#a title i’ve attempted to uphold since then

[sugarxlumps]

This is where you're weak, right?

Inspo Ep.~ when he's killing Hanami ... wrong timing, but I swear it nearly killed me I've been so horny all week, and these IG edits are not doing anything for my poor heart *:･ﾟ✧this is a doozy *:･ﾟ✧

EXPLICIT MDNI | NSFW | +18 ONLY

Warning: Smutty smut, degradation, choking, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap y'all), pet names (princess, sweetheart, etc ~~, size diff, dom!gojo, oral (both rec.), overstim, fluff if you tilt and squint

🚩it just gets worse after the break🚩 .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

As the strongest sorcerer and the boldest ego alive, it would be an understatement to say it annoys Gojo Satoru when you don’t give in to him. When you don’t give him the satisfaction of getting to hear you whine for him; if you’d ever just let him make you.

Alongside him you were one the strongest sorcerers, and sure you didn’t have his six eyes, but you worked damn hard and Gojo’s incessant bouts of flirting wasn’t going to ruin that. Especially since you were still considered a student, you had a lot more reputation to uphold.

He’s been feigning over you since he first laid eyes on you. It made him want you even more when you bit back with your sharp tongue and stubborn attitude at his attempts to get under your skin… and the fact that he was handsome as all hell DEFINITELY didn’t make matters better for you.

You borderline hated being alone with him, it made for a distraction-free zone for him and his piercing six eyes to bore down on you from his height to target you.

“Oh c’mon y/n, mission wasn’t that bad was it?” Gojo smirked through twirling a lollipop in his mouth.

“It is if you keep tagging along, Gojo” you rolled your eyes, “I don’t need you here” you huffed, continuing forward. Since you were recommended by Nanami as a special grade, someone other than him had to accompany you on your first mission… only this wasn’t your first.

“You’d think I’d miss you in action? You’re a rare sight ya know” Gojo tilted his glasses to give you a sly wink. You rolled your eyes and continued to walk on while his eyes remained glued on the sway of your hips, the way your uniform skirt grazed your upper thigh teasing him with a view of your cheeks.

It drove him mad trying to imagine what color panties you had on.

“Why in such a hurry, princess? Dying to get back to my place already?” He kept pressing, easily slinging his arm around you small stature. His sheer height alone was domineering in comparison to yours, let alone his actual strength.

“Aw not the silent treatment” Gojo pouted sarcastically, finishing his lollipop with a smack of his lips.

“You’re annoying and I don’t want you here” you huff plainly, not bothering to sugarcoat. “I’ve passed every single mission and still haven’t been given my promotion yet cause you keep failing me, Gojo”

“You don’t need that shitty title anyways” he shrugged, “we all know what you are … I know what you are” he peered down sending you another wink.

You rolled your eyes and shoved his arm off your shoulder.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” You questioned heatedly

Gojo put his hands up in defense “You’re so uptight, y/n. My guess is somewhere in that stubborn attitude and sharp tongue of yours, you’re just dying to have someone loosen you up” he grinned cheekily

“Am not. Of course you’d put it that way. I have my fair share of ‘loosening up’ Gojo, I don’t need your sympathy” you defended.

He stepped toward you, instantly snaking his large hand around your throat to give it a light squeeze and forced your eyes to meet his before you could refuse.

“Then show me, princess”

His voice was low, commanding, dripping in another type of dominating tone you’ve never heard from him. It awakened a fire in your core you didn’t know could ever exist, especially in regards to him of all people. You regained your composure to glare back at him.

Gojo let out a breathy chuckle, the change in your expression and the submissive slack in your body failed to go unnoticed by him.

“Ah, there she is”, lips laced with that infamous devilish smirk of his. “Why do you fight me so much, y/n? How long has it been since you’ve ‘loosened up’ a bit, huh? Bet I could do it better for you, yeah?”

His lips threatened to graze yours. You grow lightheaded and hot from the proximity of your bodies and the pressure he puts on your neck with ease, sending pulses to the heat between your thighs. God am I really so horny right now that I’m fucking dizzy? How pathetic.

Your body betrays you, but you hold your ground.

“And what makes you think you’ve got what it takes to do that for me?”

Gojo scoffed, his hand on your throat pulled you to him, closing the distance between the two of you. Your lips connect and he pushes your body into his by your hips. You let a moan fall from your mouth as his hands roam to down to massage your ass.

He easily slips his tongue across your lips, grinding your body against his. You quickly melded into his touch, giving up whatever rebuttal you had for him. Your hands tugged on his hair and slid across his chest. You were so curious about what he looked like, you could feel how chiseled he was through his uniform.

You almost hated how good he made you feel. How good his tongue felt in your mouth and how you imagine it might be between your legs.

Gojo’s lips left yours abruptly, your mouth swollen and cheeks flushed.

“Well well sweetheart, something tells me I’ve got exactly what you need” he smirks.

Before you could snap back, you’re in his bedroom and he’s pushed you against the wall. For the initial milliseconds, you were curious to see what it looked like, after all you’ve never been to his place all these years. But the cold wetness in your underwear quickly reminded you of exactly how horny you were.

Gojo wastes no time placing his hands back on your body, as if they belonged there. He nudged his thigh between you legs, the contact on your pussy making you gasp.

He laughed darkly at your response to his mere touch. “Still think I’m annoying?”

You rolled your eyes, in both annoyance and pleasure from the way he kissed down you neck.

“Yes” you replied. You squirmed under his hot touch as he unbuttoned your uniform and stripping your bra, exposing your breasts.

You winced as he sucked them harshly, nipping and biting as he ground your hips onto his thigh.

“Tsk tsk your pussy’s telling me otherwise, pretty girl. You’re so wet just rubbing on my thigh like this” he hummed in satisfaction.

If it was even possible, more heat rose to your cheeks in embarrassment. God how did I get here.

Gojo simply laughed at your lack of response, continuing to mark your neck as he hooked his hands into the hem of your skirt. “Mm I’m always wondering what you’ve got goin' on under here”

He kneels down as he peels your skirt to pool at your feet and he stops instantly. Hands still on your hips, his glowing eyes remain glued to the dainty baby blue thong barely covering your mound.

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re gonna be the death of me” he whispers, kissing your hips and the fabric of your tiny blue thong. “It’s like you wore it just for me” he joked, entraining the sight to memory

You remained silent, cheeks still blushing and eyes looking anywhere but down at him.

Gojo paused to look up at you, that cocky grin beginning to spread across his handsome face again

“Oh c’mon now y/n, don’t tell me you actually wore these just for me?” He questioned again, but all you could do was look away and bite your cheek, making him laugh. “Looks like I wasn’t the only one waiting for this then” he massages your thighs, slinging your leg onto his shoulder as he kissed the fabric covering your entrance.

You sign at the sudden contact. You writhe under his tongue as he continues to lap over your panties, wishing he’d rip them off already. You hate to admit the fact you’ve thought about this exact moment, how his tongue would feel on your bare pussy. Yes, you got these with him in mind…as annoying as he was he drove you insane. You only imagined how handsome he’d look below you, making you cum on his tongue. And now here you are about to do just that

He pulls the cloth aside, licking his lips at the sight of your glossy entrance. “You’ve always been so stubborn with me, princess.” He teases, continuing to kiss everywhere but where you need him the most.The cold air making you jump as it hits your bare wet pussy.

“Always acting so tough… but this is where you’re weak, right?” He smirked, his bright blue eyes boring into yours as he licked a long heavy stripe between you slit. Your mouth falls open when a loud moan escapes you, eyes still connected to his godly ones as he devours you.

Like a deprived man, he ravished you. Lapping up every single drop from your pussy to savor. He hummed at the taste, eliciting another groan from you. “God baby, you taste so fucking good for me.”

Without warning, he slides two of his large capable fingers into your slit, making you toss your head and roll your eyes with a loud moan muffled by your hand. Though he was quick to remove it.

“Ah ah, princess. I’m not getting silent treatment from you anymore. Do that again and I won't let you cum tonight” he threatened. You whimper in reply.

Gojo resumes sucking on your clit and pumping his thick fingers in and out of your sopping pussy. The sight of him devouring you on his knees gave you a false sense of power seeing him this way. Seeing the strongest sorcerer on his knees for you, but with all the power and capability to make your own knees weak with just his tongue and fingers alone.

You moan loudly as he begins to curl his fingers into your sweet bundle of nerves, instantly cutting off your thoughts about how he could’ve found it so quickly and you feel your orgasm approaching already. You tangle your fingers in his soft silver hair, grinding your hips on him as he slips his tongue past your folds and circles his thumb around your clit.

The anticipation of heat builds deep in your tummy as your moans and breathing become more erratic, your grip on his hair tightening.

“C’mon baby, cum on my tongue already. I know ya want to. Like the needy little slut you are”

Your pussy clenches at his name for you, causing him to chuckle while still connected to your slit.

“So you like that, huh? Guess I’m not surprised. Why don’t you cum on my face then pretty girl, lemme see how much of a slut you are for me”

With his words, it only took a few more seconds for your orgasm to wash over you; leaving you shaking and weak under him as he practically holds you up by your hips. He doesn’t let up, slurping and savoring every drop from your soaking entrance while humming in satisfaction. Your moans continuing to spill was heavenly music to his ears and he’s waited too long to hear them. He wanted more.

Once he removes himself from beneath you, he helps to hold you up.

“I’m only getting started, sweetie. You can keep up, right?” He asked rhetorically, that annoyingly gorgeous smolder plastered on his face.

He locks his lips onto yours and you taste yourself as he slips his tongue to roam your mouth. Wanting more from him, you tug on his lip. Slowly releasing it from your teeth he groans, sending chills down your spine and a new wetness to your core.

He sweeps you up without removing his lips from yours and seats you both over to the edge of the bed as you straddle him. You feel his hard bulge straining under his pants and curse mentally to yourself at his size, and you haven’t even seen it yet.

“Greedy girl, always taking and taking. How bout you return the favor, hm?”

Regaining your strength, you slide off of him and down onto your knees as he stands. He removes his shirt and you unknowingly gawk at the godly man before you. God he’s even hotter than I’d imagined. All of his muscles chiseled and defined, like artwork.

“Go on sweetheart, do the honors” he orders. Your pussy throbs in anticipation as you undo his pants and remove his briefs.

You almost gasp at the sight, mouth agape you swear you might be drooling as you stare at the most perfect cock there could be.

Gojo chuckles at your cute expression in awe, “Don't get shy on me now”

You place your small hands around him and lick a long strip from his base to his tip without hesitation. He hisses at the sudden contact.

“Sensitive, huh?” You say breathily, not even noticing your own words. Gojo’s quick to grab your hair, forcing you to look up at him.

“Easy, princess. I see you still got that sharp tongue of yours. How bout you use it to suck this cock”

He guides your head to his cock and you take him whole, groaning as he bottoms out on your throat. His overwhelming girth and length brings tears to your eyes and he doesn’t let up. Bobbing your head on his dick, choking as you do so.

He doesn’t dare take his eyes off of you, committing it to memory. “Shit baby, keep sucking me like that.”

Gojo continues to abuse your mouth, your hands on his thighs as he thrusts his cock into your throat while guiding your head with his fingers in your hair.

Your eyes roll in pleasure and your pussy soaks even more.

“Ha- whatta needy slut you are, baby. All this time, that dirty mouth of yours just needed to be stuffed with my cock, huh?”

You moan in response to his degradation, tears now running down your cheeks.

You bring one of your hands to massage his balls while another delves between your legs to finger yourself. He growls at the contact and his cock twitches on your tongue.

“F-fuck” he chuckles breathily, “Horny brat wants my cum that bad?”

You moan in agreement as he continues on your throat relentlessly, you’re sure your throat will be bruised tomorrow.

“Ah, y/n I’m gonna fuckin cum” he grunts. He spills into your throat as you hum and swallow.

Gojo finally removes your head from his still-hard cock. He grabs your cheeks and taps for you to open your mouth.

You comply, showing him your tongue to prove you’ve swallowed all of him.

He scoffs, “Atta girl. So obedient for me already”

He lifts you up onto the bed and lays you down. Gojo’s quick to tower his body over yours, and he delves down to suck harshly at your nipple.

You moan at the sensitivity, and Gojo takes the opportunity to slide his fingers back into your pussy.

“Mm you’re so tight around my fingers already, baby. Whad’ya think it’ll be like around my cock?” He teased, pumping and curling his fingers into your g-spot. You grip and scratch at his arms, your back arching to him as you feel your orgasm bubble within you again.

He nips at your neck as he does so, bringing you closer to your brink. You pussy throbs, signaling your only a few seconds away and Gojo halts all ministrations. You whine, making him laugh sadistically.

“Fuck you, Gojo” you groan in frustration, rolling your eyes. But he’s quick to correct you.

Gojo shoves his hand to your neck to silence you.

“There ya go again with that tongue, princess. Better watch it or I’ll keep teasing you like that for the rest of the night” he threatened, his tone deep.

You whined in agreement, but his grip tightened around your neck. “Use your words like a big girl” he cooed.

“Y-yes, sir”

He chuckled, “Mm I like that, that’s much better”

He grinds his cock teasingly past your entrance, mixing your juices. You moan and squirm impatiently under his touch, you feel like your about to burst just from the contact of his tip against your entrance alone.

“Patience, baby. I’ll get there” he assured darkly. He was going to savor every single moment of this, after all, it took him this long just to even hear you moan for him.

For the first time tonight, he softly caressed your cheek, almost feather-like. Bringing your chin to meet his darkened ethereal gaze.

“Eyes on me.” And you did just that, easily getting lost in the beautiful maze that was Gojo’s bright blue orbs. He began to plunge his length into you, your mouth falling open while still holding each other’s gaze.

How lost you were in his eyes and the stretch in your pussy was overwhelming. You moan loudly as he continues to push himself through your tight walls. Inch by inch goes into you and it feels like forever before Gojo bottoms out with a groan through his teeth and you grip his arms even harder.

“God you’re so fuckin tight, y/n” making your heart flutter at the sound of your name falling from his lips in this moment. He begins to move, not giving you much time to adjust as he grows feral.

He‘s pushed your knees to your chest, and your moans turn into screams as he’s pummeling himself into your throbbing pussy.

“G-gojo, f-fuck like that” you pant breathlessly

“Tell me baby. Tell me how good I’m fucking you” he smirks, continuing to pound into you.

His command falls upon deaf ears as you continue to moan, your mind beginning to fog from the pleasure.

He forces a grip on your neck again and you groan aloud. “I said, tell me slut”

“Fuck s-so good. You fuck me so g-good Gojo” you manage to babble.

“That’s not my name, pretty” he growls, somehow pushing even deeper into you, and you feel the band in your tummy coil. He passionately smashes his lips to yours, wanting to feel as much of you as he could.

You begin to whimper, your mind only focusing on the closeness and pleasure he’s blessing you with, though you know you somehow have to manage an answer.

He thrusts slowly but ferally into you, “My name, pretty girl” he emphasizes on each harsh thrust. He sits himself up on his knees and circles his thumb on your clit, making you scream.

“Oh fuck!” You pant, “Sa- oh my fucking god! Satoru, satoru, satoru satoru you’re gonna make me cum!”

You scream shamelessly, sure that everyone and anyone around you could hear but you didn't care; nothing else mattered. His cock felt too good plunging in and out deep into your cervix, you could die here. And Satoru knew that.

He chuckled in satisfaction, “Good girl. You can cum all over my cock now baby” he encouraged, and that’s all you needed for your coil to unravel.

You’re a shaking, moaning mess beneath him and he’s fucking you through your orgasm. As soon as you manage to calm down from your high, Satoru wastes no time in turning you over to your hands and knees, forcing an arch in your back and the side of your face into his silk sheets.

You grow wet with anticipation as he massages your cheeks “God, I’m never letting you go” he admits, bringing a harsh slap to your ass, making you moan as it ignites another flame within your core.

“And unfortunately for you princess, you’re never gonna want to either.” Gojo chuckles. Seeing your fucked out state already and your still sopping pussy, he knows he’s ruined all sex for you with anyone else. And he wouldn’t want it any other way now that he's finally got you to himself

He begins to push himself past your entrance, still proving to be as tight as it first was. You moan uncontrollably, the stretch feeling even more immense as he takes you from behind.

Gojo hisses at the grip your pussy has on his cock, “There ya go again sweetheart, always fighting me” he grunts as continues to inch his length into your heat, “Let me loosen ya up”

All you could think about was how full you were when he finally bottomed out; it was euphoric. With a death grip on your hips sure to leave bruises for tomorrow, he began thrusting relentlessly into you.

The room filled with a mixture of both of your moans, the harsh slapping of your skin and the headboard against the wall was so lewd it made you moan louder.

Satoru's eyes gleam and he licks his lips at the creamy ring you've left at the base of his shaft

“Fuck fuck fuck” you repeated mindlessly, his dick reaching far past your cervix and bringing you closer to another high.

“What’s that baby? I can’t quite hear you” he teased, grabbing your hair and bringing you up to him. Instinctively, you hold onto the headboard for dear life as he thrusts up into your g-spot.

Bringing his hand to your neck and the other on your hips, he’s abusing your sweet spot at this angle. Your juices leaking down your thigh and soaking his expensive sheets.

“You’re being so fucking good for me. This tight pussy’s taking my cock so well, don't ya think, baby?” He groans smugly into your ear, his deep voice like sweet music to your ears.

“Dirty little slut, making me wait so long to take you like this” he growls, his grip on your body increasing as he persists with his abuse. You’re a babbling mess and he chuckles at the sight of you with tears streaming down your face. He brings his lips to yours, devouring you whole as he muffles your moans.

You throb around him once again and your screaming his name like a prayer, “Satoru satoru satoru!”

“Yes, y/n? Tell me what ya need”, you see him smirk widely, knowing your orgasm is hanging by a thread.

“F-fuck me, make me cum, m-make me c-cum!” You yell, but he’s not satisfied.

His hips slowly drag in and out of you, making you feel every vein of his thick shaft. You whine as he tortures you.

“Why don’t we try that again, brat. This time use your manners like a good girl, yeah?” He commands lowly, grinding himself deeply into your sweet spot, driving you insane.

“P-please Sa-Satoru! Please make me c-cum! Please d-don’t stop! I want it! Ma-make me t-take it, please!”

Gojo’s sadistic laughs reverberates throughout his chest, “That’s even better”

He resumes his harsh thrusting into your sopping pussy as you scream through your orgasm yet again. He kisses and bites into your shoulder to hold himself back as your pussy grips around him.

Satoru flips you onto your back to face him and enters you, giving you no time to adjust and no time coming down from your last high.

