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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 9 months

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How to train your Drake, Ch 3

You know the drill babes. TWs for this chapter: religious indoctrination, self-harm (for religious reasons), just general religious trauma tbh. Also lies, manipulation, and possessive behavior

Previous part

If you were to ask Marinette why she had chosen Tikki to be her patron, she would likely tell you that she had always been an orderly person, of course she had chosen Tikki. Just look at how neat the lines in her skin were! Clearly, it was important to her.

This was a lie.

In reality, she didn’t remember. She knew she had chosen, Tikki hadn’t been forced upon her in any way, no one had told her that she needed to choose this god in particular. To do so would have been a crime.

Her parents were good people, anyway, they wouldn’t have taken such a big decision away from her. Even if they had, why would they sway her towards Tikki instead of their own patrons?

No, she had chosen Tikki of her own volition. This, at least, she knew.

She didn’t know much else, though.

She didn’t remember choosing. She figured that her thought process at the time hadn’t been all that complex. Perhaps a vague nod at whichever word she thought sounded coolest, or a finger pointing to a particularly pretty statue. She had only been three, after all, and most three year olds aren’t going around thinking ‘yes, I love rules so much, I wish there was a god I could thank for their existence!’

Despite this, she could confidently say that she had chosen the best patron.

After all, Tikki was… Tikki. Need she say more?

She could, of course, but why would she need to? Surely anyone could see the god's good points. It was Tikki, after all.

Admittedly, she understood all too well why one might not immediately understand her devotion to the god. There had been a time, when she was young and dumb and didn’t know better, where she, too, had not been able to see what the big deal was.

It was no excuse, but to be at least a little fair to her, she hadn’t quite understood what was going on at the time, and that had led to a terrible first impression. Her parents fussed for hours over the too-puffy white dress and the veil in her hair, talking about how this ceremony was going to be the most important day of her life. The long walk and the eyes on her, all encouraging smiles and polite claps. The confusion as she was sat down on the altar, slightly chubby legs swinging back and forth as she watched them prepare the knife. The way she had put her arm out willingly when asked – her parents had told her it was a big day, she had to be good! The momentary shock as a knife, larger than her entire forearm, was laid against her skin.

And a lot of pain and screaming.

It had ended quickly, for her patron was kind, but she hadn’t been able to calm down for the rest of the day.

She had been taken back to the temple a month later.

She knew now that it was necessary, that she would learn to love the god enough that, had she not been drafted, she would have become a priest… but she would never forget how betrayed she had felt when her parents handed her the knife for the first time.

Still.

She was a devout follower. One of the god’s most devout.

And yet.

There were whispers and speculation that Tikki might also be the goddess of luck, as well as order. But then why had her goddess allowed for her to be drafted? It was her name among hundreds of eligible townsfolk, what had the chances of her being chosen? Why had her patron not fudged the numbers in her favor?

Had it been because it was a rule? A set procedure that she, as the goddess of order, could not bring herself to interfere with?

Marinette might be able to accept that, even if it hurt.

But the problem was that she didn’t know that that was the case.

Was it because of those first few times, when she was young and dumb, where she had sworn to hate her patron because of all the pain she had caused her?

Was she simply not enough?

She blinked open bleary eyes, forcing a yawn to have a reasonable explanation as to why there were tears forming. She lifted her head despite a strangely intense kind of exhaustion threatening to drag her back under. Part of her was tempted to curl up and allow herself to sleep once again. After all, Tim made for a remarkably warm ‘pillow’, and sunlight was only barely peeking through the window.

Tim almost seemed to encourage this, his arms tightening around her and his lips coming to press against the crown of her head.

“Morning,” he mumbled.

“Mnf,” she said eloquently.

At least he seemed to find it amusing. His lips pulled into a wide grin against her skin. “We can sleep longer, if you want.”

Damn him for tempting her.

But she shook her head, slowly pushing herself up to sit.

Her gaze caught on the bags under his eyes. Maybe she hadn’t been the only one stressed about their possible impending doom. Though she wasn’t sure why he was stressed, Tim would probably get through all of this scott-free regardless of whether she succeeded in killing a supposedly unkillable dragon.

“Did you sleep at all?”

“I don’t need as much sleep as you do,” he said.

She wasn’t entirely convinced, her fingers coming up to rub the space under his eyes. “You sure about that?”

“I can’t lie,” he reminded her.

“Not being able to lie doesn’t necessitate telling the truth.”

He gave a quiet huff of laughter. “Okay, fine. No, I didn’t sleep. The ground is uncomfortable.”

She smiled faintly. “You know, we could have dragged one of the many mattresses from the other rooms.”

“…oh,” he said.

She rolled her eyes, leaning to press a short kiss to his lips.

His smile turned a bit dopey.

She slowly pushed herself off of him, stretching out aching limbs. Even if she had used Tim as a pillow, there was no changing the fact that they had been on the floor. She didn’t even realize how uncomfortable she had been until she was no longer in that position, groaning as she tilted her head this way and that, craning her neck in a fruitless attempt to get at least one of the knots out.

Tim made no move to do the same. He seemed more or less content to simply watch her.

Hadn’t he said he’d been uncomfortable?

She supposed that he could simply show it differently, or that faerie were more adaptable, but…

Marinette shook her head. Fae were known for being good actors, they tended to hide things just for the sake of seeming more palatable. Of course, this often looped right back around into making things slightly more uncomfortable, their strangeness presenting itself for everyone to see.

She sighed and offered him a hand up. Now, he seemed eager to stand, if only so he could lace their fingers together once he was on steady feet.

Marinette smiled faintly.

The expression soon faded, though. She glanced towards the door. She might just have to retrace her steps around the castle, seeing as any potential inhabitants could have moved to places she had already checked overnight. Which, frankly, she didn’t want to do. Partially because the dragon counted as an inhabitant, but also because she was tired. She hadn’t eaten since before she’d gotten to the castle, and that wasn’t even taking into account ‘proper’ meals.

She had just helped him up, and yet she wanted to drag Tim back down and lay with him forever.

However, she couldn’t stay here. Who knows when the dragon’s latest offering was. It might come lumbering inside any moment.

So, it was time to leave.

She had one more thing to do here, though.

She made her way over to the altar, tugging up her sleeves as she went. It was probably a bit too soon to be offering again, but if she didn’t do this it was extremely likely the god would come to dislike her. It was common practice to offer out of courtesy whenever passing through, which was why she had done so the day prior. However, now that Plagg had allowed her to use his altar as sanctuary without smiting her in her sleep, she would be expected to offer as a form of thanks. And, if there was any god in particular that she didn’t want to offend on the day she was supposed to be going up against a dragon – a dragon that he was, apparently, the patron of, no less – it was the one that controlled bad luck.

Tim picked up the knife and lazily cut through his bandages, rather than taking the time to unwrap them normally. She sent him a halfhearted glare out of the corner of her eyes, but he merely smiled.

“What?”

“You could cut yourself,” she chided.

“That’s kind of the point,” he said, spinning the knife in his hand and raking it back up the inside of his arm.

She rolled her eyes and said nothing. Mainly because she had no real retort for this. She knew already that he cared far less about maintaining order when it came to his offerings, and that that was fine, even if she would never do it herself…

So, she merely sighed and, once she had braced her arm on the table, began to unwrap the bandages around her arm.

There were enough of them that she almost considered joining Tim in taking a knife to them, albeit more carefully, but then that would be admitting he had won, which would be terrible. She was already going to die later, no need to add insult to injury by making herself lose one of the last ‘arguments’ she was ever going to have.

No, she was going to unravel this all herself, by hand.

At some point, she used the knife to cut the excess off, since it had begun unfurling onto the floor, and the bandages were clean enough to use again. Or use at all. Really, why Tim had felt the need to wrap it around her so many times was beyond her…

Her eyes caught on the speck of red beginning to poke through the white.

It had sept through far further than she had expected it to…

A tiny flicker of pain made itself known, the bandages pulling at her scab in a way that ached.

Her fingers hesitated for just a moment.

She tore the bandage off, yanking it down her arm. Part of her was still expecting to see the usual – a simple, thin line in her otherwise smooth skin. Instead, she was met with the rotten smell of old blood and a ripping of flesh.

She had taken off a chunk of her scab with the bandage. Dully, she thought it hurt, she thought she might have heard herself hiss in pain, but this was nothing compared to the ringing in her ears.

She wasn’t supposed to have a scab at all.

Her skin was supposed to have been healed over. Gods always heal over wounds that came from offerings. That was what they did, after all they couldn’t let people bleed out, they weren’t cruel.

And yet.

Blood spilled down her forearm. Some of it soaked into the bandages, now hanging limp around her wrist, but most of it dripped down onto the altar.

Marring the clean stone.

Plagg had come by and collected their offerings, he knew.

He had left her to bleed on purpose.

The blood drained from her face.

She knew a sign – a message – when she saw one.

Plagg… wasn’t just the dragon’s patron, he was their patron. As in he actually paid attention to them and heeded their pleas.

No wonder this dragon is said to be unkillable, she thought dully.

She looked at Tim, worrying her lip with her teeth. She was going to die soon (today, a traitorous part of her mind whispered), whether that be through a smiting or divine intervention or the dragon simply being steered towards her. There was no reason for her to keep him with her, knowing this, but…

She didn’t want to die alone.

She didn’t want to die at all.

She wanted to go home.

Tim took her hand in his, turning her arm, palm up, to try and stem some of the blood flow. With careful, slightly shaky fingers, he rewrapped her arm with the discarded bandages. She watched the torn skin disappear from sight, watched her blood disappear in a sea of white cloth. He tied it off in a neat little bow. With the cleaner parts of the already soiled bandages, he wiped away some of the red trailing its way down her arm.

He sent her a careful smile. “I think that was enough for today.”

She cast her gaze downward. The altar looked like the scene of a crime, red strewn messily over the table. She hadn’t even realized she had bled that much.

She swallowed thickly, barely managing to return Tim’s smile.

“Let’s get you out of here,” she said, giving his hand a tight squeeze. One that she hoped would convey that things were fine, that she would make sure he got out of this okay, that she would protect him like the ‘Savior’ she had said she would be when they first met.

For a moment, she thought he might just argue. He looked like he had half a mind to demand to stay with her.

“I want –.”

His voice cut off abruptly. He turned his face away, but she could see the way his jaw set in irritation.

He was a fae, and fae couldn’t lie.

He didn’t want to stay. Of course he didn’t. They had only known each other for around a day, if even that, why would he want to risk his life for her?

Tim interlocked their fingers, squeezing her hand even tighter than she had his.

“I guess it’s better to get this part over with,” he said, eventually.

She bit back a wince, but ultimately agreed.

So, hand in hand, they made their way outside of the castle.

The castle grounds were strange. A deep trench separated the dragon’s land from that of the forest, so far across that she thought even a dragon could fall down it, had they not had wings. In fact, she considered whether a dragon had possibly carved it into the Earth. At first glance, she had assumed that it had simply seen a convenient place to live where it could easily defend its hoard and decided to take advantage of it… but were those claw marks digging into the sides? Or just natural weathering?

Though she supposed the dragon couldn’t be happy, if it had gone through the effort to separate its land only for humans to stubbornly make their way across it. A small, rope bridge spanned the ravine. It was manmade, and not particularly sturdy, and swayed with every little step, but it was enough for knight after knight to come in search of the dragon’s head.

Marinette wasn’t eager to make another trip across, but she figured it was not really her problem. Chances were, she would never get to step upon it ever again. Her mission had long-since changed:

She had to get Tim off the ‘island’. Once she had made sure he was safely out of range, she would head back inside and look for any other hostages. And probably die in the process, but she wasn’t going to think about that right now!

One thing at a time!

Like the bridge!

It may not be her problem, but it definitely was Tim’s problem.

He… didn’t seem particularly enthused about it, either.

He walked over to one of the two pegs holding the bridge to the ground.

“It doesn’t look all that sturdy.”

