses she'd have to take to get there, picking out an outfit and to print her new portfolio. To avoid disappointments, she didn't mention it to her mom. They chatted for a bit after dinner that night. "You know, Flavio asked me to go have dinner with him on Friday.", she said sitting on her daughter's bed. She was biting her lip, a clear sing she was nervous about the topic they were chatting about. "And what did you say?", Carol looked at her mother. "I said that I had to think about it. Meaning that I'd ask you first. What do you think about it?", her mom was looking for a sincere answer. "Well... you're 60 and you're asking me permission to go on a date with a guy? That's weird.", she laughed and her mom only rolled her eyes. "I mean. If you want to go out with him, then do. You're a single woman." "You won't be upset with me?", her mom asked. "No. You deserve to be happy for a change. Both of you are single and grown ups.", she smiled. Her mom got up and kissed her forehead before leaving the bedroom. "Is now the time we should have the talk?" "What talk?", her mom was confused. "The talk about where babies come from and how two people who really like each other hug..." "Shut up, Carolina!", her mom interrupted her rambling and opened the door to leave her bedroom. "But I don't want anyone pregnant, miss!", Carol yelled jokingly when her mom left. --- She arrived at the place of the interview a few minutes before the time they asked her to. She entered the building and gave her ID at the reception. She was headed to the 5th floor and waited for a while. There were ten people waiting with her. She tried to look for a sign to discover where she actually was. But probably it was just a building rented for a HR company to make the interviews for the employers. The interview was like many others she did. A Portuguese test, that she always finished first; a journalism test, an English test and a brief conversation where they asked about her work experience, her hobbies and how she saw herself in 5 years. They asked about the time she was a freelancer at WorldWide and she told them the work she helped to develop there. The woman interviewing her seemed interested but she asked her to wait on the outside for a couple minutes. This time, though, she got to talk to the supervisor. And that's when she was a bit more relaxed, she knew she had done something right. Talking to a supervisor or a manager was always a good sign. They chatted for a few minutes and he said what she was waiting for the past months: "I think this is it. You're part of our team. You had the best scores in all the tests we gave you." She wanted to scream and run and scream again. But she just smiled and thanked them for the opportunity. He explained what her tasks would be, payments and hours and every practical thing for when you're starting a new job. And that's when she got to know the name of the company: she was the new trainee at BBC Headquarters in Brazil. She couldn't believe it that an non eye-catch ad had led her to be employed at BBC. She had been accepted in one of the greatest companies of media and communication in the world. It took her a few minutes to calm down, for her hands to stop shaking and to her breathing to go back to normal. She thanked her new boss and left with all the necessary paperwork for her admission. Losing no time, she went to all the needed places she had to before going home. When she got there, her mom was making dinner and had a worried expression on her face. "Carolina! Where were you?", she said drying her hands on her apron. "I was doing an interview, mãe.", Carol answered putting her bag away. "Why didn't you tell me? How was it?", her mom seemed interested and surely more relieved now that her daughter was home. "Because I was tired of always telling you and coming home with bad news. Today, though, I got the job!" "You did? OH MY GOD! OF COURSE YOU DID! I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU", she said hugging her daughter. "Yes, mãe, I did.", she was smiling. "Where are you going to work at?" "BBC." "Holy shit! You serious?", her mom had her hands over her mouth. "Yes! I didn't know it was there until this afternoon, though. But I start Monday". "Oh, thank God! I am so proud of you, Carol." "Thank you mom.", she said smiling at her mom "I'm going to finish dinner and then we can eat, ok? Now I wish I had done something more special for us to celebrate. On the weekend I'll make your favorite food and a cake. You know, your grandmother always said everything gets better with a cake." "Yeah...", Carol said laughing and going to her bedroom to change clothes. She sighed relieved while sitting on her bed. Not only she was now employed, but in her field of study and in one of the best places to have an internship in. She looked for her phone inside her bag and took a deep breath. She texted Julia and was happy with her friend's reactions. Lots of smiling pictures and thumbs up... and even an improvised "well done" sign. However there was another person to share her big secret. The one that made sure to give her an excellent recommendation letter. Carol smiled and texted the number he texted her a few days before, hoping it was really his. C: I got a job! The answer came a few minutes later while she was changing her clothes. H: You did? That's great! Where? C: At BBC. Harry sat up on his bed surprised when he saw what she had written. If anyone would get a job at BBC that person would be her. But he knew it was a very competitive place and worried a little about it. H: REALLY? She laughed then. Everyone was reacting the same way. C: Yes! I just got home from the interview. H: Congratulations, Carol. I knew you'd be working soon. C: Thank you, Harry. Your letter of recomendation helped me a lot. He got distracted with other texts on his personal phone and took a while to answer. She was getting ready to sleep when her phone buzzed beside her. H: But I didn't put my name on it, nor anything Royal related, though. So the merit is all yours. How are you? C: I'm alright. And you? He couldn't tell her the news his grandmother had given him a few hours before, that had killed his humor and made him upset. Nor could he comment on his relationship with Meghan, because it was still a secret. So he went the easiest way. He lied about how he was feeling. H: I'm great. I've got a few free days. C: Always good to have those. H: Yeah. And your mom? How is she? C: She's great. Has a date on Friday. He was trying to keep his mind of it, but all he could hear was his grandmother's voice inside his head repeating those awful news over and over again. He got up and went to the kitchen to drink water. He took only a sip before putting the bottle inside the fridge again. H: Yeah? That's good for her. How are you feeling about it? C: Normal, I guess. I don't really know him. Only a few stories my mom told me. H: Hopefully he's a good lad. C: Hopefully he'll make her happy. That's all that matters to me really. H: That's important, yes. C: So, what are you doing with your free time? He was doing fine, to be honest and was enjoying his free time up until this afternoon. H: Sleeping, mostly. Your panda habits really stuck with me. Then hitting a few pubs with some friends and resting. We're going to have a busy couple of months ahead of us. C: Make sure you're well rested, Your Royal Highness. He went back to his bedroom and rolled his eyes when he read her reply. H: Why do you always have to say that? C: It is your title after all :) H: Never a fan of both the title and that smiley face to be honest. C: No? Why not? I shall call you Your Royal Pickiness then. H: It's a long history... But not calling me Your Royal Pickiness either. C: Can't a girl have fun? She actually pouted while texting that. H: At me? No. With me? Hell yes.

