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tears-and-smiles-ao3 · 2 years

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Petals In A Storm

Chapter 3: The path less travelled

Fic masterpost

They walked for hours each day. Jaskier had forgotten how much his feet hurt when he had travelled with Geralt previously. The only blessing this time was that the witcher was also having to walk. Still, that didn’t stop the blisters from forming.

Sam had been wise enough to bring some salve and he spent each night working it into Jaskier’s poor feet as he hissed in both pain and relief.

For reasons Jaskier couldn’t ascertain, Sam was doing much better at life on the road. He certainly seemed to have less complaints. Jaskier felt like his skin was on fire, like his body was too small to contain the thrumming energy within him. He spent all day trying to distract himself from this feeling and it was only when Sam wrapped his arms around him at night, snuggling them together in the tight confines of their shared bedroll, that his worries seemed to evaporate.

For the most part, Geralt seemed to trudge ahead of them, leading the way to wherever they were going. The only thing he would say is that it wasn’t safe at the moment, which, yeah, he’d already told Jaskier that and it wasn’t enough of an explanation. Wheedling more out of the stoic witcher was painful, as always.

What was really odd was how well Sam got along with the witcher. Jaskier had assumed that Sam would hate Geralt on sight, but the baker seemed content to help the witcher with setting up camp each night.

Jaskier did as little as he could. It was mainly out of principle but also the witcher hadn’t asked much of him. Most nights, he sat by the fire, turning over the rabbits or some other small animal that Geralt had caught. Sam would arrange their bedrolls, both theirs and the witcher’s. Then, he’d come and sit down beside Jaskier on the log.

It was the same routine tonight as he bent forward and kissed Jaskier on the cheek, putting his arm around him.

“You’re shivering,” he said softly to Jaskier, rubbing his hand up and down to try and generate more heat.

Jaskier leaned his head on Sam’s shoulder and hummed. It was getting colder, the autumn leaves flaking and falling to the ground. He would often watch them spiral as they fell down, coating the campsite around them with colour.

When Jaskier was young, he loved to play in the leaves, but autumn while travelling with the witcher meant he was soon to be on his own. Except the witcher was taking them further and further south, away from his usual path north.

Sam kissed his forehead, then helped him sit back up to refocus on their dinner.

“How are they cooking?”

“Doing fine,” Jaskier answered. He turned them again, looking over each side to check. “Another 10 minutes, maybe longer.”

“That’s good. I am hungry tonight,” Sam admitted. His cheek dropped to Jaskier’s shoulder and one of his hands was playing with the buttons of Jaskier’s waistcoat. They had sat in silence often these last few nights, just listening to the movement of animals on the tree branches, the soft fall of the leaves, the creak of twigs in the woodland floor beyond and the crackle of the fire.

Being surrounded by trees was both a relief and a curse. It was pleasant to be in nature, just like he and Sam had done when they were back home. It was also worrying to be alone when anyone could come across them while the witcher was so far away. They were being hunted, or so Geralt had said. The fact that Geralt had resisted any and all attempts that Jaskier made to get more out of him infuriated the bard no end.

“Where do you think the witcher has gone?” Sam asked, his voice feeling loud in the now quiet space.

Jaskier hummed, turning the rabbits once more. “Off getting some herbs or something.” Geralt could be away for anything. In years gone by, Jaskier assumed most of the time it was to get some peace and quiet from him, since the witcher was usually agitated before he headed off. It could still be that but Jaskier hadn’t said much to Geralt today, other than to complain about his sore feet.

“The life of a witcher, eh? It’s actually more boring than I thought it would be.”

Jaskier tittered at Sam’s dry words. It certainly wasn’t as glamorous as people imagined. Being out in all weather was not fun and Jaskier had gleaned that the witcher liked sleeping in a nice bed every now and again, even if Jaskier often had to force him to accept it.

It wasn’t that being outdoors was all bad. He had fond memories of the witcher wrapping his arms around him during the cold spring or autumn nights, making sure he didn’t freeze. Geralt had never said anything about it, just opened his arms and let Jaskier snuggle in. It had been one of the reasons Jaskier had hoped, had ached, for something more.

He snapped out of his thoughts, shaking as if he had just shivered.

“Yeah, there is a lot of this,” he said, gesturing at the woodlands around them. “Usually, there are more monsters to fight, but Geralt is marching us to the gods’ know where.”

Sam twiddled with the hem of his shirt. “Yeah, I’ve been wondering about that. We seem to be going somewhere, but I don’t know many places this south.”

“Geralt doesn’t usually go this south ever. Him not speaking, that’s normal, but everything else, not so much.”

“Do you still trust him?”

Jaskier hummed. It was true that he trusted the witcher insofar that he believed he wouldn’t bring them to harm. Well, he didn’t think so anyway, that shitshow on the mountain notwithstanding. If Geralt didn’t care about them he would have left them back in Oxenfurt. So, yes, Jaskier did trust him.

“I do. He has never deliberately harmed me. I don’t think he will start now.”

Sam hummed, then pointed at the rabbits. “I think they are ready.” He got up and busied himself positioning them so they could cool, then sat back down with Jaskier, grabbing his shaking hand.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his face once more showing concern.

“I’m a bit antsy,” Jaskier admitted. His legs were now jittering and Jaskier looked down at them surprised. “Um, or maybe it’s just the cold.”

Sam brought Jaskier’s hands up to his mouth and blew on them. It made Jaskier giggle.

“That better?” Sam asked and Jaskier nodded, allowing the baker to keep warming his hands.

When Sam eventually put them down into his lap, Jaskier cleared his throat. “Thanks,” he said almost to himself.

“You know, we should probably have got you better clothes to keep you warm,” Sam said, and Jaskier knew he didn’t mean it the same way the witcher had, but his blood raged with years of being told the same thing.

“You sound just like him,” Jaskier scowled, yanking his hand back from Sam.

“No, no,” Sam protested, “I’m not trying to judge you. Sorry, it was just an idle thought.”

Jaskier frowned, twisting in his seat to look at Sam. He watched how his eyes darted across his face, examining him. He knew Sam didn’t mean it, so he reached over and pulled him into a long kiss, pouring his all into it. When they parted, he joined their hands together, entwining his fingers with Sam’s.

“I know you didn’t. I’m sorry,” Jaskier admitted. “It’s just hard being out here again.”

It really had been. Since they set off with only each other for company, Jaskier had struggled to see Geralt all day every day. It kept the witcher on his mind constantly. Not that he was ever far from his mind usually.

He could see Sam waiting on him to say more. Jaskier took a deep breath and gave a weak smile.

“I want to tell you something about Geralt,” he began, and he could feel Sam tensing immediately but he ploughed on. “When he basically told me to fuck off, I have never felt so hurt by someone that I loved. And I know you said that love isn’t fair, and, yeah, that makes sense because I was thrown away like week-old fish stew, but I think love is something else, too. You see, to me, you are important. I need you. You are kind, you are patient, and, hell, you’re here when you don’t need to be. I still don’t know why you chose to come along but I am grateful you are here. So, even if Geralt does care, somewhere deep within that stony heart of his, I need you to know that I still want you.”

Sam nodded, pulling Jaskier tighter against him and kissing his head. They turned back to look at the fire and sat in comfortable silence until the witcher came back.

Sometimes when they walked, Jaskier could feel Geralt’s eyes gazing at him and Sam. They could be trailing behind or walking ahead and he would know the witcher was watching them. He assumed that the witcher didn’t trust Sam, but after a while he realised that it was more like he was trying to figure out what they were.

“You’re staring,” he said, looking at Geralt directly. The witcher kept his eyes trained on them, not even slightly guilty at being found out.

“I’m just curious. I’ve never seen you in a relationship.”

“Jealous?” Jaskier asked, trying to make it sound more like a joke despite the surge of anger inside him. It made the witcher laugh, which just annoyed Jaskier more. He wanted to say something sharp and mean, something about how the witcher had just as little experience in relationships as he did. He swallowed it down, reaching out to hold Sam’s hand instead and feel his steady presence.

“Far from it, bard. The only thing that I can’t figure out is why you don’t reek of sex.”

Jaskier could feel Sam’s hand clench tight around his own, a reflex indicating his discomfort. It set Jaskier’s already inflamed blood boiling. The witcher, as usual, had just stepped in and said whatever he wanted without considering his words.

“I don’t always smell of sex,” Jaskier tried weakly, but the witcher snorted.

“I’ve never known you to smell of anything but sex.”

That made Jaskier stop in his tracks, astounded. He knew Geralt had said some choice things to him in the past. Saying his songs were like a pie without a filling, for one. Yet, despite all that, this seemed to be the thing that angered Jaskier the most, but before he could speak, Sam stepped in front of him.

“Surely, you mean just after sex,” Sam suggested, but Geralt shook his head in disagreement.

“Witcher senses are stronger. Jaskier always smells of sex, but the scent has faded since we left Oxenfurt.”

Jaskier watched Sam process this information, remembering how shocked he had been himself the first time Geralt had told him he smelled things like lust and sadness.

“Right, that’s enough. We don’t need to talk about this anymore,” Jaskier pleaded. The witcher looked at him, frowning now. He had been thinking that maybe Geralt was considering what he’d said, ruminating on why Jaskier had been so spiky, when Sam pulled Jaskier into his side.

“It’s okay, Jaskier,” he soothed, rubbing his thumbs over his back. Their eyes met, sharing a look before Sam gave Jaskier a small nod and turned to the witcher. “I’m asexual, Geralt.”

Jaskier expected the witcher to laugh, but he didn’t. He just looked at Sam with curiosity.

“Okay.”

“That’s it,” Jaskier exclaimed, surging forward despite his hand being joined with Sam’s. “You don’t want to say anything about that? Ask why someone like me who always reeks of sex, apparently, can be with someone who isn’t into it? You’re not going to make some comment?”

“Jaskier,” Sam begged. “It’s okay, you don’t need to get upset on my behalf.”

Oh, Jaskier knew that. He knew he had no right to be this protective, this aggressive. Sam hadn’t asked him to do this, and it made him feel like he was overstepping an unspoken line, but he couldn’t help it.

“I know what they say about me, Sam. Back home. They might not have the nose of a witcher, but they talk all the same.”

He spat the words out, laying out his grievances and his hurt in front of them both. It was the wrong time to do it, but when had Jaskier done anything at the right time?

“They also talk about your work, your songs, your music,” Sam contested.

Jaskier felt the tears slipping down his face. He didn’t want to cry in front of the witcher. Choking around the lump in his throat, he croaked out, “They say I don’t deserve you.”

Sam inhaled quickly, gulping in air. He shook his head and pulled Jaskier into a big hug. “It’s my choice to love you.”

They stayed like that for a few quiet moments, with Jaskier sobbing into his shoulder. Then Geralt coughed.

“I- I think we could do with a break. There’s a camp up ahead.”

It had been a tough few days, Jaskier could admit, both emotionally and physically. The punishing pace they were walking across the continent was unforgiving, but the worst thing was the lack of privacy.

His skin prickled constantly, like he was burning up on the inside. He had taken to checking his hands, expecting to see them aflame, yet they were normal. He had begun sweating in the night, and he felt clammy when he woke up each morning even though the temperatures were dropping.

He pretended to not know what it was but Jaskier knew. He did everything he could to not to think about his desires, his sexual urges. Instead, he opted for settling down at night in Sam’s arms and falling asleep. It seemed to work up until this moment. Tonight, all his urges were coming back with a vengeance.

His body swirled with sensations as he slept. His blood felt like it was on fire, his skin hot, his heart beating faster. Images flickered through his mind, memories of cock and cunt, grunts and groans, hands roaming up and down his skin.

He was dreaming, he knew, but he couldn’t wake up. He was delirious with want, with need. His dream partner was pinning him down and working him over like he was a beloved instrument. He knew his body was responding, rubbing up against the imaginary person. He was so close, so very close.

“Hey, hey,” someone called, a hand shaking him awake. He was thrust back into wakefulness, staring up into Sam’s eyes.

“Shit,” Jaskier cursed as horror filled him. He leaped away from Sam, disgust rising within him and a cold sweat pouring over his skin as realised what he had been doing. He spluttered, “I didn’t mean- I didn’t…”

“I know,” Sam tried to reassure, but he didn’t reach out to hug him like he usually did. Instead, he turned to lie on his back but kept his head facing him. “You know you can masturbate. I do it at night sometimes.”

Jaskier felt his eyes widen, probably comically so, and his head turned violently to look at Sam straight on.

“You do?” he asked, “Why don’t I know about this?”

Sam shrugged, like they had been talking about something normal, like how to bake a good scone. “It’s only every now and again. I still don’t want to have sex, if that’s what you are unsure of, but I have some urges. I’m telling you this to say, it’s okay if you want to masturbate right now. Just, don’t rub against me. That’s all.”

Jaskier gulped, his mind swimming. His thoughts were jumbled and he knew he wouldn’t be able to untangle them right now. He latched onto the only thing he could. “You want me to get off right now. Here? Won’t that be difficult for you?”

“I don’t think so. I think I would like to watch you just this once. I don’t know if I will like it, but I am willing to try.”

Jaskier was reeling. He could never have imagined this.

“It feels a little awkward for me,” Jaskier admitted and it was true. He was barely breathing when Sam turned onto his side again and leaned over to kiss him. With one of his hands, Sam pushed Jaskier’s down, deep into their shared bedroll. Jaskier got the hint and gripped himself tight, working his hand over his cock. He groaned into Sam’s mouth.

It took a bit longer than it normally would’ve with the guilt roiling around his stomach, fighting against his arousal. His mind kept imagining that it was Sam’s hands on his cock, not his own. Having Sam’s body beside him, his kisses on his lips, it was overwhelmingly good. He felt his mind betraying all his hidden desires, pulling them out one by one.

When he’d first met Sam, he had thought they would end up sleeping together. He remembered undressing Sam with his eyes as he played his music, wondering exactly how he would be in bed.

Then Sam had told him he wasn’t interested in sex and Jaskier hadn’t known what to do with that. It had taken a lot of time for Jaskier to realise that he could be with someone without having sex, that intimacy didn’t necessarily include touching each other’s gentials. What they were currently doing felt like it undid all that.

His free hand was clenched tight, desperately trying not to touch Sam. He didn’t know where the boundaries of this were. He definitely didn’t want to fuck this up.

Still, the images of Sam’s hand wrapped around his cock would not leave his mind. Eventually, he spilled, his moans muffled by Sam’s kisses. He had barely recovered when Sam pulled back and handed him a piece of cloth.

“For the mess,” he explained gently. Jaskier took it and cleaned himself, then stuffed the material into a pocket and tied his laces back up. His hands were shaking and his heart pounding.