“Satoru, it- it’s too much” you whine, pressing your hands to his flexing abs in a weak attempt to get him to let up from your overstimulated folds

“Aw not so tough now, are ya?” He teased breathily, marking your neck possessively.

You moaned uncontrollably, scratching at his back making him growl in pleasure. The force of his cock destroying your pussy was feral and filthy, and your incoherent moans were absolutely lewd; you couldn’t manage anything else but his name and wordless nonsense.

Satoru scoffs at your expression, “Fucked out on my cock, baby? Careful now, your stupid’s showing”

More tears stream down your face, both from overstimulation and his mean degradation. Who knew he could be this mean… I guess you deserved it, after all the times you denied any feelings for him with your own spiteful remarks. Even despite his demeaning commands, it made your tummy flutter and your pussy drool.

 His presses closer to you to fuck himself deeper into your throbbing heat and he feels it tightening around him already.

“F-fuck ha- shit if you keep squeezing me like that you’re gonna make me cum, sweetheart” he pants, shoving his cock into your cervix.

Moaning loudly as he drills into you, your nth orgasm of the night threatens to take hold again.

“Satoru, I-“

“Just a little more, sweetheart.” He encourages to comfort your whines, caressing your jaw and meeting your half-lidded gaze.

You were dumbfounded. He was breathtaking. You didn’t know if you had it in you, but you were willing to do anything for this man right now.

Gojo’s hips began to stutter at a rapid pace, groaning in your ear.

“Come with me, baby” he pleaded, eyebrows knit together in pleasure before crashing his lips onto you.

You moan into his mouth as your orgasm ripples through your shaking body, having you seeing stars. Satoru grunts and spills into your heat, milking his cock of everything he has.

After a few thrusts of his hips into your sensitive walls, you whine and he stills inside you. Satoru kisses you tenderly before he removes himself to lay beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist to hold you to his chest and placed his forehead to yours.

Attempting to catch your breath, your body lay slack against his own.

“No more silent treatments, right sweetheart?”

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojou x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou smut #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu smut

[bithermal]

"anyways I’m gonna stop before I rant about how there is a fundamental misunderstanding of anarchy"

I for one would love to read your rant about it tho, if you don't mind. :]

Ohhhh man ok bare with me. I am responding to this while there are fire trucks outside because someone set their apartment on fire.

For the sake of ease I’m going to break this up into talking about what anarchy arcs can look like, and what I’d think one would look like on the QSMP specifically or at least how it would actually affect the server. For reference I am a legitimate anarchist so if you’re wondering why this stuff gets under my skin that’s why lol.

Now most anarchy arcs on SMPs usually spawn from someone having a problem with the current leadership, status quo, or societal structure of the server. They want to overthrow or disrupt things because, for whatever reason, they don’t like them. That is technically the textbook definition of anarchism. However, a common mistake is that there is no long term plan. Most creators focus so intently on the overthrowing the government part they don’t stop and think ‘ok what am I going to do after I’ve completed this goal?’ And I can’t exactly blame them. The aftermath isn’t exactly as fun as the overthrowing part, but it usually just results in a new ruling party stepping into the subsequent power vacuum. Let’s take Technoblade on the dsmp for example: as much as I loved his character, he never had a follow up plan once he overthrew governments, and that’s pretty much exactly why he got caught in a neverending struggle of destroying L’manberg only for it to be built back up again. This constant overlooking of a follow up plan often leads to viewers misinterpreting anarchy as just destroying any sort of governing body and leaving the citizens to clean up the mess. Now there are other contributing factors, namely the existence of anarchy servers. They tend to cause most to have a pretty negative reaction when ‘anarchy’ and ‘minecraft’ are in the same sentence lol, but the point im getting at is there is a difference between textbook anarchy and political anarchy and that’s often overlooked by creators and viewers when discussing anarchy arcs.

Now as for what an anarchy arc would look like on the QSMP? Honestly, not that different from what Bad has been attempting. Remember, anarchy is fighting back against a ruling party. Who is the island’s ruling party? The Federation. Now unfortunately Forever is going to get caught up in the mix since he won the presidency and seems to be intent on keeping that title, but you can’t make an omelet without cracking a few eggs. Most of the other islanders aren’t exactly actively upholding the Federation’s ideals. They all seem pretty vocal about their dislike of the Federation. Bad isn’t exactly advocating for going after the islanders. In fact he’s done a pretty good job setting up a long term plan by aiding in the island community so much. intentionally or not, he’s helped to mitigate any negative effects that could possibly come from overthrowing the Federation. I think a lot of people hear anarchy arc and automatically equate it to a villain arc, when in reality the only people that Bad might be antagonistic towards are Forever, since he is unfortunately upholding the governing body by remaining president, and possibly Cellbit, Jaiden, and Foolish (as they are Federation employees, but I trust Bad to recognize their situations.)

I hope this made at least a little sense lol I tried not to get too political on a post talking about… Minecraft politics

#qsmp #ask #i feel like I rambled but you get my point #Anarchy arc doesn’t automatically equate to villain arc #we’re just used to that narrative bc our protagonists are typically part of said governing body

[coochiequeens]

The event planned for Wednesday evening was prevented from going ahead by students who blockaded the doors of an Edinburgh University lecture theatre on George Square. The screening of the documentary, titled ‘Adult Human Female’, has attracted controversy, after the film was criticised for containing "transphobic language” and "spreading misinformation about trans people”. Feminist and LGBTQ+ societies also gathered outside the building in protest.

One attendee who was scheduled to speak after the film, Lisa Mackenzie, wrote on Twitter: “I’ve turned up to the screening of Adult Human Female to participate in the discussion afterwards and a group of students has occupied the lecture theatre in a bid to stop the screening from going ahead.”

While the attendees attempted to switch rooms, the group of protesters moved to block the other lecture theatre. Security eventually asked everyone to leave the building, so the event did not go ahead.

One of the activists, Dylan Hamilton, wrote on Twitter: “Earlier this evening myself and other activists engaged in direct action. A screening of a transphobic film was to be held at Edinburgh Uni, we decided that wasn't happening. You don't get to spread hatred and expect to be unchallenged.” He claims he was shoved, yelled at, and insulted by the crowd who were waiting to see the film.

Reacting to the events, Edinburgh South West MP Joanna Cherry said: “Is this what my country & my alma mater have come to? Entitled students stifling #FreedomofSpeech & silencing women & lesbians who want to talk about their rights? Those who have fostered this authoritarian neo-fascist climate have a lot to answer for.”

Prior to the screening, Edinburgh’s University and College Union wrote to the Principal, Peter Mathieson, describing the film as “a clear attack on trans people's identities” and asking for the event to be cancelled or moved from an official University building. However, their request was denied, as a spokesperson for the University claimed that the event: “As part of our commitment to freedom of expression and academic freedom it is our duty to make sure staff and students feel able to discuss controversial topics and that each event allows for debate.

Online ticketing website Eventbrite has since withdrawn its billing for the event, as well as the details of the screening, which was being run by Edinburgh Academics for Academic Freedom (EAAF).

Police officers were called to the demonstration, however, no arrests were made. A Police Scotlandspokesperson said: “Around 6.15pm on Wednesday, 14 December, 2022, police were called to a report of a demonstration at George Square, Edinburgh. Officers attended and engaged with those present. There were no arrests.

“Police Scotland is a rights-based organisation that puts our values of integrity, fairness, respect and a commitment to upholding human rights at the heart of everything we do. This means that we will protect the rights of people who wish to peacefully protest or counter-protest, balanced against the rights of the wider community.”

The University of Edinburgh has been approached for comment.

And then there is this

I know she is young but how the hell can she not know about sex based oppression. From the attacks on her personally, included ones involving sexual imagery to the fact that climate change, the issue she is famous for, impacts women directly and indirectly.

#Edinburgh University #George Square #Adult Human Female #trans activism is male violence #Silencing women #Censorship #Edinburgh Academics for Academic Freedom (EAAF) #The Edinburgh’s University and College Union is ok with censorship #Police protected men

[therenlover]

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

----------

Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,”

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

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

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater​ , @elaineygrace​, @multiyfandomgirl40​ ,  @lovelymischief​ , @rami-malek-trash​ , @dazzlingseb​, @avgravy​ , @sarahsilver , @wh0re-4-techno​ , @forcebros​ , @sugarsweetkiss​ , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff​ , @killsandthrills​ , @novasstudy​ , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp​ , @inmate-marmalade​, @alanathedeer​ , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ 

Please do not post my work on other sites, thank you!

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader

[storiesofsvu]

Bruised Peach Ch 3

Jackie Sharp x reader Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, minor mentions of Heather/politics/therapy related things. A/N: this chapter was originally supposed to be the second half of ch 2, but then ch 2 got too long on its own. THEN this was supposed to be the first half of ch 3, with the second half being the next morning/day with Jackie, but now that's just too much for one ch, so this is kinda a filler chapter. just...bare with me...

You were running late, which normally wasn’t that bad of a thing, but today, the workday was long from over, and you were late for meeting the first lady. It wasn’t a true actual, meeting you were just due at the residence to watch tonight’s republican v democratic debate, but all things considered you still felt bad. You’d grabbed dinner from a breakroom, stuffing it into your face as you worked through another couple of mountains of paperwork since Jackie and Remy were out of town. Your phone beeped with a reminder and your heart leapt into your throat as you shoved everything into your bag, grabbing your second one as you began to speed through the halls of the White House.

Once you were cleared through security at the residence, you were let in by the head member, finding Claire in the kitchen, pouring out a couple glasses of wine.

“I’m so sorry. Ma’am,” you began, “I lost track of time, got caught up in all this extra work.”

“It’s perfectly fine.” She laughed gently, giving you a warm smile, “and I believe I’ve already told you; you don’t need to address me as Ma’am outside of the oval?”

“Sorry.” You felt your cheeks heat, “force of habit.”

“In situations likes tonight, we’re on the exact same level.” She shrugged, “I may be the President’s wife, but you’re still the VP’s girl.”

“Hopeful VP.” You let out a small laugh, tugging a couple of things from your bag that you knew you’d need for the debate the two of you were about to watch.

“This isn’t my first time through an election. Those two have absolutely nothing to worry about. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

“Good.” You smiled across at her.

“Would you like a glass?” She gestured to the wine, “I hear you have an early start tomorrow, and I don’t need to remind you that there are more than enough extra bedrooms for you to stay overnight here whenever you may like. It’s no worry or burden on us whatsoever.”

“I have.” You let out a small sigh, “Mr. Underwood let both Jackie and I know we have an assigned suite until the election. And I will gladlytake a glass or two of wine.”

“Perfect.” Claire surveyed you for a moment, “you’re more than welcome to change, there’s no need for this to be business casual, get comfortable.” She gestured across the living room, “how about tonight since it’s just the two of us you take the main guest room across there? You and Jackie can have the full suite when it’s the two of you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She let out a small chuckle, “how fair would it be if I made you stay in a skirt suit all night while I was already basically in pyjamas.”

“Thank you.” You stalled, attempting to hold back any formal title as you shot her a grin, swiftly moving towards the door she pointed out to you. As stated, it was a glorious bedroom with an ensuite bathroom that you dumped your bags onto the bed, tugging out the more professional sleeping clothes that you had, quickly changing. You made sure you had your phone, Jackie’s work phone, and your iPad before you moved back into the living space to find the TV on, Claire moving towards the couch with the bottle and glasses of wine.

“Isn’t that much cozier?” She asked and you laughed.

“Honestly? A million times.” You settled into the couch, thanking her for the drink as you set yourself up for the debate. As much as you were just the ‘VP’s girl’ you were still Jackie’s official chief of staff now, and you needed to uphold that position with every appearance she made.

“Hey..” Claire cast you a warm smile, squeezing at your free hand, “it’s just a debate you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks. Guess I’m just….worried? I dunno…. from the last ones.”

“The ones with Heather?” The blonde asked cautiously, and you avoided her gaze, despite her already knowing your dirty laundry.

“Yeah.” You murmured, “more like I didn’t trust her opponents to not bring that shit up. Even after everything blew up, I was worried someone would have some lawyer or P.I. that would manage to dig up my name. which is what worries me now, with Jackie. Everyone already knows that we’re involved, but if anyone was to make the connection between me and Heather, I worry everything would be over for Jackie.”

“Which is exactly why we have the best lawyers, the best NDA’s and only the need-to-know staff on the need-to-know lists.” Claire squeezed at your hand once again, “trust me. Francis and I know that we need you two to win this election. And we’re not going to do anything to jeopardize that. And on top of that we actually really do like the two of you and both of your political opinions.”

“Thank you.” You gave her the best smile you could muster, “really. Those words mean the world Claire.”

“Of course.” She shot you back a warm smile, “and know that if you ever need a friend to talk to about anything that went down, my door’s always open. From what I’ve heard you went through hell because of Heather, and I’m sure I’ve only heard the tip of the iceberg. And… if you need someone more qualified, the White House does have a therapist on staff.”

“Thank you.” You paused for a sip of wine, “and I may take you up on the friend offer once in a while, but I do have my own shrink, twice a week still at this point. Hopefully we’ll be able to drop down to less as I learn to move through things.”

“May I ask…is it all about Heather?”

You let out a sigh, taking a heftier gulp of wine as you thought over your answer, you knew you could trust Claire at this point, and it wasn’t like she could report back to Francis and use anything against Heather anymore either. Not to mention, it simply was nice to have someone else to talk to about things like this, you shielded both Becca and Jackie from certain aspects of your past and your therapy sessions because some of it was about them, or information that you figured they probably didn’t want to know.

“Not all of it. Though technically it’s related to her? Or just past issues that she managed to bring up that I’d managed to forget?” You paused for more wine, feeling Claire’s eyes on you as she waited for you to finish, “it’s just been…tricky?” Your brow furrowed, “with Jackie…. I know that she cares about me, and that she’s in it for the right reasons, but thanks to Heather….I second guess everything, and don’t really know what to believe.” You glanced up at her, and she gave you a sympathetic look, reaching out to squeeze at your arm reassuringly.

“For what it’s worth? I know Jackie is absolutely crazy about you. I know things must be a little worse considering all the similarities between her and Heather, but that’s just the job, and the nature that comes with it. Jackie is incredibly sweet, I’ve known her for over a decade, and never in a million years would she do anything even remotely similar to what Heather did to you.”

“I know.” You smiled across at her, and then let out a small laugh into your wine glass.

“What?”

“This is just drastically different than the last few debate watch nights I’ve had.”

“A little less involved?”

“No.” You laughed again, “usually Becca’s either on facetime or in my apartment and things are just chaotic as fuck.”

“Well…” she hummed over the rim of her glass, “I have the misfortune of informing you that chaos does tend to run a little wild in the White House.”

“Oh I am well aware of that already.” You laughed back, settling more comfortably into the couch as the conversation swayed away from politics and the past few months of your life. It became more casual, more comfortable as the night wore on and the two of you began to drop more of your walls.

You really only half paid attention to the debate, not really worried about how Francis and Jackie would do, knowing they would have close to zero issues at this point, it was just rallying back and fourth over foreign policy and amendments. The boring parts of politics, while you were still Jackie’s chief of staff, the two of you were more here for the moral support of your partners, as you would be in person as the election progressed. The wine ended up free flowing as you got to know each other a little more, it was more at ease while not on the job, and away from your partners. Instead of tonight being about politics, it was nearly a girls night, not one as chaotic and rowdy as one with Becca, but one that was still entirely enjoyable. It allowed the two of you to see each other in a new light and get to know more personal details that you didn’t before. You shared stories of your college days, how Claire got from Texas to where she was now, and she asked about your time previous to working in politics. Childhood memories were exchanged, a few embarrassing stories here and there, and after the third glass of wine was sinking in, a tiny bit of family drama sunk through in some of the stories.

By the end of the night, the atmosphere was light, friendly, and had been full of laughter and smiles. Claire bade you goodnight, leaving you to make yourself at home in the guest suite, which you easily did. After a small text exchange with Jackie, where she assured you that she would see you in the morning in the office, you said your goodnights and snuggled into the plush bedding, easily falling into a happy sleep.

__________________ @jamiethetrans @natasha-danvers @imlike-so-gay-dude @svulife-rl @bumblebear30 @molllss @nocreditinthestraightworld @yourtaletotell @drduckthief @yesterdaysgone@stone-hearted-seymour @imaginaryoperagloves @multifandomlesbianic @swimmingstudentchaos891 @whimsicallymad @alexusonfire @lazarettta @sia2raw

@ms-calhoun @1-lindsay83 @wannabe-fic-reader @when-wolves-howl @newyorker14

@lawandorderuswnt

#jackie sharp x reader #claire underwood #house of cards #house of cards fanfic #jackie sharp #bruised peach #classified affairs pt 2

[chudleycanonficfest]

Rewrite the Stars

Day 7, Post #1 is by @adenei

Title: Rewrite the Stars

Author: adenei

Pairing: Ron/Hermione (Romione)

Prompt: Songfic

Rating: PG 

TW: Depiction of blood purity/discussion of prejudices against Muggleborns, Violence/Murder mentioned (but not graphic)

************

*This fic is inspired not only by the song, but also Anne and Philip's relationship in the movie The Greatest Showman.*

Summary: AU In a world where there’s no Voldemort, but blood purity is strictly enforced, Ron and Hermione must navigate their budding relationship, and all the trials and tribulations that come with it.

********************

“Are you sure this is alright?” Hermione asks as she smooths the front of her dress, checking for wrinkles for the fifth time in as many minutes.

  “Yes, it’s fine! You look beautiful,” Ron assures her.

  He places a warm, comforting hand on the small of her back as they enter the grandiose ballroom where the Auror department is hosting their annual dinner. A handful of Aurors are honored for their achievements, but over the years, it’s turned into an event for the upper classes and Purebloods.

  Hermione knows she doesn’t belong here, amongst the men and women whose wealth and social status put them leagues ahead of anyone else, and it’s rare to receive an invitation to such an event even as a Halfblood. But as a Muggleborn, Hermione braces herself for an onslaught of jeers and slurs. If Ron wasn’t being honored for his success on a case he’d worked six months to solve, she wouldn’t be here at all.

  Ron has always encouraged Hermione to follow her dreams, even during their Hogwarts days. Though they were sorted into different houses, the two shared many Prefect rounds together. Being named Head Boy and Girl also brought them closer together, where they began seeing each other in secret . Neither had intended to break things off upon graduation, but when Hermione received rejection after rejection for potential jobs within the Ministry, she pushed him away too. 