He was right — it definitely wasn’t sturdy, the entire time she had been making her way across it, she had been praying to the god of transportation that she could have safe passage. If they managed to get across it again, she’d make sure to visit the Temple of Kaalki to pay her thanks before coming back to face the dragon.

He knelt to pull on the wooden peg that held the bridge in place, checking to make sure it would stay in if they were both to step upon it.

It definitely wouldn’t have, because it popped right of place without him exerting any effort at all.

Not wanting to let the rope drag him down with it, he let go.

They watched the peg slip out of its loop and tumble right down into the chasm below.

A shiver ran through her when it disappeared from view. They didn’t even hear it hit the bottom.

“We… we can fix this,” she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “We can find something else to be a makeshift peg.”

Tim hesitated, thinking, his head twisting to look at the castle for ideas, but then his eyes caught on her sword, gleaming faintly in the setting sun’s light.

“Your sword, we can use that,” he said, holding a hand out for it, expectant.

She gave it to him.

Only after she saw his expression turn into a sharp grin did she truly realize what was going on.

With one deft swing, he cut the last rope holding the bridge in place and she could only stare as the only path out was taken from her.

He rose slowly, spinning the sword in his hand, testing the weight of it.

“Good quality. Nice and sharp. Wouldn’t have done much to my true form, but it was a nice attempt.”

And then he tossed it into the ravine as well.

She took a few steps backward, terror rising in the back of her throat, leaving an acrid taste in her mouth. She glanced behind herself, towards the fall so far below, wondering which fate would be worse.

By the time she looked forward again, Tim was directly in front of her, too close for comfort, enough so that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.

She couldn’t back up, not without tumbling over the edge. Couldn’t even shift her feet to try and get leverage if she wanted to go down fighting. There was no way she would get out of this alive.

“Don’t kill me,” she pleaded regardless.

“Oh…” He brought a hand up, and she barely held back a flinch when too-sharp nails neared her throat, but he merely continued on to cup her face. “I would never hurt you.”

She had convinced him, somehow, and yet still it felt like she had lost.

“You’re far too precious for that.”

Precious. Like the people Tim had said sometimes were kept by dragons, simply because they wanted them.

She didn’t know which was worse: that he had been playing her for a fool the whole time, or that she had fallen for it.

He looped his other arm around her waist, and she cursed internally over the loss of choice, the fact that she could no longer step back and let gravity take her instead (though, if she were to be honest with herself, it probably wouldn’t have done much, dragons had wings, and she doubted he would let her go that easily). Long fingernails dug into her, not enough to break the skin, but enough to remind her that he could.

“I don’t –,” her voice wavered despite her best efforts. “Please, I don’t want to stay here.”

His lips pulled into a slight frown, and it looked genuine, but she felt mocked regardless. “You don’t want to go back there, do you? They sent you here to die.”

And wasn’t that just great? She’d known, of course, that she wouldn’t be allowed to go back if she failed to kill the dragon, that the options were victory or death.

She trembled, tears welling in her eyes. She shook her head rapidly, unsure what she was even saying ‘no’ to at this point. His question about whether she wanted to go home or the prospect of staying.

He took it as an answer, though, and he smiled as he pulled her in closer, his arms around her just a little too tight.

His fingers slowly combed through her hair, sharp nails detangling tiny knots with ease.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have everything you could ever want. Clothes, jewelry, food. I’ll even learn to steal crops, just for you!” He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, and the tears finally began to spill over, staining the shoulder of his shirt. “There might be a little adjustment period, but… I promise I’ll do everything I can to ensure that my human is happy.”

>>>>>

Next part

Tag: @jeminiikrystal

#how to train your drake #maribat #timari #timinette #timmari #shutterbug #tim drake #red robin #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #mari: well im gonna die either way might as well have my dead girl walking moment #mari the next day: well considering how heathers goes ig i should have expected this

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galaphob1c · 1 year

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Vox Akuma x Nun! Reader

Note: I was not being serious while writing this, I just had to spend time doing something while the wifi was acting up. Idk what this oneshot is, really.

"What led me to this point in my life?.." you questioned yourself as you stared absentmindedly at the altar. Your fingers found a mind of their own as you "counted" your way through the rosary, keeping up with the other nuns reciting the prayers out loud; however, your mind was somewhere else.

"Was it really a calling?..or do I just really crave attention and my family's validation?..."

You contemplated the moment you announced your wish to join the church and the surprised look on your parents' faces, making it seem as if they doubted your decision all along.

"Where would I be if I chose the call center instead of this-"

"Sister y/n.." Sister Rose coughed out, bringing you out of your thoughts and back to reality.

"huh?" was all you could reply, feeling a sense of embarrassment wash all over you as you processed what was happening. All the other nuns look at you as they sit in silence.

"huh?.." you blurted out again as you looked around. The safest option to crawl out of this awkward situation would be to recite any random prayer that pops up in your mind,

and so you did it mindlessly.

"Hail Mary, full of grace-"

"Hail holy queen, mother of mercy.." Sister Rose quickly corrected you, taking a hint of your carelessness and being the kindest person on earth to help you out of humiliation. You mentally punched yourself in the face for failing to realize the entire prayer would soon be finished as you let yourself drift away with your thoughts.

You silently thanked the Lord, and the other nuns just brushed it off

...

as it wasn't your first time making the same mistake during prayer.

"I am not one to gossip, but there has been some..interesting news.." Sister Rose whispered out of the blue with a tiny giggle.

You looked over at her as you both cleaned up the library. She moved closer to you, leaning her trunk sideways to whisper something to you.

"People have been saying a..strange..man has been seen in this town."

"Should we pray for him?" A strange man in town was nothing new to you, so you asked, what you thought was the most appropriate question to ask.

"If it is necessary, yes. But..people have said he's not human.." She looked at you with a smirk, probably waiting to get a scared reaction out of you.

"Is this another case where a random man convinces people that he's Jesus? or-"

"No! Goodness, Sister y/n, would you allow me to finish first?"

"I'm sorry.." You quickly apologized, even though a part of you felt like this story would just be another typical supernatural rumor to scare the town folks, which you thought was corny.

"People have said he is a demon.."

"...Christ, we'd need everyone's help to pray for this man then." You rolled your eyes at what you thought was a feeble joke.

"I am not saying I believe it completely, but if the people are afraid of that man lurking around town...It's enough to convince you that he might not be human after all." Sister Rose shrugged as she let out a faint laugh, knowing you were not the gullible type.

"Poor thing. He probably visited our town for a vacation, and now the public calls him a fiend." You chuckled as you got back to dusting the book shelves.

"Here's a picture...you tell me what you think he is." She handed you a newspaper before you looked at her with an unamused expression on your face. This woman really just read this garbage of news from the daily paper.

The man in the picture had pitch black, shoulder-length hair. For a demon, he was properly groomed and formally dressed. His pale skin made yellow pupils stand out more.

The man was a beautiful creature..

and it would take a crowd to beat you up for you to admit that.

"..well?.. what do you say?.." Sister Rose questioned, studying your facial expressions for an answer as you admired his picture.

"..thank you, Lord."

was all you could say in your mind.

"You're telling me this is a demon? In what world?" You played it off like you were uninterested in such childish tales.

Sister Rose laughed at your response, snatching the paper out of your hand and stacking it along with the others to be put away.

"Oh y/n, you really are something else, aren't you?"

"I am not a demon, that's for sure." You cracked another joke, slightly smiling at yourself.

"That would be all of it...I think." You chuckled as you helped carry the last box of library books into the van to be given out to the local schools.

"Thank you so much, sister." the driver said with a smile.

"Hey, it's no problem- Uh I mean... it's my pleasure." You chuckled again, giving a bashful smile as you watched him get in the van before driving off.

The day had been draining for you, and the feeling of wanting to just flop onto your bed was taking over your body. You yawned into your hand as you walked up to the entrance when you were stopped in your tracks by a voice.

"Good evening, sister." A deep, velvety voice came from behind you, making you jump slightly.

"Oh Jesus!" You yelped out, placing your hand over your rapidly beating heart as you turned towards the source of the voice.

"Pardon me. I did not mean to scare you like that." He spoke again.

Your heart felt like it stopped the second you laid eyes on him, as flashbacks of your little gossip with Sister Rose replayed themselves in your mind. You were just admiring his face through a picture hours ago, and now, seeing him in person has made you realize his picture did not do him justice.

"Let me try again. Good evening, sister.." He repeated himself once again, looking deep into your eyes, almost as if he were looking for an answer.

Was it normal for nuns to feel some sort of way toward attractive men? It is one of the things that could not be helped, as it was a normal human reaction. What wasn't a normal human reaction would be yours, as you immediately replied

"Peace be upon you, brother."

Seriously...

What led you to this point in your life?

#vox akuma #oneshot #vox akuma x reader #nijisanji en x reader #luxiem

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abigailmoment · 9 months

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Live Action Baldur's Gate

"Fucking hell," Karlach moaned. "Why did I make a character with full body paint?"

"Because you are committed to your craft," said Lae'zel, who was carefully patting down the seams of her prosthetic nose so that they lay flush with her skin.

The companions are getting ready play Baldur's Gate: a local live-action roleplaying game that has been running for three years.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, LARPing, Live Action Roleplaying, Implied toxic relationship, extremely niche idea I had, Karlach & Lae'zel, Lae'zel/Shadowheart, Astarion/Cazador, All Companions

Words: 2,772

Full text below.

Full Text On AO3

"Fucking hell," Karlach moaned. "Why did I make a character with full body paint?"

"Because you are committed to your craft," said Lae'zel, who was carefully patting down the seams of her prosthetic nose so that they lay flush with her skin.

"I mean sure," Karlach said as she dabbed a makeup sponge back and forth over her arms, painting them bright red to match her already vivid face and chest. "And I'm real excited about how it's going to look. But I didn't really think through how being red would mean I'd have to, you know, paint my entire body red."

"These efforts are the sacrifices we make on the altar of fantasy." Lae'zel left her nose to dry and started mixing her face-paint to the precise color she preferred for her skin. "In embodying beings from another world, we become beacons by which others recognize they have transcended. The essence of a new reality lives on our skin."

Karlach glanced down at her. "Do people ever tell you you're kind of intense, Zel?"

"Yes," said Lae'zel.

They were standing side by side in front of the long mirror in the upstairs, gender-neutral bathroom of the main lodge. It was the best place on the campground to do your makeup, especially if you had a complicated costume. There were four sinks--plenty of room to spread out. Lae'zel had a two-tiered makeup-box full of powder, face-paint, glue, ears, scars, and extra noses. Her brushes were laid out in a row, sorted by size. She had taken out and set aside all the paint-colors she needed for her skin.

On her the other side, Karlach had a red bottle of liquid body-paint and a bunch of makeup sponges. She'd already put on her horns. They looked awesome.

The upstairs bathroom was also a great spot because it had a pair of big, double doors that were always propped open. The hall outside ran along the second floor of the lodge and all the other doors led to bunk-style bedrooms where players slept. So people were always going back and forth, carrying bedding and props to and from their rooms. And often they'd stop to chat with the high-makeup characters doing themselves up in front of the mirror--a process that could take a while and get lonely without company.

Lae'zel's makeup always took a particularly long time, so it wasn't surprising that her girlfriend stopped in to check on her.

"Hi," Shadowheart said, peeking around the side of the door. "I have cupcakes. Would anyone like cupcakes?"

"Fuck yeah," said Karlach, who wasn't the one being checked on but would absolutely accept an open offers of cupcakes. And it was definitely an open offer. Shadowheart was an absolute sweetheart, right up until she got in character.

Shadowheart put down a tupperware of small, clearly homemade black and purple cupcakes on the counter between Lae'zel and Karlach. Karlach picked up a purple one and immediately ate it. Lae'zel selected a black one and put it on top of her makeup box for later consumption.

"Can I kiss you?" Shadowheart asked her.

Lae'zel nodded. "Be wary of my nose."

Shadowheart's care made it a chaste little butterfly of a kiss. Karlach still whistled at them, which made Shadowheart giggle and smile.

"You are insipidly cheerful right now," Lae'zel observed fondly.