He turned to face Sam, fearful of what he might see. Yet, Sam just grinned at him. “That feel better?”

“It does, but-”

“But what?”

“Isn’t it weird?”

“It’s just our bodies. Come on, stop thinking and let’s go back to sleep,” said Sam, pulling him into his arms.

Jaskier let himself snuggle into him, but it took a long time to feel like he could sleep. He listened to Sam snoring while he watched the clouds pass overhead and sometimes blot out the bulbous moon.

Life on the road continued and Jaskier was thankful that the weather seemed to be holding out. It was much more pleasant to walk when it was dry. He had spent way too many days in the past twenty years with Geralt trudging through the mud.

Geralt had suggested they were perhaps another two weeks away from catching up with Ciri and Yennefer. He drove them harder and harder each day. Jaskier desperately wanted to believe that was the source of his gloominess, but he knew that wasn’t true.

It had been five days since that night with Sam, and Jaskier felt so guilty about it. He really didn’t want to put Sam in that position again, but he could feel himself getting horny. He found himself shifting uncomfortably whenever they stopped to camp or rest.

Today had started out the same as all the other days. They got up, ate a small handful of their rations and then started walking for hours and hours on end. It had been ages since they had even managed to wash themselves, so when an incredibly small lake appeared by the side of the road, Jaskier’s eyes widened. His whole face lit up as he ran over, discarding clothes as he went. He didn’t even see Sam and Geralt trying to grab his clothes before they fell to the ground.

“Oh, I have been looking forward to a good wash. I’m beginning to smell like a Nilfgaardian’s ballsack,” he exclaimed at the top of his voice.

He shucked off his breeches and smallclothes and threw them at Geralt, who was careful to only look him in the eye. Jaskier winked, knowing the witcher didn’t actually care that his cock was out, and jumped into the water, splashing everywhere. His teeth chattered at the coldness, his nipples hard enough to cut glass and his manhood shrinking to get away from the frigid temperature. Even though it was unpleasant, it was far better to have a wash than put up with his own stink for any longer.

From the water’s edge, Sam threw him the bar of soap, which Jaskier miraculously caught. He quickly soaped himself up, enjoying the feeling of removing dirt and grime from his skin and hair, then he sank beneath the water.

When he got out, he found that Sam had put his clothes on top of their packs and was busy washing himself carefully without getting into the water. Geralt didn’t move, just watched them both with bored interest.

“It’s not like you to be shy, Geralt?” Jaskier teased as he put on his clothes again. It wasn’t as pleasant having his clothes cling to his wet skin, but at least he was clean again.

Geralt ignored him, as usual. He waited for them both to get dressed and then set off again at a brisk pace. Jaskier resumed his grumbling about his poor feet. If only they could walk at a slower pace. How much time were they saving when they had to take longer and longer rests at midday?

He was considering telling Geralt his thoughts when all of a sudden an axe flew in front of his face.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he shouted, stumbling backwards in shock. He looked at Sam, seeing him standing wide eyed and frozen to the spot, unsure what to do. Geralt was turning around, ready to make some comment about hurrying up, when he saw the axe. His eyes flitted towards the opposite direction and then he smiled.

“Yarpen!” the witcher shouted as he found the dwarf standing in the tree line. He walked forward towards him, bending slightly to pat him on the back in greeting. “Long time since we’ve met.”

“Aye, it is that,” said Yarpen, smiling up at Geralt. Then he tilted his head towards him and Sam. “I see you’ve picked up another stray.”

“Hey,” exclaimed Jaskier, about to enter into a tirade when Sam burst out laughing, bowled over in half. He looked sharply at Sam, wondering why he was finding this funny. “I am not a stray and neither are you,” he whispered to him.

“I know,” replied Sam softly as he took Jaskier’s hand in his. “But it doesn’t matter, not really.”

The witcher had already started to walk away with Yarpen, leaving Jaskier and Sam to try and pull the axe from the tree until another dwarf took pity on them. He pulled it out easily as if it hadn’t been stuck. Jaskier sighed dramatically, smacking his arms down by his side.

Then he and Sam walked in the direction the witcher and dwarves had gone in. There was nothing more to do than follow.

#the witcher #jaskier #eskel #sam the baker #jaskel #saskier #jaskier x eskel #jaskier x sam the baker #witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier minibang #jaskier fanfic #the witcher fanfiction #tears-and-smiles-ao3 #my fanfiction

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minniepetals · 2 years

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another part of e21 mafia au? Please?

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16

“Y/N?”

Watching you climb in through the window, Namjoon stands up with surprise as he’s quick to rush on over and give you a hand.

“Listen, you’re the only one I’m safe with right now so don’t say anything dumb.”

“Dumb?” He blinks.

You let out a grunt once you’re in his office and slump yourself right onto the sofa. “Men can be so dense sometimes.”

“Um…I’m a man too, if you haven’t realized.” When you don’t give him a reply but instead just sit there with an upset look on your face, he narrows his eyes of worry. His phone vibrates for a moment and one glance over at the text message Jimin has sent to him, asking for your whereabout and he gets a clue as to what happened. Namjoon lets out a sigh as he takes a seat across from you. “Is this about the kiss?”

You huff and he gets his answer.

“What is it? Why’re you upset?”

“It was just…” You look off to the side, lips pouting. “I needed time and I wanted to take things slow but…now that the beans are spilled, I feel like…like I now owe everyone else the same thing and I don’t…I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet but I also don’t want anyone to get upset because they know that I kissed both Jimin and Taehyung but it’s just…”

He takes in your words, nodding slowly. “Did you tell them that? Jimin and Taehyung?”

“No, but..” Maybe you should have. You can’t expect everyone to simply read your mind because you yourself aren’t good with words. How would they know what’s going on inside your head if you don’t explain? “Am I in the wrong?” You ask him as you look up, feeling conflicted now.

“Well…communication does help.” When you fall silent to his words, he leans his elbows against his thighs, watching you with an understanding gaze. “Y/N, if you aren’t ready for anything, no one’s going to force you to do anything. You don’t have to feel obligated to do anything.”

“I know but..” Brows furrowed, lips pursed together, you find it hard to convey your feelings. “I didn’t want to accidentally hurt anyone.”

Namjoon chuckles lightly. “How considerate of you. But I promise, we’re more understanding than you think.”

“You are?”

“Mmn.” He nods. “Whatever you want, whatever you don’t want, it’ll all be at your disposal.”

“But…now I kind of feel a little bad.”

“Why?”

“Jungkookie looked like he really wanted a kiss.”

Namjoon laughs. “He can wait. He’s been waiting for the past four years, what’s a few more waiting going to do to him?”

“Four years?” You eyes widen when you turn his way. “But we literally met four years ago, don’t tell me…” When he gives you a knowing gaze, you stare with disbelief. “He acted so hostile towards me…”

“The kid didn’t know how to act around a girl so he resorted to that.”

“Oh.” You laugh a little. “How cute.”

“How cute indeed,” the leader agrees.

“Ah! By the way,” you stand from your seat to walk on over and plop yourself right beside him. He straightens up, body turned your way as he rests a hand on your hip, giving you his full attention. “Okay, I know I should probably make up with Jimin and Taehyung and give them an explanation about why I had gotten upset in the first place but I feel like torturing them a little.”

“Seriously?”

“I mean it was their fault for running their mouths when they know I get flustered by the subject so wouldn’t it be just right?”

“So you’re not upset with them any longer?”

“Oh I’m still upset, just not as much anymore because I know I should have said something back at the library but it’s also like…it was a really special moment, you know? And I get it, in a relationship, secrets shouldn’t be kept from anyone but when you think about it, what I was planning on doing was withholding the truth — which is different from keeping a secret.”

“Is it?”

“I mean, you understand my point, don’t you?”

“Hm…do I?” He wonders, rubbing his chin a little.

You pout. “Oh come on, Joon, we literally had this talk just a few minutes ago about how I’m not ready for everyone to come at me just yet.”

“I don’t know…I do envy Jimin and Taehyung a bit.”

“And Yoongi.”

“Yoongi?” Your cheeks quickly flush when you realize what you had just blurted out. “Wait, Yoongi too?” Namjoon’s eyes are quick to narrow your way when your eyes avert from his, looking all suspicious.

“Yoongi…Yoongi, he-” You stutter. “He kissed me out of nowhere, okay? I-I wasn’t prepared for it and he just…in the middle of the street, he..”

“So you’re telling me if I kiss you right now, it wouldn’t really matter?”

“Well of course it would matter, it—”

“I think…” you feel his hand flick towards the side of your face, eyes watching you steadily as he tucks your hair behind your ear, “you might be more prepared than you think…don’t you think so?”

“N-Namjoon…”

“The longer you stall, babygirl, the harder it’ll be. But once you get the first move over with, the easier it’ll be to let yourself go.” Why does that sound so familiar? Ah, that’s right, Taehyung told you the same thing, didn’t he? Still, even though you know how right he is, it doesn’t make the first move any easier to make. “Hm…being as you’re unwilling to push me away, I guess you are more prepared than you initially thought, huh?”

“I-I…”

“I overheard something, Y/N.” You blink, wondering what he means. “Jimin said you were gushing over Seokjin and that you actually tried to make the first move with him.”

Crap. Did they tell Seokjin that too? You hope not. That would be quite embarrassing — but then again, this is Jimin and Taehyung you’re talking about, why wouldn’t they tell Seokjin?

“Since I’m here now, why don’t you practice it on me?”

“Huh?!” Totally flustered by the outcome of today, you feel your cheeks heating up so quickly you think you might be a little dizzy. “You’re kidding!”

Namjoon simply smirks your way with dangerous eyes staring right into your soul. “Why would I be kidding? It’d be a privilege to receive your kiss.”

“But…I..”

“Though, of course,” he backs off suddenly, “I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t—”

“N-No, I..!” You don’t know why but in just a split second you have him by his blazer and forcing him back to face you once more. Why did you do that? You aren’t sure. But you guess seeing him back off all of a sudden caught you off guard and now you’re in this position.

Do you hate it?

No.

No, you don’t.

Not at all.

Namjoon remains silent but you see the amusing glint in his eyes, the ones he always likes to use whenever you’re in a position to choose something you already know the answer to but hesitate to make a move. He stays there patiently waiting and press a hand over your slightly trembling one.

“You…you’re a real jerk.”

He chuckles. “Am I, darling? In the end, you’re making the decision.” He nuzzles his nose against yours and you grow even more flustered yet have no will to move away. You hate that he knows the effect he has on you and is using that to his advantage.

“Kiss me,” Namjoon dares.

And you flutter your eyes closed, listening to his demand.

#🌸 asks

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stagemanagerssaygo · 4 years

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Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney’s Hyperion Theater