  There was a time years ago when she hoped to be working within the Magical Law Department with dreams of making the magical world a more accepting place for every witch and wizard, no matter their blood status. But those bright-eyed and bushy-tailed dreams have long since dissipated. The rules are archaic, and there’s no chance of overturning something so set in stone until there’s a new Minister of Magic who would be open to the possibility. 

  So, for now, Hermione tends to a job that gives her equal satisfaction. She teaches young Muggleborn students in a special school that she founded with the help of Professor McGonagall. Hermione earned her certification to teach the primary levels at University after graduating from Hogwarts, and now works with Professor McGonagall to teach those students between the ages of five and eleven how to prepare for the world they’ll enter when they’re old enough to go to Hogwarts. This is in addition to all of the regular courses that Muggle England expects them to study.

  The prep school is what reconnected the pair, when Ron was assigned to work the case of an eight-year-old that disappeared last year. It was determined that the child was abducted by Fenrir Greyback and turned into a werewolf. Ron found the boy’s body deep in the Forest of Dean, where it was determined that Fenrir became too bloodthirsty on that particular hunt. 

  Hermione was distraught over the outcome and took comfort in Ron, who was equally shaken by the case. As the weeks following the case progressed, Hermione found herself spending more and more time with Ron. Slowly but surely, they found their way back to each other and had only just rekindled their relationship a couple of months ago.

  Since their relationship still feels so new to Hermione, they’ve kept things quiet. But she knows how important tonight is for Ron, and she wants to be there for him. To support him the same way he supports her. Hermione knows he will be by her side through it all, and has assured  her that no one will make any comments. 

  Ron leads them around the room, exchanging pleasantries and mingling with people Hermione’s only heard stories about. Thus far, everyone she’s encountered has been polite. They are about to make their way to their table when a voice calls out to them.

  “Ron! There you are, dear! We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  Hermione turns to see a plump woman with hair the same shade of red as Ron’s. A man follows in her wake who peers at them through half-moon spectacles with the same cerulean eyes that she’s so familiar with, only they’re attached to a different face. They’re much colder than the warmth Ron’s eyes emit, and that’s when the dread begins to expand from the pit in her stomach.

  “Oh, I didn’t realize you were both attending tonight,” Ron attempts to hide the surprise as he greets his parents.

  “And miss the opportunity to see our son receive an award for his hard work? Don’t be silly,” his father responds with a wave of his hand.

  Hermione has yet to meet Ron’s parents. A chill crawls up her spine as they talk to their son as if he is standing by himself. Suddenly, all of Ron’s promises become emptier than the desk of her former student.

  “Er, right. Mum, Dad, I’d like you to meet someone.” Ron gestures toward Hermione.

  She can see his mouth moving, but no sound comes out, at least not that she hears. The blood drains from her ears, causing momentary deafness as she stands under the scrutinizing stares of his parents. Hermione holds her head high as his mother admonishes his choice of a date. There’s no empathy for them whatsoever.

  “...What will everyone think? You come from a certain class of people, and we need to uphold our status. At least go for a Halfblood, darling.”

  Years of following the mantra ‘hold your head high, don’t let it bother you, stay in your lane’ have still not prepared Hermione to endure this moment. She is a strong-willed woman, she fights for what is right, and she refuses to stand here and take this woman’s judgmental words all because of the family she was born into. 

  This is the exact reason why Hermione insisted on keeping their relationship private. Her feet move on their own accord as Hermione tears herself away from Ron’s side and weaves in and out of the clumps of people. She manages to find the visitor’s entrance and exits to the bustling streets of London. Refusing to cry, she rushes along the cobblestone sidewalk and down a deserted alleyway. 

  Hermione forces herself to forget the sound of Ron’s voice calling after her as she disapparates away from the Ministry of Magic. She finds herself in her classroom, staring at all the empty desks in front of her. Desks of students who would be forced to meet the same unfair limitations that she lives day to day. She feels so helpless, not knowing what to do in an effort to make their lives easier. 

  Looking down at the elegant maroon ball gown she’s still wearing, she feels dirty. This isn’t the life she’s meant for, no matter how many assurances Ron can give her. She doesn’t belong in his world. Thank goodness she keeps an extra outfit in her coat closet, which she rushes toward before shedding the expensive formalwear from her body. 

  Once she’s changed, Hermione sits down at her desk, staring at the piles of papers left to be graded. Ron insisted she leave them there so they could spend their weekend together. A heartbreaking realization enters her mind as she thinks of his name.

  We can’t be together. This is never going to work.

  It’s as if he knows that she’s thinking of him as the floo lights up and he stumbles out. Ron sheds his dress robes, leaving him in his starched white dress shirt and pressed black trousers. She refuses to look up even though she can feel his gaze boring into her as he stands at the head of her desk.

  “Hermione.”

  She says nothing because what is there to say?

  “They’re small-minded people. What do you care what they think?”*

  He reaches for her hand, but she tugs it away as she sits back in her chair.

  “It’s not just them, Ron. You haven’t lived this life. You don’t know what I’ve been up against. You’ll never know what it feels like to be looked at the way your parents looked at me tonight. The way they spoke down about me to my face. I can’t—I can’t be subjected to that. The way people will look at us because we’re together. I don’t deserve to feel that way.”

  Hermione stands up and exits the classroom, stepping into the abandoned hallway. She can’t do this anymore— it’s too painful. She’s learned to pick and choose her battles. It’s better to let people like the Weasleys think they’ve won while she keeps fighting on her own.

  You know I want you, it’s not a secret I try to hide.

I know you want me, so don’t keep saying our hands are tied.

You claim it’s not in the cards, that fate is pulling you miles away and out of reach from me,

But you’re here in my heart, so who can stop me if I decide that you’re my destiny?

  “Hermione, don’t do this. Please. I don’t care what they think. I want you, and nothing else matters.”

  She stops and only turns her head slightly to see him leaning out of the doorway, his hand gripping the door jamb as he calls after her.

  What if we rewrite the stars, say you were made to be mine

Nothing could keep us apart, you’d be the one I was meant to find.

It’s up to you, it’s up to me, no one can say what we get to be

So why don’t we rewrite the stars, maybe the world could be ours tonight.

  “Please, love, don’t let them dictate what our life looks like.”

  The desperation in Ron’s voice is what makes Hermione turn all the way around to face him. She begins to walk a few paces toward him before the voices in her head get a hold of her. He’d become an outcast if she stayed with him. She can’t let him risk everything he’s gained by choosing her.

  You think it’s easy? You think I don’t want to run to you?

But there are mountains, and there are doors that we can’t walk through.

I know you’re wondering why because we’re able to be just you and me within these walls

But when we go outside you’re gonna wake up and see that it was hopeless after all.

  “You know it’s not that easy. We can’t just run away from everything so we can be happy. Your family would never forgive you, or me for that matter! Everyone will do everything in their power to tear us apart. It’s not worth it.”

  “So, what? You’re saying we’re not worth it?”

  No one can rewrite the stars. How can you say you’ll be mine?

Everything keeps us apart, and I’m not the one you were meant to find.

It’s not up to you, it’s not up to me, when everyone tells us what we can be.

How can we rewrite the stars? Say that the world can be ours tonight.

  Hermione reaches out and clasps his hands with her own. “No, you’re not listening to me. You’re worth so much to me that I have to let you go.”

  “But what if I don’t want to let go?”

  All I want is to fly with you. 

All I want is to fall with you. 

So just give me all of you.

It feels impossible (It’s not impossible). 

Is it impossible? (Say that it’s possible.)

  “I don’t want to let go, either, Ron, but I have to. You mean too much to me.” 

  She knows it’s better to be hurt on her own terms than to let someone else hurt her instead. Ron will see reason eventually. He has to. Hermione wraps her arms around him, tighter than ever before, putting all her feelings into one single embrace, hoping that he can understand. 

  How do we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine?

Nothing can keep us apart, cause you are the one I was meant to find.

It’s up to you and it’s up to me, no one can say what we get to be

And why don’t we rewrite the stars, changing the world to be ours… 

  There are many things she can change, but her blood status isn’t one. Above all else, she’s proud of being a Muggleborn, and she’ll keep teaching her students to be proud of their roots as well. She’ll keep her memories of Ron and how wonderful he is locked up tight as she finds a way to navigate this world without him. Hermione has made her decision as she kisses his cheek and lets go. Perhaps in another lifetime, they’ll be able to be together with nothing standing in their way.

  You know I want you.

It’s not a secret I try to hide.

But I can’t have you.

We’re bound to break and our hands are tied.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Her voice leaves the faintest echo among the abandoned halls. Before she loses her nerve, she turns on the spot and apparates away, leaving the hurt look that is etched on Ron’s face burned into her mind as she leaves him alone.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #romione #ron x hermione #tw: blood purity #tw: prejudice #tw: violence (non graphic) #tw: murder (non graphic)

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

the ghost of unbroken love pt 1

Summary: Thomas pays the Carstairs home a visit once the dust has settled (COI spoilers!)

Read it on AO3 | Fanfiction Masterlist

CW: PTSD, implied child abuse, bullying

thanks to @littlx-songbxrd for the title :) (it’s a line from “silhouettes” by sleeping at last)

Alastair’s eyes widened in surprise when he opened the front door to see Thomas Lightwood standing before him. “What are you doing here?” 

“Hello to you, too,” he replied, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Alastair’s hands. “Why do you have a hedgehog?” 

He turned away slightly, gently stroking the hedgehog in his palm. “Excuse you, don’t be rude to Alfred.” 

Thomas gave a slight smile. “My apologies, Alfred. Wait- Isn’t that Christopher’s hedgehog?” 

Alastair’s eyes flared, clearly offended. “He is not! He was merely watching him for a few days.” 

“Ah, I do think he mentioned that. My mistake.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” 

“Since when do you have a pet hedgehog, though?” 

He tried to focus on the feeling of Alfred squirming in his palms and not on the tall, handsome masterpiece of a man standing before him, or on the memory of what his lips and skin tasted like. “If you’re here to try to change my mind-” 

“I’m not, don’t worry. I just… I thought that perhaps we could talk, now that some of the excitement has passed.” 

Alastair sighed. “Fine, come in, then, before you freeze.” 

Thomas followed him in, shaking some of the melting ice and snow from his hair and hanging up his coat. His nose and ears were red from the cold. 

“It truly would not kill you to wear a hat, you know,” Alastair commented. 

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’ve a reputation to uphold, don’t I? What would my friends and I be known for if not our aversion to hats?” 

“Besides being a nuisance, you mean?” 

Thomas smirked. “Kit did look after Alfred for you.” 

“Believe me, any time I mention you and your Merry boys, I never mean Christopher.” 

He chuckled. “That’s fair.” Thomas’ eyes drifted to the piano. Alastair cursed silently to himself, realizing that he’d left the fallboard open earlier. “You play?” 

“I…” Alastair hesitated. He certainly used to. He wanted to, again. He could play music from a sheet without much effort, though he was still rusty, but playing written music was never what Alastair had enjoyed about playing. He’d always found his joy in creating, in taking written words and crafting it into a beautiful melody. That had been what he was attempting earlier, before he’d gotten overwhelmed and abandoned the project to fetch Alfred to calm him down, before Thomas had arrived at his doorstep. But it was a lost cause, for the part of Alastair that created, the part that dreamed, had died long ago. “Sometimes. Sometimes I do.” 

Thomas pulled something out of his coat. “I, uh, I brought you something. I thought… Well, I’m not sure what I thought. I’m certainly not an expert in dealing with grief. But this is one of the books I read after Barbara died, and I thought it was a helpful distraction, and I figured at the very least you could amuse yourself with my trying to make sense of it all in the margins.” 

Alastair gave him a small smile while placing Alfred down on the sofa and accepted the book. It was a volume of Sufi poetry, written in Farsi and Arabic. “Thank you, this… it means a lot.” 

The conversation stumbled awkwardly for the next few minutes until finally Thomas made a pensive noise. “May I… May I ask you something?” 

Alastair paused. “You may.” 

“Why are you still friends with them?” 

Alastair cast a dark gaze away from him. “I already told you, I-” 

“You have no friends, I know. But you certainly pretend to be friendly with them, at the very least. You certainly don’t treat them anything like the way we’ve treated you.” 

You don’t treat them anything like the way you’ve treated me, he wanted to say, but he knew that he would be deflecting to bring it up now. The truth was that Alastair asked himself the same questions. Why was he civil with them, friendly even? Why did he placate his father knowing how he would still treat him? He was sure he could see the wheels turning in Thomas’ brain, though his face betrayed none of it, wondering how badly they could have truly treated him if he was able to stay so amicable with them. Alastair, too, often worried if his own memories were lying to him, tricking him. “I can hardly blame them, can I? When I myself have done horrible things?” 

Thomas hesitated. “That- That’s not really fair, is it?” 

“I’m not sure what you mean.” 

“Well, it sounded like, at the time, you hadn’t done anything yet. At least, not to them.” 

“What’s it matter? What goes around comes around.” 

“More like what comes around goes around. Life isn’t just some twisted justice system, paying for crimes you hadn’t yet committed. What reasons did they have for treating you the way they did? Have they apologized?” Alastair’s brain stalled as Thomas added, “Do you think they owe you one?” 

Alastair could feel his heart beating, blood rushing to his head, his chest constricting. “Why are you doing this?” he demanded a little too forcefully. “I told you to leave me alone!” 

Thomas took a daring step towards him. “I think you think you deserved it. You think that you’re a monster, that you’re dangerous, a terrible person. You think that means they were justified in hurting you. That’s bullshit, Alastair. No one deserves to go through what you did, even someone who is terrible, and you are not. You’ve done bad things, certainly, but you’ve had reasons for doing each of them, and not one was that you are a terrible person. You are none of the things that you call yourself. You are strong and resilient and compassionate, and you love with your whole heart even those who do not deserve it.” 

Alastair took a step back. “You’re wrong.” He wasn’t. Alastair hated feeling so seen, so vulnerable. He wanted to scream. Why wasn’t it enough, then? His love was never enough to make his father want to change, to get better. It was not even enough to get him to stop throwing things at him whenever the night quit going his way. His love was not enough to make Charles love him back. Even the boys at the Academy, Augustus and the rest, he’d spent so much time and energy trying desperately for them to genuinely like him, but it was never enough. He was fairly certain that it never would be. Thomas was wrong, Alastair was none of the things Thomas believed him to be, he was weak and pathetic and whatever love he held inside of him was broken at its core. “You ask me why I treat the boys from school better than you treated me, but why do you? You and your friends have never given them a fraction of the grief you’ve given me, even Augustus after he hurt your sister so terribly. Why?” 

Alastair could see the defenses light behind Thomas’ eyes. “Don’t talk about Eugenia as if you know what happened!” 

Alastair looked him in the eyes without a hint of expression on his face. “I do, and I know because she told me.” 

Thomas stumbled on his words, unsure of how to respond. 

“I told you why I was cruel to you lot at school, but I did not tell you why I spread that rumor. The truth is that I was hurting and I was scared and all I wanted was for you to leave me alone, but you wouldn’t. And then Matthew came, running his mouth with his endless nonsense, poking fun at the way I looked and reminding me yet again that there is not a single person on this Earth who sees me as anything more than an afterthought. And so I repeated that rumor to him. And I repeated it again, and again, because I was angry, because when Matthew blew up my belongings, my father decided that the cost to replace them was more than simply the coinage at the shops.” Alastair inhaled, pushing away the memory of the fury in his father’s eyes when he came home that semester. 

Releasing a shaky breath, Alastair continued, “And I know. I know that wasn’t fair to him, or to you, or to your parents. But I have been trying to apologize for five months, only you decided without even hearing my apology that I did not deserve forgiveness. What now, Thomas? Now that you know my secrets, you’ve seen my scars? Do I deserve forgiveness? Do I deserve to be hated? Because truly I cannot keep track.” He gestured to the door, his voice now angry. “Who are you to decide what is deserved and undeserved? You do not get to come here and pretend like you understand me or my life. You and your friends think that you’re better than everyone else, but I have a secret for you: you are not morally superior simply because you are less broken than the rest of us. Get out of my house.” 

“Alastair-” Thomas tried, but he was cut off. 

“Leave, Thomas. And put me out of your mind. I left Charles because I did not wish to be his secret, and I will not be yours, either.” 

Thomas looked like he was about to speak, but stopped himself. He looked hurt and confused, something like a wounded puppy. Alastair would not flinch. Finally, he obliged, though he turned at the last moment. “I’m sorry,” he said in a small voice, though not ingenuine. Alastair shut and bolted the door without responding. 

Once the door was secure, Alastair sank to his knees, a million thoughts and feelings flooding his brain, from relief to anger to utter despair. Shaky breath after shaky breath, he attempted to piece the world back together again.

taglist (lmk if you want to be added and, if so, whether for every TLH fic I write or just for this series or something else): @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @doitforthecarstairs 

#alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #thomastair #chain of iron #coi spoilers #chain of iron spoilers #coi #the last hours #tlh #fanfiction #fanfic #cw ptsd #cw child abuse #cw bullying

[whoracefitz]

Alrighty, I haven’t posted my writing in a while. But, here we go. (It’ll be a while before I post this to ao3 so..)

alternative title: look after you /// sokka baby daddy modern au! (If you’ve seen the show then perfect! If not then it’s alright!)

word count: 1500

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“Are you sure we got all the decorations?” Aang asks, almost fumbling with a bag of gifts to uphold Katara’s banner. “We need decorations, gifts and—“

Toph mumbled something under her breath before taking the gift bags. “Maybe next time I’ll read the list so we’re sure. But, Sugar Queen isn’t picky plus we got the big stuff!” Toph exclaimed, rushing up the stairs hoping it cleared some of Aang’s anxiety. She did attempt several times to talk Aang out of his harmless crush before Katara left to study abroad. Sure, she teases him the most out of everyone but she cared too much to see him fall deeply when it wasn’t reciprocated.

“Yeah, Toph you can read the list,” Aang’s eyes squint as he realizes Toph’s statement. “I fell for it again,” his face falls but he doesn’t hold it for too long before he chuckles watching Toph poke her head over the banister sticking her tongue out at him.

“You gotta get up a bit earlier to beat the blind bandit,” Toph smirks, as she nudges at him realizing he didn’t have his keys. “You left your keys again didn't you?” She rolls her eyes kicking at his shared apartment door with Zuko and Sokka.

“You don’t even get up early, and you snore loudly at that,” Aang complained. The plan was as follows: Aang spends the night at Toph so they could run errands for Katara’s return. “I could hear your snoring in the other room,” Aang inhaled his breath to make a rattling sound and ended it off with slow beats.