"It's because I love you," Shadowheart told her. "And I have to get all the smiling out of my system before game starts! I have such an awful backstory. You have no idea."

"I do not," Lae'zel confirmed. "You have told me nothing."

"It's a secret!" Shadowheart said, clapping her hands together. "You'll find out. It's horrible."

She sighed happily. Then she tapped Lae'zel's cheek.

"Your nose looks great today," she said.

Lae'zel made a pleased noise as she started to paint over the prosthetic with mottled green. Shadowheart turned her happiness around on Karlach: "And you! You look amazing!"

"Thanks!" Karlach held up her extremely red makeup sponge. "It's a headache and a half!"

"It's absolutely going to be worth it," Shadowheart assured her. Then something occurred to her. She turned back towards Lae'zel.

"Will you do my ears?" she asked.

Lae'zel grunted. It was an affectionate grunt. "Sit down."

Shadowheart did, perching on the edge of the trashcan in the corner to lower herself and make her head more accessible. Lae'zel cleaned the shells of her ears with a makeup-wipe. Then she unfolded the top-tier of the prosthetics case and sorted through ears until she found a pair of the only slightly pointed, half-elven ones. She painted Shadowheart's ears with spirit gum, and gently tapped at them to make the adhesive tacky.

The entire process felt, curiously, much more intimate than the kiss. So Karlach backed up a bit to give them a bit of privacy. She leaned against the door-frame, dabbing paint onto her wrists and the back of her hands. She noticed someone coming down the hall.

"Hey!" she exclaimed brightly. "It's our refugee from vampire the masquerade, slumming it in fantasy land."

She reached out with a vague intention to hug, but Astarion danced away from her hand.

"Don't touch me," he told her tartly. "This is hand embroidered, and I do not want you smearing red all over it."

"Oh. Shit. Right." Karlach dropped her hands, put them behind her back. She grinned apologetically down at the much smaller man.

"Look at you," she said. "You so fancy."

"True," Astarion said smugly. He twirled to show off the complete effect of his handmade costume. Blue leather and plum velvet with touches of gold embroidery. The car keys dangling from his fingers jangled incongruously.

"Are you going somewhere?" Shadowheart asked curiously. Lae'zel growled at her for turning her head, and adjusted the ear she was attaching.

Astarion made a vague affirmative noise. "Cazador left a few props at home. I'm just off to fetch them."

"Uh," Karlach hesitated. "Don't you live like, two hours away?"

Astarion made another vague noise, glancing away, down the hall.

"You'll be late for lay on," Karlach said. "You'll miss like, all plot tonight."

"I don't care for the plots on Friday," Astarion said airily. "Never enough combat. But you have a lovely time, darling. Ciao."

And then he was gone. He could disengage from a conversation very quickly when he wanted to. Karlach watched him vanish down the staircase.

"I guess that's a pretty nice thing to do for your boyfriend," she said, slowly and rather uncertainly.

Lae'zel grunted, also peering after him. Her expression was much less uncertain.

"It is an absurd request to make of someone already in costume, so soon before game begins," she said.

Karlach liked that she'd said that, because Karlach had kind of been thinking it, just not quite confidently enough to say it out loud. Lae'zel was good at being confident enough to say things like that out loud.

"Correct me if I'm mistaken," said Shadowheart, and she suddenly sounded a lot less chipper and a lot more in character. "But now that I'm thinking about it, I barely ever see Astarion on Friday."

"You are not mistaken," said Lae'zel.

Shadowheart started to turn towards Karlach, but this time Lae'zel held her head, hissing at her that if she wanted ears, she would hold still. Shadowheart huffed and stayed in place. It only took Lae'zel a minute to finish the process.

When she was free Shadowheart got up and tilted her head from side to side, getting used to having larger ears. Then she walked over to her tupperware of cupcakes and rested her fingers on its edges. She looked thoughtful.

"They came in together, right? Astarion and Cazador?" she asked Karlach, whose gregarious tendency to talk to everyone meant that she tended to know such things.

"Yeah. They're from that classy vampire game," Karlach reported. "Crimson-something. The one that runs out of a mansion."

"I see," Shadowheart said.

She drummed her fingers on the sides of the tupperware. Up and down the edge, around the pretty baked goods. Then she picked up the lid and closed the container with a decisive click.

"I am going to see if he wants a cupcake for the road," she said resolutely.

She marched out of the bathroom, down the hall, and down the stairs. When she had passed beyond the range of earshot Lae'zel sighed wearily.

"What's wrong?" Karlach asked.

"She is going to make friends," Lae'zel told her. "So I will also be expected to make friends."

She sighed again, long suffering. But then consoled herself: "At least this one can fight."

She applied herself to drawing intricate patterns of black dots on her face. Karlach finished her arms and started spraying on a generous coat of barrier spray. That would hopefully do something to stop her from turning everything she touched red.

But even after the spray had dried, she was still leaving paint everywhere. The countertop around her was all marked up with red flecks. The sink she'd been working over looked like Lady Macbeth had been by to wash her hands. With a concerned mutter Karlach knelt down to dig some gloves out of her bag. She left her bag a little redder than it started. At least with the gloves she'd be able to clean up the sink.

Across the bathroom, Lae'zel had almost finished with her dots when she spotted something in the mirror. She pivoted around and pointed out into the hallway.

"Gale," she said. "I have need of you."

Gale accommodatingly paused and walked over to her. He was carrying a bag of potatoes. Probably headed down the kitchen with that. He was one of the volunteers who handled making the communal meals. He was in costume, except that he still had his real-world glasses on. So he looked like a wizardly accountant.

"How can I help?" he asked pleasantly.

Lae'zel slid a sheet of paper out from under her makeup-box. She handed it to him.

"I have leveled," she told him. "Advise me."

"Ah!" Gale's eyes lit up. He put the potatoes down on the counter and took the paper from her. He adjusted his glasses as he read over her character sheet.

"Level three. Now that's an exciting time. And I see you've selected Battle Master. A fine subclass. A very solid choice. Which means the question at hand is maneuvers, yes?"

"Yes," confirmed Lae'zel.

"I see you've penciled in Menacing Attack." He tapped the line in question. "A good selection. Damage is damage, after all, and the status effect is nothing to sneeze at. That being said, Distracting Strike is, in my opinion, the stand out among your options. However! It does require coordinating with other players. You'll need someone who can take advantage of it."

"Hm," Lae'zel said thoughtfully.

"I might also consider Riposte," Gale said, manifesting a pencil seemingly out of nowhere and tapping the paper with it. "It would give you a nice defensive option."

"And it allows me to punish the failures of my enemies," Lae'zel observed.

"Ah. Sure," Gale said, open-mindedly. "Another advantage."

Lae'zel reclaimed her character sheet.

"You have advised me well," she told him.

"Glad to hear it," he said. "Let me know what you decide on? I'm always interested in how builds work out in play."

He recovered his potatoes and then came to the sudden awareness that there was another person in the room. Karlach was just finishing using paper towels to clean red paint off of the sink.

"Karlach!" Gale exclaimed. "Hello. I'm sorry I didn't say hello earlier. Goodness. You're certainly very red."

"Yeah," Karlach said morosely.

Gale paused. Then asked: "I assume that is intentional?"

"Oh, yeah." Karlach nodded, tossing the paper towels into the trash can and leaning against the counter.

Then she sighed and got more paper towels to clean the marks she'd just left by leaning against the counter.

"Put a lot of work into it," she added.

"It's quite nice," Gale said. "Very vivid. You sound rather sad, though."

"I've just realized I'm in a bit of trouble," Karlach said, throwing away the new paper towels and leaning again, this time carefully keeping her arms off the white counter. "Because, you know me. I'm around all of you. And I like all of you. And I only get to see you once a month! And I'm gonna want to hug you."

She spread her arms to illustrate this fact. The beginning of a hug. Then she gestured up and down her body.

"But I've got red paint all over me. I'm gonna ruin everyone's costumes!"

"I see," Gale said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "That is a conundrum."

"It is a danger," Lae'zel, veteran of makeup, acknowledged. "It is why I wear full plate and never hug people."

"I'm no good at not hugging people," Karlach all but moaned.

"Well. Actually. Here's an idea." Gale said, inspiration lightening his tone as he pointed at Karlach. "You could bring this in character."

"What do you mean?" Karlach asked.

"There could be some reason in game as to why people can't touch you," Gale suggested. "It could be a spell. Or a curse."

"Gale of Waterdeep has a suggestion that involves magic," Lae'zel deadpanned. "What a surprise."

"Oh, hush," Gale told her.

"I see what you're getting at," Karlach said, crossing her arms and nodding thoughtfully. "That way I'd remember not to do it. Because, like, it wouldn't be just paint. There'd be, like, in-game consequences."

"Precisely," said Gale, clearly excited by the elegance of the idea. "And we could support you in remembering, because, presumably, we would suffer those consequences! Where are you coming from? In your back story, I mean?"

"I'm fresh out of Avernus," Karlach told him.

"You should talk to Mizora before coming into game," Gale suggested. "She manages all the infernal plotlines. I'm sure she could think of something to suit this."

"All right," Karlach said. Then more enthusiastically: "All right! I'll do that. Thanks!"

"Happy to help," Gale said, and he sounded it. He shouldered the sack of potatoes. "Now, I should get these down to the kitchen. I'll see you both in Baldur's Gate!"

"Indeed," said Lae'zel.

"It's a date!" Karlach called after him. Her mood had bounced back up to excited and she hopped from foot to foot, thinking of cool, infernal reasons why someone might not be able to hug people.

From down the hall she heard voices:

"Hey Gale. Opening announcements in five," someone said.

"Ah! Marvelous," Gale said. "Thank you, five."

Moments later Wyll leaned into the bathroom and announced: "Opening announcements in five!"

"Thank you, five," Lae'zel and Karlach echoed back together.

"Ah. Lae'zel." Wyll said, actually registering who was in front of the mirror. "After announcements. Could I trouble you to give me a bit of help with my horns?"

"Why does no one but me know how to use spirit gum?" Lae'zel snapped, brandishing her makeup pen like a little lance.

"Have pity," Wyll said, leaning around the door frame. "I've only ever played humans. I was planning to play a human. And then Mizora happened to me."

"I'm about to talk to Mizora!" Karlach said, still excited. "I need her help with my backstory!"

"Do you?" Wyll asked, smiling because Karlach's happiness was infectious. "Well, you're in for a ride then. Her plots are wild."

"You would know," Lae'zel said, looking at him narrowly and sidelong. "You're something of her pet player."

Wyll sighed and shook his head.

"I know it's not a good look," he said. "And I'm talking to her about it. Favoritism from storytellers does the game no favors."

Lae'zel grunted, but it wasn't a very aggressive grunt. It was hard to doubt Wyll's integrity. And there was only so much one could do about the whims of the people running game.

"And a good next step will be her paying some attention to Karlach," Wyll continued, gesturing to Karlach and bringing the conversation back around so he could ask: "Would you like me to come with you when you talk to Mizora?"

"Yes!" Karlach said.

"And you're coming in from Avernus, right?" he asked. "My character's been there many a time. Would you like to have a character tie with me?"

"YES!" Karlach said.

And then she hugged him.

And then she said: "SHIT!"

"It's fine! It's fine." Wyll was laughing. "We'll pretend they're bloodstains."

"Come over here," Lae'zel said, sighing and pulling out makeup wipes.

By the time they had Wyll cleaned up five minutes had passed, and it was time for opening announcements.

****

Thank you for reading! Here are some other stories like this.

****

#bg3 #Alternate Universe - Modern Setting #LARPing #Lae'zel & Karlach #Lae'zel/Shadowheart #Astarion/Cazador #Implied toxic relationship #extremely niche idea I had #All Companions #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic

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an-aura-about-you · 3 months

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let's see about finishing up that chapter of Handbook for Mortals I was on, shall we?

Chapter 18 part 2:

when we last left our hero, Scheherazade was still dying, but now Mac thinks that's his fault when it absolutely wasn't.