by Cooper Howell

Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney's Hyperion Theater. #holdingtheateraccountable Im just gonna go ahead and be straight up. This is pretty scary to share. HEAVEN: Once upon a time Liesl Tommy cast me as Prince Hans in Frozen: Live at the Hyperion. And I was gooped. GOOPED. There was nothing in my prior history that gave any indication this was possible. Up until then every role I played had to do with my race. Every. Single. One. And even ones where it didn’t (Shakespeare or classical pieces mostly) I was always made aware that the novelty of me being a poc in that role that gave me the part. So much did I not expect to get this part that when I got the callback I rolled my eyes and didn’t take the actual callback seriously. I mean, there was a zero percent chance that Disney would ever let me play a Prince, especially when the dude in the movie is a ginger. But then I got it. And immediately everything I thought was possible about my career changed. My whole life I’ve never inwardly felt black. I’ve never inwardly felt white. I’ve always felt like I was Cooper, you know, on the inside. But whether it was every single white human in Utah reminding me that I was “the whitest person they ever knew/saw” (which DIDNT mean how white my skin was. It was how white I ACTED) or Mr. Johnson, my 7th grade drama teacher, telling me that he “wanted to put Velcro on the ceiling to see if I’d stick” or Mr. Smith, my high school drama teacher, saying “finally we can do black shows” as soon as I entered high school and then not casting me in roles because of the "optics" of it, or even my best friend in high school Tanner Harmon who called me "blackie", I was always reminded that I was an other. So imagine getting paid good money to put on that $10,000 costume and waltzing out to 4000 people a day to play a really amazing part. A fantastic, evil, complicated, person who sings a killer duet and then grabs the show by the throat with a vicious about-face monologue... and not once was my race ever mentioned cuz it didnt matter. What was being prized was Cooper, my talent, not my skin color that I never asked for. Heaven. Liesl MADE SURE, almost overly sure, that the poc’s in the cast felt equal. The kingdom of Arendelle, after all, is a make believe place. It can be whatever. From having Disney executives come and tell us that they were happy to have us there, to side conversations with John Lasseter, we were made to feel overly welcome playing the parts we were playing. She encouraged us to dive deeper into the script of a cartoon that I didnt really think much of until I was in it. We were encouraged to ask why. We felt seen as talent and not commodities. There were, of course, detractors. Gosh, I remember people at a party of cast members from "Mickey and the Magical Map" another show at Disneyland which features a princess and the frog number and many of those casts mates angrily claiming that “if that black girl Tiana Okoye can play Elsa than I should be able to play Princess Tiana” and then looking at me to confirm that was okay to say, not realizing that a) she’s one of my best friends, b) that I’m in the show with her also playing a role that wasn't created to be a poc, c) how racist that sounded, and d) why there's a difference there and why that wouldn't make sense. On Liesls final night I came up to her and said “I don’t know why you did it but thank you so much for casting ME in this part” to which she replied “you mean why would I cast a handsome, talented person in this role?” And I stuttered something like “well, I mean, I’m black. You know...” to which she tilted her head to her side and said “no. I don’t know why. Tell me why that matters.” And I had no answer. Seeing that I had no answer she smiled. That was the answer. There was no reason. On the spot my outlook about myself changed. Windows into what I thought was possible for me opened. -------------------------------------- HELL: And then Liesl went back to NYC and she was replaced by a man named Roger Castellano as show director. Rogers task, he told us on the first day, was to "change the show". We were not told what needed to be changed or even why, but that changes were on the horizon. You've got to understand: to a full cast of actors who had just spent more than three months dissecting a 60 page Disney script with a Tony nominated director like it was Shakespeare, we were initially emotionally/mentally/spiritually resistant to changes. But then it became clear that the spirit of collaboration was over, and the show changes were to be given without the same care, consideration, and thematic explanation of why they were being made. Everyones initial reaction was to push back, but when people who questioned their notes or their changes started getting days removed their schedule or being replaced entirely by a new actor, the Hyperion theater became a place where no one was allowed to speak out. Injustices were happening left and right and no one felt they could do anything for fear of losing their livelihood. And that's when the Frozen: Live at the Hyperion became a living hell. In my first note session with Roger he pulled me into a room with Domonique Paton, my best friend and incredible costar who played princess Anna in the show I was in. She just so happens to also be black. Almost all of Prince Hans’s scenes in the show are with her character and so most of my notes would be primarily based on those interactions with her. Earlier in the day I performed with a different (white) actress but it was the show with Domonique that I had a note session about. Imagine my surprise and dismay when, with how Liesl set up the show experience, we were told this: “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER ITS TOO… URBAN.” Urban. What else could that have meant, do you think? He could have said maybe “too contemporary” emphasizing that we were maybe too modern in our speech patterns or movements. We weren’t. He could have said “too lax” or “too loose” meaning that maybe we were being unprofessional and goofy up there because we’re really good friends. We were not. The best me and Ms. Paton could think of was a 8 count moment of improv dance that me and Domonique decided to use as a synchronized moment of unity. It happened to fall on the line “our mental synchronization can have but one explanation” and thought, with the freedom that Christopher (the original choreographer) had given us, was appropriate, especially considering everyone behind us was doing the robot. As in the 80s robot. But he didnt clarify. He just said “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER IT’S TOO… URBAN” And when asked what he meant he smiled with a little shrug and said "you can figure that out. You're smart." And thats how I became Black Hans and Domonique became Black Anna. My every moment onstage afterwards became about the optics of being a poc in that show. It was if I was suddenly made aware that I was LUCKY enough to be there and under any normal circumstances, or this new directors circumstances, me getting this part would have never happened. But the message was clear. It was especially clear when me and Domonique Paton shows together durastically decreased and made even more clear when the vast majority of the new hires were not people of color. But no one said anything. And made even MORE clear when, over the next few weeks, both Domonique and I got COPIOUS notes, ten times that of our coworkers that played the same parts. It was almost a game. In fact we did turn it into a game, seeing who would get the least amount of notes from him in a day. Our costars would even joke about it onstage with us, during the ballroom scene, and jokingly whisper "The shows been up 15 minutes. How many do you think you got today?" But no one said anything. And the notes were about all kinds of things. How we held our hand. If our inflections went up or down on a word. Which side of a couch we leaned on… which was fine! When you're an actor, thats the gig... until we started comparing our notes with the actors that played our same parts and none of them, NONE, would get the same notes. Our notes would be outrageously longer, the note sessions sometimes lasting 10/15 minutes. Others would get the “Oh hey, try doing this or that next time, okay bye” walk-by notes. Sometimes I would sneak into the audience and watch as some of the other Han's, some of whom changed lines, changed entire intentions of scenes, some of whom adding in all types of vocalizations and cackles and dance moves and what have you, and would receive ZERO notes. But I was watching them to see what was wrong with me. What was my performance missing? What am I actually doing to feel this singled out. And then I realized that the thing that was wrong with me was that I was a different color than the 5 other white Hans's they cast. And then I started getting notes about my penis. Most of the time these “penis sessions”, as I called them, were given in private rooms without another stage manager present. It was incredibly unpleasant and unprofessional. In fairness, those Prince Hans pants are TIGHT! And yes, Mr. Howell is indeed a party in the front and a party in the back, but so were a lot of those fellas. And thats where I put my foot down. If Disney was going to provide me with a costume it is not my responsibility to fix their problem, especially when other of my (white) costars had been given a dance belt for the same thing. But they never got penis notes. Private session notes about what their penis looked like in that show. Over and over again I was told to fix it, to not make it (my dick) so apparent, and that “if my daughter were younger I wouldn’t want her to come to a show you were performing at" all the more insulting considering his daughter, a cast member in the show, was a friend of mine and the loveliest person. He started demanding that I buy a dance belt. It was “my fault”, “my responsibility” …and thats where I took my stand. And then it really became hell. Penis sessions were now done out in the open. Once, he screamed at me, in the green room in front of all of my costars during lunch, about how incredible unprofessional I was, about how he was tired of seeing my dick, and that if I didnt go buy myself one I didnt deserve to be there anymore. Followed by a huge litany of notes. That doesnt compare to some of what Domonique went through and I invite her to share them if she’s willing. During this time I went to every stage manager in the building and told them about being singling out and about my penis. They all told me to write a complaint report and it would go to some place called "HR". Which I did. Numerously. More months passed. Nothing from "HR". Multiple cast members who witnessed my note sessions encouraged me to go to the HR themselves. I didnt honestly know what an HR was. As soon as it was explained to me by my allies even what an HR was I went to the head of HR at Disneyland herself and waited outside of her door. I asked her if she got any of my HR reports and she told me that she had received no HR reports from the Hyperion. Ever. And then asked me to fill out a HR form. As we went over it, she asked me some questions, and then set up a second meeting. On the second meeting she said that in order for my report to be given credence I would need witnesses to give their testimony. The witnesses, in fact the very people that told me to go to HR in the first place, said no. They didnt want to lose their jobs. In retrospect that might be the thing that hurt the most but, whatever... anyway, I was told "“well… without testimonies we’ll do an investigation and we’ll call you when we’ve completed it.” I never received a phone call. With absolutely zero protection from the stage managers from both the sexual harassment or my obvious racial targeting I (and others) were experiencing, not to mention that HR reports were doing nothing, aka not being forwarded, I thought about quitting. And when a white stage manager made a show mistake and laughed it off to the cast by saying an entirely offensive lynching joke, I quit. I didnt matter to Disney. How I felt and what I was being put through didnt matter. I was a commodity. My departure was unceremonious. Bizarre. 100% un-magical. I hung up my costume one last time and it was given to a new Hans, one who looked very much like me oddly, and stepped out of the theater. The park was playing “every wish your heart desires will come to you” and I remember laughing at how dead that song felt. The director has since moved on but still works as a musical theater director in Southern California. This one time 4 years ago I got to feel something other than my color for the first and only time in my professional career. It lasted from about March 2016 to July 2016 and never again since. I will never forget in those early days looking at all the beautiful princesses I got to woo and thinking “wow. I’m a prince right now.” Im sure that sounds stupid. But it didn't feel stupid. And a Disney prince! Yeah, a shitty prince kinda... I mean, he's a sociopath... BUT still a Prince! Especially special was being able to look in Dominique’s eyes and I could see the same glimmer of “can you believe we get to do this right now” reflected back. We never knew it was in the cards for us. My race always has and will always be part of my career equation and a determining factor of its projection. It will always be a determining factor in how im treated, by creatives, by people, by the those in authority over me, including the government and the police. #wasitmyskin

Copied in its entirety here from Cooper Howell’s public Facebook post: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10163696376095054&set=a.10151302685610054&type=3&theater

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oreoambitions · 3 years

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Parts 1-3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 5.5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Ao3 Kara has been away for too long. This is what she thinks to herself as she hovers over the edge of National City's furthest flung suburb, her eyes on the horizon, her hands doing a rather unsuperherolike fidget of their own accord. She was only supposed to be gone for a couple of hours. A couple of days maybe. Long enough to cool down, to get her anger under control, to make sure that Lena would never have to see her like... that. Only a couple of days has become a couple of weeks and now Kara doesn't know how to come home. "Rao," she whispers. Immediately she feels foolish - as if Rao has answered her these past weeks - but in her solitude she's grown used to speaking in prayer, and so she finishes the thought anyway. "Where am I supposed to be right now? What am I supposed to be doing?" Probably her life is in shambles. Probably she's been fired from CatCo and there are a stack of unpaid bills cluttering up the mailbox of an apartment that probably doesn't belong to her anymore. That's going to be a mess to sort out and there's no getting around it. And then there are the personal relationships she's abruptly abandoned for a month and a half without explanation. Alex will be worried sick, and angry, and rightfully so. What will J'onn say? Nia? Clark? And then there's Lena. Kara's hand moves to the thin red thread would tightly around her wrist. Ever so gently, careful not to wear it thinner still, she brushes her fingers over it. She'll have to talk to Lena. Soon. Today. The thought makes her stomach twist and seize and roil with feelings she has hardly begun to name, let alone master, but Rao, if she stays away until she's mastered them all she's starting to think she might stay away for a lifetime. But at least the anger is under control. That's the most important thing, because the truth is there is no returning to National City, no returning to Lena, without facing Sam. It's doubly true now that Sam has taken up the cape to protect the city that Kara has come to think of as her own. She has to admit, however begrudgingly, that Sam has done a good job. The city below is peaceful in that loud, chaotic way that cities have about them in the late afternoon: a dog shouts out on 4th street; someone's car won't start on Tulare; highschool students pour out of a bus downtown full of the laughter and the posturing of youth. All is well. Certainly things are better than Kara has any right to expect them to be, and that's on Sam. Sam, who made headlines when she stepped in to make it clear that Supergirl's absence would not be taken advantage of. Sam, who said she'd never wear the cape because she was afraid of what it would mean for Ruby. Sam, who should have rightly been on Argo right now claiming her birthright and her heritage. Sam, who had an obligation to protect Lena and chose to bind her irrevocably to Kara in a marriage of obligation instead. Perhaps the anger is not so under control after all, but up here there's no one to see Kara's eyes flash or her fist clench, no one to hear her heartrate pick up or the sharp breath she forces out between her teeth. Up here it's okay. It's only down there she has to worry about control. But first before control, before the appearance of reconciliation, before Kara figures out how to get Sam on board with the plan she's hatched for finding Lena a way out of this mess, first before anything, Kara is going to have to talk to Alex. Hell hath no fury like an older sister abruptly abandoned and left to fret and worry for nothing, and the longer Kara puts this off the worse it's going to be. She takes a deep breath and wishes, not for the first time, that life came with a rewind.

There isn't really any such thing as taking the long way when you're a Kryptonian under Earth's yellow sun, but Kara makes an effort. She loops around the city twice, trying not to think about how uncomfortable it will be if she runs into Sam out here doing a similar patrol. She hovers over the L-Corp building long enough to determine that Lena is, in fact, not at work on a Saturday — probably Jess's doing, for which she’s grateful. Then she drifts gently to Alex's neighborhood, to her street, to the fire escape, to the back window always unlatched when Kara is on patrol just in case Supergirl should need to stop by unseen. Kara, of course, is not so much on patrol as officially missing, so she hesitates there on the fire escape before reaching out to tug gently gently gently on the window. It's almost a surprise when it slides open. Alex is home but the shower is running and Kara, feeling an odd sort of nervousness wash over her, slips through the window quietly. Maybe it would have been better to come through the front door, or to call ahead, or maybe it would be better to announce herself now, but now she's here trembling in Alex's kitchen and she's let herself in this way a hundred times and it's always been okay. Only this time it's different, and all Kara can think about is how angry Alex is going to be when she sees her and- The bathroom door flies open and Alex comes barreling out into the kitchen in a towel, dripping wet, the shower still running behind her. They stand there for a moment, Kara rubbing the edge of her cape between her fingers, Alex stock still as though she's seen a ghost. "Kara," she breaths. And then, "Shit, I'm sorry. Let me-" She reaches for the cupboard, then the fridge, then steps back. "Are you okay?" "Yeah," Kara says. She draws in a deep breath to spit out the explanation she's rehearsed a hundred times: I'm sorry but I was losing control and you have to understand that Sam and Lena were together the whole time and I was jealous, so jealous, but I was mostly so angry that Lena trusted her and then she put her into this awful position with the vows, and it put me in an awful position too, and I just couldn't stay and I- But Alex is nodding. "Let me just put a shirt on, okay? Don't- Just don't go anywhere. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Two seconds." She starts down the hall and then turns back, her fingers up for emphasis. "Two seconds." It's more like forty seconds and the shower is still running and Kara is too uncomfortable to fetch anything from the fridge. All her rehearsed words have died in her throat and she's left standing there teasing a thread out of the edge of the cape and feeling like somehow this is all wrong. Kara’s imagined this encounter a thousand times but never like this, and to compound it all, something in this place has shifted. Maybe it's just the time Kara's been away but something here feels... different. Forty seconds isn't long enough to put a finger on it and Alex is back in the kitchen in a t-shirt and boxers and demanding a hug before Kara can quite track what's changed. There's an almost physical relief when Alex collides with her and for a few seconds all else is forgotten. "Are you mad at me?" she whispers into Alex's hair. "Yeah," Alex whispers back. "But it can wait." And then, as she pulls away, "Cocoa?" Alex doesn't wait for an answer. She's busy at the stove in an instant, milk out on the counter, hot chocolate mix out of a glass bottle measured by the heaping quarter cup, and Kara's offers of assistance are shooed away with a gesture so reminiscent of Eliza that she might have giggled if she hadn't been feeling slightly sick. She settles into a chair at the kitchen table instead. The cape has found its way between her fingers again; that loose thread is becoming more prominent by the minute. Then the shower shuts off and Kara glances up at Alex. "Is someone else here? I'm so sorry, am I interrupting? I can go if-" Alex silences her with a hand. "It's fine. You're not interrupting. It's just... it's my girlfriend." "Girlfriend?" The guilt sickens Kara a little further. She's been gone too long. She's missed too much. "Actually," Alex says, stirring the hot chocolate mix into the milk on the stove, "I was meaning to talk to you about it before everything happened with the wedding. It wasn't official but we'd been intimate - sorry, TMI, I know - and I thought it might be going some place. But then with everything happening it never felt like the right time, and now..." "Well who is she?" This explains, at least, what feels different about the apartment. And it seems obvious now that Kara knows what she's looking for: an extra pair of shoes by the front door, a jacket over the back of the couch that doesn't belong to Alex. But it's familiar. A jacket Kara's seen before, now that she's thinking about it. "Do I know her?" "Yeah. Actually, we should probably talk about-" Sam steps into the kitchen slowly, so softly that human ears might not have picked up her approach. She's wearing one of Alex's long sleeved tees pulled down too far over her hands, an anxious gesture Kara has seen mirrored in Lena a thousand times, and it sends an instant flash of something awful through her chest. "Hi Kara," Sam says softly. The rage hits Kara before her mind can catch up. Alex and Sam were intimate before the wedding. Alex and Sam were intimate before the wedding. Alex and Sam were- Which means- The kitchen table cracks under Kara's fingers but the words don't come. What is she supposed to say? Hi Alex, I really missed you, by the way your girlfriend is possibly cheating on you with my wife who, funny story, is only actually married to me because your girlfriend manipulated her into a binding religious marriage, potentially in order to free herself up so that she could be official with you. Any chance she's mentioned any of that? No? What comes out of her mouth is: "How dare you." Sam crosses her arms, those sleeves still pulled down around her fingers, takes another step into the kitchen. "I think I know what this looks like," she says. "And it's not. It's not what you think." Kara doesn't know what she thinks. Something about Sam's anxiety and the confusion on Alex's face is sounding an alarm, and it’s an alarm that sounds an awful lot like doubt, but the anger is louder. Anger, in Kara's recent experience, is always louder. And now it's building behind her eyes, and she knows it shows because Sam starts to move between her and Alex and somehow that makes it all worse because now it's the shame that's louder and Kara can hardly hear her own thoughts over all that noise. "I have to go," she chokes out. "I'm sorry. Alex, I-" I'll call, she wants to say. "I'm sorry," she says instead. She can smell the milk burning on the stove as she leaves, can hear Alex calling after her, demanding Sam go after her, demanding she come back. "Let her go," Sam murmurs. Kara passes out of earshot. Well, not really. But she's got enough distance that she can put it out of her head. Enough distance that she can, if she chooses, listen to nothing but the wind, and her shame, and the hammering of her own heart.