Toph shrugged her shoulders. “My apartment, therefore my snores live there too,” They could hear Zuko and Sokka shuffle on the other side of the door. “What’s taking these idiots so long?” Toph raised her foot above the ground to kick at the door again before Zuko appeared on the other side preparing to scold her.

“Aang, next time tell Toph don’t kick at our door. Toph, quit kicking the door,” Zuko’s arms were folded across his chest and his grey shirt and plaid pajama pants both had very large wet spots with little specks of white in the area. “We have a bit of a problem,” Zuko ushered them inside, removing the few bags out of Toph’s hand. As they followed Zuko through the living room which was in shambles—there was an open diaper bag, infant clothes scattered between the couch and chairs. The bright blue car seat remained parked near the couch with a small elephant blanket draped over it.

“I didn’t know me spending the night with Toph meant being replaced with a roommate,” Aang felt Toph wrap her hands around his arm as he guided her over the remaining baby items on the floor.

“Who let you two have a baby and why?” Toph yelped out after nearly tripping over a baby’s instrument that was left on the floor. “I’d sit down but I’m assuming there’s nowhere to sit!”

“Toph, that’s not helpful,” Aang replied, “We need to be supportive,”

“I’m sure this mess isn’t helping this baby either. Which one of you messed up? You should return the baby back!” Toph rested her hands against her hips. “If I get a milk stain on my new shorts you owe me!”

“Don’t blame me,” Zuko fussed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sokka’s the one who—“

Sokka burst out of their bathroom down the hall, his damped clothes were glued to his body. But, as for the tawny-toned, round-faced infant in his arms, she was having a fit of giggles. “That’s not funny, Kita,” He swayed with Kita wrapped in the towel as reached for Sokka’s disheveled hair on his shoulders. “Zuko, I thought we agreed on not assuming who sweet little Kita belongs too? Now, if you want to be helpful pass me a onesie,”

“Sokka, you can’t be serious!” Zuko grabbed the nearest blue onesie from the couch. “The blue round eyes are a give away,” He flung the piece of clothing with one hand while Sokka stepped back in the bathroom.

“She could be Aang’s daughter then?” Sokka replied walking back to the common area. “Did you get everything for the party?”

“Party aside, Sokka, you have to take responsibility. Kita even inherited Yue’s bright colored hair. What would Katara say?” Aang raised an eyebrow. Sokka and Yue didn’t end on bad terms from Aang's perspective, they just stopped understanding each other. It was a mutual break-up. He didn’t want to throw Katara in this situation to belittle him but she’d be a lot harder on him than they were currently being.

Sokka began pacing back and forth with the seven month old. He knew the possibilities were very high that she was his. He hadn’t seen Yue in almost two years, he wouldn’t have ran if she told him the truth. But, abruptly dropping off a seven month old girl in the middle of the night with documents wavering her rights over wasn’t the best way either. There were even a couple of notes on who he could call, and a ton of ultrasound pictures. He certainly wasn’t a teen, but at twenty-three years old he was a little shaken up. “I’m scared alright, there you have it. Tell me how'd you react? I’m all ears,”

“Sokka, it’s perfectly normal to be scared,” Zuko reassured, patting at Sokka’s shoulders. “We’ll help you figure this out and you need to tell your family,”

“Thanks, I really appreciate that,”

“Oh, I was just thinking of what Katara would say but I do agree if that helps,”

“You should’ve kept that to yourself, Hotman,”

“What did I tell you about calling me that Aang?”

“It’s a good nickname! How come Toph is the only one who gets to do them?”

“I don’t even like when she calls me Sparky,”

“If we’re getting new nicknames can Snoozles be changed?”

“No, that’s not at all what we’re doing!”

“But, you just said you didn’t like your nickname!” Aang and Sokka complained in unison.

“While you three debate over that, give me little Wolfie,” Toph moved the diaper bag to the floor, while relieving her from Sokka’s arms. Kita occupied herself by grabbing at Toph’s face or stuffing her own fingers in her mouth. “You guys can start setting up the decorations,”

“Did you just con us into doing all the major work?” Aang yelled from the kitchen pulling out the hammer and nails for the banner.

“Possibly,” Toph shrugged, holding her hands out for Kita to smack. “Plus Zuko has to start the cooking, and Sokka has to clean this mess up,”

It took about two hours for them to really get everything moving. Toph was focused on keeping little Kita busy, she enjoyed babies for the most part they were hand-ons with everything after a certain age. However, Auntie Toph had drawn the lines at changing dirty diapers. She did enjoy hearing Sokka, Aang and Zuko argue over whose turn it was to change the foul mess.

While the plan was for Katara to be surprised by her closest family and friends she had others plans herself. There was an issue with scheduling for another passenger on the plane so Katara had sneaky swapped tickets. She contacted Suki, who now becoming the middle didn’t want to ruin the surprise on both sides and found ways to stall.

Yet, while picking up Katara and Sokka’s relatives and making a few final rounds to the stores couldn’t beat the surprise of waiting for them at the apartment.

“I’m so excited! It’s been four months since I’ve been with everyone, I hope I didn’t miss anything,” Katara exclaimed. “You know I was really worried about going,”

Hakoda pressed a soft kiss against her forehead. “You needed to branch out on your own,” He felt prideful in both of his children everyday, they were vastly different but carried the same level of ambition to succeed.

“Yagoda contacted me all about your work. I can’t wait to hear it from you, now let’s get inside,” Gran-Gran commented, pulling Katara in for another hug. “But, as proud as I am of you, I missed you two much.”

Suki couldn’t get a chance to knock on the apartment door before Zuko opened it revealing a sleeping Sokka on the couch with Kita resting on his chest. While Aang and Toph both slept next to each other in the corner.

The Southern family and Suki held the same confused gaze. “It’s a lot to explain,” Zuko tried to say. What he really wanted to do was grab hold of Katara after not seeing her for so long, but that could wait.

“Suki?”

“Yes, Katara?”

“Please, pour up those cups of Cactus Juice,”

“Does anyone else want a cup?”

“I’ll take one, I need to be real comfortable for this story,”

“Dad, are you gonna let her drink Cactus Juice?”

“Honey, we’re all going to need it for this story,”

#dria writes #dd writes #zutara #atla fic #sukka

[royalbluehues]

Healing

Title: Healing

Author: royalbluehues

Warnings:  PTSD. Nothing graphic, though. 

Pairings: William Schofield x Reader

Request:  Thanks! May I request a story where Schofield is another man after the war and reader wants her hubby back? He has nightmares, he never wants to go out, he barely talks to the reader. She understands that he will never be the same man after what he went through, but she wants at least a bit of her husband back. She doesn't know what to do to help him, but she will fight for their marriage.

Author’s Note: The story treks off the path of the request just a tad. I always end up making my stories fluffy without intending to. (Image found on Pinterest)

You had known it the minute he stepped off the train’s platform.

His shoulders were slumped and his eyes had a far away look to them. When he had brought you close to embrace you tightly, he had nuzzled his face within the crook of your neck and stayed there. 

His body was taught and stiff. 

Deep down within you, a small feeling poked at you, Something’s wrong. 

But you pushed that thought to the side, rather selfishly relishing the fact you finally, after nearly three years apart from him, you finally had your husband in your arms once more. 

And God willing he will stay there, you prayed silently. 

You raised one of your hands to tangle his locks around your fingers, squeezing your eyes tightly, “William,” you breathed out, savoring the way his name tasted on your tongue, then peppering whatever visible part of his face that was not tucked away into your neck.

Your heart was blooming with a mixture of gratitude, relief, happiness, and bereavement to the time that was pitilessly ripped from you and your daughters. 

He was filthy, despite his obvious attempts at a decorum of cleanliness. But his hair was matted, his uniform tattered, ripped, and stained with dark splotches in several places. 

You sided with your better judgment and not allow your mind to wander to what those splotches were. 

He finally lifted his head from his embrace, moving to lean back and look at you. His lips pulled upward into a lopsided smile. 

But you see it there: his large eyes betray his effort of solidity. Quickly as it comes, it goes. And before your mind could analyze it, he pulls you into a kiss. 

His lips feel soft, despite the skin being cracked. The calloused fingers grasping either side of your face are cold to the touch, his grip tight yet tender. You melt effortlessly into him, feeling the tension you’ve held in your shoulders, amounting since the moment he received his notice of deployment, give ease. 

When he releases you, you notice the tears that have swarmed in not only your eyes but in his as well. 

“I’ve missed you.” 

Once again, you’re flooded with a thousand emotions. Those three words have left you winded. They’re drowning you, pulling you so far beneath its current you’re left with the largest knot in your throat, threatening to release the moment you open your mouth to reply to him. 

It’s his words that have compacted so many meanings unspoken. 

Your tongue has turned leaden, your mouth is clenched shut, and the knot in your throat is only forming and growing every second that is passed. 

All you can do is stare up at him pathetically, eyes wide and brimming with tears that wait to fall.  

I love you. I’m so sorry. I want you. I feared for you. I feared for myself. I’ve missed you. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

Your heart feels full and empty all at once, and you tremble as his hands softly stroke away the wisps of hair that have fallen from your coiffed hair. 

When you open your mouth to breath, to finally repay the sentiment, your lungs betray you as they rack in a sob. 

He pulls you back into an embrace, only this time it’s you that is being hid away from the onlooking world, gasping for breath as your tears wet the lapels of his uniform. 

You feel him press his lips to the crown of your head.

“I know,” He tells you thickly.

---

It’s early morning as Will sits by the window of this home. He hadn’t been able to sleep, and rather than thrashing about in your shared bed, he figured it wise to detach himself lest he wake you for the third consecutive night that week. 

The heat emitting from the teacup clasped in his hands scalded his skin, but he chose to ignore it. The burning grounded him. Reminded him of where he was and where he wasn’t. 

He tiredly exhales a deep sigh, leaning his head against the crown molding of the window. He feels almost guilty for not staying in bed, remembering the constant visualizations of a warm bed- of your body warmly pressed into his side, the welcoming sound of a pair of bare feet that patter softly against the floor- all of which he painted to keep him sane in the trenches. 

But now that he had it after wanting it for so long, he always returned back to France, even when he tried to suppress it. 

It would be small things that would set off the memories: The sound of the leaves billowing from the wind, the clanging of a fork against a tin can, the smell of upturned soil, just to name a few. 

It was silly, he thought more often than not, of how different he was now. 

Though he was still William Schofeild, he really wasn’t. It was a notion he had to accept the first week he returned home to you and the girls. 

But he tried, by God, did he try. 

Whenever it would be set for judgement day to come, William Schofeild knew that he would be judged for what he did not do and what he did. But one thing that would serve him with certainty, was that he tried. 

He tries to uphold the station that he situated before he left. The role of a good father and a good husband. Not showing the cracks that were undoubtedly unfixable. Attempting to get back into the swing of things. 

Though he knew that his false bravado hardly went unnoticed by you. He would feel your suspecting gaze when he was teetering on reliving events as he stared off blankly into the space ahead of him, when he would leave his food untouched or his tea forgotten. He knew you had a hunch of what was happening when his daughters sat on his lap as they begged him to tell stories. 

“Girls,” you would scold them, emerging from the kitchen as you wiped your hands on your apron, “you know better than to be asking your father such things he wishes not to discuss.”

He would give a tight smile in response, “Nothing to worry about, Darling,” he’d say as he pressed a kiss on either girl’s head, “Perhaps I’ll do you one better, girls: I’ll read you a story with princesses and about great castles. Far better than hearing about daddy’s stories. I’ve no fairies or knights in mine.”

They would beam up at him, slipping off his lap as they ran back to their nursery to play with their dolls. 

He knew you knew when he would simply pick his book up once more, staring at the page he attempted to read for the nearly two hours- how you would hover by the entryway of the kitchen and observe him before disappearing to finish up the roast. 

He knew you knew because as he sat there, sitting and observing the outside world through the window, the heat prickling his skin, he could feel your presence in the room. 

He watched as a bird flew by, situating itself on the small tree only feet away from the gate.

You moved quietly, settling into the parlor chair by his.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” he tells you quietly as he turns to face you. You have a shawl over your shoulders, and sleep still evident in your eyes, and one hand atop your rounded belly.

You don’t meet his eyes, rather fixing your gaze on the same bird fluttering about. 

“You didn’t wake me.” You reply just as quietly, pulling the shawl tighter around you with your left hand, “The baby was kicking again.”

Will gives you a small smile, eyes glancing down at your bump,  “A rowdy one, he’ll be.”

He outstretches his arm to pass you his tea, and you accept, bringing it to your lips as you take a sip to fight away the chill lingering in the early morning. 

You hand it back to him, and the two of you so, passing the tea cup back and forth for the next minutes in comfortable silence. 

Finally, you speak. 

“William, I’m worried for you.”

It hangs in the air, and causes Will to shift uncomfortably in his chair as his right pointer finger plays with the handle of the tea cup. 

You fill the silence once more, turning to him now. “There’s something that’s wrong.”

His eyebrows furrow and his lips pull into a frown. Instead of replying he gulps down the remainder of the tea and sets it atop the window sill. 

“I know you do not wish to speak on it. And I apologize for bringing it up so early in the morning, but I’d rather it not be in front of the girls,” you spoke slowly, your right hand still grazing your stomach as a nervous habit. 

Will sighs deeply once more. This conversation was bound to be brought up eventually. 

He hangs his head, crossing his arms, trying to think of the correct words to say. 

“I can hardly imagine what you saw or what you went through, and I’m grateful for the ignorance that permits me to do so. But seeing you in these states,” you trail off, feeling the familiar knot take place within your throat, “it pains me because I do not know how to help you.”

You take in a shuddering breath, biting your tongue as you cast your gaze on the floor. “I wished so many times to take you away from there. To bring you back home where nothing could harm you. I would have given anything to ensure you were safe.”

William shakes his head, lifts it and turns to look at you. “You already help me. Just by being here, by my side.”

You wipe away at a tear that had escaped, knowing fully it was a pretty fib to make you feel better. “Don’t lie to me, William. I see it in your eyes.”

He gives you a small smile again that doesn’t reach his eyes, “Of course you do. I suppose that’s the price of marrying an observant woman.”

“And as an observant wife, it’s my duty to point upon when I think something’s wrong,” you murmur quickly, quietly. You're terrified to find him angered, so you shift your gaze to avoid his eyes. “I made a vow to you four years ago: to be by your side for better, for worse, for richer or for poorer,” you pause before finally mustering up the courage to face your husband, “and in sickness and in health.”

William’s gaze is on the teacup that he set aside, his large eyes saddened and reserved. He frowns, slowly rises from his chair, kneels before you and claps your hand in his. He moves to press his lips on the knuckle of your thumb, “I’m sorry I do not speak to you about it. About what happened.” He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes tightly, voice cracking. 

“I haven’t been fair to you,” He admits to you, “and I’m deeply sorry for that.”

You shake your head, a bit exasperated at how you jumbled your own words, in turn making him feel he was at fault, “No, my Darling. No, please do not take it that way. What I meant is that though it’s not my place to pry personal information you do not wish to tell, it is my place to point something that I see taking a toll on you.” You lift his hand so you can kiss them, “I-I just want you to feel better.” You sigh, “I’m rambling again. I’m afraid I can’t speak properly this morning.”

“I know what you are attempting to get across.” he mumbles to you, bowing his head to rest it upon your bump. “But I should make more of an effort to…” He furrows his brows, carefully selecting the correct word, “be open. But it’s difficult. How can I ask you to help me when I do not even know how to help myself?”

His words break your heart. 

You frown, letting go of his hand to stroke his head. “We will figure it out, and I will be there every step of the way with you, no matter what.”

“And if you grow tired of me?”

You stiffen. This time it’s his words that hang in the air. As he utters them, a cloud seems to block the early sunlight emitting through your window, casting a blueish-gray hue in your small home. 

“William never utter such mindless things again,” You scold him sharply. “I will never tire of you.” You allow your form to relax once more as your face softens, lightening your tone, “Is not carrying your child enough evidence?”

You hear him exhale a breathy chuckle and then feel him place a kiss on your womb. 

After a while, with you stroking his hair and him kneeling before you, you speak softly once more reassuring, “I love you. For the man that you were and for the man that you’ve become. I will be here for you. And though your healing may take time, it’s a step in the right direction. Never doubt that.”

The sun’s rays make an appearance once more, flooding the small room in a golden, promising light. 

.

.

.

Masterlist

#william schofield x reader #william schofield imagine #1917 fanfic #george mackay x reader #royalbluehues

[aboveallarescuer]

A cheatsheet of Dany's political actions in ADWD

I think this might come in handy for Dany fans. I've analyzed most of these before here and here.

A shout-out to @rainhadaenerys for helping me with this list.

ADWD Daenerys I

Dany finds out that her first Unsullied, Stalwart Shield, was murdered by the Sons. She refuses to forget his name, gives him a proper burial, promises to pay a lot for whoever gives information about his murderer, sends men to the Temple of the Graces to ask if any man with a sword wound came (because Stalwart Shield's killers swarmed him and he probably wounded some of them), asks butchers and herdsmen about who had been gelding goats recently (because Stalwart Shield's killers forced the genitals of a goat down his throat), forbids other soldiers from patroling at night and names a company of freedmen after him. She won't punish the nobles indiscriminately, however (so she follows Reznak's advice rather than the Shavepate's, even if she doesn't like him).

Dany considers banning the tokar, but ultimately relents and uses it herself.

Dany says no to helping Cleon in Astapor against Yunkai (despite regretting that she wasn't more ruthless against the latter).

Dany closes the fighting pits and, despite knowing that she needs Hizdahr's support, refuses to reopen them for moral reasons.

Dany is angry that the slavers "hire[d] the [freedmen] back as servants at wages so meagre that most could scarce afford to eat" and that "those too old or young to be of use had been cast into the street, along with the infirm and the crippled". Then, they hypocritically went to complain about "how the dragon queen had filled their noble city with hordes of unwashed beggars, thieves and whores".

Dany weighs on her suitors, but doesn't take any real measures to choose a husband for now.

Dany sends her khalasar to subdue the hinterlands, where "thousands of slaves still toiled on vast estates in the hills, growing wheat and olives, herding sheep and goats, and mining salt and copper". (In Dany V, we'll be told that they succeeded)

Dany sends Daario to convince the Lhazarene to reopen the overland trade routes and bring grains down the river or over the hills at need. 

Dany gives the freedmen and the noblemen equal attention at court. 

Former slaver Grazdan (a relative of the Green Grace) says that six young girls owed him gold because they learned their craft from an old weaver who was his slave. Dany denies him the request and, instead, orders him to buy the young girls a new loom for forgetting the old woman's name. 