#When you tell the world you're mine #chapter: 7 #phff

[thesinglesjukebox]

SHANIA TWAIN - LIFE'S ABOUT TO GET GOOD [5.56] Before we get all critical: OOOOMMMMGGG YASSS SLAY ME SHANIA. WHERE IS THE VIDEO!!! Ahem.

Stephen Eisermann: This song has me so conflicted. Sure, Shania is believable is hell when she tells us "I trusted you so much, you're all that mattered," and her wordplay is still quick and witty, but there was something missing. I couldn't figure it out at first as I was too entranced by the novelty and newness of the track, but my sister sums it up best: "why does Keith Urban sound like that?" Oh yeah... her voice. Gone is the playful bounce in her voice that made songs like "Up!" and "Man! I Feel Like a Woman" so fun and light, replaced instead by an overly processed, husky voice that seems to struggle to stay on key. I realize how harsh it is, but I dare any Shania fan to play the songs side by side and tell me they don't hear a distinct difference -- it's jarring. Really. Still, I can't help but root for someone who is willing to be so plainly vulnerable, as when she simply states "I had to believe that things would get better." Though celebrity transparency in popular music has become more common (in big part thanks to women for being so brave, holla!) most of these truths are captured in primarily sad songs, but Shania lays it all on the table and refuses to be negative about her truth. So I'll follow her path, now, and choose instead to view the wrong turns in my life in a positive light, rather than drowning my sorrows with Adele in one hand, and a glass of Lemonade in the other. [7]