-Mac was upset that Zade would do this without telling him, but Dela tells him that she did it with Charles for years without him knowing. jesus christ, what a violation.

-but Dela also mentions that Charles was in the show and thus couldn't have left, so once again Zade is the one who made the bad choices here.

-in spite of this not being Mac's fault, he is the one responsible for fixing this according to Dela. she said he "caused" the energy surge, but that's not right because ZADE caused the energy surge, she just did so without knowing she had no way to ground it! again, it's Zade's fault!!!

-"Normally I would sugarcoat this, but we don't really have that kind of time." 24 Hours Have Passed. You Have Had Plenty Of Time To Sugarcoat.

-"I'm just going to get down and dirty and to the point."

...

I do not care how much of a MILF the book is trying to make you out to be, Dela. That line just killed it. Never say that again ever.

-for this ritual, Dela has to forge something that "looks like a dagger--thought it won't actually be a dagger at all." and she says it's not worth explaining what it actually is besides magic.

you mean an athame? you know, tool used to sever metaphysical energy typically represented physically by a blunt dagger? you're fine talking about tarot cards and altars but calling an athame an athame is where you stumble? I would certainly think anyone who spells magic with a k would know what an athame is. hell, I have an athame!

if you wanna dumb it down for Mac, you can call it an athame and then explain that it is a type of magic dagger. it would be a shorter explanation and get you to the point with Mac much quicker. you know, the thing you said you were going to do in this same paragraph.

-the gameplan is for Mac to stab Zade in the chest with the athame at precisely 3am. ok, cool, cool. why? why that specific time? why are we not getting any information about why we have to wait? I know timing and moon phases are important for spells, but an emergency is an emergency. and we haven't been given any information along the lines of, "if we don't do it at precisely this time and no other then Zade will definitely die for real." seriously, what is keeping us from doing it now?

-Dela just compared the athame to an EpiPen. and I'll actually admit, in the context of the book, this metaphor does at least partly work. it's not going to fix Zade completely, but it is going to make it so that Della can heal her. but the part where it doesn't work is an EpiPen is used to buy time and should be administered IMMEDIATELY.

-also, apparently, this entire procedure will be nearly impossible if Mac doesn't go along with it.

actually, now's a good time to hit you guys with the summary from the inside of the dust jacket:

Zade Holder has always been a free-spirited young woman, from a long dynasty of tarot-card readers, fortunetellers, and practitioners of magick. Growing up in a small town and never quite fitting in, Zade is determined to forge her own path. She leaves her home in Tennessee to break free from her overprotective mother Dela, the local resident spellcaster and fortuneteller. Zade travels to Las Vegas and uses supernatural powers to become part of a premiere magic show led by the infamous magician Charles Spellman. Zade fits right in with his troupe of artists and misfits. After all, when everyone is slightly eccentric, appearing "normal" is much less important. Behind the scenes of this multimillion-dollar production, Zade finds herself caught in a love triangle with Mac, the show's good-looking but rough-around-the-edges technical director and Jackson, the tall, dark, handsome and charming bandleader. Zade's secrets and the struggle to choose between Mac or Jackson creates reckless tension during the grand finale of the show. Using Chaos magick, which is known for being unpredictable, she tests her abilities as a spellcaster farther than she's ever tried and finds herself at death's door. Her fate is left in the hands of a mortal who does not believe in a world of real magick, a fortuneteller who knew one day Zade would put herself in danger and a dagger with mystical powers...

so idk why I even bothered with the recaps when Sarem is eager to tell you the entire story right there. there's nothing to work for in reading this. it's just handed to you like Zade's job at the show.

also, if I'm sharing what's on the dust jacket, I can't forget this part:

Handbook for Mortals is the first book in the series of this urban fantasy, paranormal romance series by author Lani Sarem. Following Zade through the trials--and romance--of finding her own place in the world, readers will identify with their own struggles to fit in, reflected in the fantastic, yet mundane world of Zade's life. Handbook for Mortals is in development as a motion picture set to debut in 2018.

also holy shit they wanted $25 for this? yeah, glad I only paid $2.

-ok either more time has passed when I wasn't looking or we're dealing with another classic Sarem continuity error because the narration has just told us 48 hours have passed???? when the fuck did that happen?

-I'm actually getting really pissed at the time thing because Sarem COULD have used the tarot cards to structure the book. I've actually written two fics where I did something similar, one of them being a fic for The Magnus Archives and one of them being a TMA/Chzo Mythos crossover.

for one of my fics, I used the 14 Fears in The Magnus Archives as a way to structure the actual fic and give it a sort of order based on what would make sense to follow one after the other.

for the crossover one, I used both the concept of the Blessed Agonies in the Chzo Mythos as well as an actual calendar since I was setting it during a specific year with a specific start date in mind. from there, I basically scheduled the fic and even reflected this by posting relevant chapters on the matching dates. and having that schedule helped a lot with my planning because I did research I needed like how long it would take to recover from certain injuries in the hospital.

and the Major Arcana of the tarot makes this even easier because it comes with a story structure built in. with just a little more thinking and effort, Sarem could have fit her story into that structure.

but considering her main character ignored a trump card in a spread, it's clear that she doesn't actually think much of it.

-in any case, Mac agrees to do the stabbing.

Mac the Knife?

-Mac is still blaming himself for the thing that wasn't his fault. like, ok, a little bit of that is usually normal, feeling guilty and getting hung up on could-have should-have is totally a thing. but the narration is making it clear that he's the reason Zade is dying, and that is a big ol' plate of bullshit and chips.

-ok we're getting more of the drama of Zade's parents and Charles has told Mac that he didn't leave Dela, Dela left him and took Zade with her. and the start of that is a doozy:

"I lost it when she told me what she was. It was right after we had Zade. I thought maybe she had made me love her... "Because I wasn't sure if I could believe her, I cheated on Dela to see if I could. When I was able to cheat, I realized that if she had put a spell on me she wouldn't have 'let' me be able to do that."

ohhhhhhhhhhh my god. okay. wow.

on the one hand, Yikes. did you HAVE to go all the way, Charles?

but on the other, god, can you imagine how terrifying that must be to worry that your free will has been compromised, especially with how much Dela and Zade have been talking about destiny in this book?

some part of me actually doesn't entirely blame Charles for full on cheating? don't get me wrong, it's a scummy thing to do and evidence that they didn't trust each other. but a paranoid part of me is putting myself in Charles's shoes and wondering, "am I able to flirt with a stranger because I'm freely able to be with them or is this just something allowed by the limits of the spell my spouse has on me?" especially now that we, the readers, know that Dela has used magic on Charles for YEARS without his knowledge.

-but that was only the start of it. the kicker was Charles started drinking and using and got to a point where he talked about putting Zade in the show. Dela consulted the cards and it looked like either they would be happy together or he would go back to his old ways. so she left him a letter and took Zade with her.

THIS is when we learn she put a spell on Charles to not talk about Zade BUT it's actually worse than that. he's not able to admit to a connection to EITHER of them. so I've got two things about that:

holy shit, so that means it was basically impossible for him to have any sort of contact with Zade unless Dela allowed it. if he can't admit to a connection to her, he can't get legal help to establish parental rights.

Why Was Charles Able To Tell The Doctor He Was Zade's Father In The Previous Chapter? How Was He Able To Do That? Did Dela Only Break That Spell Because Zade Was Dying?

and that's how the chapter ends with Charles wrapping up that story saying that maybe it was a way for Dela to not deal with the past. you'd think a professional fortuneteller would know that shit always comes back to you.

fuck it let's have another poll

#aura reads handbook for mortals

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bisluthq · 4 months

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i think a lot of people in this community especially need to sit down and analyze the lyrics of so long london. i listened to podcasts, watched videos breaking it down and really sat with the song myself and jesus.

it is very clear that she tried so damn hard with him. i’m not exactly sure when he started pulling away but from the song it seemed like she was carrying the weight of the relationship for a LONG time. in the first verse she’s talking about him, rather than to him so it seems like she’s adressing london, the place rather than him. which is interesting because in this version, he’s not giving reassurance with the “you’ll find someone” line.

back to the relationship. “stopped try to make him laugh, stopped trying to drill that safe” - the drilling the safe link is so excellent at capturing the end of their relationship and the state of mind he was in. you need to know the combination in order to open a safe, she clearly didn’t hence the drilling. he closed himself off entirely.

taylor explains that he purposefully left her out of things, went out while she stayed at home even though she moved to london to be with him. “i’m pissed of you LET me give you all that youth for free” - meaning he was willingly doing this to her. “how much sad did you think i had in me, how much tragedy”? - again, he’s well aware that she’s sad, that’s why she’s questioning why he’s letting her sink lower and lower. “you say i abandoned the ship but i was going down with it” - he accused her of giving up on their relationship, essentially placing the blame on her for the end of it despite her being the only one trying to salvage the relationship.

“my white knuckle dying grip, holding tight to your quiet resenment” is such a viseral image to me. notice how she’s not holding onto the relationship anymore but rather his quiet hatred for her? “my friends said it isn’t right to be scared EVERY DAY of a love affair” “every breath feels like rarest air when you’re not sure if he wants to be there” - she was literally walking on eggs shells every single day, terrified that i she did or said the wrong thing, he would leave her for somebody else.

“YOU SWORE THAT YOU LOVED ME BUT WHERE WERE THE CLUES” “I DIED ON THE ALTAR WAITING FOR THE PROOF” “you SACRIFICED us to the gods of your bluest days” - he kept telling her he loved with without anything to show for it…literally the most rage provoking thing i’ve ever heard. the altar has a double meaning, wedding altar AND an actual altar where he sacrificed her and their relationship. she died on that altar because he sacrificed her.

at the end of the song she says goodbye to london, the place again. evidenced by her declaration of love for london. that is the only time where she says she loves something. the entire song (ironically) is her showing ways in which she loved him but never once says it, contrasted by him saying it but not doing anything to actually show it.

one of her best track 5s, it’s vulnerable, heartbreaking and at its core, honest.

this is why takes like “omg he was there for her at her worst but she couldn’t do the same for him” and “the only thing he ever did wrong was be sad and not marry her” is not only false but disregards everything she actually said about the relationship. and don’t even get me started on the matty karma bullshit y’all were on for a while. listening to this song and just how much sadness she was carrying (even in her voice) justifies everything that led to the end of the relationship from her side. matty was her escape…the entire album is laced with so many references to taylor escaping into her mind, away from her reality because it is genuinely killing her. matty was part of that. she needed something to hold on to. once she felt like she was ready to leave, she left joe.

I mean I don’t disagree with you - or those prior anons either. I think what you’re doing is seeing Taylor’s POV and those anons were trying to see Joe’s and the point is I don’t think either was trying to hurt the other. It just… stopped working. That happens.

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thatlongspringnight · 3 years

Text

A Crown in Springtime (Jungkook x Fem!Reader)

summary: When Jungkook caught the eye of the queen that night, he didn’t realize just how much it would change his life for the better.

pairing: Jungkook x female Reader

genre: arranged marriage au, lust at first sight, romance

word count: 6.2k

❂ amorentia in spring

⁂ hosted by: professor amora through @bangtansorciere

⤐ au type: daffodil

⤐ themes: spring, honeymoon

⤐ kinks: Edging ⤞ Praise ⤞ Cunninglus ⤞ Fingering ⤞ Handjob ⤞ Thigh Riding ⤞ Hair Pulling ⤞ Creampie ⤞

Jungkook is nervous, it bleeds into him like the cold of midwinter, a stark difference from the blossoms of early spring that surround him. Even now, in the sunshine of early morning, he shivers, nerves leaving him tense as he feigns calm, leaning back on the veranda as though nothing has changed, nothing is different, letting the sun soak into his bones.

But everything has changed. He’s more tense now then he was a day ago, when he was kneeling at the ancient altar, handfasting himself to a woman he barely knew for life, for the hereafter too….And not just any woman. His liege, his queen...now his wife. His father had talked of nothing else for the last two months...since...since the betrothal. All he could speak on was the arrangement, brooking no talk or protest from him, nothing but smiling and acceptance.