#packing can wait #THIS WAS SO HARD TO WRITE #interpersonal drama is NOT my forte #Fake Marriage AU

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thedistantdusk · 3 years

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Thanks to @jenoramaca @gryffindorhealer and @secretkeeper13 for the quick beta work!

A gift for my beloved @ginisbetterthanfirewhiskey.

CW: Language and domestic fluff

______

Trying

From the second he walks through the door, Harry can sense that something’s changed. It takes him thirty minutes to suss out why.

In retrospect, the smells coming from the kitchen probably tipped him off. Or maybe it was Ginny’s distracted hum, followed by the tinkling of plates and cutlery. Perhaps it was the fact that she prepared a full dinner, long before he even got home.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t worry about it too much as he greets her with a kiss, his hands cupping her chin. When he sits across from her at the table, there’s something furtive and curious lurking behind her eyes, but their meal is so peppered with normalcy that he doesn’t bring it up. They banter and laugh about Luna and Robards and wonder what they’ll bring to the Burrow on Sunday.

But when they’ve reached the stage of chasing stray noodles around their plates, Ginny finally clears her throat… and just like that, the nearly imperceptible shift he’d sensed earlier turns into something very perceptible, indeed. “Can I erm. Talk to you about something?”

He pauses, mid-bite, and takes her in. Her lip’s worried between her teeth, her hands fidgeting. Even her hair, normally strewn about her shoulders or parted to the side with a sort of effortless grace, is tied back and resting low at the base of her neck.

Ginny’s not normally this… serious. And he’d be lying to say it didn’t frighten him.

So he blurts the first thing that comes to mind. “Who died?”

There’s a half-second pause in which his chest clenches, his stomach churns. Could it be Molly? Or Arthur? George hasn’t been great either, not that—

But Ginny just reels back, confused… and it’s not until then that Harry realizes he’s really, really misread something.

“I… w-what?” she stammers, brow furrowing. She peers at him for a pained moment before her face relaxes into a look of understanding. “Oh. Oh! For fuck’s sake,” she mutters, rubbing her forehead. “I guess I’m thicker than usual, should’ve known you’d read it that way.”

Harry snorts. “Erm… darling, as many things as I legitimately don’t understand, I’m fairly sure this one isn’t on me.”

Ginny ignores this. “Did you seriously think that something dreadful happened and I’d just spring that on you in the middle of your bolognese?” Her lips twitch into a smirk. “Here’s some pasta. By the way, a fire burned a puppy orphanage to the ground. Could you pass the salt?”

He gives her a plain stare. Nice try. Years ago, he might’ve taken the bait and chased her down that rabbit hole. They might’ve had an hour-long, spirited debate on the existence of puppy-specific orphanages. But after three years of marriage, he knows better.

And she knows he knows.

Ginny finally draws a resigned breath. “No,” she says slowly. “No one died, ok? Or is even… I don’t know, sick or infirmed or threatened.” She waves her hand and continues babbling. “Last I checked, even Muriel’s still going strong, somehow. I’m jealous of that, you know— being old enough to just say whatever the fuck you’d like and have no one question it because—”

“—Ginny,” he cuts across on an exasperated sigh. “As chuffed as I am to chat about Muriel all night, I’d really like to know what’s bothering you. Please?”

There’s another pause as she bites her lip. Then, in one swift motion, she attempts to rise to her feet and push her chair in on her way over to him.

But somewhere along the way, something gets crossed— and Harry watches in bewildered horror as her foot catches on the leg of the chair. Then, right in front of his eyes, she lets out a startled gasp, her arms flailing, before she lands with a thump.

He’s out of his seat and on the floor beside her before he even realizes she’s cried out in pain and surprise. “Are you ok?” he demands, pushing her jeans up around her ankle… her tricky ankle, the one she hurt rather badly at the playoffs last month. Hm. It's a bit red.

Honestly, she hasn’t been this clumsy since she was 10 years old and near a butter dish. This does nothing to alleviate his fears that there’s something Very Wrong.”

“It’s not even my ankle that hurts,” Ginny grits, pushing up on her palms. “Wait— Harry, what are you—”

“Need to ask Gwenog,” he says urgently, running to the other side of the table for his wand. “She said that if anything happens to your ankle to tell her straight away, remember? Better safe than—”

She scoffs. “Seriously, Harry, I’m fine! I didn’t even land on my—”

He arches an eyebrow. “Have you suddenly forgotten the Puddlemere match? When your ankle broke clean through the skin?” Even now, the memory makes him shudder. “You heard Gwenog— without magic, you might not have walked again.”

“But there was magic,” she says, almost pleading. “And seriously, I’m fine!”

Harry finds he has limited patience for her heroics, though, while she’s sprawled out on the floor and nursing a bruise on her arse. “Gwenog’s instructions were quite clear,” he says firmly. “Having a pro athlete as a wife is a group task. It’s taxing on your body. I’ve got to make sure there’s enough of you left to enjoy our lives.”

Ginny clears her throat. “Erm… but what if you… haven’t actually got a pro athlete as a wife. Technically speaking.”

Harry swallows. He’s sure he’s heard her wrong. “What?”

With a wince, she adjusts herself against the wall. “I’m sorry… this isn’t how I’d planned to tell you. I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?”

Normally, Harry might press a bit harder. Normally he’d demand answers— and now. But as he peers at her on the floor, there’s something soft and uncertain behind her eyes… something timid. So he decides to do something he knows he’s good at— something she doesn’t let many other people do: take care of her.

With a sigh, he scoops her from the floor and brings her to the sofa. Then he props her against the pillows, putting her legs across his lap.

And he waits.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, peering at her downcast face, before she finally says it in a rush.

“Iwanttohaveababy.”

It comes on a whisper. A breathed admission. He knows, just from her expression, that she’s never said it aloud.

But he must have misunderstood. There’s no way he’s not projecting, inserting the reality he wants instead. “Could you… could you repeat that?” he manages, his voice gruff and shaken.

Ginny just sits up straighter; her cheeks as red as her hair. “I want to have a baby,” she repeats, the confidence building with every word.

Oh. Looks like he was right after all.

Harry blinks at the carpet, his head spinning, mortified with the tears that have sprung, unbidden, to the corners of his eyes.

A baby. Their baby. A smile plays at his lips as he stares at her ankle in distracted bliss. He’s been ready for ages… longer than anyone he knows. It’s hard to remember a time when he didn’t want a family with her. When he didn’t want to watch her grow and change. To become more beautiful with every passing day until…

He swallows back another round of tears; he’d never forgive himself if he forced this… if he swayed her, in any way, despite what he wants so badly it squeezes his insides.

“But what about quidditch?” His voice cracks; he clears his throat to cover it. “Honestly Ginny, I’ll wait, as long as you’d like. We’re young. Think of what you’d deal with, loads of assumptions and press and comments.”

She turns to him with an arched brow. “And since when have I ever cared about comments? Since when have you cared about comments?”

He spreads his palms in resignation; it was a particularly weak argument. “I know. I just… don’t want to make your life more difficult.”

“Well...” She draws a deep breath and peers down at her nails. “I’ve erm. Actually quit the Harpies, all by myself.” Her cheeks begin to redden again. “I’ve already sent the owl and everything. Resigned. No intent to return next season.”

Oh.

That’s what she meant, then, about not being married to a professional athlete. Harry blinks a few more times as she plows through an explanation that could honestly be something from a dream.

“I’ve… I’ve just been thinking about it. A lot,” she adds, focus returning to her cuticles. “The Harpies are out for the rest of the season— that fucking Puddlemere match and that bullshit ref.” She glares at the pillow to her right. “Nothing like blind favoritism. Fucking prick should’ve been fired!”

All Harry can manage is a feeble chuckle, his hand moving to caress her knee. This time, he can’t bring himself to stop her spiral.

“Maybe it’s not just that match, though,” she admits, rubbing her ankle. “It’s also just… so much bloody work. I’ve been at it three whole seasons, you know? I’m a bit tired of missing birthdays. And family events. And only dreaming of bludgers and snitches. And attending the mandatory press interviews to avoid getting fined, and then giving polite answers to personal questions when I really just want to hex them, and—”

Harry laughs. “I think Sandra Richardson might disagree about the polite answers bit, darling.”

Ginny gives a dignified sniff and continues as if she hasn’t heard him. “Annnyway,” she says, toying with a piece of lint. “I… feel like I’m ready to move on. So.” Her face splits into a grin as she gestures to the corridor. “On with it.”

He clears his throat. “As much as I’d love to take you up on that, I’m confused about how this relates to quitting your job. You could’ve kept playing. Or—”

“—Why is it so hard to believe this is something I want?”

There’s a beat. He doesn’t have a good answer.

“What if I wanted to quit before I got pregnant?” she continues, her tone growing more demanding. “What if I was done with playing, regardless — and genuinely wanted to have children? Your children.”

She lets out an incredulous laugh, tossing her hands in the air. “I have to say, Harry, this feels an awful lot like you’re doubting what I actually want to fit a narrative of what you think I want.” Her eyes narrow again. “Is that really respecting my wishes?”

“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head. He’d never thought about it like that before… how it might be insulting, really, to question what she’s ready for. He laces their fingers together, feeling properly chastened. “I’m sorry. I never meant to… suggest you don’t know what you want. Or something.”

He hears the timid smile in her voice as she squeezes his hand back. “Do you still want a baby, then?” she asks. “Or are you just in it for the practice?”

A smile creeps across his face, his eyes still focused on her hands. “I… think you know the answer to that one.”

“Well, I’m not sure I do,” Ginny says flatly. “Because I just told someone who wants two million babies that I’m ready to carry his first child. Forgive me if I expected a bit more excited fanfare than acting like I drowned your kitten.”

“What’s with you and baby animals today?” he murmurs, inching her pant leg a bit higher.

“Wonder why I’ve got babies on the brain,” she quips, raising her eyebrows. “Maybe because I want one.”

Harry releases a resigned sigh. She’s clearly done playing. “Honestly…” He bites his lip. “If you’re sure that’s what you want, I’m obviously on board. Obviously.” His eyes flit to hers. “I just… I don’t want to be responsible for something you end up regretting.”

It’s the truth of the matter, really; the thing that tugs at him the hardest. The fear he’d ever burden her… the worry he’d ever make her less than happy.

Ginny gives him a small smile, her hand coming to cup his jaw. “I’m going to take that as a weird, sad Harry thing instead of an attempt to remove my womanly agency.” She narrows her eyes. “But that’s your final warning.”

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s on his feet in a split-second, gathering her into his arms with the stupidest grin he’s ever worn. Trying. Is that what they call this? Are they actually properly trying now?

“Get used to this,” she says as he strides into the bedroom. “Because once you knock me up— on purpose, mind— I’m going to request a lot more transportation.”

“I think I can live with that,” Harry murmurs against her lips, draping her across the bed.

And to avoid a well-deserved slap, he doesn’t say the final bit: As long as you can live with me.

#harry/ginny #harry/ginny fanfic #hinny #harry potter #harry and ginny

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lucy90712 · 3 years

Text

Karl jacobs- mr beast

wc- 2117

Warnings: none

~ Two weeks ago I randomly got a call from a man who invited me to a shoot for a video, believe me I was sceptical at first which the man seemed to understand but he provided me with all the information I could ever need and answered all of my questions so I believed him and agreed to go and now is the day of the shoot. To my knowledge there will be a few others there as well as a whole crew so if this is a bad situation at least I won't be alone.

My parents think I'm insane for going to this and they have made me promise to keep my phone on me at all times and to text them that I'm safe when I get there, it's nice that their worried but I honestly think I'll be fine. The friend that I've told seem to be thinking the exact opposite in fact they are convinced that I'm going to a mr beast shoot but I'm not too sure. They seem to think that because we live in North Carolina that this is the only possible explanation but I think that they would say that it was for mr beast so that the whole situation seemed less sketchy.

For the day of the shoot which happens to be today we were instructed to wear what we normally would but not to wear too much makeup because it doesn't look good on camera. I took this on board and wore my mom jeans with a black crop top just because it was plain and not too over the top, I don't want to stand out too much. I also barely put on any makeup I just covered the dark circles under my eyes and the few spots I had and I put on mascara so that I didn't look like I had no eyelashes.

The location I had to go to was only about 35 minutes drive from my house which was nice because I wasn't feeling a long drive today. I woke up early enough to have time to make myself breakfast and get coffee on the journey. At the local Starbucks drive through I got my usual order and talked to the girl at the window for a moment because she happens to be one of my friends sisters so we know one another.

"Isn't today the day if that mysterious video shoot your going to" she asked

"Yeah I have to be there in like 50 minutes" I said

"Well have fun meeting mr beast" she said handing me my drink

I rolled my eyes as I pulled away and started my drive. I listened to my Spotify playlist on the way just vibing to each song that played normally it plays at least one song that I'm not that into but today all of them were some of my favourite songs so I think today will turn out to be a good day.

As I arrived to the location I noticed that it was in this really random place with a bunch of big warehouses which I'm not gonna lie was a little sketchy but there seemed to be quite a few people about with cameras and other equipment so I calmed down again. I got out my car and went to the place that I was told to in the email which was relatively easy to find once I knew where the people were going and a guy led me into the middle of this warehouse with a few other people who were obviously taking part too.

Me and this one guy got talking while we waited and he seemed to know a little more than I did about what was happening so we talked about the video and this whole sort of experience. He was really cute too he had kind of long fluffy brown hair and lovely blue eyes that were and interesting shape but they really suited his face, I also noticed that he had his nails painted which made him seem even cooler much to cool for me to be talking to him. He was super nice to me and we had a good conversation until we had to start filming.

A few more people walked in with cameras following them as they talked but when they got closer I recognised the face and I couldn't believe it. My friends were right it was mr beast and his friends or at least a few of them. As they came in the guy I was talking to went over and joined them as they explained the video concept to the rest of us.

"Right for todays video we are going to get all these people to hide in pairs around these warehouses and whoever is found last wins $100,000 to share" mr beast explained

They sorted people into pairs but there was an odd number so I was left on my own.