Alfred Soto: A post-divorce affirmation that treats mixing board drollery as a delight as unexpected as being newly single, "Life's About to Get Good" reminds audiences that Shania Twain invented the virtual arena. Lots of artists, from Alabama to Garth Brooks, had filled stadiums; Twain and co-writer/producer/ex Robert "Mutt" Lange treated songs like 60,000 Vox amplifiers ready for Wembley. I have little invested in her career or her ex's other than to note how I wish she'd fronted Def Leppard, and not much to say about "Life's About to Get Good" other than to succumb, faintly, to its good cheer. [6]

Ryo Miyauchi: Like "Up!" 15 years before it, "Life's About to Get Good" is a little lie Shania tells herself to keep her head together. Even she knows it's a ridiculous fib to counteract a shattering break-up; I can't hear her signature brand of blind optimism without also picking up a hint of sarcasm. It's admittedly a difficult lie to believe during these times even for this Shania fan. But her school of thought also does make my other, more negative options -- sulking, bickering or whatever else -- a useless course of action, if only for a moment. [5]

Katie Gill: Look I'm not even gonna fucking PRETEND to be impartial here. The queen of the country pop crossover is back with a new album and an amazing new song! It's a light, summer jam, with Shania just brushing off the dirt off her shoulders and going "Mutt Lange WHO?" The blissful and breezy instrumentation hides so much beautiful pettiness. "It's time to forget you forever" she cheerfully sings in a 'fuck it, I don't care' sort of tone, giving it a matter of fact spin where other artists would have gone for petulant or nasty. Who cares if it sounds a bit too much like Little Big Town's "drunk on wine coolers with the other moms" phase? It's new Shania! She's amazing! This song is amazing! Go buy her album in September! [8]

Thomas Inskeep: I was worried about this one, going in. I'm a huge Shania fan -- but I also recognize that a huge part of her previous success was her ex-husband and former producer and co-writer, "Mutt" Lange. He gave her records a Def Leppard kick which made them sound like nothing else in country music through the '90s and '00s. But that said, Shania's the one who sold those records, not only writing most of her own lyrics, but delivering them like no one else could. 2011's "Today Is Your Day" didn't exactly engender much goodwill, either. And the producers on "Life's About to Get Good" are Matthew Koma -- best known for co-writing Zedd's "Clarity" and working with a slew of EDM producers -- and Ron Aniello. Aniello's presence clearly helps; he produced the last two Bruce Springsteen studio albums (along with a bunch of Adult Top 40 mush by the likes of Lifehouse and Barenaked Ladies, to be fair) and, I'm guessing, adds the country touch, while Koma gives it a shiny pop sheen. To be fair, this isn't much of a country record, sounding much more pop even if it's got a banjo riffing through it. But that's okay, because Shania sounds genuinely happy again, rising like the proverbial phoenix from the ashes of her horrific break-up from Lange (which she references in the song's lyrics) and looking forward positively. This is also very much a summery sing-a-long kind of song. Is it amazing? No. Is it good? Yeah. Is it good enough? Yep. So I'll take it, and hope for more from her forthcoming first new studio album in 15 years. *crosses fingers* [7]