A savior - his father had called her, the queen their savior, rescuing them from poverty.

“She chose you.” It had been repeated so many times, the idea that he should be grateful, grateful for this arranged marriage. He should be full of joy even, plucked from obscurity to marry her. But...but he doesn’t know her, he can’t wrap his mind around why she would pick him She could have anyone after all...so why him?

Before the wedding...he could count the number of times he had seen her on one hand. A - A little older than him, a couple of years, maybe - he hadn’t known a world where she had not been queen. She had grown up with a crown on her head, a sword in her palm, and the shadow of a dynasty weighing on her shoulders. A child queen raised on tales of her ancestors, long dead, war and conquest. He...He had heard that she had been in want of a husband.

His father had even suggested his older brother, his heir - but never once had his name been mentioned. Not until....not until that night - two months ago, when - when she had smiled at him, eyes alight in mirth and something he didn’t have a name for yet, asking him to dance after a dinner.

They had gone to court for the winter celebration, and he had felt her eyes on him during the meal, offering her a soft smile, as - as was proper.

She’d asked him to dance, first - his thoughts repeated, an honor, one that had given him the warmth of her palm in his, her eyes trailing up his face.

“Your hair.” She had murmured, a hand going to play with the strands. “Blue like the ocean.” His own personal magic, how the fae had manifested in him. He wondered how it manifested in her…

Either way…was that why? Was that why she had picked him? Not even two days after, she had offered his father...and the deed had been done..all leading up to yesterday, kneeling at the altar, him bedecked in clothes woven of silver thread, blue sapphires dripping from them, from the crown she laid on his head. Joining him at the altar, covered in gold. He felt like the moon, lit only by her golden glow.

Somehow, somehow he had made it through, repeating ancient vows that dipped magick into his blood, feeling their bond form as sure and strong as the rope that bound their hands. Somehow that day had faded to night, banquets and being whisked away - a honeymoon in the mountains - early spring blossoms filling the air with perfume.

A honeymoon, but still - no bride. The thought alone is enough to stir something, a gentle sigh making him jolt. Her, he knows its her, he can feel it, looking up to meet her amused gaze. The - the queen, his queen, he dips his head, scrambling to sit properly, to bow…

At least until her fingertips press his forehead, stilling him instantly.

“No Need.” her voice still shocks him, calm and easy - sweet too - like the last drops of sap from a tapped tree at the end of winter. “Especially not here.”

“....Not here?”

“You haven’t noticed?” She smiles now, and it makes him feel warm. “We’re all alone. No one dares to interrupt their queen on her honeymoon.” He’s watching her, stepping to sit beside him, legs dangling like his were just moments before.

“And...and if we weren’t alone?” He curses how slowly the words seem to come to him, trailing and trembling in her presence, but he can’t help it. His position feels uncertain, her husband, but what does that make him. He’s no king.

“Then you’d only need to nod your head.” She hums, a hand lifting up, moving to block the light, to let the sun’s rays break between her fingertips. “You’re a prince now, anyway, my darling, people will be bowing to you.” She says it so easily, like it doesn’t alter his entire life. “But….between us.” She continues. “I’d like it to be different.” This is the most she’s ever spoken to him, and he finds himself entranced at her lips, the way she forms words.

“Different?” He mumbles, barely aware he’s asked.

“Different, friends at least.” She tilts her head to look at him. “Maybe even more.”

“F-Friends?” he questions, eyes widening. “With me?” “Is that so odd?” She snorts. “To want to be friends with my husband?” “....No.” He answers after a moment. “Well - just a little.”

“At the end of the day, I’m just a normal girl, you know.” Words he doesn’t believe, not even for a moment.

The day passes, the coolness of the morning fading to a gentle heat, and he learns - Jungkook learns about his wife.

More than he’s bargained for.

“Oh come on, don’t be like that.” She pushes her own plate of food at him. “Here, eat up.” They are lounging again, on the veranda, which seems to be her favorite place, his too, where the breeze is gentle, and the flowers bloom so heavily nearby it smells like a garden. “It will get cold and you won’t want it.” Its a simple pronouncement, one that makes him pout.

“How do you know?” He answers her, watching how her lips twitch into a smile. “Maybe i want it cold.” “As your Queen, I demand you eat.” That pronouncement is met with him grumbling, before he sits up, a look in his eyes that makes her raise an eyebrow.

“Feed me then.” Jungkook demands, a petulant lilt to his voice, even as he tries to hide his smile.

“What?”

“Feed me.”He gives her a grin, one that makes her heart beat quicken, not that he knows, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Come on - “ He throws her words from before back in her face. “Feed me or else everything’s going to get cold.”

“What a baby.” The woman complains, not at all fooled by the sweet look on his face. “You’re not playing fair, Jungkook.” His name, whenever she says it, makes his stomach flutter with butterflies. Still, he doesn’t even pout at being called a baby, too triumphant at her shifting to face him, reaching to pick up a slice of meat, offering it to him. “Your highness.” She mocks, and he could only snicker, enjoying the taste on his tongue.

It is delicious.

“So good – its delicious.” The smile he shot her was enough to make the woman feel a brush of something she chose not to name. Damn this boy, damn him for making doing something so simple as eating so attractive.

It made her want to tease him, and that made her smile, something he notices. “You – you gave in really easily.” Jungkook spoke after a moment of comfortable silence. She had, this woman who had led his people in war, had fed him just now, without much protest at all. “Maybe you can feed me every day.” Did he enjoy it? Yes, of course he did, but unfortunately for him, the words seemed to click something into place for her.

“Oh, you want me to feed you every day?” The woman purred, managed to snag a bite of her own food before setting down her plate. The air shifts, a shiver coursing through him, the trees seeming to shiver too. “Tell me something, Jungkookie.”

“W-What?” He speaks, a bit of alarm on his face as she leaned over him, her body suddenly very close. “T-Tell you what?”

“Ahh..” She settles herself close to him. So close, their shoulders touch, and when she leans over, their noses nearly brush. “Tell me, are you sure you want this every day?” This time, when she offers him food, he is slower to take it, his cheeks warm. It feels heady, being close to her like this, and he wonders if this intimacy will ever feel anything other than clandestine. “Jungkook, I asked you a question.”

“Ngh.” The boy looked up, his nose brushing hers. “I – I wouldn’t mind.” He breathes. Her chest was too close to his face, and the skin she exposed…it was right there. His lips could brush her collarbones if he looks straight ahead. Suddenly a warm day felt blazing hot. “I – I’m thirsty – “ He managed to speak, unsure of how he even got his voice to work.

“Thirsty?” A teacup was balanced in her hand in an instant, her hold graceful…almost delicate. “Tea, your highness?”

“Don’t call me that.” He protests. “I – you’re the Queen - I’m just - “ “You’re my husband.” She answers, offering him a sip. “Your highness is an appropriate title.”

“But to you, I should just be Jungkook.” He answers her, and she can only smile.

“Can I taste too?” its a shift in conversation, but Jungkook nods, assuming she’d just…take a drink from his cup – which is why his brain short circuits the moment the cup was pulled away, replaced by her lips.

Cherry blossom tea is at first just a hint of salt – one that fades to a mellow sweetness, floral notes and plum. Jungkook thinks to himself. Those grounded musings lost at her lips. She is kissing him, and he is overwhelmed, the taste of her and the cherry blossom tea an all too dangerous combination for him, leaving him lightheaded. She is kissing him - and he could have whined, the angle of their bodies meaning he couldn’t move his hands from the ground, or they’d both tumble over.

And he didn’t want to lose the fierceness of her kiss - her hands in his hair, tugging at the strands hard enough for him to whimper, the sound lost as her tongue explored his mouth, stealing the taste of tea from his lips.

He is on fire, he is in bloom under her touch.

And then she pulls away, panting against his lips, her own cheeks flushed.

“I like it – the tea. Its good on its own…but its better tasting it on your lips, pretty boy.” Jungkook could faint.

“I – y-you can’t just….you can’t just say things like that!”

“Do you need a moment?” She is stretching out like a cat in the sun. “We should make flower crowns next, my prince.”

Jungkook truly looks like a fish out of water in that moment, his mouth opening and closing in shock, and She could’ve laughed at the blush high on his cheeks. She had got him right where she wanted him, he realizes. The lilt to her voice was teasing as she gives him a knowing smirk. “What’s wrong, Jungkook?”

“I-“ He gulps, unable to speak, the taste of salt and honey still strong on his tongue from their kiss. It is too much- she is too much. “A-Actually, my throat is still dry.” He clears his throat once, then twice as if he was trying to prove it to her. “I might n-need another drink...”

“Well, that is a problem, isn’t it.” She tilts her head to the side in mock sympathy and he nods, almost a little too eagerly, giving it away.

“It is, yes. Maybe- maybe you could help me drink again?”

“Hmm, I could...but you also have two perfectly good hands to use so.” She shrugged. “That sounds more like a problem than a me problem.”

“But maybe I’d rather use my hands for...other things.” He is trying to tempt her- and failing miserably as she barely spared him a second glance, too busy focusing on gathering the materials for the flower crowns, something that he wasn’t as interested in now as he had been before.

“Well that’s good, seeing as you’ll need them to make your crown. What flowers did you want?”

Making flower crowns was relaxing – that is the thought after a few minutes, as he hummed softly, twisting the flowers around the ribbon, grinning as they connected. It was unconscious, he sways softly, humming under his breath. He used to make so many of them, for the whole court…and his father would always pick his over his brother’s…

“Ugh – “ The frustrated sound from beside him, pulls him from his memories, and he pauses, listening softly to the woman’s grumbles. Glancing down, he finds a bit of a mess, and it made him grin – he didn’t want to say anything though – not wanting to break her focus – that is until she hissed through her teeth, the flowers literally bursting from their ribbon, scattering around her.

“Gah – “She grimaces, and he laughs outright, her head whipping around at the sound, finding him already wearing his…

And it was beautiful…of course.

“Having some trouble– “

“Its not easy.” She huffs. “You must be cheating somehow.”

“I did not!” Jungkook protests. “I just have more experience is all - “

“I can’t do it.” She straight up whines, and Jungkook grins, giggling in earnest, scooting closer to her. How was she so cute, struggling like this, gathering up her flowers. In this moment she is just a girl, and he is just a boy - He can’t help but be brave.

“Here...”He croons, reaching for her, pulling her closer so he can watch. “Let me teach you.” Only after does he realize how informal he’s being, shooting her a worried glance, only to be met by a little pout.

“I-I don’t need any help!” She curses under her breath, her stammer hardly hidden as she gives him a little glare. “I can do it!”

“Here.” His chin rested on her shoulder, hands gently taking hers in his. “You made your stems too short so they were harder to wrap.” Those flowers get set aside as he picks others from the pile. “These longer ones will work better.

She was silent as she watched him manipulate her hands with his own, twisting the flowers so it entwined with the ribbon, the dyed material looking so good against his skin.

“...try?” The sudden baritone of his voice makes her jump.

“What?”

“I said, why don’t you try.” He has the gall to sound amused and she finds herself scowling at his grin. Even if she couldn’t see it- she felt it. “Let’s try to pay more attention when I’m teaching you, alright?”

“Give me that.” She grabs the flower crown from him, ignoring the sound of his laugh, his body shaking next to her. Jungkook watches her, how she furrows her brows, grabbed another flower- daisies this time, and carefully winds it around the ribbon like he had showed her, focusing hard on her task.

She’s beautiful, he thinks to himself, wistful almost. Beautiful, and he’s hers.

Beautiful, and wants him just as bad as he wants her - something he finds out the next morning, the veranda a place of more than just relaxing in the sunshine.

“You should call me Noona.” Her voice is a purr against his ear, the kind that makes Jungkook shiver, tensing against her light touch. And it is like, fingers trailing his skin, delicate in the way they touch him, make him yearn for more...its...unexpected, how she makes him feel desirable and full of desire for her all at once.