A freedmen asks for a noble to be gelded for raping his wife back when she was his bed slave and to receive a purse of gold for having to take care of the noble's child. Dany grants him the gold, but not the gelding (because it would establish a precedent where other masters would have to be punished for their crimes, which would go against her blanket). 

A nobleborn boy asks her to kill the slaves who revolted against his family by killing his father and elder brother and raping his mother before killing her and who are now living in his house. Dany denies him the request because it would go against her blanket. 

A rich woman (who lost her husband and sons during the sack) asks for her house (which she left in fear for her safety), clothes and jewels back, for they are now all in possession of former bed slaves who turned the house into a brothel. Dany allows her to have her jewels, but gives the house and the clothes to the former bed slaves because of her sympathy for them.

ADWD Daenerys II 

Dany initially asks the Shavepate to question the wineseller and his daughters sweetly, but later she allows him to torture them in order to find who killed Missandei's brother, Rylona Rhee and seven other freedmen in one night. 

Dany also asks for the Shavepate to create a new watch and imposes a blood tax on the slavers to compensate for the deaths of the freedmen and pay the soldiers she'll employ.

Dany keeps two children from each pyramid as hostages. 

Dany still says no to the reopening of the fighting pits, though she feels more reluctant after hearing what the pit fighters want. 

Reznak says that the freedmen were disrespecting the traditions of the guilds for "carving stone and laying bricks" for a cheap price and calling themselves "journeymen" or "masters" and that the guilds ask for her to "uphold their ancient rights and customs". Dany grants that only the guild members can be named "journeymen" or "masters", but that the guilds will have to give the freedmen the opportunity to become members too. She also allows the freedmen to continue to carve stone or lay bricks cheaply because they are hungry, though they won't use those titles anymore. 

Dany chooses to pay Hazzea's father the blood price; she sets it at one hundred times the worth of a lamb. She also lays her bones to rest in the Temple of the Graces, orders a hundred candles in her memory each day and night and promises to pay for her children "each year upon her nameday" so they "shall not want" too. She asks him not to tell anyone that Drogon was involved, though.

Dany chains her dragons.

ADWD Daenerys III 

Dany considers the possibility of leaving for Westeros with the thirteen ships that Xaro offered her, but she ultimately gives up.  

Dany organizes the freedmen of fighting age into companies (Mother's Men, Stalwart Shields, Free Brothers). 

Dany tries to sell Meereen's salt, copper and wine for Xaro.

Dany sends envoys to Tolos and Mantarys in an attempt to make alliances against Yunkai, but is told by Xaro that the two joined the latter (and later Qarth also will). 

Dany still denies help to Astapor because, if she gives them part of her forces, there won't be enough men to defend Meereen. 

Dany is replanting olive trees. 

Xaro tells Dany that a former merchant who dealt in rare spices and choice wines ended up working to dig a ditch to bring water from the river to the fields and to plant beans. (The man, however, was a merchant who most likely lost his slaves, couldn't leave the city because he was unable to trade his goods and then had to find work. The available work was to dig ditches to plant beans and reform the city's economy.) 

Dany chooses many freedmen to be advisors in her council.

ADWD Daenerys IV

Despite the Shavepate's wishes, Dany refuses to kill the child hostages in response to the Sons' ongoing attacks.

After making several questions to Hizdahr (and after he emphasizes that Yunkai has a lot of support to fight against her), Dany says she'll marry Hizdahr as long as he's able to maintain peace in Meereen for ninety days. She previously had objections to the Green Grace's advice about whether it would be beneficial and considers what both Reznak and the Shavepate would think after she makes her choice. She also distrusts Hizdahr, the Green Grace and Reznak. 

Dany considers making a peace agreement with Yunkai, though she's unsatisfied with the other freedmen in the other cities potentially being enslaved again. 

Dany reiterates that she can't go to Westeros until she heals Meereen.

ADWD Daenerys V 

Dany doesn't allow the Shavepate to continue his tortures because she realizes that they are unreliable. Unlike him, she thinks that there isn't a single overlord working against her because "[her] enemies are legion". She also believes that Hizdahr convinced them to stop the killings either through bribery or because of news of their marriage. 

Dany "has planted beans and grapes and wheats" and will soon have the friendship of the hinterlands (which is bringing crops to the city) and Lhazar. 

Dany finds out that Astapor has fallen into the hands of the Yunkish and that the bloody flux has spread in Astapor. She is given more details by refugees of what exactly happened and regrets not having helped the Astapor (even if her military strength wasn't large enough to help). 

Dany considers waging war against Yunkai (which Barristan thinks she should, while the Shavepate advises her not to do so), but she doesn't have enough men to do that and to protect Meereen at the same time, so she gives up on the option. 

Dany orders Ben and his Second Sons to scout the Yunkish forces. She also grants Ben's request for provisions, fresh horses, bags of gold and gems (which he made because he intends to betray her) and asks Reznak to close the gates and double the number of soldiers keeping watch upon the walls. 

Dany decides that she needs Hizdahr's support to gain the Meereenese nobles' help and protect the city from Yunkai. 

Dany sets up a camp for the Astapori refugees "beside the river, west of the city". She tries to separate the healthy from the sick, but that meant separating family members. That is ultimately for naught, since the ones who were only sick at first died and the ones who were healthy got sick.

ADWD Daenerys VI  

Dany sends "healers, Blue Graces and spell-singers and barbersurgeons" to the Astapori refugees, but they got sick as well. She commanded them to dig ditches to defecate, but they started to do it where they slept because they were too weak to stand up and defecate there. She sent the food that she could, but "every day there were more of them and less food to give them". Even sending food was becoming hard, since some soldiers were becoming sick and others attacked on the way back to the city. This leads Dany to bring the food herself, even while knowing all of the risks that doing so would entail. She wants to show her people that "their Mother cares". She also considers sharing the food equally twice. She baths an old man herself even while knowing all of the risks, she burns the dead corpses (which could have transmitted the disease) herself, she "shames all of them into helping her" to take care of people who she had no allegiance to and would receive no benefit from helping. 

Dany agrees to marry by Ghiscari rites and use a "white tokar fringed with baby pearls", but she won't allow her womb to be examined by Hizdahr's mother and sisters nor will she wash Hizdahr's feet if he won't wash hers first. 

Dany says that Hizdahr can reopen the fighting pits after their wedding and that she wants no part of it.

Dany begrudgingly agrees to Yunkai's terms of peace. She's okay with paying "gold and gemstones", but she's still not content with having to see slavery being reinstalled and being told not to interfere. She also needs to follow through with her marriage so that the slavers will believe in her. 

Dany finds out that Brown Ben betrayed her, so she decides to gather food to sustain the Meereenese citizens, keep all of her forces inside and close the gates with the Astapori refugees starving outside the city.

ADWD Daenerys VII 

The Yunkai'i are besieging Meereen and building catapults, scorpions and tall trebuchets in case they need to attack. 

The freedmen continue to be mistreated in "palanquins, litters, and sedan chairs". 

Dany stopped holding court due to being disillusioned by the negative repercussions of her actions.

Quentyn offers himself as a husband to Dany in return for Dorne's support so that they can honor the secret part originally made to marry Viserys and Arianne. Dany refuses him and goes through with her marriage because of her people; in order to protect them, she needs Hizdahr's support immediately, while Quentyn only has two men.

ADWD Daenerys VIII  

The Yunkai'i have men of the free companies, two iron legions of New Ghis and two Ghiscari legions by their side. 

Dany has to accept the Yunkish lords bringing slaves to serve them and to be sold in a market outside the city as one of the conditions of the peace agreement. 

After Hizdahr is crowned, the Shavepate is removed from command of the Brazen Beasts (which is another concession that Dany made in the name of peace).

Dany orders the food that would normally be thrown away to be given to the poor. 

Dany orders Barristan to set Pretty Meris free so that she can send her offer to the Tattered Prince. She wants to sound out the Windblown, the Long Lances and the Company of the Cat.

Dany shows Quentyn her dragons and tells him that "[her] marriage need not be the end of all [his] hopes" because "the dragon has three heads".

ADWD Daenerys IX 

Dany is willing to pay gold for the Windblown's support, but the Tattered Prince wants more than that; he also asks her to give him Pentos when she marches for Westeros. She denies his request out of consideration for Illyrio. 

After a freedman collapses while carrying a palanquin, Dany orders him to be taken off the street and be given food and water. She also notes that, even after freeing the slaves, their work (in this case, carrying the palanquin) is still just as hard.

Dany makes restrictions to lessen the harshness towards the participants: only freedmen can join the duels (only those who "freely consented to risk their lives for gold and honor"); children are not allowed to participate and only certain criminals (murderers, rapers and those who persist in slavery, not thieves or debtors) would be sentenced to fight; women, comic combats between cripples, dwarfs and crones and beasts are still allowed to fight; the carcasses of bears and bulls are used to feed the hungry at the Gates of Fate.

Freedmen are being slaughtered to amuse the noblemen in the pits. 

Dany takes off her flopping ears.

ADWD Daenerys X 

Dany explicitly rejects the peace.

#daenerys targaryen #a dance with dragons #asoiaf meta #resources

[dramioneasks]

HP FESTS: DramioneFanfictionForum (Part 3)

Sounds Like Dramione 2020:

Not fond of asking by Anonymous - M, 4 chapters - The five times Draco and Hermione cared about each other without owning up to it and what happened when they finally did.

The Scars we Share by Anonymous - E, one-shot - Those who survive war never do without any scars. Some however are invisible. Eighth year Hermione and Draco try to make a go of it, but the past doesn’t seem to want to let go.

The Magic in the Marrow by Anonymous - E, 6 chapters - Auror Inspector Malfoy is making forensic scientist Hermione Granger's life difficult.If he's not dragging her to a crime scene, he's invading her dreams.

Healing by Anonymous - M, one-shot - Returning for his final year a changed man, Draco Malfoy finds that everyone suffered and no one is alright Becoming close with Hermione Granger is healing in a way he didn’t know he needed.

fools with hearts that tried too hard by Anonymous - T, 3 chapters - For the 2020 Sounds Like Dramione Competition on the Dramione Fanfiction Forum. My prompt was "Maybe all we are is fools with hearts that tried too hard/And maybe that's just fine as long as you're here in my arms" from Maybe, I'm afraid by lovelytheband.

Loving Her Was Green by Anonymous - E, one-shot - Their secret shag sessions were a means to an end — mutually beneficial and nothing more. But when jealousy takes over, Draco Malfoy should have known better than to think it could have ever stopped there.

Ghosts That We Knew by Anonymous - T, one-shot - Malfoy keeps following Hermione around Hogwarts. She has no idea why.She traced the scar on her left arm, wondering about Horcruxes and curses, and what marks they left behind on one's soul.“Is that from – was that Aunt Bellatrix?” a voice said in her ear, and Hermione shrieked.“Fucking hell, Malfoy!”He looked sullen. “This is the dungeons, you know.”“Yes,” she agreed, trying to remember how to breathe. “If only you spent all your time here –”

Catalyst by Anonymous - E, 5 chapters - Six years after the war, Hermione has a challenging career and fulfilling friendships, and movie nights with Draco are the highlight of her week. But her impending marriage to Ron fills her with increasing anxiety.

Preying on You by Anonymous - T, one-shot - A chance meeting and Hermione finds out a long hidden secret.

Starving by Anonymous - E, 5 chapters - Hermione has everything figured out. Sex is like food. Club nights are far too expensive. And men belong in the category of 'things that are more faff than they're worth'. You know, like hair straightening charms, lingerie, and mathematical integration. This is a story about food and sex, though not at the same time. 

Why Can't We Be Three by Anonymous - E, 3 chapters - One was her unlikely best mate, the other a longtime love newly her fiance. And Hermione felt utterly barmy nestled between the two in the back of a pub, the wrong man's hand toying with the waistband of her shorts. But if her fiance didn't mind, who was she to deny that two could become three? Who was she to refuse her fiance the pleasure that she, too, so desperately craved?

Everlasting Light by Anonymous  - E, 3 chapters - no summary

Slowly, then all at once by Anonymous - M, 2 chapters - Hermione begins her training at St. Mungo’s the summer after her eighth year. She’s excited to put the past behind her—that is, until Draco Malfoy turns up in her ward and she’s forced to relive the past, if only so he can remember it. Title of the story is inspired by a line in The Fault in Our Stars by John Green.

Add it up! by Anonymous - M, one-shot - Draco struggles to keep on task while on a case with Granger.

Love is a Beautiful Thing by Anonymous - T, one-shot - How can you choose when you never wanted to hurt anyone? 

How I Ended Up Inside by Anonymous - E, one-shot - no summary

Make Damn Sure by Anonymous - T, one-shot - Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy may of overcome their differences and fallen in love along the way, but with an impending betrothal on the horizon, will everything change for them? 

Lost Souls by Anonymous - T, one-shot - Broken by war and years of secrecy, Hermione and Draco struggle to find true happiness together while hiding behind double lives. 

Hold Me When I'm Here by Anonymous - M, one-shot - No longer on the wrong side of the war, Draco finds himself fighting beside unlikely allies, each day about getting through whatever way he can.Sometimes, that way is her.

Guilt by Anonymous - E, one-shot - Getting a nanny in would work wonders.

Deflower Draco 2020:

Mind and Body by sarena - E, 5 chapters -  Hermione tilted her head, taking a step back to look him up and down. “Draco Malfoy, is this your first time?” He winced reflexively but he tried to cover it up immediately by shaking his head. “Of course not,” he scoffed.

Something Deeper by kmd0107 - E, one-shot - Draco and Hermione have to consummate their marriage bond. Draco may have left out one not-so-tiny detail.

Something Unexpected by GaeilgeRua - E, one-shot - Hermione learns that the rumours about her new husband may have been exaggerated a bit. It’s a good thing that the Slytherin Sex God and the Gryffindor Princess work so well together now.

A Stellar Collision by Somandalicious - E, one-shot - They were a white dwarf and a neutron star hurling through space and time on an elliptical trajectory with catastrophic consequences. 

Prick the Virgin by Klawdee - M, one-shot - 7th year Au, in which, Hermione (not the Head Girl, but knows a bit about head or at least several different slang words for it) asks Draco for his virginity, but NOT that virginity, and yet she gets both, that is if either really exist at all... Canon divergence - Voldy Moldy didn’t return 4th year or in this fic…at all… -Diggory was the only Hogwarts Champion…but also not in this fic… -Umbridge did teach 5th year but was chased out early due to out of control rise underage rituals…hinted at but not elaborated on… - it’s AU; Sargent and really…there is no plot, what plot? Inspired by an incorrect (as I’ve soon learned doing some minor research) tumblr post assumption on what “Virgin Blood actually” means, and I ran with it anyways. Some humour, or at least some attempts at humour. I know my confidence is staggering, hopefully you give it a go anyhow, and humour me.

In the Twist of a Curl by SlytherinHermione - E, one-shot - There she goes again. Draco couldn’t help but to watch, mesmerized as she took a long strand of her hair, and followed its curled path around her finger.He felt turned around, twisted upside down, and he couldn’t really stop himself from falling.

Waking The Dragon by Lilithmorningstar69 - E, one-shot - Draco Malfoy had very few choices, despite being a spoilt brat, as a pureblood and only living heir to the Malfoys, he is expected to uphold some antiquated traditions. That is until he sees an unexpected pair in a very compromised position.

still got you all over me by HawthorneWhisperer - M, one-shot - “Earl Grey,” a deep voice said, and it was like walking straight through a ghost. Her stomach plunged, her veins turned icy cold, and she made herself count to three before turning around.It was worse than a ghost. It was him, warm and in the flesh, cheeks slightly flushed from the summer heat outside. Draco hadn’t noticed her yet, too busy paying for his tea, and she inched toward the door. If she could just scoot past the cluster of witches waiting in line, she might be able to—“Granger?” the barista asked. Dammit. Draco’s face went several shades paler. She gave up trying to sneak out and sheepishly wended her way to the counter. Hermione accepted her cup with a meek smile and nodded to Draco like this wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to her in years. It had been seven years since she had last seen him, standing alone in front of the lake. Everyone else had been crowded into groups, surrounded by their families and loved ones, but Draco was alone. No one had come to his commencement ceremony, not even his mother.

The Infidelity Clause by melanoradrood - E, one-shot - "It ends with infidelity," he said carefully. "If one of us were to have sexual relations with another, then the contract is broken."Draco's future has been written in ink and magic since he was a child, but now that he faces it, a marital contract, he knows that there's only one way out... but the consequences of breaking such a contract are... permanent.Hermione rather likes the sound of them.Written for Deflower Draco Fest 2021

Not Your Average Sex God by GracefulLioness - E, one-shot - Draco's in love. And that's isn't even the most embarrassing thing he's confessing tonight.

Until You by BiscuitsForPotter - E, one-shot - After a potions accident at fifteen, Draco must resign himself to living with an affliction for which there is no cure. Written for the 2021 Deflower Draco Fest.

The Bowtruckles and the Beasts by PurpleSugarQuills - E, one-shot - Molly Weasley brandished a copy of The Bowtruckles and the Beasts in one hand and a ripe, yellow banana in the other. Hermione could only blink, moments away from receiving The Talk from her ex-boyfriend’s mother.This was, as so many things tended to be, all Ginny Weasley’s fault.And eighth-year fic for Deflower Draco Fest

Fortuitous timing by emotionalsupporthufflepuff - E, one-shot - Rumor has it that Draco Malfoy is a skilled and generous lover.He may have started that rumor himself...But when Hermione Granger wants to find out for herself, will it result in another disastrous event for Draco, or is his luck finally turning around?

This fest is ongoing.

#dramionefanfictionforum #Fests/Exchanges/Challenges

[maryroyale]

The lovely @curiouselfqueen tagged me on this one. (Thank you! I love these things.)

Uh. I have *feelings* about these? I have no idea why I feel so strongly, but... uh... there you go.

deep violet or blood red? Both? Not at the same time, but I love both. Purple and red are both power colors, but they convey very different things. Old ladies are allowed to wear both because they have the power to pull it off.

sunshine or moonlight? Oof. My default answer is moonlight? Some of the medication I’m on makes my eyes super-sensitive to sunlight. I’m like a damn vampire. Even on cloudy days I need sunglasses. I like seeing the sunlight through the trees when I’m in the woods? It’s pretty and far less painful.

Don’t get me wrong—I do love the moonlight. It’s so beautiful. Winter moonlight and summer moonlight are gorgeous.