"Slightly awkward but one person didn't turn up so Karl is going to step in and be y/n's partner for this" Chris explained

This Karl guy came over and he was the guy I talked to earlier, I got a bit embarrassed realising that I had absentmindedly been talking to this guy who's so well known as if it was nothing. The poor guy was probably so confused that I had no idea who he wasn't while at a mr best shoot hopefully I can redeem myself with this challenge.

We each took cameras to film as we found our hiding places which we had 10 minutes to go because the area we had was so big. Most people ran off to the furthest warehouses but me and Karl decided to stay a bit closer hoping that all the others would be found quickly. We went into this relatively small but tall looking warehouse which had a small upstairs bit to it where we looked for a good hiding place, there wasn't a whole load of options apart from this old wardrobe which looked like it could fit the both of us. We decided to keep looking seeing as we could always come back if we found no where else.

After checking another 2 warehouses that were almost empty we realised that our best option would be that wardrobe so we went back and squeezed ourselves in leaving one door open for now at least until we heard movement near by so that it wouldn't be quite as cramped. The both of us did fit in this wardrobe but on the inside it was smaller than it looked so we were pressed right against each other which would be awkward if you hadn't already embarrassed yourself in front of the person so I felt 10 times more awkward in this position.

We had to film ourselves which was quite hard with the darkness and the cramped space but Karl knew what he was doing so he took the camera off me and filmed the both of us explaining where we were showing just outside the wardrobe so that the viewers would know when the others were close to finding us.

Soon enough the timer went off indicating that our hiding time was up and now we really had to be careful not to make too much noise as we could've found any second I had kind of forgot about the fact that this was for a whole lot of money up until now because I was just so annoyed at myself for being such an idiot but now it felt really real and I was starting to feel quite competitive.

We waited what felt like an age before we heard any movement but when I heard the door open I almost jumped out my skin because it was so quiet up until that point. I gave Karl a look and the both of us forced ourselves further into the wardrobe and shut the door as quietly as we could making it completely pitch black.

It was a lot more squished in the wardrobe now as there was no space to move, there was no good way to stand because we had to had some part of our bodies touching or else we wouldn't fit. Karl whispered telling me to turn my phone touch on so that he could film for a second because he said that it wouldn't be seen from outside.

"We just heard the door open and there is movement downstairs so the door in now closed and its super dark without the light" Karl explained to the camera

"It's also super claustrophobic in here with the door shut" I added putting my head over his shoulder so that the camera could see me

He put the camera down and I turned off my touch and we just kind of listened and we heard the door close again or so we thought but it wasn't worth the risk so we left it a little longer before we felt safe to be a little louder but we didn't want to risk opening the door again so we stayed how we were.

It was actually a good time talking a little bit like we were before the filming started, Karl is a very sweet guy he really just wants to get to know me as a real person and not just someone helping him do his job. He seemed to really care about what I did with my life and who I am seeing as I know a bit about him and he knew that he was interested in learning about me.

Our nice conversation was soon interrupted when the door opened again and we heard voices getting closer to us. The sound of the metal stairs that lead to where we are could be heard which meant that they were close. There was a panicked feeling between the two of us and Karl pulled me closer to him just incase they opened one door they might not be able to see us.

"They could be in the wardrobe there" I heard a muffled voice say

Mine and Karl's breathing slowed down so that they couldn't hear any noise at all and if they did well they have great hearing. It was at this point that I realised Karl had his arm around my waist holding my back to his chest which was making me blush but it was dark so no one could see. The door opened on the other side and a camera was pointed in.

"There no one in this side do you really think they would both fit on the other side?" Someone asked

"I don't think so honestly but we really should check" another said

I knew it was over from that point and I was right the second door opened and cameras went straight into my face, Karl also let go of my waist at this point not wanting that to be on camera. Karl got out the wardrobe and offered his hand to help me out.

"Congratulations you guys have won" mr beast said

"It took us forever to find you so well done" Chris said

"Oh my this is amazing thank you" I said feeling quite overwhelmed

Obviously the prize for winning was $50,000 each which was absolutely amazing and just so life changing like there is so many things I could do with that amount of money but I have no idea what that will be yet.

"You have won $50,000 congra" mr beast started

"Wait I want y/n to have my share I don't need it" Karl interrupted

"Karl there is no need for you to do that I'm more than ok with $50,000" I said

"You are taking the money please it would make me happy" he said

I accepted the fact that Karl was never going to give in so now I'm $100,000 richer which is insane no one is going to believe me until this video comes out. My parents are going to think I've committed a crime of some form which isn't good but they will have to believe me eventually so it's fine.

The shoot wrapped up and I was heading to my car to go back home when Karl came running over and gave me his phone number saying he wanted to hang out sometime. What has my life become? I started the day thinking that I could be in danger and have ended it with $100,000 and the phone number of one of the people that works for a huge YouTube channel, it's almost like a dream.

#karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs #mr beast #dsmp #mcyt #karl

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pillage-and-lute · 4 years

Text

An Ever Fixed Mark (Part 2)

Part 1, (here) Part 3, Part 4 , Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10,

Read it on Ao3 HERE

Just three days after the first installation and 4,000 words? That’s right baby! Because I run on validation and whew! Y’all provided. The courting gift scene based on a recommendation from @tempered-char. Also with a hint of Geralt’s Delicate Sensibilities, as inspired by @valdomarx +Thicc Eskel as a bonus

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“Come in.”

It was soft, but not nervous, and Geralt pushed open the door.

Geralt wasn’t a romantic. He didn’t believe in love at first sight. From what he’d seen of the world he wasn’t so sure he believed in love at all. He could imagine, however, that if he were a painter or a poet he could have fallen in love right there.

The room was a tiny, dusty study, and standing in front of the window was, presumably, Julian. The light haloed him, dust mites floating down. Grey-blue doublet and slightly darker pants brought out clear, bright eyes, rimmed with thick lashes.

He had a rounder jawline, the sort that was in style with painters at the moment. It leant a softness to his face. Maybe that was the fact that he was...nineteen? Geralt couldn’t remember.

He realized he was staring and bowed. It was awkard, still holding his gift and the gift from the countess. He looked up, Julian was smiling.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lord Julian,” Geralt said. “I am Geralt of Rivia.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Geralt, and please, call me Jaskier,” said the young man. He stuck out his hand. Geralt quickly shifted the gifts to one hand and shook.

The hand was soft but not uncalloused, at the fingertips and base of the thumb. Long fingers, good for playing the lute that sat, gleaming and well cared for, in the corner.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, tasting the name. It was a good name, bright and pretty and a deadly poison if treated incorrectly. “I have a gift for you, and her ladyship gave me a gift but I haven’t opened it yet.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and sat on a plush chair, gesturing Geralt to one opposite. “I have my own gift for you,” he said. “Father and Amaria didn’t think I could get my own courting gifts.”

Geralt decided to give up on subtlety. He wanted answers and he hoped this young man, Jaskier, was willing to give them.

“They want rid of you,” he said. It was a question but without the inflection at the end. “Enough to marry you off to a witcher.”

Jaskier sighed. “Just father, Amaria doesn’t have much to do with anything these days.”

“She seemed...” Geralt trailed off, not wanting to be disrespectful.

“It’s all about heirs,” Jaskier said, standing and beginning to pace. “Suitable heirs, which I’m not.” He sent Geralt a bitter little smile and flopped back down. “My father is not a nice man, you see. He’s never taken kindly to disagreements, and to him there’s only one ‘right’ sort of man. Men like him, manly and strong who kill first and don’t bother asking questions later. I questioned him, maybe three years ago, I didn’t think he should raise taxes again. He doesn’t forgive that sort of slight.”

Jaskier leaned forward, elbows on knees and stared at the ground for a second.

“I think he’d decided long before that, but he wants me struck from the family tree.” Jaskier looked up at Geralt. Some of his confusion must have been showing on his face.

This world of heirs and court intrigue was far from anything Geralt knew, and seemed more complicated than necessary.

“Follow me,” Jaskier said, rising and stretching out his hand again. “You can leave the gifts, we’ll be back.” Geralt set dow the gifts and hesitantly stretched out his hand, unsure if the gesture was figurative or if he was actually supposed to take it. Jaskier took him gently by the wrist and led him from the room.

“The halls are a maze,” he said, letting go a coridor later. “Follow close behind me, you could get lost.” Geralt did so. He couldn’t imagine anything more embarassing than having a footman fetch him from one of these little stone tunnels.

They emerged in yet another dusty hall, lined with tapestries. Jaskier stopped in between two, and in front of a large, painted wooden panel. It had a tree.

A family tree.

“My father,” Jaskier said, tracing his finger along dusty, painted branches. “Finds it very important that the next Earl be his direct blood, and also his kind of man.” He looked at Geralt significantly. “That meant ridding himself of Amaria’s sons from her first marriage, by the laws of our country, he could have been heir. That also means getting rid of me.”

This explanation did not help Geralt’s bafflement. Jaskier sighed again, although he didn’t seem to be doing so at Geralt.

“Amaria had two sons, both manly and well suited to my father, but not his direct blood. And they were older than me, set to inherit the role of Earl first. They met with horrible accidents.” A shadow passed of Jaskier’s boyish face.

“Strange coincidence, how a large rock managed to tumble from the ramparts on to Isak not even a week after the same thing happened to Tomas. Especially since there’s not rocks up there. I checked.”

“Your father,” Geralt said, a little numbly. “Had his stepson’s murdered.” He knew nobility could be nasty but still... “And we’ve made a deal with him.”

Jaskier patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry too much about it, Father mostly doesn’t do too much harm these days, and Filip, that’s my half brother, seems like he’ll turn out okay. Then again, he’s only seven.”

“Is he going to have you killed?” Geralt asked, knowing as he did that the Earl was trying, by way of marrying Jaskier to him.

“Not exactly. I don’t know if it’s because I’m blood or just because another ‘accident’ would look suspicious, but there’s an easier way.” Jaskier pointed to a name circled in blue. “That’s my aunt Matylda, father’s older sister. She got married, which officially makes her part of her husband’s family tree, not ours, and she can no longer inherit,” Jaskier paused. “If she weren’t already a woman, I mean.”

“But we’re both men,” Geralt said. “I could just as easily become part of your family tree and then your father’s problem.”

“Yes,” Jaskier said, “In theory, but of course that isn’t how he played it. I’ll be an honorary witcher, and my name,” here he tapped some fine script. “Will be circled in blue and removed from the line.”

They both looked at the tree, looming darkly for a while.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt offered, although he supposed it wasn’t worth much.

“I’m sorry too,” Jaskier said. “You shouldn’t be roped into all this.”

Geralt privately considered that, yes, while he would have preferred to avoid all this intrigue and politics, Jaskier didn’t seem too bad.

Jaskier led him back through the stone rabbit warren that made up the bowels of the castle.

“Is her ladyship...like that, because of the death of her sons?” Geralt asked when they paused at the top of a staircase.

Jaskier cocked his head sadly, and then continued walking. Aftr a few more paced he said, “Yes, mostly. She wasn’t always...present, I suppose before but when they died so close together, and in such an awful way-- there’s nothing nice about a block of stone dropping on you from four stories up--something broke. She’s a nice lady, just happier living in her head, I think. Maybe she goes somewhere else, where her boys and her first husband are alive, I hope.”

They arrived back at the study without another word.

They sat.

“I, um.” Geralt said. “Hmmm. I got you,” he proferred the package, not knowing what to say and begging Jaskier to save him from trying to figure it out.

Jaskier took the package and pulled the string so that it fell open. The doublet slithered out. Vesemir had sent a letter asking for measurements as soon as Geralt had told him the idea.

“It’s basilisk leather,” Geralt said. “Witchers, um, our Path, it can be dangerous, so you should have this.”

Jaskier held up the fabric, watching the colors, deep blue and green, shift across the slick material. Privately, and for no reason Geralt could really guess at, he was very pleased, both that the doublet was in what seemed to be Jaskier’s colors, and also at the awe struck look on his face.

“It’s as light as silk,” Jaskier said, passing the fabric between his fingers. “And you said it’s leather?”

“Basilisk leather,” Geralt said. Monsters. They were talking about monsters, which he knew about. Thank the gods. “It’s like armor, and it won’t burn or get wet, water just runs off.”

“I didn’t know there was such a thing as basilisk leather,” Jaskier said, holding the doublet up. “Where did you get it? It’s incredible.”

Geralt coughed modestly, and tried not to puff his chest. “I killed the basilisk. Making the leather needs different skills than normal tanning, it’s more like potion making.” He remembered that most people knew little about witcher skills and needs. “All witchers know some alchemy, and we make potions for combat so I...I tanned it. My brother Lambert drew up the design, I don’t know much about clothes.”

The tailor had nearly cried when they’d presented him with the fabric, exclaiming about it’s luster and the ‘glorious smooth hand’, whatever that meant.

Geralt watched Jaskier’s face anxiously. It wasn’t a courtly gift, no crown of pearls or whatever nobles expected, but it had taken him two months to turn the basilisk skin into leather. It would have taken him half the time but he’d had to do it on the road. Lambert had fussed about the design for almost a week too, and it had been Eskel’s idea to ask for the buttons to be little black pearls like that.

Vesemir had smiled at the team effort, calling it the wolves gift to their new pup.

Jaskier looked up at him, face like a sunbeam.

“Can I try it on?”

Geralt just nodded, and looked away modestly as Jaskier divested himself of his previous doublet before buttoning the basilisk leather.

He twirled, and in the light from the window the fabric seemed to glow, shifting and turning with each movement.

“And it really will keep me safe?” he asked, looking down at himself, beaming.

Geralt nodded. “It would take a battle axe a dozen tries to pierce it.”

Jaskier smiled at him again, and it made Geralt’s stomach tingle, although he had eaten some suspect meat on the ride to Lettenhove. Then Jaskier threw his arms around his neck.

Geralt wasn’t old fashioned. He could move with the times, whatever Lambert said, but manners had been stiffer sixty years ago and Geralt was just thankful that Jaskier wouldn’t be able to see the tips of his ears going red.

“It’s beautiful,” Jaskier said, pulling back. “Thank you.”

Geralt shrugged uncomfortably. Jaskier smelled like soap and some sort of oil. Linseed maybe, probably for the wood of his lute.

“I have a gift for you, it’s not as lovely, but I hope you like it.”

Geralt carefully took the package. It was wrapped much prettier than his had been. “The countess already...”

“That was from her,” Jaskier said dismissively. “And maybe even from Father, although I doubt it, he wouldn’t waste money on me. But this gift is from me.” He sat forward eagerly. “Go on, open it.”