“N-Noona - “ He stammers, breath hitching at her fingertips parting the robe he’s wearing, dancing across his chest. “Ngh - you - “ “You’re so pretty.” She murmurs. “I wanna make you feel good.” He’s tensing at that, but the pit in his stomach is full of butterflies and aching, nothing like fear clinging to him now. “I don’t want you to regret...this...with me.” “This…?” he asks, confusion bleeding into his tone. “This...now?” “Now - and...our marriage.” She confesses, face dipping lower, lips ghosting across the juncture of his throat. “I want to make it worth it for you.” “Why is it worth it for you?” He wonders aloud. “I’m no one at all - “ “You’re magic itself.” She counters, and this time its a kiss against his neck, not just lips, this time her hand finds purchase on his chest, fingernails a dull scrap against his skin. It feels good, and he whines softly, adjusting to the feeling. “Beautiful, sweet - Strong.” She says, and she can feel his cheeks heat. “What, is it embarrassing to hear?” She sounds almost amused, blowing lightly at the strands of his hair, soft blue in the clear, cloudless sunshine.

“T-That - “ He nearly chokes on his own spit. “That - that’s taking it a little too far.” Its almost scolding. “How can you know that?’

“I want to know everything there is to know about you.” She answers. “And to show you all of me, too, if you...if you’ll let me.”

“I want to...to see you.” He answers, honestly, after a moment. “You’re my wife after all, my bride.” There is a smile, hers, against his skin.

“Such a good boy.” She praises, and he cannot help the pleased feeling under his skin, the way he nods, preening a little under her words. “Such a pretty, darling man.” Her hand, trailing lower, bringing new, ticklish feelings to his skin.

This type of affection wasn’t altogether new to him, romps with boys and girls in the stables up...up until recently, but this is different too, there is a feeling there he’s not used to, a longing coming from the woman that registers in his heart.

He can feel her loneliness, the ache in her soul - and he wants to fill it as best he can. Maybe that’s what she had seen in him that night, that same feeling - deep in his heart - that deep alone that kept him up at night.

So he kisses her, adjusting so he’s nearly in her lap, back to her chest, turning to catch her gaze. His lips meet hers and he sees her eyes widen, before his own shut, one of her hands coming to cup his cheek, thumb stroking idly against his skin. It’s sweet - soft, at least for a moment. But they’re both ravenous, he realizes, when it’s his hands that find purchase on the dainty silk robe that hid her form. Ravenous as she bites at his bottom lip, earning a whine, a whimper - when he looks up again, there is something molten in her gaze, and in his stomach.

He wants her, and -

“Ngh -“ he muffles the sound of surprise in his throat as she shifts them, so now it’s her, legs parted on either side of his thigh, sitting with her hands pressed against his chest. “I - I -“

“You?” She asks, like she hasn’t put them in a compromising position, little smirk at her lips. “Cat got your tongue, Jungkook?” Her thumb parts his lips, delight on her face as he opens his mouth, lets her press it to his tongue. “I’d be glad to have your tongue on my kitten.” The slang is enough to make him sweat, heat prickling against his skin.

He’s wearing too many clothes - even if all he’s in is a night robe, the mid morning sun has left him languid and warm, her touch has set fire to his skin - and her - so close to him, nose brushing at the skin of his cheek, coaxing him closer, mouth meeting his with more fervor, hands tangling in his hair.

She’s pulling at the strands, drawing a whine from his lips as her hips rock forward, as his hands find purchase on her hips - registering what she’s doing before his mind catches up.

“N-noona -“ it’s a moan as they part, him panting softly, him trying his best to capture her lips again, only for her to evade. “I want to kiss you.”

“Do you?” She asks, a soft hum on her lips as she brushes them by his ear, earning a shiver. “Badly?”

“Everywhere.” He’s feeling bolder now, straightening his posture so he can give her more - tensing the muscles of his thighs as she rocks - rewarded with a surprised, pleased little noise, even more at how he shifts her himself, across the strength of his thigh, exposed now.

“Not worried we’re going to get caught?” She asks, met with beautiful, darkened eyes.

“You said that I didn’t have to worry about anyone disturbing us.” He reminds. “Who’d dare interrupt their queen?” He mimics her voice from before, pleased when she laughs, when she grips lightly at his hair, tugging again just to make him whine.

“Brat.” But her tone is fond, like she’s seen him and found nothing displeasing in the least. “But you’re right, no one would dare.” She eyes him, noting the way his hands grip at her, eager to get her out of her clothes. “Don’t you try it.” She warns before he can act. “Seeing me naked is something that you’ll have to earn I’m afraid.” Even as she says that, her hand is grasping at the tie around his, her eyes meeting his own, seeking a silent permission he gives readily.

The ribbon holding it closed is pulled away, her hand making contact with his lower stomach. Dipping lower, finding purchase on something that makes him hiss.

“A-Ah - “ “Hard.” She poses, and its not a question, its an observation. He’s hard. “Pretty.” She tacks on. “Even your cock is pretty.” He feels like he could combust, head dropping to hid in the crook of her neck.

“N-Noona.” He whines. “Don’t say that.”

“Come on, Jungkookie.” There is a note of challenge to her tone. “Are you just going to sit here while I touch your dick? Or are you going to help your wife, hm? She glances at his hands on her hips, looking back up at him.

Its enough, he’s back at it, biting his lip as she touches him, and her touch is light, light as she trails fingertips against the head of his cock, dips them down to grasp at him, pulling her hand away so she can lick her palm. He’s entranced, only shifting her hips because she told him to, entirely too focused on her damp palm meeting his skin again, dragging up, up, up.

But that’s not the only sensation. Its her, rutting against his thigh when he’s not fast enough, thumbing at his tip. He is conscious of his moans, soft and eager, and that’s about it, overwhelmed with the feeling.

“N-Noona - “ “Beautiful.” She answers him, and he can feel her - her essence against his skin, he’s flustered. “Lazy.” She teases and he whines, this time actually dragging her against his thigh. Again, then again, over and over - movements faltering as her drag up his skin sped up.

It - it was so hard to focus -

“I-It would be easier if I was inside you.” He finally counters, words catching up with his thoughts - and that gets a reaction, her thighs clamping around his, her movement stuttering. “If y-you let me - “ “Already at the business of begetting heirs?” her palm slips from him and he whimpers. “Not yet, if you want it, I need it first.” She warns. She doesn’t mind being selfish, he already knows - and he doesn’t mind it either.

“Then let me give it to you.” He’s pulling away, eyeing her. “Let me - let me worship you, on my knees, since you’re my...my queen - my wife.” and he is on his knees, already, something that clearly pleases her.

“Worship me?” She asks, perching up on her hands, legs stretched out in front of her. “You mean between my thighs, where you belong, right?” His cock is still hard, she muses, still throbbing and leaking, and eager - but making him wait was good, bringing him close to the edge and then not letting him…

Perfect.

“Can I?” He asks again, needing more than that from her. “Please - “ “You should talk less.” She answers him. “You’re wasting time you could be worshipping me.” It spurs him forward, but she meets him halfway. He is pushed down, pulled forward, till his nose was brushing against her core, silk robe falling around exposed hips and soon enough her legs were resting on his shoulders, holding him in place. He looked up, finding her flushed, seemingly eager.

“This – this is what you want?”

“Come on, Kookie – You said you wanted to worship me, to be on your knees before me...So…why don’t you show me what that mouth does…besides teasing.”

“Ngh -!” Jungkook flushes hard at the crude words that fall from her lips, his whole body uncomfortably hot. He wants to hide his face from her dark gaze but with the firm grip she had on his hair, he couldn’t move. Even then, he isn’t sure he could, trapped in her gaze the way he was. “V-Vulgar.”

“I’m just telling you what I want, Jungkookie. You said you were going to….so do it.” The way she is looking at him makes that fire ignite in his blood again, a deep sense of desire and wanting.

Because she is right. Jungkook wants to watch as she fell apart, her thighs trembling from around his head, his name like a prayer on her lips as her back arched with pleasure.

He wants nothing more.

“Okay.” He murmurs, pressing sweet kisses to her thighs, intent on getting her just as hot as he felt. “You’re so wet for me, Noona.” Slowly, he ghosts his mouth over her core before going to press kisses to her other thigh, not missing the way she tensed and let out a little huff when he passed over her center.

“I’d be wetter if you actually used your tongue on me.”

“Maybe so.” He hums, letting his thumb brush over her clit, the corners of his lips twitching upwards at her soft whimper and he wonders if she tastes as sweet as the noises she makes, as sweet as the honey that he had tasted on her tongue earlier. Jungkook lets his gaze rest on hers before giving an experimental circle of his tongue on her clit, the woman jolting at the touch.

“J-Jungkook-!“

He doesn’t pause, his eyes still on hers as he wraps pretty lips around her pearl, giving a gentle suck, just to see how she’d react, a finger drawing over her entrance.

Jungkook is not disappointed at her reaction, her hands falling free of his hair, digging into the wood of the veranda beneath her. She moans, a pleased – heady sound, her heels pressing into his back, pushing him closer and closer to her core. So – so she liked that, then, Jungkook took note, returning to kitten licking at her.

Don’t try to overwhelm her with the first thing you find she likes, take your time, savor her, till she’s aching with need - advice from his older brother about what to do with girls - he’d taken it, and it had always seemed to work. he took a breath, his warmth ghosting over her as he pressed his finger against her.

“Noona – c-can – can I?” Jungkook asked, wanting to make sure.

“Yes –! ngh – “ She tenses at the feeling of his finger. “F-Fuck… please – “ He slid a finger inside of her, the feeling making him whimper against her core. She – she was so warm, clenching around him...

“O-Oh –“ He couldn’t help press his hips against the floor, searching for friction. How was it going to feel…buried inside of her, the hot, and wet and – and tight. He really was going to have to work her over now…because he doubted he was going to last very long at all. “Noona – you – you feel – so good.” Her thighs pressed against his face, and her head was tossed back.

“More – Kookie – more, y-you can be more rough with me.” His name on her lips, the endearment not lost on him, spoken so fondly, with such need – Jungkook can’t help himself but give in to her desires. Sliding his finger out, till she whined at the empty feeling, this time her thrust two in, harder, teeth just lightly grazing her clit. If – if she wanted rough –

“A-Ah! Jungkook!” the moan was sinful, and more of a cry, a shudder going through her as she tenses – “Ngh…ah..” He is thrusting his fingers into her, sitting up to press a kiss to her stomach, to bite lightly at her skin.

“Noona – Noona – you’re driving me crazy –“ The boy pants, still rutting into the floor. “You – ngh – you sound so hot, I – I can’t – “

“Jungkook- “ Her voice sounds almost scolding. “Don’t – don’t you dare get yourself off.” He froze, not realizing she could tell.”

“B-But…But Noona –“ he whines, met with her hands in his hair again, pulling roughly.

“No – you – you’re pleasuring me now. Just me.”

Just her...

Jungkook wanted to pout, to whine more at her scolding. It- it was hard to not lose himself over in the sound of her moans, the cry of his name falling from her lips. He couldn’t help that he wanted to be inside of her, actually inside of her- not just his fingers. To have her clenched tight around him.

“J-Jungkook, move..” His wife gives a little wriggle of her hips, huffing at the stilling of his fingers. Brat. Trying to get off by himself- like she wouldn’t notice the shift of his hip and his soft whimpers against her skin. She gives him a cool look from his place between her legs. “Unless you want me to finish what you started on my own-“

“N-No!” He blurted, his doe eyes wide at her implication. “No, Noona.” He repeated, slowly resuming his finger work, her shuddering in response. “Let- let me take care of you.” And then his mouth was on her again, sucking, licking, his fingers crooking inside of her- crooking his fingers to find that spot that’d make her see stars. He’d know just by the way-

“A-Ah -“ Her grip on his hair tightened, holding him in place. “Ngh, K-Kookie, right- right there.” She moans. “D-Don’t you dare stop.” She could feel him smirk against her and honestly, she would’ve said something if it didn’t feel so fucking good, his tongue flattening against her clit before circling around the nub. She was close, she could feel it- that pleasure growing tight like a bow that was being strung. She was just about to fall until-

Until-

“S-Stop -!”