80s music or 90s music? How dare you! Don’t speak to me or my 874 music genres ever again. Seriously though, I really love music. I listen to a wide variety of genres and some artists span decades. I love new wave and synthpop, but I also love pop punk and the swing revival. I can’t say one decade is better than the other.

orchids or dahlias? I like to garden, and from a gardening standpoint it’s dahlias all the way. Orchids are a wildly diverse species (over 25,000 types), but the pretty, delicate orchids they sell in stores are not hardy and require a lot of intensive, specific support. They’ll die if you plant them outside where I live. And the garden outside is what makes me happy and brings me joy.

garnet or ruby? These are such different stones. It’s almost like asking if I like chocolate milk or cola. Yes, they are both brown and you can drink them—but they’re really not similar.

Garnet— it’s semi-precious, plentiful, in use since antiquity. A decent go-to stone for jewelry. Like any gemstone, the color is determined by the type of impurities, so garnet can be almost any color. Blue garnets are the rarest. The Mohs scale for garnet depends on those same impurities because some can actually strengthen the hardness of the stone. Generally 6 to 7.5 on the Mohs scale.

I like garnets. Depending on the talent of the jeweler you can get lovely pieces set in silver that won’t cost an arm, a leg, and your soul. It was also my mother’s birthstone, so there’s that.

Ruby— Occasionally confused with spinels, rubies are pieces of corundum that contain the impurity chromium. Corundum that contains the impurities iron, titanium, vanadium, or magnesium are usually blue and referred to as sapphires. (Pink sapphires are actually poor quality rubies that the jewelry industry decided to rebrand to dupe the public. Similar to “chocolate diamonds” and other attempts to sell gems that don’t meet the criteria for their type.)

Corundum is a 9 on the Mohs scale. They highly sought after, have a rich mythos surrounding them, and feature prominently in history.

It seems like a lot of hype to me? They’re sturdy pieces of jewelry, not prone to breakage, but they ought to be for the price you pay. They’re pretty, I’ll grant you that.

moths or butterflies? Well, one is nocturnal and one is diurnal. One is fuzzy and stocky and one is smooth and slender. One is drab and one is brightly colored. I feel like I should picks moths on principle. I love Luna Moths. But butterflies are so very, very pretty. Moths I guess?

Aphrodite or Athena? Okay... so, um, here’s where it’s going to get heated. I apologize. I am *specifically* addressing how Athena and Aphrodite were worshipped/treated in Greek myths. I’m not looking at proto versions from Minoa, Mycenae, or Phoenicia. I’m also not looking at later syncretizations with other cultures e.g. Rome. It is the Greek myths that matter here because those are the myths and attitudes that were directly incorporated into Western culture. We’ve learned a lot about their origins, but *those* myths and attitudes were *not* incorporated into mainstream Western culture.

Athena was either born from Zeus’ head or his thigh. Either she has no mother—Zeus is her only parent—or Zeus swallowed her mother Metis (wisdom, prudence, counsel). This is critically important. In Athenian law, the father was the only legal parent. Mothers had no legal rights to their children at all. Athena is a very real symbol of that.

She is often portrayed as the goddess of wisdom, handicraft, and war. She is a goddess of industry (wine and olive oil). The thing we must ask is what kind of wisdom? What kind of war?

Plato argues this in Cratylus— that Athena’s wisdom could be a number of things from divine knowledge to moral intelligence. I think it’s important that Plato, one of Greece’s most celebrated philosophers, and more important one of the philosophers most embraced by Western Culture praised this choice of “moral intelligence.” [see Plato’s stance on poets in The Republic.]

Athena’s war is not the war of Ares, which is tied to passion and emotion. Ares represents the brutal aspects of war where humanity gives way to cruelty and inhumanity. Athena’s warfare is rational and “just.” Athena makes war on behalf of the city-state. Athena makes war to defend the government.

Athena’s purpose in myth and in poetry and song is to support the government. She is the shield of the king. She upholds and enforces the status quo. Look at her role in the Orestes trilogy. She supplants the Erinyes [the furies originally hunted and tormented ppl who committed matricide]. She decides that Iphigenia’s murder didn’t matter. Clytemnestra (Iphigenia’s mother) didn’t have the right to revenge for her daughter. Orestes was *justified* in murdering his mother because she killed his parent, his father.

Aphrodite also has a motherless birth, but it’s more incidental and spontaneous. Kronos cuts off his father Uranus’ genitals ( like you do ) and tosses them into the sea. Aphrodite is born from the sea foam. There’s a different feel to Aphrodite’s myth. An independence almost. Yes, a male god was involved because it’s a Greek requirement for any child, but it’s in such an incidental way. There was no purpose or intent on Uranus’ part. He had no control over her birth.

Aphrodite is an incredibly independent goddess. She owns her own sexuality and has autonomy over her own body. She is often referred to as the wife of Hephaestus, but in both the Iliad and Hesiod’s Theogony, Hephaestus has wives with different names and Aphrodite is unmarried.

A goddess with this kind of freedom and power in her own right—not tied to a husband or male family member (sorry Artemis!)— is almost unheard of. It makes Aphrodite unique and interesting.

TLDR: I prefer Aphrodite.

grapefruit or pomegranate? Pomegranate. For so many reasons, not the least of which is it’s associations with death and fertility. It’s a lovely contrast and a reminder that death brings forth life e.g. Nurse logs.

angel’s halo or devil’s horns? Oof. This is another rant, guys. Horns as a symbol of divine power are used throughout history and throughout the Indo-European culture. From Egyptian gods like Amun and Isis to Hindu gods like Śiva to Canaanite gods like El and Yahweh, horns have been used to show their power and might. Moses has most famously been depicted with horns due to murky/difficult translations of the Hebrew verb keren/qaran, which can mean BOTH “to send forth beams/rays” and “to be horned”.

There was a concerted effort to associate horns with the devil/evil/bad. Horns are also used to imply fertility/abundance, and that may have played into the perception of horns as devilish. Moses with horns was used as a jumping off point to demonize Jewish people during the Medieval period in a variety of European countries and cultures.

Halos, too, have been used across history and cultures as a symbol of divine power. Sumerian literature talks about a bright emanation that appears around gods and heroes. Chinese and Japanese Buddhist art shows Buddhist saints with halos.

I choose horns because I choose to reclaim that divine power. I reject the idea that either symbol is wholly good or wholly evil. I reject the idea that sexuality by itself is evil/wrong.

sirens or banshees? Both!!! I must admit a partiality to Sirens that is based wholly on my preference for the sea/ocean.

lorde or florence + the machine? Both!!! I love both groups and I’ve listened to their albums so many times. I will admit that I end up listening to Lorde more often when writing.

the birth of venus or the starry night? Huh. I’m going to assume that you mean the painting by Boticelli, even though there’s more than one Birth of Venus.

Honestly, Venus Anadyomene (Venus rising from the sea) is my favorite. It’s her origin myth and anyone could paint it, draw it, write about it, and put their own spin on it. It is malleable because it is myth. It lives on and changes and grows with us. Boticelli’s version is particularly lovely.

Starry Night (1889) belongs to VanGogh. No one can really recreate it without copying his style or his vision. Verschuier’s The Great Comet of 1680 Over Rotterdam could never really be confused with Starry Night. Not even Munch’s Starry Night (1893) could be confused for VanGogh. The two paintings are wildly different in subject matter despite the fact that their subject is the night sky.

I doubt any modern painter would dare. O’Keefe called hers Starlight Night, and I can only guess that others would follow that naming pattern of not quite using the title Starry Night.

Boy, I bet @curiouselfqueen is regretting tagging me now... sorry?

[adenei]

Auror 99 - Epilogue

I hope you’re all ready for this! It’s heist time!

AO3 || FFN

a/n: I based this off of the season 3 heist, and some of the plot points and a few lines are taken directly from the show. I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Brooklyn 99. Thanks for following this crazy story!

Epilogue: The Heist

“Captain Holt,” Kingsley said after apparating directly into his office. 

“Ah, King, you made it,” Holt said, looking at his watch. “Right on time, too.”

“Yes, well, it wasn’t easy transporting a large portrait under a disillusionment charm from England to the United States,” Kingsley commented. “Care to fill me in now that we’re in person? Your correspondence gave away very little.”

“I can, but I don’t have much time before the squad arrives for their shift,” Holt said. “You may place the portrait on that easel over there. It is an honor to make your acquaintance,” he nodded to the portrait.

“And yours as well. While I don’t wish to speak poorly of my permanent residence, it is nice to leave the wall of the Headmistress’ office.” The voice of Albus Dumbledore could be heard through the Disillusionment charm Kingsley had placed on the frame.

“What about your other portraits, Albus?” Kingsley asked in confusion of his statement.

“Ah, yes, I do travel to those occasionally as well, but this may be my only opportunity to ever travel outside England. Though, I believe Captain Holt is pressed for time and would like to have a word before you must take your leave,” Dumbledore observed.

“Thank you, Albus,” Holt said before turning to Kingsley. “For the last two years, Detective Peralta and I have engaged in a ridiculous Halloween bet, now known as the Halloween Heist. Normally, I don’t engage in such frivolous antics. However, we are currently tied 1-1, and I intend on winning the tiebreaker and putting an end to this, once and for all.”

“I see, but what does this have to do with Albus’ portrait?” Kingsley asked.

“Ah, yes. Ever since your team left following the closing of Gerteso’s case, I planted the seed in Peralta’s mind for him to contact Nolan about returning to help him win.”

“So you think Nolan is going to be here today?” Kingsley said. “Now that I think about it, he and Jason did take the day off…” 

A wicked grin spread across Holt’s face. “Just as I predicted. Now, I’ve positioned the easel for Albus’ portrait so that he can observe everything that’s happening in the precinct, unbeknownst to anyone.”

“I will do my best, but I must say my lip reading skills are not up to snuff,” Albus admitted with a chuckle. 

“There will be no need for lip reading,” Holt said as he made his way back over to his desk and pointed to a contraption that looked like a radio. “I planted a bug on Peralta’s desk, so you should be able to hear the conversations without any issue.”

Albus nodded as Kingsley interjected. “Well, good luck to you. I’ll be taking my leave now, and will be back in the morning to retrieve the portrait.”

Holt nodded, as Kingsley disapparated. 

~o~

“It’s the best day of the year!” Peralta said excitedly as the squad gathered in the briefing room for their meeting. “The day we can finally determine once and for all who is the amazingest ‘amazing detective/genius!’”

“Yes, which we both know will be me,” Holt retorted. “This year, we will both be attempting to steal the same item. This—” he held up a briefcase and opened it to reveal a gold crown, “will be locked away in the interrogation room. The case itself cuffed to the table. We decided to use a neutral object this year instead of Peralta trying to steal something of mine.”

“Yeah, and whoever is in possession of the crown at midnight will be crowned the amazing detective/genius. Which will be me,” he added with a fake cough.

Holt shook his head in mock annoyance. “We will see about that. Now, as for teams: we each can choose who we want to work with, and as I was the victor last year, I’ll choose first.”

“I guess that’s only fair,” Jake said, rolling his eyes, and pretending to be affronted.

“I choose Terry,” Holt said swiftly.

“Alright, alright, brawns over brains. I get it,” Jake commented.

“What?” Terry asked, but Jake ignored him as he made his own pick.

“Charles,” he said. 

He didn’t notice that Amy almost stood up with a smug look on her face, only for it to fall slightly as he chose his best friend over his girlfriend. Amy looked to Holt in anticipation next. Maybe he’d choose her instead.

“Yes! The dream team rides again!” Charles said, pumping his fist in the air.

“Gina,” Holt said automatically, as Gina stood up and joined the captain.

“Rosa!” Jake said.

“Dope,” Rosa said as Amy exclaimed,

“What?!”

“Sorry, Ames, I can’t trust you. You’ll do anything to please Captain Holt,” Jake explained his reasoning.

“Well, fine, maybe I wanted to be on Captain Holt’s team anyway,” Amy said, trying to hide the look of hurt on her face.

Holt held up his hand. “Sorry Santiago, I can’t trust you either, given your current relations with Detective Peralta.

“Wait, so nobody wants me?” Amy asked. Both Jake and Holt looked at each other awkwardly and shook their heads.

“You can be with us!” Hitchcock said happily. Everyone forgot he and Scully were still sitting in the back.

“Um, I’m good,” Amy said.

“Uh, yeah no,” Jake added. “Let the heist begin!” he said as he ran out of the room quickly to meet with his team. 

“Charles, you guard the case from the viewing room. I guarantee that Holt will send Gina in there. Rosa, you know what you have to do,” Jake said as Rosa nodded and Charles took off.

Jake pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. Heist has begun. You know the drill. He pressed send and looked up to find Amy standing in front of him.

“Oh! Hey Ames, what’s up?” he asked.

She looked at him suspiciously. “Who were you just texting?” 

“Me? Texting? Oh, just Charles. You know, making sure he made it to his post alright.” Jake shoved his phone in his pocket.

Amy squinted her eyes at him in question, but didn’t argue. “Listen, Jake, you really hurt my feelings back there.”

“I didn’t mean to, Ames. You know how important this is to me.”

“So you know I want to help, then! Let me help, Jake, we’ll be unstoppable! Just give me a chance.”

“Sorry Ames, but I can’t,” Jake said. His eyes shifted down. “Nice try, Captain, but I’m not going to fall for your games this time. Your little spy is not getting any information out of me.”

“Jake, why are you talking to my breasts?” Amy asked with a disgusted look on her face.

“Because you’re obviously wearing a wire,” he said in the most ridiculous way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got paperwork to do,” Jake said as he turned around and sat down at his desk. 

Meanwhile, Amy walked over to Captain Holt’s office and knocked on the door. 

“Come in, Santiago,” Holt called. Sergeant Jeffords and I were just finishing up here.” He nodded to Terry who gave him an unsure look, but walked out of the room, having been dismissed.

Amy hovered in the doorway. She wanted Jake to hear how Holt would gladly use her help for the heist to stick it to him. “Captain Holt, I really want to make Jake pay for not choosing to have me on his team. I’m yours, do with me what you please,” she pleaded to Holt.

“—Title of your sex tape!” she heard Jake call from his desk.

“I’m sorry, Santiago, but I have no use for you this year. You’re too much of a risk, and I can’t have a late addition ruin everything. I will reign supreme,” Holt said.

“But Captain—” Amy tried to interject.

“You’re dismissed, Santiago,” Holt said with finality. He shut his door and walked over to his desk as Amy sulked to hers.

“She’s telling the truth, you know,” Albus said from his perch from the corner.

“Maybe that’s the case, but I’ve already planned every step precisely and nothing will go wrong,” Holt said.

“Be that as it may, Captain Holt. I know I am only a portrait of my former self, but I assure you I can sense when shenanigans are afoot.”

“What does Peralta have planned? Did you see anything while I was speaking with Jeffords?”

“No, no. I only sensed there may be an additional person in the precinct,” Albus said as his eyes looked above him.

“HA! I knew he’d enlist Cooper and Brown. He’s falling right into my trap.”

~o~

“Charles, you can keep trying to distract me, but you’ll never win. How’s it feel to be on the losing team,” Gina taunted him.

“Come on, Gina, I promise you won’t be disappointed this time!” Charles argued.

“No, Charles! I will not be set up on another blind date with a Boyle cousin. I respect myself too much,” Gina argued. “This body is a shrine and I have standards to uphold.”

Charles looked up and saw Rosa’s face appear in the window for a split second. That was his cue. “It’s not a Boyle cousin! It’s a recommendation from Genevieve. Here, Gina, look! I have a picture of him. Just let me find it,” he said as he dug into his pockets. He pulled the picture out and let it slip out of his hands, falling to the floor.

“Could you be any clumsier, Charles? GOD!” Gina exclaimed. 

She looked down and saw that the picture was of a very attractive looking man. She bent over to pick the photograph up, and Charles used that moment to give the thumbs up. A split second later, decoy detonators were running rampant around the floor. This caused Gina to scream and jump up on the table as the figures were scurrying around making loud noises.

“Charles, do something! What are those things! They’re going to kill us! Charles!” Gina yelled dramatically.

While this diversion was taking place, Rosa was working swiftly to unlock the door to the interrogation room. When it didn’t work, she broke the glass on the window, and then somersaulted through, meeting Ron, who had apparated into the room. Rosa moved over to the briefcase and began cutting into the leather as Ron reached into his pocket and grabbed Peruvian Darkness Powder. He tossed it toward the window and it immediately exploded, covering the area in complete darkness. He used his wand to control the spread of the powder so it isolated itself in front of the window.

  “We’ve got two minutes before this starts to weaken,” Ron told her. 

“Got it,” Rosa said, the crown in her hands. She flipped over the briefcase and zipped her jacket, stuffing the crown inside. “We’re good,” she said gruffly. “Wait for phase two in the evidence room.” 

Ron nodded as Rosa slipped out of the door. He waved his wand to repair the shattered glass, and flipped the briefcase over, repairing the hole Rosa cut as well. He noticed the powder starting to fade and apparated back to the evidence room.

~o~

Holt remained in his office, pretending to be nonplussed by the ongoing heist, and attempted to focus on his paperwork. Terry knocked on his door and came in.

“Hey, Captain, do you have any idea when I should tell Sharon to come in. The twins are almost done trick or treating, and I’m not sure she can hold them off much—” Holt cut Terry off with a raise of his hand.

“Shhh,” he said as he turned his radio up slightly to better hear Jake’s voice.

“Great! Now, all I have to do is sit here and guard this filing cabinet until midnight. Hello, victory!”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Rosa said indifferently as she walked away.

“Now, Terry, call her now. It is time,” Holt said.

“Uh, okay,” Terry said as he left Holt’s office. 

Holt watched Terry go, and waited for his wife and kids to enter through the elevator to take his leave from the office.

“Hey, girls!” Holt heard Jake said happily as he slipped out onto the terrace. 

He picked up his drill from the hiding spot and waited for Jake to be appropriately distracted. Stealthily, he moved towards the filing cabinet and unscrewed the back. Holt slipped the crown out, replaced the back and stood up to photobomb one of the shots before escaping into the breakroom. 

Pretending to be interested in the snack table, he noticed Amy nod to the breakroom and Jake looked over and saw him alone. He quickly disposed of the crown in the garbage can, and grabbed a handful of cheese puffs. I knew I couldn’t trust Santiago, he thought to himself.

“Since when do you eat cheese puffs?” Jake asked as he strolled in.

“If you must know, Peralta, they are one of my—” Holt paused briefly, “guilty pleasures.”

“Maybe I’m rubbing off on you after all,” Jake said with a laugh. “Quick, let’s see how many we can fit in our mouths at one time!” he said.

“I’ll...pass,” Holt said.

“Wait a minute, if they’re your guilty pleasure, why aren’t you eating any?” Jake crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I was going to enjoy them in my office,” Holt said quickly. 