Geralt wasn’t about to refuse that eager, open expression, so he pulled at the ribbon, feeling rather like a bear trying to tie a shoelace.

The bright paper just fell away and there was a stiff paper box. He opened that too.

Three glass bottles sat inside, nestled in paper. The paper was only there to keep them from clinking because as he pulled one out he saw the telltale dark sheen.

Brimstone glass. It was unbreakable. Sometimes witchers carried their more noxious potions in it but rarely, it was frighteningly expensive, usually only mages could afford it.

“How?” he said. How did you afford it? How did you know it existed? Did you know witchers use potions? He looked up at Jaskier, who looked nervous.

“Are they alright?” he said. “Only I won them off a sorceror in a pub. He told me they were indestructible and threw one at the ground to prove it. I thought they’d be useful...Was it a trick?” He looked so upset at the prospect.

“These, Geralt said, “Are Brimstone Glass, they are indeed indestructible and very, very useful.” Jaskier’s face split into a grin again.

“Thank you,” Geralt said. It didn’t seem like enough, but if he hugged the lad like Jaskier had him he would kill him.

“Should I open the box from the countess?”

“Do,” Jaskier said. “I want to know what it is.”

The latch flicked easily under Geralt’s hand and the lid popped open.

Jaskier gasped.

“It’s my mother’s ring,” he said. “I don’t remember her well, but I remember her hands...”

It was a beautiful ring, opal, if Geralt was any judge, but Eskel knew stones better than him. Silver wound around the stone, with smaller gems studding the setting to either side.

“I will use it in the ceremony,” Geralt said, offering it to Jaskier. “If it fits.”

“It won’t fit,” Jaskier said sadly. “Mother had very small hands, but it’s a nice thought.”

Geralt looked at the ring and Jaskier’s left hand. “Try it?”

Jaskier did, sliding the ring onto his finger easily. He looked at it in amazement.

“Amaria must have had it enlarged,” he said.

“A good gift,” Geralt said, although not sure who the gift was really for.

There came a polite knock at the door, interupting the moment, whatever sort of moment it was.

“My lord, it is time for supper.”

Damn.

Jaskier slipped the ring back into the box and Geralt looked away as he changed into his regular doublet. He didn’t look away fast enough and caught a scandalous glimpse of collarbone and soft chest hair where the chemise got pulled down a little. The air felt a little stuffy suddenly.

The gifts, and Geralt was proud to see that Jaskier folded the doublet carefully back into the paper, although nothing could have harmed it, were handed to a footman to be taken back to their respective rooms.Geralt offered Jaskier his arm, like he’d seen the nobility do, and then Jaskier led him to the dining hall.

To his relief, the hall wasn’t packed. They were what Lambert would call ‘fashionably late’ (and what Vesemir would call a reason for three extra laps) and all the guests were seated. A table held Lady Amaria and a man who must be the Earl, although there was little visible resemblance to Jaskier. They were seated with perhap half a dozen other nobles, as well as a red headed boy of about seven, Filip, probably, who looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. There was another table of presumably more minor nobility, and then a small table with the wolves, two seats still empty.

All eyes turned to look at the pair. Jaskier bowed deeply, and since his arm was still linked with Geralt’s he was made to bow too, or else risk having his arm pulled from its socket. Then they made their way to the smallest table.

Geralt pulled out Jaskier’s chair for him and saw Vesemir’s approving nod, as well as Lambert’s smirk. He didn’t see the swift kick Eskel delivered below the table, but caught the way Lambert’s eyes watered suddenly, and smiled at his brother in thanks for the retribution. Then he sat.

“Julian,” Vesemir said, reaching over the table to shake hands. “I am Vesemir, Geralt’s teacher. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“I am happy to make your aquaintance, Master Vesemir,” Jaskier said, and Geralt was impressed that he only winced a little bit as Vesemir inadvertently crushed his knuckles in a grip that could moor a boat. He did, however, gently shake out his fingers under the table once he’d been released.

“If you please, however,” Jaskier continued as if nothing had happened. “I prefer my nickname, Jaskier.”

“Jaskier it is, then,” Vesemir said, moustache twitching up at the corners. Geralt suspected he was thinking the same as he had done. Buttercups, pretty and poisonous.

“You were educated at Oxenfurt, is that correct?” Eskel said.

“Yes, in the fine arts, although I specialized in music composition and lute performance. I didn’t catch your name...?” The most delicate question mark was added to the end of the statement. Eskel blushed, Jaskier wouldn’t know it, but Geralt could see the back of his neck reddening.

“Eskel,” he said quickly. “And the asshole who’s snickering is Lambert.”

Jaskier didn’t look even a little intimidated by either of Geralt’s brothers, which was impressive, because Lambert could scowl like it was a contest and Eskel, although only an inch taller than Geralt, was naturally hugely muscled in a way even the mutagens hadn’t managed for Geralt. His chest and arms looked like they’d withstand a siege weapon.

Jaskier turned a smile on Lambert, who was sputtering indignantly at Eskel’s entirely fair description.

“I’m told you helped with my beautiful courting gift,” he said. Then he turned the smile on all of the wolves. “A team effort I imagine.”

This stunned all three brothers, and made Vesemir smile. Lambert shrugged uncomfortably. For all his prickliness, he couldn’t take a compliment.

“Eskel’s idea for the buttons,” he muttered, and Geralt knew he’d been entirely won over.

“The buttons are beautiful,” Jaskier said, smiling warmly at Eskel now, who looked like he’d rather be facing a mountain troll.

“Was Vesemir that got your measurements,�� he said, looking down at the tablecloth. Jaskier beamed at the whole table then.

“Truly a team effort, thank you all, it’s beautiful and I cannot wait to wear it.” With that the whole table was well and truly won over by Jaskier. Geralt couldn’t help but brag a little.

“Jaskier gave me Brimstone Glass bottles as a courting gift,” he said, and preened slightly under the others’ slightly jealous noises of amazement. Jaskier flushed a very pretty pink.

“I just thought they’d be useful,” he said, although his smile was pleased.

Serving girls entered the hall with trays and the chatter in the hall expanded excitedly. A plump young woman set a tray down at their table and Eskel hummed in appreciation.

“It smells delicious,” he said. She smiled at him, looked him up and down, and then winked.

“Oh doesn’t it just, I could just eat it all up,” she said, not looking at the food even as she lifted the cloche from the appetizers. Then she winked and disappeared back into the kitchen. Another girl appeared and filled the goblets but the witchers hardly noticed for laughing at Eskel’s face.

“Seems Mabel took a liking to you,” Jaskier said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. Through his own laughter, Geralt watched Jaskier’s father glaring at their table. Good. The old fuck could choke on it, he didn’t look like he’d ever laughed a day in his life.

“Careful though,” Jaskier was saying. “She looked ready to take a bite out of you.”

“But,” Eskel gestured, baffled to his face.

“Oh pish,” Jaskier said, taking a swig of wine. “Nobody cares about that sort of thing, do they? Plenty of ladies around here like a few scars, makes men look rugged and dangerous.”

“Rugged?” Eskel rubbed his hand over his face, contemplating.

“Definitely,” said Jaskier, nodding. He took one of the appetizers. Geralt moved a few to his own plate and slowly their little table descended into a quiet contentment. The appetizers were good, hors d'oeuvres , Geralt remembered Lambert telling him once. They were little bits of paste, meat and vegetable mostly, inside pastry casings.

He smiled when he noticed that he and his brothers were all looking between Jaskier and Vesemir to make sure they hadn’t missed any manners. Eskel swiped Lambert’s elbows off the table.

Eventually the appetizers were replaced with soup. The saucy kitchen girl, Mabel, Jaskier had called her, made a positively salacious remark to Eskel. Something daring about him licking everything clean. Eskel smiled faintly and turned redder than the beet soup.

“You should flirt back,” Jaskier said, once Mabel was gone. “If you’re actually interested, I mean.”

“It’s not that I’m not. Interested I mean,” Eskel squeaked. “But I can’t offer her anything, no marriage or security.”

Jaskier looked at him. It was definitely a look, although not a nasty one. “She asked you to lick her clean and you think that was an invitation to marriage?”

“I wouldn’t want to defile...”

“Oh shut up Eskel, sex doesn’t defile anything. It’s natural and normal and if you think it some how ‘decreases the value’ of a woman than you aren’t the man I thought you to be.” Lambert cut in. “Have some fun, maybe she can remove the stick you’ve lodged up your ass.”

“You’re right, of course,” Eskel said. But now Jaskier was looking worried.

“It won’t be a problem, right?” he asked Geralt. “That I’m not, um a virgin, I mean?”

“No,” Geralt said, probably missing the mark on reassuring, but doing his best. “Unless you mind that I’m not one either. And there is no fidelity clause, and no consummation, you needn’t sleep with me, and you’re free to see other people.”

Jaskier looked at first relieved and then impish, licking the soup from his spoon in a way that made significant parts of Geralt’s brain go numb. “I dunno,” he said, leaning towards Geralt and bumping him with a shoulder. “I can’t imagine consumation with you would be such a chore.”

Melitele’s great gauzy veil, this boy would be the death of him.

There was a pause between soup and the main course, but when Mabel picked up the dishes Eskel leaned towards her and asked if he’d licked it clean enough, to the woman’s obvious approval.

They sat and chatted, Jaskier, Eskel, and Vesemir debated over some old literature that Geralt had never heard of, and then they were interuppted with a cough.

The earl stood, face like stone, beside their table.

They rose. Vesemir bowed.

“My Lord,” he said. “It is a pleasure to make your aquaintance. I am Vesemir, of the school of the wolf.”

Lord Pankratz inclined his head. “Greetings, Master Vesemir,” he said. “I wish to discuss some of the terms of the contract with you.”

He snapped his fingers and a footman brought him a chair, without waiting for Vesemir’s response.

The wolves sat, feeling wary. Jaskier was looking down at his hands, shoulders shrunk in.

They sat in suspense as Vesemir and Lord Pankratz hashed out details of the legal protections. The main course appeared and the earl stood, and bowed.

“Why don’t we continue this after desert,” he said, smiling smoothly. And it was a very smooth smile. Like an oil slick.

Dinner after that was subdued, despite Eskel returning Mabel’s flirtations. Jaskier looked down at his plate most of the time and the witchers picked up on his unease.

“What’s wrong, Jaskier?” Geralt whispered.

“I don’t know, but he’s planning something, and I don’t like it.”

Then coffee was served after dessert, and the Earl de Lettenhove sat at their table again.

“Now, for what I really wanted to discuss, I know political marriages can be...challenging,” the earl said in a voice like a snake. “But I wanted to make it clear, should either member express a wish to anul the marriage, the contract will become void.” Here he squeezed Jaskier’s shoulder so hard he winced. “I couldn’t bear for my dear Julian to be unhappy, you see. He’s high maintainance I know, but I wish him the best.”

The earl smiled a despicable little smile. “Now, I think you two shouldn’t really see more of each other before the wedding, yes? Bad luck and all.”

The earl then hauled Jaskier away by his collar.

“What a cunt,” Lambert said.

“I figured that was in the contract anyway,” Geralt said. “Isn’t that normally how it works?”

Vesemir nodded. “Indeed, it’s how these marriages go. But I expect the earl is betting that the two of you wont be able to stand eachother, and so he gets rid of his son and doesn’t have to help witchers all in one go.”

“Yes, Jaskier explained things.”

And then Geralt told his family what Jaskier had told him. The suspicious accidents, the laws, the family tree.

“I agree with Lambert,” Eskel said. “What a gigantic fucking cunt.”

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

What’s with my thing about clothing descriptions and fancy cloth? I’m a fashion design major, that’s what.

We’ve got answers about Amaria, and the reason for the engagement, but what’s the wedding going to be like? oooh, cliffhanger, but not too much so I hope it makes up for last time when I was so bad to you all.

Tag List! @llamasdumpsterfire @stinastar @aziz-the-fangirl @mordoriscalling @bastardofmothman @negativenuggetz @morte-mistrata @hayleynzlive @filledepluie @bygodstillam@sociowithatardisachevyandawand @faery-god @honeysuckletook @theflurtifly @saibowtie @werevampiwolf @frywen-babbles @the-kewlest@innocentbi-stander @1stbonesfan @aqueenrisesintheeast @marauders-fan-account @ineffable-lasagna

@ailorian @toothhurtyam I’m having trouble adding you, I can’t tag if this is a password protected side blog or if you have Allow Blog to Appear in Search Results off, I think.

#geraskier #the witcher #arranged marriage #arranged marriage au #its part two y'all #and the earl is a slimy sob

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dreamkidddream · 3 years

Note

gasp

quote 10 for junichiro?? 🤔🤔

if not, it’s okay! tyy!!

I will be a Junichiro simp until the day I die and even then death won’t stop me 😤 reader is gender neutral!

TW: suggestive/spicy moments, but nothing graphic/extreme is mentioned (still SFW)

Prompt: “I heard you talking in your sleep.” with Junichiro!

Junichiro was startled to see that he woke up on the couch. He stayed here to wait for you to get off from work, and if he’s still here...

Then where are you?

He’s usually on top of this, never making mistakes like this, but he’s been so drained after a rough mission and having to receive some extra treatment from Yosano, that he doesn’t even remember falling asleep! Did you make it home okay?! He swears, if something happened to you, he will not hesitate to-

“Good morning! How was your sleep?”

He snapped his head towards the kitchen. There you were, all smiles and cooking breakfast. He felt the tension lift off his shoulders immediately, and stepped over the discarded blanket to reach you.

“(Y/N)! Are you okay? Why didn’t you wake me up when you got home? Did anything happen-”

“Juni, relax”, you pecked his cheek. “Can I at least get a ‘good morning’ before you start to interrogate me?” You teased.

“Ah, sorry. Morning babe,” Junichiro came up behind you, enveloping his arms around your waist and leaving a drawn out kiss on your cheek. He groaned and stretched, feeling a few joints pop, and moved back to his previous position, laying his head in the crook of your neck, “I just got worried. You know that you could’ve woke me up, I wouldn’t have gotten mad-”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. You had a longer day than I did, and you were looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to wake you. Besides, it sounds like you were really sleeping good.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh nothing~”

He’s confused and about to question you more when he’s suddenly ushered to the table with a plate of food placed in front of him. His stomach is growling the longer he smells it, and he’s already got his fork in his hand before he even knows it. You even got up to cook for everyone! How did you know that he was craving this?

“Is it good?”

He couldn’t swallow quick enough to answer you, so he just nodded his head eagerly, which just made you laugh and peck his cheek in return. “Well slow down! We have the whole day ahead of us, no need to rush.”

“You don’t have to work today?”

“Nope, took the whole day off. So today is about you and me. And Naomi too if she wants to tag along.”