Julian Axelrod: There's something about the new Shania Twain single that's charmingly out of time, and not just because I typed "new Shania Twain single" in 2017. It's expertly made mom music, the perfect end-credits song for the type of romantic comedy Hollywood doesn't make anymore. But there's also something refreshing about hearing a woman in her 50s sing about real adult pain. The details of the verses are heartbreaking (especially in the context of Shania's divorce from Mutt Lange) but they make the chorus all the more triumphant. It takes real strength to forgive the people who hurt you and do what's best for yourself, and I admire Shania so much for turning her pain into a universally resonant rallying cry. After 15 Twain-free years, we finally know what she's been up to: learning, growing, and overcoming. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: I know Shania didn't plan on completely losing her voice a couple years ago, but, well, you can tell. It would be excusable if the arrangement didn't suggest that Up! didn't just have red, green and blue mixes, but also beige. [1]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: I'm by no means a big Shania Twain fan but she could occasionally use and transcend her frustratingly simple and cliché-ridden lyrics to capture something universal. Her M.O. is inherently dangerous though, as it's easy for something familiar and straightforward to sound mundane and trite. "Life's About to Get Good" doesn't have anything I find completely egregious but Twain's characteristically peppy demeanor and shimmering production feel like they're (once again) compensating for lyrics that could essentially appear on a Hallmark card. That this was produced by someone who's worked with artists involved in the contemporary Christian music scene is, to say the least, unsurprising. But hey, this is exactly what a Shania Twain song in 2017 would sound like so those who love her will presumably enjoy this. [3]

Edward Okulicz: Can't decide whether playing with the different meanings of "about" as the basis of a chorus is clever or cloying, but all great Shania songs have danced on the borderline between those two. This one's not great, though -- no more than fine. Chosen as a single by her son apparently and I hope it's a poor choice as it sounds like a middling album track. Not that there's any shame in being a middling Shania Twain album track, because even when they weren't of the same quality as the Twainbangers you know and love and karaoke when blind drunk, she attacked them with conviction. Her voice evidently no longer has the same contagious buoyancy that some of her frothiest songs benefited from (compare this to "C'est La Vie" or "Whatever You Do! Don't!" -- two marvellous non-singles of hers). Fortunately, Twain was never one to give out her album's best song as its lead single, so the album campaign might yet be about to get good. [6]

[Read and comment on The Singles Jukebox ]

#Shania Twain #Life's About To Get Good

[terriblelifechoices]

Proooooommmpppptttt time!!! Okay, can you do #15: "That was a perfect example of what NOT to do" for Graves and someone from his team? Maybe Bluebird or Dorothy yelling at him for landing himself in the medwing whilst Credence is quietly panicking in the corner?

Hi!  Alright, so, this kind of got away from me and Credence decided that nobody puts Baby in a corner, so have some BAMF!Credence instead.  Enjoy?

It’s the Quiet Ones You Need to Watch Out For

Percival had told him once that it was hard, being an Auror’s spouse, because it meant caring for someone whose job frequently put them in danger.  No one could escape every danger unscathed; getting hurt on the job was an occupational hazard.  There would always be someone faster on the draw, and sometimes your luck just plain ran out.  Percival’s scars were proof enough of that, and Percival was the best Auror Credence knew.  (He was, Credence admitted, a little bit biased about that, seeing as he was married to the man, but MACUSA never would have made Percival Head of MLE if he hadn’t been damn good at what he did.)  Having a support group made being an Auror’s spouse easier, because there would always be someone who had been there before to be there for you when things fell apart.  

No one had ever mentioned what you were supposed to do when you and your support group needed support at the exact same time for the exact same reason.

Credence looked over at Dorothy Collins, carefully projecting calm and shoving his rising hysteria down as deep at it would go.  He needed to be strong for Dorothy, who was his best friend and his sister in every way except for blood.  She didn’t have quite as much experience with her husband being injured in the line of duty as Credence did.  Alex was much smarter than Percival, sometimes.

Dorothy caught him looking at her and put a brave smile on her face, dabbing at her red-rimmed eyes with a delicately embroidered handkerchief.  “Everything’s going to be just fine,” she told him.

“Of course it is,” he said soothingly.  “They’re both tougher than they have any right to be.  They’ll pull through.”

Credence was being strong for Dorothy, and Dorothy was being strong for him.  Maybe they could get through this together, after all.  Credence didn’t mention the death grip Dorothy had on his hand, just like Dorothy wouldn’t mention that he was holding back just as hard.