“A-huh, well after you, then,” Jake said, gesturing to the door.

Holt had no choice but to follow him out and return to his office as Jake returned to his desk, petting the filing cabinet as he sat down. Jake pretended to get back to work, but pulled out his phone and typed out a message. Pretty sure Holt took crown. In breakroom. Initiate phase two.

After he returned his phone to his pocket, he noticed Charles walking over to his desk. “Charles! What are you doing? You’re supposed to be guarding the crown!”

“I’m sorry, Jake! You know I’d never betray you,” Charles said quickly.

“Why do I sense there’s a but?” Jake asked suspiciously.

“Because there is one! Come on, Jake, I thought you were smarter than that,” Gina chimed in with a guffawed voice.

“Gina? Where’d you come from? Nevermind. Charles, why aren’t you watching the briefcase?” Jake asked again.

“Well, Jakey, Gina agreed to go on a date with Nadia! But I had to leave the briefcase unattended…”

“Charles!” Jake said as his hands reached up to pull his hair.

“Jake, you can stop the act. I know the crown was obviously taken from the briefcase.” Gina told him.

“What?” Jake tried to play it off like he had no idea what Gina was talking about, but his facial expression was traitorous. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t been to the interrogation room at all!”

“Drop the act, Jake. I’m Gina Linetti and I know everything. Did you really think that distraction worked? I knew exactly what you were doing. Don’t insult my intelligence.”

“What’s all this?” Captain Holt asked as he walked out of his office. “Last time I checked this is a precinct, not daytime television drama!”

“Sir, Gina is wrongfully accusing me of taking the crown!” Jake defended.

“I don’t see how that’s a problem, Peralta. Where’s the lie?” Holt asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Jake’s mouth gaped like a fish out of water before he dropped the act. “Okay, fine, we have it, but you’ll never find it!” he admitted with an air of superiority. His hand immediately went to lean on the filing cabinet, pretending it was still there. 

Captain Holt let out an abrupt laugh. “In the top drawer of your filing cabinet? Please, Peralta, you’re playing like an amateur.”

“Would I really put the most beloved object of this life changing event in such a normal place?” Jake retorted.

“Why don’t you open the top drawer and let us all see.”

“Well, fine, if you must check…” Jake opened the top drawer, revealing an empty spot. Feigning shock, he looked up at Holt, then at everyone who was standing around. “Rosa! It’s gone. Where did it go? Tell me you borrowed it!”

Rosa had joined the circle now. “Why would I take it? That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“But then where did it go?” Jake looked at Holt. “There’s no way you could have stolen it. I’ve been at my desk the entire time.”

“Ah, yes, you’ve been here, but you allow yourself to be distracted far too easily, Peralta,” Holt said as he pulled out his phone. 

After a few clicks of the touchscreen he held out the phone for Jake to see. Sharon had sent him the picture she’d taken of Jake and the kids, with Holt photobombing with the crown in the background.

“Dammit! I should have known you’d use Terry’s girls to distract me. Not cool, Captain, not cool.” Jake shook his head, before looking up. “But wait, you were in the breakroom right after that!” He looked at Charles and Rosa before continuing, “Holt stashed the crown in the breakroom!”

The group made their way over quickly, each team trying to beat the other in an attempt to regain possession of the crown. Jake stopped abruptly at the head of the pack, causing everyone to run into him and each other. “Wait!” he turned to Holt. “That means you lied to me about the cheese puffs! That hurts, Da—I mean, Captain. I thought we were bonding over junk food.”

“Peralta, do you really think I would consume that cancerous trash?” Holt asked loftily.

“Well, that sounds a bit harsh,” Jake said, but then shook his head. “Where is it?” 

Holt walked over to the garbage can. “I had to stash it somewhere quickly so you wouldn’t see. So naturally, I placed it here,” he said, gesturing to the trash. “And now, I can retrieve it and keep it in my possession for the last hour. Looks like I have outsmarted you once more, Peral—” Holt cut off because as he lifted the lid off of the garbage can, he realized the crown was missing.

“What’s wrong?” Charles asked.

“It’s not there. It’s not there! Peralta, what’d you do with the crown? I know you took it!” 

“How could I have taken it? I was at my desk the entire time after we both left. It’s not like I can use magic or anything,” Jake said with a laugh. He didn’t realize what had slipped out of his mouth until he saw the look on Charles’ face. “I mean, obviously, magic doesn’t exist, duh…”

“Peralta, you’re not fooling anyone! I know you’ve got Cooper and Brown lurking around the precinct somewhere, helping with your plan. Did you really think you could hide that from me?”

“What?! I don’t know what you’re talking a—” 

“Peralta! Get them out here. Now.” 

Jake let out a sigh. “Fine. How’d you know?” 

He pulled out his phone and sent a quick message. Jig is up. Holt knows. Come back to the breakroom.

“How did I know? I practically gave you the idea to call them back! ‘You must miss your British friends. It’s a shame you can’t collaborate with them on anything else,’” Holt mimicked the words Jake remembered hearing more than once since the Gerteso case closed.

“Aw, man! You and your reverse psychology. Come on, Captain! Why do you always have to play the weird mind games?”

“Maybe you should put your detective skills to better use, and pick up on it, then,” Holt clapped back. “Ah, Brown! Cooper! So nice of you to join our heist. Though I’m sorry to say you’ve found yourself on the losing team.” 

Harry and Ron both walked through the door and began exchanging greetings with everyone. “Wait, losing team? You just said yourself you didn’t know where the crown went!” Jake interrupted.

“And you seemed just as shocked as I was,” Holt commented.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Charles interjected. “Where is the crown? Who’s telling the truth?”

“Sergeant Jeffords?” Holt said, looking at Terry.

“Uh, sorry Captain, I got tied up with Sharon and the girls.” Terry shrugged.

“WHAT?!” Captain Holt shouted. 

“Ha ha!” Jake pumped his fist in the air. “Looks like you’re going to lose after all, Captain! Nolan and Jason here did what Terry couldn’t. Better choose wiselier next time!”

“Er, Jake, we don’t have it either,” Ron admitted. 

Jake’s premature celebrations were cut short. “What?”

“I snuck in to get it, but it was already gone,” Harry explained.

Jake’s furrowed brow quickly turned up and a smile plastered on his face. “Ah, I see what you’re doing. Very clever! Make them think we don’t have it. Don’t worry, Cooper, it’s hidden well enough so Holt we’ll never find it!” 

“No, really, Jake. We don’t have it,” Ron’s face was completely serious.

“But then—” Jake looked at Holt. “Who took it?”

“Check the security tapes!” Rosa said.

“Yes, quickly, we don’t have a lot of time!” Holt said.

The group moved around to the computers that had the security footage on it while Holt slipped into his office quickly. He pretended to shuffle papers on his desk, his back to the door as he asked, “Did you see anyone enter the breakroom?”

Albus spoke slowly. “I did see someone enter, but the scuffle of your squad blocked most of my view.”

Holt shook his head. “I should have anticipated the layout of the precinct.”

“I am sorry I couldn’t be of more assistance. I did see Harry and Ronald try and retrieve the crown, and their look of concern when it wasn’t there, however.”

“Harry and—oh, you mean Jason and Nolan. My apologies, I do try to forget their true identities. I must pretend I do not know of their existence, or I risk getting Kingsley into a deal of trouble.”

“Captain Holt, they found some—” Harry walked into the room followed closely by Ron. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one. Didn’t your superiors teach you to knock when entering a room?” Holt said quickly. 

“The door was open,” Ron said quickly. “What’s in the corner over there, Jason?”

“Nothing that pertains to you,” Holt said.

“It’s a disillusionment charm. Is someone there? Kingsley? Jake said you might enlist his help,” Ron said suspiciously.

“Now, now, boys, I can assure you I am not Minister Shacklebolt, but he did answer Captain Holt’s request for assistance,” came Dumbledore’s voice from the invisible spot in the corner.

“Professor Dumbledore?!” both boys gasped.

“Only in portrait form. You’ll never believe the lengths Kingsley had to go to in order to get Minerva to oblige. It’s been a nice vacation.”

Ron broke out into laughter. “Well played, Captain Holt. It’s a shame Jake can’t know.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure your reunion can continue later, but did you not say evidence has been uncovered?”

“Oh, yeah, let’s go,” Ron said as Harry and Holt followed.

“What janitor was on tonight?” Rosa asked.

“Should we check the dumpsters?” Charles suggested.

“What is this?” Captain Holt cut in.

“A janitor emptied the trash shortly after you put the crown there! Look, there’s a name tag.” Jake pointed to the screen.

“It says ‘Al’,” Harry pointed out.

“Does anyone know an Al?” Captain Holt asked to a sea of shaking heads.

“Someone has to know..” Charles thought out loud.

“The late night cleaner shift would have ended fifteen minutes ago,” Terry reminded them. “So Al’s not even here.”

“How are we supposed to find him, then?” Gina asked.

“Where’s the directory?” Holt said, looking at Gina.

“That? I threw it out.” Gina said unapologetically.

“Gina—” Terry was about to scold her for not holding onto important documents.

“Wait a minute,” Rosa cut in, “Who sends Christmas cards to everyone in the office?”

“Amy!” Jake said, immediately moving over to her desk. “A ha!” His finger skimmed the list of names and addresses. He secretly loved her organizational skills and knack for keeping things orderly. “Here it is!”

“How much time do we have?” Holt asked.

“Thirty minutes,” Charles said, checking his watch.

“His apartment’s only seven blocks away, we can make it!” Jake said. 

He froze briefly as he and Captain Holt both stared at each other. In a split second, they were both running for the elevator, followed by the other members of their teams. The group of eight ran the entire distance to the janitor’s apartment and quickly entered the building.

“The elevator’s broken!” Charles exclaimed as Jake was gasping for air, incredibly out of breath.

“How many...floors?” he asked between breaths.

“Seventeen,” Rosa said with an eye roll.

Holt and Jake shared another brief look before the race continued up seventeen flights of stairs. The rest of the teams followed closely behind. By the time they reached the seventeenth floor, Jake checked his watch.

“Ha! Ten minutes to spare. My lungs are on fire.” Jake said as he knocked on Al’s apartment door. 

A woman answered, looking rather annoyed.

“Hello, Ma’am,” Captain Holt said, cutting Jake’s greeting off. “Does Al live here? May we speak to him?”

“It’s really important. Will only take a second,” Jake added as the rest of the group was appearing now.

“He’s not here,” the woman said. “He went up to the roof.”

“What?” Jake asked, now leaning against the door jamb. 

“Sorry. If you want to talk to him, you’ll have to go up there.” The woman shut the door in their faces.

“That’s another fourteen flights of stairs,” Holt said.

“I’m pretty sure I’m gonna die,” Jake said dramatically.

“Good, you stay here and recover and I’ll go speak to Al,” Holt said as he started back towards the stairs.

“Not a chance!” Jake said, rallying his energy.

Eight minutes later, Jake and Holt burst through the door to the rooftop. “I...did it….was here….first!” Jake managed to say before he retched to the side. 

He was able to make it a few more paces as Holt called for Al. Jake threw up a second time as they looked around. 

“There’s no Al here,” came a voice. Someone in the same janitor’s outfit appeared from behind a corner.

“Ah, no! Ames, what are you doing?” Jake asked, clearly surprised.

“I’m here to tell you that neither of you won the heist this year.”

“Wait, what?” Rosa called as the rest of the group appeared through the doorway and came up behind Holt and Jake.

“This is preposterous! You don’t have the crown. Al does. Where is he?”

“It was me all along,” Amy said triumphantly.

“What do you mean?” Jake asked.

“Did you really think I wasn’t expecting the two of you to cast me off to the side this year? I used that to my advantage to take you both down.”

“What do you—” Jake started to say.

“For the past three months I made sure to drop hints of how much Captain Holt’s approval means to me whenever you’d bring up the heist,” she said to Jake, but quickly acknowledged Holt. “Which I do, by the way!”

Jake rolled his eyes. “That’s no different than normal. So what?”

“And I’d also manage to slip in a few words to Captain Holt about how well our relationship is going, so he’d think I’m more loyal to you,” Amy said as she nodded to Jake.

“But...you are, aren’t you?” Jake asked.

“Really? You’re asking me that when you wouldn’t even divulge any details of your plans?”

“And you wonder why I said I couldn’t trust you,” Jake mumbled.

“Can someone please explain what’s going on?” Terry cut in.

“I’m getting there, Sarge,” Amy said as she looked over to the rest of the group. “Oh, hey Nolan. Hey, Jason. I knew you’d call them in,” she said to Jake.

“No you didn’t,” Jake protested.

“Really? Then care to explain why else you’d wake up early in the morning and I’d hear you giggling at text message conversations? Did you really think I had no idea you’d included them in the whole thing? Honestly, it’s a little insulting. And how did you two get away from your wives for the day?” Amy asked.

Harry and Ron both looked guilty. “Er, we told them we were on a mission,” Ron said.

“...And you really think we believed that?” Hermione walked out from the same area Amy was hiding, followed by a second person.

Ron and Harry were white as a sheet. “Oh yeah, I called your wives in. Turns out Charlotte and Nolan are married, they just didn’t want us to know. And this is Lucy, Jason’s wife. Charlotte suggested she join our team.

“It’s about time I got to meet you all,” Ginny said with a genuine smile on her face. “It’s a shame, really, Jason. I could have been such a vital part of your team, but I guess you haven’t bothered to tell your American friends about me, have you?”

“It was a mission before. We don’t talk personal on missions,” Harry said through gritted teeth, worried she was going to give something away. Ginny shot him a look that said, ‘I’m not stupid, so bugger off.’

“Guys, come on, it’s late. Heists are dumb, anyways. Can we wrap this up?” Terry complained.

“Yes, I am quite interested in how Santiago pulled this off,” Holt chimed in.

“Right,” Amy said. “You’ve already heard the first part of my plan, which was to get both of you to not trust me for your teams. Once I knew Jake was bringing in Jason and Nolan, I recruited Charlotte and Lucy. Charlotte was staking out the opposite end of the hallway by the interrogation room and was keeping me updated on Jake’s plan, since we all know he has to make a move first..at least for the heists, anyways. But it was when I was playing the ‘hurt’ card and talking to Jake when I noticed Captain Holt was speaking at his desk, so I asked Lucy to investigate.”

“I crawled through the air ducts to find out what was going on. Turns out Holt had an extra spy of his own,” Ginny explained.

“I knew you’d call King!” Jake exclaimed.

“It wasn’t King. He used King’s connections to get a very important device to help spy on us. One that could see, hear, and talk to, but no one else could see.” Amy was being careful not to give the identity of the magic portrait away. She knew it was Dumbledore’s portrait, but Holt, Terry and Gina couldn’t know.

“No!” Jake shouted. He looked at Harry and Ron, who nodded. He’d sent them into Holt’s office to figure out who he was consulting, and they managed to slip him a text, telling him who it was. “Okay, Captain. I have to admit, that was a solid idea.”

“Thank you,” Holt said as he nodded.

“Anyways, Lucy also heard about Holt’s plan when he told Terry how he was going to steal the crown from your cabinet. You actually made it quite easy for me to get to it,” Amy commented.

“So you dressed up as Al and emptied the garbage,” Jake finished.

“Exactly. I knew you’d watch the security footage and use my address book to find Al’s address. Luckily, his wife was willing to play along in our charade. I did have more planned for Charlotte and Lucy, but you just made it too easy for us, so we’ve been celebrating our victory instead.”

“But then where is the crown now?” Holt asked.

“At Shaw’s, where my inauguration as ‘amazing detective/genius’ will be held,” Amy answered.

“Man, Ames, I love you. I’m impressed,” Jake said. It took him a moment to realize what he’d said.

“You—you do?” Amy asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

“What?” Jake asked, still not fully understanding what just happened.

Charles was squealing like a little girl in the background. “Jake just told Amy he loved her!”

“Oh, yeah, I guess I did,” Jake said with an awkward laugh.

“Did you mean it?” Amy asked.

“I—yeah, I did,” Jake admitted. 

It wasn’t his intention to tell her how he felt in front of the entire precinct as well as his wizard friends, but it was too late now. Amy’s face broke into a sweet smile and it looked like she was trying not to cry. “Aw, I love you too, Jake.”

He walked over and kissed her as everyone whooped and cheered. When he broke apart, she looked him squarely in the eyes. “Don’t think for a second I’m giving you that crown,” she said fiercely.

Everyone laughed. “I wouldn’t dream of it. You won, fair and square. Could you carry me down to the first floor, though? I don’t think my legs can walk back down thirty one flights of stairs.”

Amy, Charlotte and Lucy all laughed. “What’s so funny?” Ron asked.

“I forgot to tell you. The elevator isn’t broken! We just put a sign up to make you take the stairs. We knew it’d buy us enough time until midnight,” Amy said with a triumphant smile on her face.

“My girlfriend’s evil and I love it,” Jake said. 

“Can we get to Shaw’s now?” Rosa asked, trying to push things along.

“To Shaw’s!” Jake agreed, as they all made their way to the elevator.

~o~

“All hail the crown of destiny!” Jake said as he placed the crown on Amy’s head. “And she who wears it. Amy Santiago, the—”

“Queen!” Amy interjected.

“—Queen of the 99,” Jake finished.

“And?” Amy asked, waiting patiently.

Holt and Jake both inhaled before saying, “Amy Santiago is an amazing detective/genius.”

Everyone clapped and enjoyed their drinks. Ron leaned over to Hermione and said, “So, how much trouble are we in for lying?”

“I think we can let it slide, considering we won,” Hermione said as she nodded to Ginny.

“Er, Lucy, where are the kids?” Harry asked.

“Bill and Fleur have them,” Ginny said, “And George and Angelina took Rose and Hugo.”

Harry and Ron nodded as Ron changed the subject, satisfied the kids were in good hands. Not that he’d have anything to worry about with his family on standby. “Nice of them to include us in this, yeah?” 

“Yes, it’s nice to see them again. Though, we shouldn’t make this regular. We’re already pushing it with how much they know,” Hermione chided.

“You’re probably right. It’s a shame Dumbledore can’t join us,” Harry said.

“Oh, yeah, have Holt walk right in with his portrait. Wouldn’t that be a sight!” Ron sniggered.

“I already messaged Kingsley, telling him we knew about his involvement, and he’s free to pick the portrait up,” Harry said.

“I can’t believe McGonagall even agreed to it!” Ginny added.