Her gasp took him by surprise, her pulling him away from her immediately. Jungkook blinked up at her, confusion on his face. She had told him not to stop before... Had- had he done something wrong? “Noona...?”

“C-Come here.” She shifts then, pulling him up to her so she could capture his lips with hers, tasting herself on his tongue. Her hands dropped to his waist, a whine in Jungkook’s throat, his hips bucking against her hand as she palms at him again, a whimper as she bites down on his lip.

“Ngh, Noona, why...why’d you have me stop?” He felt his dick twitch in her hand and gods, he wishes he could feel her properly. “Y-You were close, a-ah, I could feel it.”

“I was, you’re right.” Finally- finally, she moves, grasping his hand to put it against the tie of her robe.. “But if I’m going to cum...then I want to be doing it around your cock- not your fingers. I want you to see all of me.” That’s all he needs, pulling at it, undoing it - watching the silk slip from her shoulders, slowly exposing all of her.

She’s beautiful, but he already knows that.

“Jungkook.” Her voice is breathy, and her fingers traced patterns against the skin of his chest as he takes her in. “Kookie – you’re – you’re breathtaking.” He whines softly, hiding his face against her neck again, clearly flustered at her words.

“I - I should be telling you that - “ He protests, but she is unabashed.

“Jungkookie…” A hand dipped lower, finding purchase on his cock, swollen, pre-cum dripping.

He is big. And even his dick was pretty, smooth and straight, with a gentle curve upward, She thinks wryly, wondering how physical perfection had managed to manifest itself so clearly in this man. Like every bit was crafted to draw a reaction from her, to make her long for him, yearn for him, need to have him.

She had known from the moment she’d seen him.

“Noona- “

“I’m yours to take.” She answers the unspoken question, pulling him to her, till he is gripping at her hips, glad that he had something to hold onto so his hands wouldn’t shake, the pads of his fingers digging into her flesh as he shifted her hips upwards. Slowly, slowly, he sinks into her. Glad not to have to wait anymore, a whine on his lips at her heat that surrounds him and he feels her stiffen, her mouth dropping open into an ‘o’ of pleasure. “N-Noona -“

She is hot and...and so tight around him, clenched like a vice, and he knows- Jungkook knows that he won’t be able to last very long.

“Ngh-“ A gasp leaves her throat at him suddenly thrusting inside. “K-Kook -“

“A-Ah, Noona, I- ngh, I can’t help it.” He leans forward, pressing kisses to her neck, her hands coming up to grip at his shoulders. “You- you feel so good.”

“Do i?” She asks, his reaction more than enough to clarify, hips setting a pace that seems to surprise her. “Ngh - you - you feel good too.”

“A-And you’re beautiful.” Jungkook finally feels brave enough to say it. “I - I’m a little terrified of you, b-but I don’t regret this.” Its sweet, in its own way, and it makes her laugh.

“I hope you never do.” She is kissing him again.

“W-What about you?” He asks after a moment. “Do you r-regret it?” “Never.” She answers against his lips. “Now, stop this idle worrying, let me feel your cum dripping out of me, instead.”

“N-Noona – you – you can’t say that.” Jungkook works on steadying himself, methodical in his thrusts, her words echoing in his head. That thought – the feeling of her, he can’t help thrust as deep as he can, feeling her nails dig into his skin, her small pleasured sounds filling the air. He could feel her tense, like this, his name falling from her lips as she gripped at him.

“K-Kookie – there – that’s it. Ngh – just like that.” She wasn’t shy under him, her legs wrapping around his narrow hips, drawing a soft groan from him.

“It – ngh – feels too good.” Jungkook whines, only to have her pull him into a kiss…one he wasn’t sure was to silence her or himself. Whatever it was, it was messy, teeth and tongue and sounds of pleasure.

But – but – he can feel it, that same feeling in his stomach, and he knew he needed to finish her, rewarded with her flat out moan, the loudest sound he had heard come from her, heady and high, when his fingers met her bud, breaking their messy kisses to toss her head back, a shudder coursing down her body.

“J-Jungkook - !” There it is, the boy is triumphant, rubbing at her roughly – its what she wanted after all – still pounding into her, thrusts growing more and more sloppy with every move. He could feel her again – too, the way she tenses and tightens, but even in his triumph he couldn’t help the words on his lips.

“Please, please – please Noona, please cum.” He is begging, his own mind hazy with pleasure. “Ngh – need you too…really bad.” He didn’t know what possessed him, slamming into her enough to make him wince, but it was enough.

It was too much – the feeling of her falling apart, how tight she was, pulsing against him, too much – and he -and he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

He empties himself in her, feeling very much so like a bucket, tossed to the ground, water spilled.

“I told you no one would catch us.” She speaks after his breath settles, idly playing with his hair. “My dear husband.” “Y-You - I’m...I’m happy.” His words don’t fit hers, but they do all at once, telling her directly what she wanted to know. “That you chose me to give a crown to.”

“Your magic sang to mine.” is all she says in return, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Your loneliness called to mine, because you were always meant to be mine...and i was always meant to be yours.”

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wolf-and-bard · 4 years

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The Geraskier divorce attorney AU of my dreams (hear me out):

-Geralt doesn't have regulars. Of course, he doesn't have regulars, he's a divorce attorney, a good one at that; sure sometimes there are clients that hire him twice because of mistakes or short-lived marriages, or he will have the odd person whose ex-partner he once helped, but in his ten-year-career, he's never once had a person come to him more than twice

-He has never married. The few long-term relationships he had didn't amount to anything in that regard and perhaps his job has spoiled the whole affair for him; there's never been a need either, he has his daughter Ciri, has his horse Roach which he rides on weekends, he couldn't be more content (or so he thinks)

(-Jaskier knows that many people would and do call him a whore, an adulterer, but he isn't. He is a romantic, a fall-in-lover, a dreamer, a free spirit. Which is why he gave himself the name 'Jaskier' (much more befitting of his character than Julian, what a common name) and why he tends to end up at the altar... more often than is strictly normative)

-The first time Jaskier enters Geralt's office, he acts as though it's the beginning of a Broadway show. He walks in, stands in the middle of the room and opens his arms wide. "Good day," he twitters and flashes Geralt the brightest grin. Geralt raises his eyebrows, but he isn't about to turn away a guy who looks affluent enough he can charge him a little extra. "Hello?" - "Julian Alfred Pankratz, call me Jaskier." Jaskier settles into the chair opposite Geralt's desk and puts his leather-clad feet up on them. Geralt pushes them off and asks: "Mr. Pankratz, what can I do for you?" - "Ah yes. My lover and muse, the Countess de Stael, has left me for another. The problem is that we got married just last month and I'm afraid she is going to bleed me dry if I don't have a proper attorney. You've been recommended to me by a friend. What do you say? Help out a fool?" What? Countess? Well. "Fine," Geralt says. "Let's talk fees."

-Jaskier is a lot and when the divorce is through and all aspects of their working relationship are settled, Geralt calls his babysitter - Yen's always happy to jump in on short notice - and invites his colleagues Lambert and Eskel to get drunk. Jaskier was annoying and exhausting, constantly babbling and flirting with Geralt and, god, he never wants to see him again.

-Of course, Geralt sees him again. By the time he does - half a year after the first time - Geralt has almost forgotten about Jaskier and his stupid Countess and how utterly drained that job left him. Jaskier sounds cheerful on the phone, not at all the common cadence for Geralt's clients, and comes into the office with two Macchiatos and a box of donuts; disgruntled, but unable to say no to sugar, Geralt allows for them to have the coffee over their conversation about Jaskier's upcoming divorce and it makes it more bearable. "So," Geralt says. "Give me a rough outline of the situation." Just to be prepared. Jaskier grins, wipes a sprinkle off his lips and takes a sip of coffee. "This is going to sound ridiculous, but hear me out. So about two months after you helped me last time, the Countess de Stael gave me a call..." Geralt wants to smack the man when he is done his well-embellished tale. Jaskier is obviously being used. But he's not here to judge, he's here to do his job and Jaskier pays well.

-The third is a woman called Molly. Geralt never gets to meet her, Jaskier never talks about her, it is as though she doesn't exist as more than a job to get done, a contract to fulfill. Aside from the topic of his soon to be ex-wife, Jaskier is more talkative than usual. He asks questions about Geralt's personal life, talks about his job - of course he's a broadway performer, 'star' doesn't quite apply - lingers. Geralt finds he... doesn't mind this time. It's nice to socialize for a bit, even if it is within the general bounds of his job. Jaskier makes him laugh somehow.

-"You should give me a discount," Jaskier jokes when he's there to leave a paycheck for Geralt for the fourth time (that Countess again, Geralt doesn't understand how they got married three times in a span of two years (in addition to that Molly woman)). "I don't give out discounts," Geralt replies. - "Why not? I'm a loyal customer, you should have a system for this." - "Mr. Pankratz, do you realize that you are the only person I know who goes through this many marriages in such a short amount of time?" - "Always knew I was special," Jaskier laughs and leaves with a small wave.

-"Okay, Geralt, what the hell?" Lambert asks, strutting in after Jaskier's gone with a bad temper written across his face. "Who is this man? And why does he keep coming back? You know I can hear his voice from my office. So if, like, you're having some sort of strange workplace affair, cut it the fuck out." - "He's just an idiot who keeps getting married," Geralt says and waves Lambert away. He doesn't add that he kind of starts to miss the idiot.

-Priscilla is very nearly a different story, something Geralt only finds out after the fact. Jaskier breaks down before their court appointment, sobbing into Geralt's shoulder that he can't do it, he can't let her go, why doesn't she want him; by that point Geralt has known Jaskier for almost four years and the thought of him staying in a marriage for longer than half of one makes him queasy, gives him little bursts of pain against his breastbone; in truth, he's glad Priscilla's leaving Jaskier, antsy that it took almost a year for them to split up; she approaches him after the divorce is through, while Jaskier's in the courthouse bathroom crying his eyes out. "Tell him I'm sorry," Priscilla says and Geralt scowls at her. "Tell him I wouldn't have left him if I didn't have to. Tell him to wait for me." She leaves and Geralt doesn't even know why he should be the one to relay that message to Jaskier and so he doesn't. Jaskier never mentions her again.

-The sixth time is the Countess de Stael again and Geralt already prepared his case from the e-mail Jaskier sent ahead. The last three times all went in favour of the noblewoman who was able to protect her fortune, but Geralt thinks he can make a case for emotional manipulation and get Jaskier at least a sizable indemnity. "Mr. Pankratz," Geralt says when Jaskier comes for their appointment. "Are you ever going to call me Jaskier?" Jaskier replies with a sigh and drops into the chair. His hair is tousled, there are deep half-moons under his eyes which look like he spent the whole night crying. Geralt's heart feels bruised, but he can't get involved dammit. "That would be inappropriate," he grunts. They get to work and Jaskier walks out with a broken-heart and a swollen bank account.

-"When will you give up on that woman?" Geralt asks when Jaskier saunters into his office one Friday, not three months after the last divorce. It's late afternoon and Geralt's ready for a weekend of watching Disney movies with Ciri, but Jaskier's always a sight for sore eyes these days. Not for the first time does Geralt consider asking him out for coffee, but the fact that he's only ever seeing Geralt because he's in need of a(nother) divorce somehow poses a barrier. "Now that is not very professional of you. To answer your question: right now. That's why I'm here." And for the first time with these two, it's Jaskier that wants the divorce, Jaskier that takes the initiative. He's only ever been the one to get dumped. Geralt's up all night thinking about that.