“We were going to start trying for another baby,” Dorothy said, so quiet Credence thought he’d imagined it at first.  “So the new baby and Sammy don’t grow up too far apart.”

“Gally will be jealous,” Credence observed.  Galahad thought that Sammy Collins was his, after all.  “Or he’ll decide that the new baby is his, too.”  Galahad had the Graves possessive streak in spades.  Credence couldn’t decide if it was genetic or merely a byproduct of being two; Galahad thought that everything was his, unless it was broken and couldn’t be played with.

“You could give him a little brother or sister of his own,” Dorothy pointed out.

“I’d like that,” Credence said.  The idea had been brewing in the back of his mind for awhile now.  He hadn’t mentioned it to Percival, not just yet.

“I can’t do this without him,” Dorothy said, bursting into tears. “I can’t do this alone, Credence, I can’t.”

“Alex is not going to die,” Credence said firmly, pulling Dorothy into a hug.  “And you wouldn’t be alone.  You’d have me and Percival and Gally and all the cousins, not that it matters because Alex isn’t going to die.”

“You can’t promise that,” Dorothy said, muffled against his shoulder.

“Of course I can,” said Credence.  “I’ll give you my word as a Graves on it, even.”  He’d seen the Bluebird work miracles before, and Charlotte Summersea was shaping up to be almost as good as the Bluebird was.

He Apparated them both to St. Brigid’s hospital, bypassing the chaos of the Emergency Room and heading straight for the private ward.  He gave the nurse at the front desk a narrow eyed look when she tried to stop him, pulling his magic around him like a cloak.  “My name,” he said, very clearly, “is Credence Graves.  This is Dorothy Collins.  We are both here to see our stupid, reckless idiot husbands, and if you try to get in my way I will rip this building apart brick by brick.”

“I don’t think there’s any need for that,” Daniel Hughes said, trotting towards them.

“Daniel?” Credence asked, surprised to see the youngest Hughes sibling.  “What are you doing here?  Is Win alright?”

“Win’s fine,” said Daniel.  “Got a goose egg, but it’s not like that’s going to slow her down for very long.”  He smiled at the nurse.  “It’s alright, Meredith.  They’re on the list.  You could have just introduced yourself,” he pointed out, “rather than coming over all Scary Bastard like.”

“Being a Scary Bastard is faster,” Credence said.  “What happened?  John’s pigeon didn’t say.”

“What happened,” Tina said, sounding angrier than Credence had heard her in a long time, “is that your husband is an idiot.”

“I think you might need to narrow that down a bit, darlin’,” Daniel drawled.

“Call me darlin’ one more time, I dare you,” Tina said.  “Merlin’s balls, I should’ve moved to England with Newt.”

Daniel, who had been in Thunderbird a couple years ahead of Tina, did not actually possess a death wish and kept his mouth shut.

“Graves,” Tina continued, “decided that he’d put himself between me and a No-Maj with a souvenir hand grenade from the war!  As if I wasn’t perfectly capable of casting my own Shield charm, or Apparating out of the blast radius!  Which I did, which is why I am not sitting in a hospital bed of my own.”  She folded her arms across her chest.  “I can’t tell if it’s his training he doesn’t trust, or if it’s me.”

“Oh my god,” Credence said, using the hand that wasn’t clutching Dorothy’s to pinch the bridge of his nose to stave off the rage-induced headache.  “He trusts you, he’s just incapable of not acting on some stupid, self-sacrificing instinct.”

“What about Alex?” Dorothy asked.

“He’s an idiot too,” Tina said, scowling.  “Not as big an idiot as Graves, but he’s still an idiot.  He tried to save Graves from his own stupidity, and he got a nice concussion for his troubles.  So did Win, who had the foresight to cast a shield charm on them against the worst of the blast and forgot about all the flying debris.”  She huffed.  “I am surrounded by idiots.”