Junichiro couldn’t stop the small smile from growing on his face. This is perfect, something that he wouldn’t trade for the world. No interruptions, just you and him, this feels just like a dream-

“So what do you wanna do first? Go walking in the park, try that new restaurant down the street, or would you like me to go ahead and give you your special massage?”

Okay, it’s starting to sound too much like a dream. Specifically like his dream that he had last night.

And with the tone you’re using, he had a gut feeling that you knew it too.

“W-what?”

“What? Don’t remember? You seem very excited about it last night, along with other things, if I remember correctly.”

The blood rushed to his face before he could even process what just happened. He is more than mortified right now, you probably thought he was a pervert now! He wishes that this was a dream too so that he wouldn’t die from embarrassment. “My my, you have quite the imagination Juni.”

He couldn’t stop the shiver from going down his back. The tone that you used always did something to him, he couldn’t help it. He tried to stammer out an apology with an explanation (I mean look at you, can you blame him when you’re so attractive?!), but he was tongue tied. “W-w-wait! How- how do you know-”

“I heard you talking in your sleep, and I will say, watching you ramble on about how perfect I am while drooling was both one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen and a confidence booster.”

Oh, he would rather take another round of Yosano’s treatment than hear anymore of this.

“I- I’m sorry (Y/N)! I didn’t mean to make you feel so uncomfortable-”

“Who said I was uncomfortable?”

He felt like his heart could stop at any minute, and you cupping his face so gentle isn’t helping either (but he hopes that you don’t stop).

“You’re still the sweetest person ever even when you’re passed out and drooling, why would that make me feel uneasy?” You had a genuine smile on your face, unlike the teasing one before. “I heard all kinds of things last night, but I will have to say, my favorite thing was you confessing all over again. I mean, it was very messy and all over the place, but you still hugged me just as tight like it was the first time.”

“You’re...you’re not upset?”

“Nope.” You leaned to give him a delicate kiss, “I still love you all the same, and that’s not changing. Now, ready to get the day started? I don’t want to wait another minute.”

He still had the deep blush on his face, but he didn’t waste a second to return the kiss.

You really are perfect.

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs reader insert #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd junichiro #junichiro tanizaki x reader #tanizaki x reader #bsd tanizaki #dream’s 100 + 200 followers prompt special 💙

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icantspeakspanish · 3 years

Text

Being Seijoh‘s queer manager - Headcanons

Ship: Platonic!Oikawa x Platonic!Reader / Platonic!Iwaizumi x Platonic!Reader / Platonic!Hanamaki x Platonic!Reader / Platonic!Matsukawa x Platonic!Reader

Warnings: actually none. It’s just fluff and maybe the 3rd years flipping of some mean people

masterlist

A/n: I recently can’t stop thinking about headcanons to that, so enjoy I guess🕳🚶

Coming out to them

Oikawa Tooru

Okay listen

Oikawa pays SO MUCH attention to his friends

Like, if you’re looking at a person longer than u look at other people, this mf will notice that right then and there

Don’t worry, he wont just point that out

Maybe he‘ll drop some dumb comments like the dumb clown he is, but he wont spill anything

Oikawa is going to be more observing

One day you just hang out with him

and this shithead has a fucking plan

I do not kid you when I‘m telling u he has a whole maSTERPLAN??😀

both of you are on your own phone, you scrolling though Instagram liking memes about ur closeted sexuality and laughing inside, I see you

Then Oikawa plays on purpose one song

„Me and your girlfriend playin' dress up at my house..“

You immediately freeze

🎶👹Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious👹🎶

You literally try so hard to sent a gaze on Oikawas phone without him noticing

LMFAO NOT U FAILING

Anyways

You see in the upper corner of your eye how Oikawa is grinning SO BOLD AT YOU BYE

Brb, just getting a tomato to complain it to your face❤️

Tbh, he wasn’t even sure till you turned red like there ain’t no other choice

You just acted obvious as fU-

Oikawa will deadass laugh at your confused face, but then hug you

„Why didn’t you say anything? I could‘ve get you a significant other so much earlier???“

Slap him pls

After you tell him that you just felt really anxious or something like that, Oikawa will hug you again

He will tell you that he loves you no matter what and that he‘s sure the team will too

Oikawa will absolutely get you like a pride flag to surprise you

He‘s so proud of you and happy you told him🥺

Oikawa will literally look in public out for a partner for u 💀

Put a leash on that piece of crap, or I will

If you’re part of the asexual spectrum, Oikawa will make sure no one is making you uncomfortable and to know your boundaries about jokes, touching, etc.

Will text u things like

„Y/N PLEASE DON‘T TELL ME U DATE THEM?? IS U BLIIIIIIND?????!“

Hit him

„If you have to reject this dipshit one more time, I‘ll let Iwaizumi and Kyiotani go WiLD😐“

Love him

„If you wont make a move on them, I will🤨“

Throw him off a bridge

Oikawa is always going to be there for you, ready to let his fangirls flip off everyone who just looks the wrong way at you

He just loves you and wants u to be happy🥺

HE‘S STILL RUDE ASHSDJDN

Iwaizumi Hajime

Iwa isn’t suspecting anything

Sure, he cares about you, but he doesn’t care about which gender u love

He doesent think that is any of his business, he just wants u to be happy and treaten well and taken care of

Pls I love him

since Iwaizumi wont suspect anything, you’ll have to make the first move into this conversation.

So when you and Iwa walk home after practice it seems like the perfect time

You don’t know how to start, so you sorta just blurt that shit out

„Iwaizumi?“

„What‘s up?“

„I‘m ____“

„Okay.“

Your legs stop moving

You look at him like 👁👄👁

he be having the audacity to stop walking and ask you what’s wrong

„Did you understand what I just said?“

„Yeah, why?“

Y/n.exe stopped working

„WHY DO YOU JUST SAY „OKAY“ LIKE A FOOL?!“

„EXCUSE ME?“

Iwaizumi.exe crashed too

„What else am I supposed to say?! You’re my friend, I don’t care which gender you having sex with!“

He ain’t good with words I‘m sorry🧑‍🦯

Will ruffle you’re hair and tell you not to worry, he can beat up any gender😩👌

I actually don’t think he‘d ask you questions. He doesen’t want to make you uncomfortable and just googles about it if there’s anything he doesen’t understand. Iwaizumi is actually pretty invested and wants to learn about your sexuality since one of his closest friends just came out to him.

If anyone is being rude to you, Iwaizumi will pop off

If he’s shopping or smth like that and sees something with pride colors / your flag colors, he will buy that and give it to you

Definitely ready to beat up anyone who tries to insult you because of your sexuality

Radiates big protective dad energy and wants to meet your partner before y’all go out

Iwa just wants you to stay safe

10/10 would recommend marriage 💯

Hanamaki Takahiro

„Are you gay?“

You look pale into his face

„whAT?!“

LMFAO I‘D BE CONFUSED TOO

„Is that a yes?“

„MAKKI!“

I don‘t even know why, but he would definitely know

Not your sexuality EXACTLY, but he knows you ain’t straight

Makki also uses that as an explanation and tells you you didn’t looked hetero from the start

Excuse you-

He‘s just a natural i guess

You tell him then what your actual sexuality is and Hanamaki is so chill about it

Will smile at you and tell you that he‘s proud of you and maybe apologizing for blurting that shit out of the blue

If someone is making you uncomfortable in anyway, Hanamaki will hunt them down to make them apologize

he will sent you some lgbtq+ memes and capture it with „That reminds me of u“

Matsukawa Issei

Hear me out

He makes jokes often

and since you (as seijohs manager) hang out with them often, both of you joke often

like y’all have some insiders, you give joking answers to his jokes

so when you and Mattsun went out to get drinks, he was joking as usual

„He/she’d be a great fiancé. dont you think?“

U look in the direction he’s pointing and see a friend group who’s chatting

„Naaah. His/her friend looks hotter“

u actually said that without thinking and as soon as you realize u started to blush and look to him

Matsukawa still looks into that direction.

„you’re right, they got that dumptruck“ BYE

„Matsukawa Issei, I knew youre an ass dude!“

pls y’all are so casual

after that he asks you if you meant that and really are interested in this gender

„wait that’s ___, right?“

you nod a bit surprised because you didn’t expect him to know the name of your sexuality

WOULD SENT YOU MEMES TOO AND ASK PEOPLE OUT FOR YOU BYE

Matsukawa looks intimidating like Iwaizumi, but he‘d joke around with your date tbh

but if they’re being shitty to you, Matsukawa won’t hesitate to sent them to hell

as long as they won’t hurt you physically, he will make so mean jokes, always pick a fight with them and is SO sarcastic towards them💀

mattsun also made you a playlist with like pride songs

Going to a Pride parade with them!!

OIKAWA IS SO EXCITED JABSNFBXB

He will absolutely wear a pride flag and be SO proud

he‘ll tries to make some friends for you so you have some people who‘re like you

hes a dumbass, sorry<\3

when you ask Iwaizumi to come with you and the team, he will firstly act annoyed and like he doesen’t want to go but Oikawa drags him anyway dw

if there’s like rainbow ice he will buy it for you what a sugar daddy

Iwaizumi will act annoyed and bored for most of the time, but as soon as you look two seconds away from him and turn back around, this men has rainbow flags on both of his cheeks🥺

someone also gave him a small pride flag and he’s swinging it since then the entire time GOD I‘M SO DOWN FOR SOFT IWAIZUMI PLEASE

some guys talked to him because they thought he’s 💅🏻 and hot and Oikawa let out a scream BAHAHA

Iwa explained himself so politely tho<3

Hanamaki found SO MANY FRIENDS GOODBYE

ofc he and matsukawa bought this thing with what you can draw those rainbow flags on your cheeks and they put it on Oikawas, yours, Iwaizumis and their own face

actually they have now rainbowflags all over their body because they think they look cool🧚‍♀️

and they will protect you from creeps <3

remember when I said Mattsun made a playlist for you? Oikawa‘s blasting that shit and dancing to it ofc he danced with you duh

after that day, Hanamaki changed y’all’s gc name to „y/n‘s protection squad“

#seijoh #haikyuu x reader #seijoh x reader #oikawa toru x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hanamaki x reader #matsukawa x reader #haikyuu headcanons #aoba josai headcanons #queer pride

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Suicidal Misunderstanding XIV

Part I - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Part XI - - - - Part XII - - - - Part XIII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Plo Koon woke to find himself chained in a dark room.

Somewhere behind him he could hear steady dripping; it was uncertain if that was deliberate or not.

He strained to discern anything in the dim light, but the walls of his prison refused to form into anything recognizable.

Cautiously, the trapped Master cast his senses out, only to find them reflected back at odd angles. He decided to wait before attempting to push any further past what his captor wished him to see.

Time passed strangely, but sooner than expected there was the sound of a pressurized airlock opening and, distantly, a raging ocean.

The airlock cycled through its rotation and Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped out of the amorphous shadows looking...decidedly worse for the wear.

Plo ached at the sight. His normally carefully maintained beard was a scraggly mess. His robes hung tattered and bloodied. Of particular concern was how dry he looked, skin cracked and bleeding for want of water. The figure standing before him with a dead-eyed glare resembled less an accomplished Jedi Master and more the wretched husk of one.

“Who are you?” Obi-Wan's shade hissed. The chains around the Kel Dooran tightened.

Well, however he might view himself and others...at least he’s willing to fight to defend what remains? At the bare minimum he’s not acting intentionally self destructive...

“Good Morning, Obi-Wan. I am a Jedi Master and your friend. I have been attempting to reach you through your rather impressive shielding. I must say, you’ve done a remarkable job confining me in this mental construct, its been sometime since anyone has managed to get the best of me in this arena.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “Don’t try and flatter me, you barely fought back. You could easily have forced your way anywhere, but for some reason you let me corral you, presumably to try and gain my trust. Now answer my question. Your presence is very much light so I doubt you’re Sidious or...Vader. I could be wrong obviously, but i can’t see either of themselves putting this much effort into that sort of mask...just tell me who you are, and why you’re with them.”

“I am Master Plo Koon, a High Council Member, and I am not unknown to you” he elaborated without hesitation. “I am glad that you can identify that I am a light force user. Can you not sense familiarity within my force presence, even so far within your domain?”

Obi-Wan reared back and the dripping noise in the corner stopped.

“It’s a trick. We might be in my head but that doesn’t mean I’m surrendering any of my thoughts to you,” Obi-Wan snarled. “I felt Plo Koon’s death, he was one of the first...and even if he somehow survived he would never work with the Sith to invade my mind. Never.”

“Obi-Wan. Listen to me. Please. I am not dead. I am not working with the Sith. I was brought in to reach you because no other method was working. You are in the healing halls at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.” Plo spoke calmly, but implacably, “We believe you have either experienced a uniquely detailed vision, or a run in with a dark-sider. Whatever has happened, I can feel the lingering impression of unsafety. But here and now, you are not in any immediate physical danger. There must be something I can do to convince you of your present physical location.”

“A uniquely detailed vision, huh? ha!” Obi-Wan replied, gesturing wildly. “Ha! You expect me to believe that what, the last four years of my life were a detailed prophecy? Why?”

“You...believe you have lived years beyond the rest of us. I take it the- what you remember has been dangerous enough to warrant maintaining abnormally tight control over your mental walls, precluding simply reaching out to ascertain the truth yourself.”

“Clearly my control wasn’t enough if you’re in here.” Obi-Wan muttered.

“I do apologize for the intrusion, but we’ve already used every other tool at our disposal to reach you. I repeat, is there anything that can be done to convince you that you are, from your perspective, ‘in the past’. You are a High Council member with a grandpadawan. It’s been two years since the start of the clone wars. You recently finished an extended clean up of the Mon Cala sector after your victory.”

Obi-Wan stared at him curiously. “If I set a test and you fail, will you agree to dispense with the pretenses?”

Plo-Koon hesitated. “Perhaps I’m making this deal in bad faith, as I am know I am Plo-Koon, and that everything I have said is the truth... but I swear that if you somehow prove that neither of those things are true and I am secretly working for a sith lord, I will...reveal that.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Best I’m going to get, I suppose.”

The chains holding Plo-Koon loosened. Before he could respond, there was a hurtling rising sensation that he struggled not to fight against. After a disorienting moment, he found himself in his own body, feeling vaguely seasick. Obi-Wan blinked awake, apparently unfazed by the precautionary bonds holding him in place. Master Aerdo’s gaze flicked between them intensely. Plo-Koon held up a clawed hand to forestall any interruption while the two gained their bearings.

Obi-Wan spoke first:

“Cihynglo’s Fourth Meditation”

“...What?” Koon replied, honestly confused.

“Cihynglo was a renowned Kashykian Jedi, her mediations are, well i suppose were considered a quintessential example of High Republic cosmic poetry.”