The conversation shifted as members from the squad came over and joined them. It was a happy reunion of the two teams, even knowing they couldn’t make a habit of it. The trio resolved to enjoy the night before returning back to England in the morning as they sipped on their drinks. Jake was filling Ginny in on the things Harry neglected to tell her about their time in New York City a few months back, including the infamous precinct chant. As if on cue, Ginny got to witness the chant firsthand.

Terry held up his glass and yelled, “NINE-NINE!” 

“NINE-NINE!”

#hp fanfic #harry potter/brooklyn 99 crossover #hp/b99 crossover #brooklyn 99 #it is done! #No seriously auror 99 is officially finished

[bookdancerfics]

Bookdancer's Writing Updates

hey so it's currently been a bit since i last posted or updated anything (according to ao3, the last time i did so was late february), so i thought i'd just give a list of what i've been working on

fics i've actively been working on and adding words to:

The West Wind Comes Walking

Lord of the Rings, gen

Summary: Boromir wakes up where he died. There’s still blood on his tunic, and holes where the arrows pierced him, and an echo of the oath he bore for Aragorn in his last moments… an oath he swears to uphold even in death.

currently less than 3k words but i don't expect it to be a very long fic, anyway. i'm just kind of daunted by what i want to write and worried that i won't do it justice

yes the title is from the "Lament for Boromir"

working title 1

Haikyuu!!, gen

no official summary yet, but it's a social media AU that covers the 2020 summer olympics mostly from the eyes of fans and reporters

yes i have been working on this since before 2020. no i am not changing anything now that the actual olympics are almost here and i'll probably finish the fic after them

this fic has 5.5k+ words and i still have a ways to go; it's taking a bit bc as fun as making a social media AU is, it also gets fairly repetitive at times and i'm trying to make it not do that

this is us trying, aka JZX+MNMN Bromance the Fic

MDZS / The Untamed, gen

Summary: 5 times Jin Zixuan and Mianmian have each other’s back, and the 2 times they don’t.

only 2k words right now, but i've finished 3/7 sections so we're further along than the word count suggests. i may also expand one or two of the sections, we'll see

title is from Taylor Swift's song of the same title bc i adore it

fics i should really finish at some point bc i already started them:

carry me into the flames (and set my heart on fire)

Spider-man & the Fantastic Four, Spideytorch AU.

Summary: Johnny is the only one to return from space without powers, but none of his teammates understand why it bothers him so much. The only one who even tries to understand is the weird new superhero who runs around with spider powers, swings by the Baxter Building for impromptu gaming sessions, and catches Johnny when he falls — figuratively and literally. And then Dr. Doom attacks while the Terrific Three are on mission, and Johnny’s whole life goes to hell in a very flammable hand basket.

i've had the beginning of this written for forever now and i'd really like to finish it at some point

Dear Mondays

MDZS / The Untamed, Wangxian modern day college AU

Summary: Lan Zhan’s new work lands him his own desk, or at least it’s his own until a second student joins the office. Lan Zhan works Mondays and Wednesdays, Wei Wuxian Tuesdays and Thursdays. They never see each other, so all Lan Zhan knows of the other boy is that he’s perpetually messy, enjoys making paper clip strings out of their shared office supplies, and has an incredible gift for making the sharpies run out of ink. Then he gets the brilliant idea to start leaving Lan Zhan notes, and Lan Zhan… well it would be rude to not write back, wouldn’t it?

i started this forever ago, have 3.5k+ words written already, actually really like what i have finished, and yet haven't touched it in months. i blame the fact that Jin Zixuan wanted to be my one and only favorite MDZS character

Liven My Body

The Hobbit, gen, Groundhog Day AU

no official summary yet, just "Bookdancer attempts to whump every dwarf who ever existed". but basically during the Battle of Five Armies, Kíli's battle restarts every time Fíli dies. the fic actually extends far beyond the actual "groundhog day," exploring the consequences and rewards of what happens

we're at almost 14k words, it's still not finished, i started it back in 2015 and no i'm not kidding but i wish i was. please let it end

fics i haven't started but do want to write

working title 2

Harry Potter, Draco-centric. possibly Drarry, possibly gen, 100% the redemption arc Draco deserved

Summary: In their 6th year, Hermione takes the boy who would annoy Ron most to Slughorn’s party—this boy is not Cormac McLaggen. Aka Draco gets a totally legitimate invitation into Harry’s group that he won’t take advantage of at all. The result is change—not of everything, but some things. The important things.

i have this fic planned out more extensively than most fics i write and yet i have still not written a single word for the actual fic

learning to love the pain

911 on Fox, gen from Eddie's POV but Buck-centric, checking vital signs pt. 4

i have a summary but no confirmation that that's the plot i'll be sticking with so for now it's just the time Buck prioritizes Eddie's well-being over his own

as you may have guessed from the above point, i have no clue what i'm writing for this so far. all i know is Eddie's POV is definitely coming before Bobby's (who will take pt. 5 of the series)

like every other fic in this series, the title is adapted from The Score’s “Born For This”

Whumptober 2020

so i'm not sure what fics will be going here but again, i promised you guys that i'd write a fic for every prompt. i haven't written anything for Whumptober since October but the plan is still to finish all those prompts

#if any of these fics particularly interest you don't hesitate to let me know #right now they're all kind of at equal levels of importance in my eyes #so if i know i have people looking forward to one that may bump it up #writing updates #my fic #my post #mine #the west wind comes walking #this is us trying #carry me into the flames (and set my heart on fire) #dear mondays #liven my body #learning to love the pain #whumptober2020 #working title(s)

[headcanonseverywhere]

Before The Fall: The End of Count Caligo

Plot: The Head of House for the Caligo family is at the brink of death, and tension rises between two brothers.

Silence was very much prevalent in the Caligo manor, but today it felt as though it became denser, thicker. Not a single sound was made throughout the entire estate, not even from the acres that sprawled throughout the land, nor from the forest which surrounded its perimeter. It was as though nature itself knew what was unfolding, something dark and unholy, that even a small chirp from a bird, or a squeal from a mouse, would put themselves in danger. 

Even unworldly beings felt this tension, especially the very owners of the manor.  Of course, they felt less frightened than any creature with a soul, but they still knew of the importance of today’s event, and remained soundless like the rest.

In a room far up the manor, past its many halls adorned with portraits of generations past, and lined with ghoul servants ready to obey any command, resided the Head of the House, Count Caligo III, and surrounding him was his family, silent and observant, as they paid their respects for his final moments.

The old vampire was close to death. His skin was shriveled and paper thin, ready to disintegrate at any moment, and his hair was so thin and white that the shape of his skull could be seen, and his long fingernails, which could once claw deep through skin and bones, could now barely scrape the surface of his silk sheets.

He was once powerful and unstoppable, but like any creature, the laws of life had finally caught up to him, and there was no magic, no sorcery, no power that could prevent him from this.

As he took a shaky breath, he looked to his side and called upon his two eldest sons, Nicolai and Domenico, to come forward. They obeyed, and bowed in respect towards their father.

“My time is coming.” he said, his voice barely leaving his lips. “Soon, a new heir will take my place.”

“Yes, father.” said Nicolai. “We shall prepare the ceremony as soon as possible.”

“Father,” said Domenico, tentatively. “Wouldn’t it be better to give the title to one of us, instead?”

Everyone looked at him in shock and hatred. Nicolai followed pursuit, as his eyes burned with rage towards his brother, for daring to speak out against their father.

“We are your eldest sons,” Domenico continued, trying to contain his composure. “We have more right for the title of Head of House than anyone else here, we’ve lived the longest, we know the ways of running the family, and we shall uphold the family name with much respect--”

“Silence!” hissed Count Caligo III, and despite his fragile state, he still managed to give a look of utter disdain towards his son. “I am still the Head of House, so I shall say what I will or will not do!”

Domenico fell silent and returned to stand among the family. The old vampire faced Nicolai once more.

“Make sure to prepare the ceremony.” he ordered.

“Yes, father.” Nicolai bowed. 

The old vampire then turned to the rest of his family, and they gave all of their attention upon him. He stared at each and every single one of them with pride, as he remembered his youth, watching his family grow and prosper throughout time, but also recalling those who he had lost, and those whom he held dear to his cold heart.

Despite the mistakes the family has made, especially those he had made, he was proud of what the Caligos had become, a powerhouse to be respected and feared, that even the most daring and boldest of creatures wouldn’t even think twice to cross their path.

He looked around him, and in a faint voice he said, “Uphold the family name, don’t ever let it falter. That...is my final wish.”

And as he took one last shaky breath, the old vampire finally slept, and soon his shriveled skin began to crack and crumble, and the thin wisps of his hair fell onto his sheets. The family watched in pain as the old Head of House crumbled to dust before their eyes.

~

“What you did was of most disrespect!” shouted Nicolai, as he walked across the hall with his brother, Domenico. “How dare you question the ceremony?! And in front of our father’s deathbed--”

“It is pointless!” said Domenico, raising his voice. “This ceremony has brought too many losses to us, and you more than anyone should know this!”

They both came to an abrupt stop, and silence fell between them.

“Don’t bring her into this.” Nicolai sneered.

“The mother of your children couldn’t live to see her own kin grow,” continued Domenico. “How can you suffer through that and have a clear conscience about this wretched ceremony?!”

“Do not talk of my pain as though you’ve gone through it!” yelled Nicolai. 

“I have gone through your pain!” shouted Domenico. “I have lost countless of my own children for this ceremony! If this persists, our family will dissolve completely!

“But if we were to pass it from parent to child,” he continued. “Then our family shall remain for more millennia to come.”

Nicolai let out a sarcastic laugh, then dropped his expression. A look of deep-seated anger rested upon his face.

“Say all you want about our family, but you cannot fool me.” he muttered. “You’ve always wanted the title, hence why you competed regardless, but never won.”

“I’ve stopped competing since.” Domenico retaliated. “I have too much to lose now.”

The brothers glared at each other for a moment, before Nicolai sneered, baring his fangs. 

“It is tradition, it has always been this way, and it shall always be this way!”

“You are blind, brother.” Domenico spoke, almost in a tone of pity. “This ceremony puts a target on our heads, if we don’t stop now, our family will be doomed.”

But as Nicolai was about to retaliate, a voice called out to him.

“Father!”

The brothers turned, and saw Algernon approach his father, Nicolai. He smiled with pride, and stretched an arm out towards his son.

“Algernon, what do you wish?”

“I want to let you know that I shall be competing for the title.” he answered.

Nicolai’s proud expression suddenly grew dark. “Are you sure about this, my son?”

“Yes.” he replied. “I am more than qualified to become Head of House.”

“That is exactly what your mother said.” mentioned Domenico.

Algernon glared at his uncle for a brief moment, before giving him a sly smile. 

“And how is Anastacia doing? Has she finally become a proper vampire?”

Domenico tightly pressed his lips together, and although he attempted to seem unaffected by Algernon’s remark, his golden eyes glared back at his nephew.

“I do not owe you the whereabouts of my...daughter.” he muttered.

“Not to me, precisely,” Algernon smirked. “But to the family, we don’t want another Blackbane incident now, do we?”

Domenico sneered, but Algernon didn’t seem to care, and returned to face his father. Nicolai remained quiet throughout the short quarrel, gazing at his son with a solemn look in his eyes, but he smiled at him, mustering the look of pride he had earlier.

“You will do well, my son.” he told him, patting Algernon on his shoulder once more.

“I know.” Algernon grinned, and left.

As Nicolai watched his son go, Domenico approached him.

“Is this the tradition you wish to uphold?”

“Yes.” Nicolai muttered.

“Well then, may your son never encounter his mother’s fate.”

With that, Domenico walked away from him, leaving Nicolai alone to stare down the hallway, lost in his thoughts.

#the caligo family #anastacia caligo #my fics #my ocs #urban fantasy world #the fall of the caligos

[odatodeath]

a personal look at every oda nobunaga that I’ve seen so far... in as few words as possible. hopefully. (i failed)

Not a ranking or anything, and I’m not judging any actors, just the ‘character’ of nobunaga as he is portrayed. Any version of him that’s around long enough to have a general idea of who he is will be included.

This is also basically my way of archiving every Nobunaga I’ve seen so far.

what I need to watch or finish watching: Nobunaga: King of Zipangu, Hideyoshi (Taiga), Gunshi Kanbei, Tenchijin, Samurai Commando: Mission 1549, Nobunaga Moyu, Goemon, Three Nobunagas, Kunitori Monogatari

I’ll add onto this list as I go through more stuff with Nobunaga in it.

Kagemusha: Stole the show. Partly because Nobu is already outstanding compared to other conservative samurai (like ieyasu or shingen’s men,) and partly because his actor sold it that well. A bit of a spitfire.

Honnoji Hotel: Grew jaded over time, but empathetic and means well. Him being outstanding comes from his ambition. I just love this Nobu.

Nobunaga no Hitsugi: This is a kind, serious, focused Nobu. May or may not be based on how Gyuichi idolised him. 

Katen no Shiro: A cool Nobu that knows what he’s doing despite still acting odd in comparison to his peers and having outrageous expectations. he listens when someone tells him something, and regardless of his reaction in the moment, he makes sure it turns out well.

Onna Nobunaga: Despite it being boringly written, this Nobunaga is played well. A no-bullshit type, jaded immediately, but everything regarding this Nobu and romance is meh.

The Kiyosu Conference: We don’t see much of him, but he’s played for goofs and I appreciate just how far they went to find someone that looks so absurdly like Nobunaga’s post-death portraits. Portrayed as tough, but dies quickly.

Toshiie to Matsu: Harsh, but playful and considerate. He cares deeply about his men and uses the sort of ‘tough love’ idea to whip them into shape. Headstrong.

Go: Himetachi no Sengoku: Now this Nobu.. is one of my favourites. For only appearing in a few episodes, we saw glimpses of an extremely complex character. He’s tough on people who annoy him or do things he thinks are illogical, but when faced with a character who tells him like it is (like he SEEKS from everyone else,) he laments his life. Keen on personal honour. Loves his family.

Sanadamaru: We really don’t see much of him, but he’s one of the Nobu who are always one step ahead, but has a real temper. When he gets angry, he is very angry.

Onna Joshu Naotora: This Nobunaga either intentionally or unintentionally strives to be the epitome of something inhuman. Rarely emotes (except in the case of handsome men.. and bread?) and uses “staring for long periods of time” to add to his intimidation factor. Again, I’m not sure whether he’s intentionally being scary or if it’s just a side effect of him being... him. This one’s the most ‘unhinged’.

Kirin ga Kuru: This Nobunaga is one of the more soft and playful ones, but he’s intense when he steps up to the role of it. He really wanted to make his parents proud of him, and was shunned by his family more with every attempt. Now that they’re all out of the picture, he has nothing else to distract him from bigger goals. Since this taiga is still ongoing, I’ve yet to see how he ends-up.

Nobunaga’s Ambition: Koei has a good way of adapting the same person/character differently multiple times. In Nobunaga’s Ambition, Nobunaga starts out as the aloof fool we’re all aware of, but abruptly after Masahide’s death, he shapes up to take over the country. Very driven... no surprise, since the game is about... his ambition.

Samurai Warriors: He varies somewhat from game to game, but he typically always has a “good” sense of humour... that no one else really understands. He doesn’t take life seriously, but takes death seriously instead. Stoic and serious for the most part, but he always has wisdom to share and will find things to laugh at.

Sengoku BASARA: Demon King Nobunaga. Written to embody that title. He doesn’t find any particular joy in killing or torturing (like Mitsuhide,) he just does it when he thinks it’s necessary for his goals. Still, like Samurai Warriors Nobu.. he sure does have a “good” sense of humour; in that he’ll find something to laugh about because it makes him cool. no problems here. He has a warped perspective on the ideals most Nobunaga have: he wants to end war... by destroying everything.

Gakuen BASARA: I’m calling it separate because I think the idea of Nobunaga as a “strict headmaster” is .. an interesting character idea. Honestly, he’s not all that strict. All the kids in his school are just morons, and he JUST SO HAPPENS to respond to it and their death threats by blowing them up, I guess. But he is deeply protective over his school (not so much the kids) almost caring about it like it’s a living thing and wanting to uphold its rules.

Pokemon Conquest: Acts cold and menacing and doesn’t explain himself clearly enough, which is why his sister leaves him and starts a revolt in the first place. He is so infatuated with talking like the riddler, or something. JUST BE CLEAR, mAN!! But, in the end of the game, one particular all-seeing eye assures him that it knows he has good intentions, and he’s allowed to remain. Was a fun kid.

Onimusha: He’s your typical satan-y hammy villain, and becomes a blob of meat in the end. He’s one step ahead,

Nioh/Nioh 2: Unlike other Koei adaptations of young Nobu, Nioh 2′s version of young Nobu is similar to their older Nobu. They’re both amused by small things but have a strong sense of pride and won’t do anything they don’t already want to do themselves.

Nobunaga Concerto: The actual!Nobu in Nobunaga concerto is a more reserved nobunaga, no doubt thanks to him assuming the role of Akechi Mitsuhide, under a headscarf. Saburo, the guy who takes actual!Nobu’s place, is a “typical goofy japanese teen”, but when placed in serious situations, he lives up to his role as a warlord and takes control.

Oda Cinnamon Nobunaga: This Nobunaga, while played for laughs, has a pretty clear character. When something annoys him, it’s very obvious. When he likes something, it’s very obvious. Otherwise, he’s perceptive and fun type. His stubbornness can get in the way of that, though.

Nobunaga no Shinobi: This Nobunaga is portrayed as more a neutral-good type, which isn’t a surprise considering he’s one of the main characters, and the actual main character happens to be his ninja who he treats almost like his kid. He’s serious most of the time, VERY protective of his sister and wife, quite respectful, and because it’s a humorous show, he can be plenty funny in a deadpan way. When he gets angry, he either explodes or goes into a depressed state where he acts/thinks cruelly.

Nobunaga no Chef: Similar to Nobunaga no Shinobi, this Nobunaga lashes out and acts cruel when angry. It’s more emphasised in this series, though, because he is consistently portrayed as more of a neutral character who acts harshly and seems uncaring on the outside. Buried under his fabulous clothes, however, he has a heart that knows exactly what it wants, and he never intends to do harm to innocents.

That one Toyota Ad Series: Actually, I love this Nobu. I can’t speak Japanese and I haven’t seen the ads translated, but the vibe of this Nobunaga is just great. The premise is that he and Hideyoshi are reborn in modern times, and as you’d expect when a warlord suddenly no longer has to wage war: he’s just chill. A badass type, but he’s prone to being surprised by everything new the world offers him (or when meeting old friends). Also he takes care of baby Masamune. Love him.

#( tento - ooc ) #Oda Nobunaga #sengoku jidai #samurai