“My father’s not an idiot,” Charlotte Summersea pointed out, stepping out of the hospital room.  “He’s not best pleased about having to clean up the mess, either.”

Charlotte was wearing pale Healer trainee green.  The caduceus around her neck marked her as an apprentice Healer who had sat for her exams but not completed her last rotations yet.  She was almost done with training.  Credence could still remember her as a girl of eighteen, sitting in on his appointments with the Bluebird, because the Bluebird wanted her to get used to the nuances of the androgenesis spells.

It was strange to think of her as a healer in her own right, and not the Bluebird’s apprentice.

“How are they?” he asked.

“Sore, grumpy, and not looking forward to getting yelled at by everyone they know,” Charlotte said promptly.  “Aelinor’s already gone up one side and down the other, so they ought to be nice and tender for you, if you’d like to have a go.”

“I would,” Credence purred, all his worry transmuted into fury.  “I really would.”  He stalked, predatory, into the room where Aurors were triaged and treated.

Win, who had been arguing with the Bluebird, fell gratifyingly and immediately silent.  “Oh, shit,” she said.  “We fucked up.  We fucked up real bad.”

“Yes,” Credence agreed.  “Yes, you did.  Scale of one to ten, how are you feeling?”

“Three?” Win asked, which was Auror for five.  Win wasn’t completely reckless, and she only tended to lie about two degrees on the Auror Pain Scale.

“Alex?” Credence inquired.

“Also three?” Alex offered, looking miserably at his wife.  “Aw, Dorothy, don’t cry.”

“Don’t you tell me what to do Alexander Edward Collins!”

That was probably a four, then.  Alex didn’t lie as much about his tolerance for pain.  

“Percival?”

“Zero,” Percival said, which meant five as well.  Percival was the worst patient in the world.  “I’m going to kill John.  He didn’t need to worry you unnecessarily.”

“Unnecessarily,” Credence repeated.  “Unnecessarily?!  You’re in the damned hospital, Percival, that’s exactly the kind of thing I need to know!  All John’s pigeon said was that you’d been hurt!  He didn’t mention that you’d gotten hurt being a complete jackass!  What possessed you, throwing yourself between Tina and a grenade like that.

“And you two,” he added, turning on Alex and Win.  “What is wrong with you?  Why did neither of you use the brains god gave you and put charms on yourselves, first?  Don’t even try to make excuses,” he warned, when Alex opened his mouth.  “I know Percival’s lectured you on it, because I’ve heard him do it so much I can recite it in my sleep.  Not that he’s any better,” he added tartly.  “You enormous hypocrite.”

“Aelinor?” Percival said weakly.  “A little help here?”

The Bluebird folded her arms across her chest.  “If you think I am going to do anything but stand here and enjoy this, Percival, you don’t know me half as well as I thought you did.”

“It was instinct,” Percival said feebly.

“It was stupid, and the perfect example of what not to do,” Credence retorted.

“Er.  Yes, that too,” Percival allowed.  “I’m sorry, love.”  He looked over at Dorothy.  “I owe you an apology as well.  I’m meant to take better care of your husband than I did.”

Dorothy pursed her lips, looking torn between delivering her own righteous lecture and bursting into tears.  Bursting into tears won, which made Alex jump out of his hospital bed and nearly fall over himself trying to get to her.

Credence made a mental note to ask Dorothy if she and Alex had already started trying for their second baby.  Dorothy wasn’t usually this much of a watering pot; she was better under stress than he was, most of the time.  She’d cried a lot while she was pregnant with Sammy, though.

“Oh, no,” Percival said.  He looked at Credence, utterly resigned to his fate.  “I’m sleeping on the couch for this, aren’t I?”

“You’re sleeping on Dindrane’s couch for this,” Credence told him, because it didn’t matter if Dorothy was pregnant or not, he still hated to see her cry.

“Right,” Percival sighed.

#my fic #Graves/Credence #fbawtft #Possible 'verse #prompt meme #thesilverqueenlady