“I’m familiar with Cihynglo- my master used to speak of her fondly.” Plo Koon said slowly. “Though I can’t say I’m familiar with her Fourth Mediation.”

“Hmm. Yes, well her poetry in the last few decades of her life got increasingly, well, esoteric. While most of her work was widely translated and distributed, she requested that those who wished to read her fourth Meditations do so in person, so as to experience without dilution the full calligraphy and artwork that accompanied her words. She only ever produced two copies. Any guesses where they were kept?”

Obi-Wan’s voice started out in the steady tones of a born lecturer, only to grow bitter towards the end.

“Is one in the temple?” Master Koon asked.

“Yes, one was held in the Master’s wing of the temple archives. The other was housed in a place of honor in The White Forest’s Great Tree of Knowledge. Considering both libraries were reduced to ash in the first month of the Empire, it is quite impossible, even for the Emperor, to find a copy.”

His vague attempt at a smirk quickly fell flat.

“I was privileged enough to be granted time to begin reading it once, but, alas, an emergency situation in the intergalactic war you created meant that I had to run off mid-sonnet. Bring me that book, let me hold it, read it, and I will believe that I somehow unlocked the secret of time-travel while overdosing on Spice.”

Obi-Wan paused, catching his breath. “In the next fifteen minutes, please. Any more than that and you might try tracking down the few surviving Wookie scholars.” Koon flipped open his comm. “Master Nu, I have an urgent request.”

“Nu here, go on,” came the response.

“This may sound strange, but it is crucial that Cihynglo’s Fourth Meditation be brought to the healing halls, room seven. Within the next 15 minutes.”

“You do understand you’re talking about a physical book, not a flimsi-stack or a holocron. It’s not meant to leave a climate-controlled room.”

“I promise you, I would not ask if it weren’t life or death. Please Jocasta, I’ll explain later.”

“I’ll be there in 10. It had better be one durned good explanation.”

Obi-Wan looked bemused. ”You’re setting yourself up for failure.”

“I am glad you were able to come up with a test you found meaningful. Remember, you have friends here, regardless of whether you experienced subjective time travel or an incredibly detailed vision.”

They waited a little longer. Obi-Wan critically examined Master Aerdo.

“I’m a Senior Soul Healer” they offered at the non-verbal prompting.

“How interesting.” Obi-Wan remarked dryly.

They sat in awkward silence for another minute.

They were all equally trained in suppressing fidgets, coughs, or other nervous tics, which made the wait that slightest bit more unbearable, each second nearly imperceptible from the one before.

Eventually the sound of heavy boots moving at speed approached.

Master Nu strode in, gently cradling a great burden. The book gleamed large and vital in the light of its stasis wrap. Her eyes widened at they took in Obi-Wan, still cuffed to the bed.

“Cihynglo’s Fourth Meditation, as asked for. I trust you have an excellent explanation for how a book of poetry is a matter of life or death.”

“I’m hoping that it will convince our friend Master Kenobi that I am who I claim to be and we are where I claim we are.” Koon gently pulled the book from her grasp and reverently placed it on Obi-Wan’s lap. Obi-Wan stared at it uncomprehendingly.

“Obi-Wan, I’m going to uncuff you now. I trust that you will use your freedom to examine our ‘proof.’ We will physically intercede if you make any attempts at self harm.”

Master Nu gasped. “Then the temple rumors...I don’t understand.”

Obi Wan picked up the book as if he was afraid it might bite him. With an irritated snort, he opened brusquely to the middle, and began carelessly flipping ahead.

Master Nu started forward, offended, but Plo Koon held her back. “Please Master Nu, patience-”

Finally Obi-Wan seemed to reach the page he was looking for and stopped. “..And still the rain fell like blood of the womb” he murmured. “That...I tried to think of how the line ended but I...”

Everyone watched as the book shook in Obi-Wan's grasp. He turned the page, gasping slightly and murmuring as he read. “This is...a little gross, but oddly touching. I certainly would not have come up with it myself...but its so clearly...” They watched his react, eyes darting wildly and brow furrowing in confusion.

Several pages later he dropped the book abruptly.

“This is impossible,” he gasped.

Nu darted forward, carefully snatching it from his lap, "I am endeavoring to practice tolerance, but how is destroying an irreplaceable piece of literature supposed to help anyone?!” she snapped

“I admit I wondered that myself, but when I imagined what harm the Sith could do with some of the archive’s more practical works, I understood your decision to torch the collection” Obi-Wan responded dreamily. “I suppose the more beautific works would likely have been destroyed anyway...”

“Torch the archives? I would never.”

“But you did,” Obi-Wan insisted feverishly. “I found your message when we searching for survivors. There were so many bodies piled at the archive door that I was almost hopeful that they had managed to...but I suppose they held out just long enough for you to complete your task.”

Nu backed away slowly. “That sounds like quite the disturbing vision, Master Kenobi.”

“It wasn’t just a vision, it was my life. It-visions don’t last years!” he said, finally growing hysterical. “I remember everything! That gods-awful mission to Cato Nemodia! Getting takeout food with Anakin! The smell of burning flesh in the creche! Singing to Luke! The last year of the war! All of you! You crying after Dooku’s death,” he added gesturing wildly at the archivist. “It was so awkward! You were embarrassed! You told me that for some stupid reason you had ‘held out hope’ it was all an insane uncover mission, that he wasn’t really- Three years alone in the desert! I remember three years of living on fucking Tatooine, how could that possibly be a vision!”

“I...hadn’t told anyone that,” Nu whispered with a hint of alarm. She glanced at Plo Koon, daring him to comment. “I know its very much unlikely at this point, and by any measure, he’s taken things too far, but he’s gone on such long shadow missions in the past...” she looked away.

“Oh, Jocasta...” Plo sighed.

“Master Kenobi. I cannot explain how you came to have such detailed knowledge of the future,” Aerdo said, drawing focus back to the bewildered Obi-Wan, who had shifted into a defensive crouch on the bed. “But I do know one reasonably sure fire way to establish that this, us, is the present. Open yourself up to the force, please, just let yourself listen to what it has to say.

“I...want to, of course I want to believe- but the idea that I’m here- it’s, if you’re real than you can’t possibly understand, its too good to be true.” Obi-Wan responded brokenly.

“I know things have been clouded of late, but, if nothing else trust in the force to not lie to you.” Plo-Koon urged. “If you keep closing yourself off like this, how can you possibly learn if things are better than you think”

Obi-Wan collapsed from his crouch, knees folding underneath.

“If I am...even if I am in the past... Sideous might be watching...i didn’t- i don’t know the extent of his gaze- even if...” he trailed off.

“If it makes you feel safer, you are of course free to again raise your shields to whatever extent you feel necessary once you have verified your reality.” Aerdo replied smoothly.

Obi-Wan looked warily at the three Jedi in the room.“I...” he started, trying to articulate the swelling hope and fear only to find himself at a loss for words.

Aerdo shot him a reassuring smile, “If you don’t feel ready right now, that’s perfectly understandable. We’re very happy you’re willing to reach out as much as you have already. Would you like to pause this discussion for now so we can find you something to eat? I believe a simple broth is a customary first post-bacta meal, but if you have any special requests I’ll do what I can.”

Obi-Wan let out a deep breath, dropping his head into his hands. “I- I need to know, don’t I?” he mumbled. “Force help me...you win.” He took one last, searching look at the faces of his fellow Jedi before closing his eyes and surrendering himself to the force.

He opened a small hole in his mental barricades and tentatively allowed his thoughts to drip out. Tentatively, he trickled over the bank of Plo Koon’s being (expecting a frigid burn) only to find a warm and heartbreakingly familiar pool of tempered kindness.

He ran, slightly faster now, over the other Jedi presences in the room. Having finished his course without encountering any dark undertow, he ebbed back. There was an indistinct impression of something heavy giving way.

Obi-Wan’s Shields Fell Like A Dam Beneath a Tidal Wave -

#star wars #my au #suicidal misunderstanding au #star wars au no 27 #time travel #starwars #star wars fanfiction #obi-wan kenobi #fix-it

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lazywitchling · 3 years

Text

Alright friends, buckle up, pretty sure this is going to be a long one.

Let me start off by saying that I am about to bring up a problem to which I have no solution. I will say what I think we shouldn't do, but I don't know what we should do instead. Someone smarter than me will have to cover that one.

Anyway, all this is regarding this post I made this morning after seeing yet another one of those asks floating around Tumblr. "What do you think of [website]?"

(Actually I'm going to toss this under a cut because it's WAY longer than I meant it to be, but I still think it's important to say)

It seems like a harmless ask. It usually comes with an explanation as to why there's something interesting there at that URL. Maybe not correct or good, but certainly interesting. Just enough to make you curious to go check the website. It's even in the phrasing of the question! They're not telling you they're good or bad, they're just asking what you think. That's harmless... right?

Yeah, no, it's definitely nazis. Not "nazis" as in "uhhh everything I don't like on the internet is nazi", it's nazis as in full-blown anti-Semitism, reptillian-people-control-the-banks... it's gross. I looked up what they're about just so I could tell you, and it's gross. 0/10, do not recommend.

Anyway, here on Tumblr, they send these asks out to various blogs. And over the past couple weeks, I've seen an increasing number of these asks published on my dashboard.

Now, every time I have seen them, the person publishing it has absolutely called it out for being what it is. They'll go into detail about why it's filth, or they'll go for the short-and-not-sweet "Fuck off, you nazi piece of shit". Every time I've seen the ask, it's been refuted.

But I've seen the ask. A lot.

Now... why is that a problem? Why is it a problem to publish the ask and call it out for what it is? Isn't it better for your followers to know what it is so they don't get taken in by it?

Let me tell you two stories.

1. The Cheeseburger

So yesterday for dinner I had a cheeseburger from... the Large Burger Chain (you know the one). Earlier in the day, I had read a post here on Tumblr about a lawsuit involving this Large Burger Chain, in which they had done a shitty thing. It was a funny story, where we got to laugh at the Large Burger Chain for being greedy and awful. "Look how awful those people at Large Burger Chain are. Aren't they the worst?"

So why did I go get a cheeseburger from them? Well, 'cause for the rest of the day, I kept thinking "Damn, a cheeseburger sounds delicious right now." It managed to weasel its way into my brain, and I couldn't stop thinking about cheeseburgers. And of course, that one cheeseburger place stands out in my mind. Until eventually, when out for a drive with Dad, he asked if I wanted anything in particular for dinner, and I said I had a craving for a cheeseburger from Large Burger Chain (It was Burger King).

Now why did I go there after having read about the shitty lawsuit?

Here's the thing about advertising. They know they can't sell you a cheeseburger from one advertisement. One commercial on TV does not make you go "I will now go get a cheeseburger from Large Burger Chain!" It doesn't work that way. But they want to be sure that when you DO want a cheeseburger eventually... they are the one you think of. They want to be the first place you think of.

Let me ask you something. How did you react when I said the name of Large Burger Chain? Because I said it up there in the strikeout. You might not have had a fully thought-out reaction, but I bet you had an instinctive moment where you either thought "I KNEW it was Burger King", or "Oh, I thought it was McDonalds."

Why did you think of the place you thought of? Is it because you like that one better? Is it because there's one down the road from your house that you pass all the time? Did you recently see a commercial for that one? This is a rhetorical question that probably doesn't have a specific answer. But somehow, for some reason or for many reasons, one of those burger places has made it's way into your head and is now the first place you think of when you hear "Large Burger Chain". One place stands out in your mind as The Fast Food Place With The Burgers. Even if you don't like either place, you've heard them advertised enough that they've got into your head.

You seeing where I'm going with this?

The more these asks show up on my dashboard, the more it gets into my head. I, knowing full well what that site is about, have wondered more than once "Hey, I've never actually looked at that website. What does it look like?" or "What is actually on there?" or "I want to go look at how bad it really is."

I can't name off the people who have received and published the ask. I didn't pay that much attention. Each time I saw it was insignificant at the time. But I've seen the website often enough that I can name its exact URL without ever having intentionally memorized it.

BUT JES, you say, WHY IS THAT A PROBLEM? If you KNOW the site is garbage, and you CALL it garbage, then no one is going to get taken in by it, right??

2. The Price Tags

So, I'm a cheesemonger. My job is to sell things to people. I've been in this business for nearly a decade, I've got certifications you probably don't even know exist. I am trained and paid to know how to get you to buy shit.

It's gross and I hate it and I don't use those skills if I can help it, but I have them.

But there's one very very easy tactic that I do use in my cheese department. It's very easy, takes no effort on my part, and it's really effective.

Every price tag is on the back of the piece of cheese.

These are cheeses that are cut to variable weights, with a certain price per pound. Because these cheeses are cut individually, they are priced individually. Smaller ones, bigger ones, whatever you need. Now, the thing is... if you are browsing my cheese wall looking for something interesting, you are going to see cheese, you are going to see names, you are going to see types. You are not going to see prices. If you want to see the price, which is on the back, you know what you have to do?

You have to pick it up.

I have now got the piece of cheese into your hands. And that's one step closer to it being in your cart.

It's not 100%. It's not even 50%. The majority of people who pick up a piece of cheese on a whim to check the price will then put it back down. But not all of them. A lot of people will pick it up, just to check, just to satisfy their curiosity. That one sounds odd, I wonder how much it is? And then it's in their hands, and they shrug, and they toss it into the cart. Because why not?

So WTF does this have to do with anything?

Look, it's a lot of fun to digitally punch a nazi. They come into our ask boxes, and it's so tempting to take a verbal (textual?) swing at them. But the goal is to get their name out there into the ether. It's to put that name in front of all your blog's followers, as many times as possible. Maybe you refute the ask and someone who has never heard of them before now knows who they are. OR maybe this is the fifth time they've seen it on their dash this week, and now they're curious. This group wants to make sure that you know their name off the top of your head, the way you know the name of that Large Burger Chain. And if they can get you to their site, even if it's just to satisfy your morbid curiosity, even if it's just to see how bad it really is, then they've got the piece of cheese in your hands. And yeah, maybe most people put it back. But sometimes it winds up in the cart.

So... what do I do?

Don't feed the trolls. Starve them. Block the anon. Delete the ask. Move on with your day.

As for how to teach people about these assholes? -shrug- That's where you have to ask someone smarter than me. I don't know how to educate people on this stuff without exposing them to it, but my instinct is to not let them control the conversation. Beyond that, you're probably best off listening to the people these groups hate. Find Jewish voices explaining what's so harmful about these people, and boost their voices instead.

Anyway.

That was a tome. Thanks for reading. Don't feel bad if you've ever published an ask they sent you. Individually posted, they don't have a whole lot of power. It's when it becomes a trend that it becomes a problem.

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