-For an entire year, Jaskier does not return and that annoys Geralt. He finds himself fretting, distracted, hoping Jaskier will turn up with another marriage to be dealt with, but he doesn't. The thought that Jaskier might have found someone he wants to stay with makes him physically ill. His code of conduct forbids him from using Jaskier's contact info though. Maybe this is for the best and anyway, Geralt is down to earth while Jaskier is... well, Jaskier. An emotional roller-coaster. He has his daughter and his horse and all is well. Only it isn't because Geralt managed to fall in love with Jaskier. (When Lambert and Eskel find out they laugh at him for two hours straight)

-Jaskier does turn up eventually, but not to get divorced again. He waits outside the building where Geralt works with two cups of coffee in hand and a tired smile. Geralt lets himself be led to a nearby bench, lets Jaskier speak. "I considered proposing to random strangers just to have another botched marriage for you to get me out of," Jaskier says. "But that would have been rather inconsiderate and there are easier ways to see you." - "I thought you might have found one that sticks," Geralt replies, tracing the rim of his coffee cup with a finger. "I might have." Jaskier winks at Geralt and Geralt decides to throw caution to the wind. He leans over and kisses Jaskier's lips, then mutters, "I don't ever want to see you in my office again." - "And here I thought that your desk would make such a great hmph..." Geralt shuts him up with another kiss. It feels right.

#jaskier #geralt #geraskier #gerlion #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #witcher #modern au #headcanon #cw swear words #lambert #priscilla #countess de stael #geralt of rivia #this was fun to imagine #things I'm never going to write #my geraskier dream AUs

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love-takes-work · 5 years

Text

When someone toxic needs a friend

I just wanna add a little personal reflection to the discussion of Spinel’s treatment in Steven Universe: The Movie.

A few signposts so you know where I’m starting with this:

A criticism I’ve seen:

Steven was not particularly warm to Spinel. He did not hug her. He did not offer to be her friend. He spoke carelessly and triggered her toward becoming murderous again. He only cared about what she could do for him.

A perspective I’ve seen:

LOTS of people with borderline personality disorder or strong feelings about abandonment personally relate to Spinel and are critical of Steven from this perspective.

Rebecca Sugar’s commentary on Spinel:

The thing about Spinel is that she’s a really toxic person.

She’s so toxic that she’s literally trying to poison people.

In my interactions with friends who have had a history difficult enough to make it hard for them to trust other people and sometimes even actively want to hurt others, it’s just a very difficult situation to navigate. In the case of Spinel and all of these characters, that’s extremely exaggerated because cartoons have the ability to be extreme exaggerations. I wanted to explore what it’s like when you’re trying to help someone who really doesn’t want to help themselves, who wants to embody the negative feelings that they have about themselves. I think that’s something really real. I hadn’t seen that in a cartoon before.

Spinel, unlike many other characters, actually has the goal of hurting people, which is new territory for the show. She really wants to hurt Steven, and there’s a reason that she does—because she’s in so much pain. I just wanted to explore all the dimensions of that.

I also think Steven has his way of trying to handle and dissolve conflict. It’s not necessarily a good way for him to handle this situation. It really leaves him in a difficult state, and I think what I wanted to show in the way that they interact is that at a certain point, when you can’t help someone, you have to be able to protect yourself.

Ultimately, he can’t really convince her to change. It’s something she’ll have to want for herself. But what he can do is protect himself from her, making it impossible for her to hurt him.

It’s sort of up to you if you would like to love her. If you watch this movie and she, you know, frustrates you, that is totally fair. I want that to be a big part of who she is.

[From the AV Club interview]

So here are a few things I want to shed light on.

It’s very interesting that Rebecca intended Spinel to be read as “a toxic person” because so many fans fell in love with her, said they’d be her friend, hated intensely on Pink Diamond because of what she did to abandon the poor Gem, and sympathized with her directly. But Rebecca was looking at Spinel from Steven’s perspective. And that’s also what I did.

I’ve been Steven. I have VERY much been Steven.

When you meet someone who was done dirty, when you recognize the horror they’ve been through, when you see how much pain they are in and agree they have the right to be angry, it’s natural for empathetic people to offer themselves as comfort.

But when you’re Steven, you also know it isn’t YOUR fault either. Before you have the ability and experience to set boundaries, you can get sucked into other people’s stormy waters and think you’re helping if you drown in solidarity with them. What’s really important to preserving yourself is learning that you can stand on the boat and toss a life preserver. That it doesn’t ACTUALLY HELP to jump in the water and sink with them.

Some folks are angry that Steven didn’t jump right into sacrifice himself on the altar of friendship in the service of an intense, literally murderous stranger who tried to poison him and his planet and lash out at his friends, robbing them of their rich pasts and their relationships because all of it hurt HER so much. It is SO easy to understand WHY SPINEL WAS ANGRY. But nothing she was doing to Steven, his friends, or the Earth was going to fix her problems, and furthermore, she FULLY UNDERSTOOD that it was NOT THE FAULT of any of the people she took her anger out on. It was irrational, yes, and that is part of her dysfunction. But also, in these situations, what helps explain it still does not excuse it.

Some have railed at Steven saying he somehow forgave genocidal tyrants like the Diamonds but couldn’t be friends with a damaged Gem like Spinel who just wanted friendship. The big difference there is that Steven got involved with the Diamonds when both parties believed he was a different person. The Diamonds believed he was the lost Pink Diamond, and Steven has also spent much of his superhero life believing he WAS his mother and was therefore obligated to accept punishment for her crimes or to clean up the messes she made. Now that he knows he is not her and that she did some pretty horrible stuff, he also wants the right to stop feeling responsible for every person Pink hurt in the entire region of space.

Steven gave Spinel basically compassionate treatment. He did not abuse her. He did not insult her. He occasionally coddled her when it seemed important (and though some said he was too businesslike while he pursued his mission, he was literally looking at the world ending within two days if he didn’t solve the problem). And most importantly . . . .

He let her leave the garden.

Spinel stayed in the garden all those millennia because Pink Diamond told her they were playing a game. All that time, she had visions of Pink returning so she could see her smile, hear her laughter. We see a sequence where she tried to follow Pink out of the garden and Pink manipulated her into staying willingly. We watch those feet leaving and one pair of feet staying behind. We see Pink disappear.

When Steven goes to leave the garden, Spinel follows in the same manner. Some have criticized him for letting go of her hands.

But he invited her out of the garden. He didn’t say stay. He said come with me.

As he sang about her deserving someone better, he was sincere. But he did not say the person to make her feel found should be him. He did not want to take on another person with thousands of years of baggage who would require a specific brand of attention and so much tenderness to avoid snapping. He did not allow her to be held by the hand and led out. He recognized that she needed encouragement to leave this place because of what was done to her, but he wanted her to take the steps.

Compassionate people are crushed all the time under the weight of needy people who make it hurt to love. People like Steven can acknowledge that Spinel deserves love and deserves to be happy without accepting that it’s heartless to stop short of personally doing it. Especially when you literally have to take physical, mental, and emotional damage as a general consequence of offering support and counseling. It is sometimes just beyond what you can do.

I made the mistake several times of getting very close to someone who treated me poorly while taking comfort in my presence. I cared that they were hurt and I didn’t know how to say “You deserve love” without stepping in and loving them. In EVERY case I was involved with, the person went from initially grateful to “why don’t you help me more?” shockingly quickly, and two of them deliberately tried to create situations where I would be trapped with them and isolated from others.

I could get very personal here but I don’t think I need to. Those of us who relate all too well to Steven wanting to help others will have been in this situation. Your heart hurts for people who live with pain that has never touched you, but when they’ve made it clear with one of their first actions that they feel satisfied at the idea of ruining your life, trusting them could mean the end of you. Especially if they demand that you risk life and limb to fix and save them before you’d dare to call it love, and especially if they want to be fixed without feeling responsible for initiating any of it. Some people mistake suffering for working hard toward a goal. Both can hurt but only one is constructive. If I’m expected to spend extensive resources on someone, I need some partnership in the goal, and I can’t accomplish that with someone whose wish for companionship manifests as “I want you to feel as bad as I do, and will take steps to hurt you so I have someone to cry with.”

Steven risked his actual life while he didn’t have powers so he could go talk to Spinel, and he wouldn’t fight her when she wanted to fight. He protected himself while she spent her anger. He STILL put himself in the line of fire far more than a less compassionate person would. He took time and tenderness to listen to her story and sympathize with her, tell her she deserved better, bear witness to what she’d become after being treated like a discarded plaything, and bring her hope with promises of a new future and a way to feel found.

Sadly, Spinel flipped back to being murderous at the first sign that Steven might be about to prioritize someone other than her, reframing his reasonable needs as if he was planning to abandon her, isolate her, discard her. This was a trauma reaction, yes, and she isn’t entirely to blame for being upset because she was worried she was just being used and none of her actions were logically thought through.

But does someone ever “deserve” the friendship of a specific person who can’t feel warm toward them because of their OWN bad experiences?

No!

Steven has a big heart but he has his very own huge storehouse of trauma, and being physically attacked with his family and planet put in danger over the actions of his mother is at the top of the list. Instead of assuming that the person who has trauma the loudest is the most hurt, can’t we just acknowledge that Spinel’s and Steven’s respective traumas make them NOT the best match for friendship?

The ending of the movie, with Spinel going off with the Diamonds, might seem a little disturbing with all the codepencency floating around there, but if you want to talk about compassion, I think this is a good place for Spinel to start.

She just wanted to make Pink Diamond laugh and enjoy her life. She longed to do that for so long and then it all ended when she found out she would NEVER GET TO DO IT. I think bonding with the other Diamonds and having a familiar, safe place to experience the kind of love she’s used to will be a good FOUNDATION for building herself into a person beyond that. For now, she needs comfort. I hope they treat her well.

#steven universe #steven universe the movie #gif #long post #spinel #su analysis #my su analysis #myblog

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crystalirises · 3 years

Note

FundXD au thrid part? Maybe the final confrontation between Dreamxd and George? imagine George offering to take Fundy's place, but XD teases him because he obviously only loves Fundy now (before Mumza saves the day!! or whatever you had planned if you already had something in mind).

Not me accidentally posting it separately. But anyway, here's the third part! I'm sorry it took so long, hope you enjoy this.

But yeah anyway, please do take heed of the trigger warnings. This is probably now what I consider the darkest and the most uncomfortable one-shot I've written. Like in terms of themes, yeah I am just: oh wow I wrote this huh...

So yes, please do heed the warnings and do not read it if any of the the warnings make you uncomfortable.

TW: Forced Relationships, Forced Kissing, Forced Marriage, Possessive Behavior, Captivity, Implied Harm, and A Lot of Dark Implications

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28886223/chapters/84740365

“A radiant day for a wedding, do you not think so, my fox?” If only the mattress could swallow him whole. He buried his face on the silken sheets, pressing the pillow to the top of his head, wondering if he could suffocate himself if he tried really hard enough. “Beloved? You’re quiet.”

He rolled his eyes, holding back the urge to scream.

After a moment, he felt the twist of vines against his ankle, gently pulling him away from underneath the covers. Fundy let himself be dragged, having learned the hard way that clawing at the bed to keep himself from getting dragged was a bad idea. He shuddered at the bad memory.

“My darling star, don’t you agree that today is a splendid day for our wedding?”

No, he did not agree. There was no day where he’d ever even consider marrying the god.

“I don’t feel well. Can we move the wedding?”

“Do not lie.” The room turned colder, the chill of ice piercing through his skin that he nearly buckled underneath the pain. Then in just a second, the cold was gone. He was still in his their bedroom, the sunshine filtering in through the glass-stained windows, bathing the room in a kaleidoscope of color. XD was holding him by the elbow, their spherical head never faltering in its cheery smile, if one can call it a smile. The god pulled him into their embrace, holding him with such warmth that Fundy wanted to cry. They shouldn’t be so comforting. “You are well.”

“Ya…” Fundy felt like throwing up, “...well…”

For a god who had lived as long as the world, XD was not as patient as Fundy had hoped. It had only been a week, but the god had given up on Fundy’s flimsy excuses. Fundy had used every excuse that he knew: headaches, fevers, coughs, even “fainting” that one time XD had actually gotten him to stand on the altar. They had grown tired of waiting. Fundy turned his head towards one corner of the room, their wedding outfits only seemed to mock him. He shivered within the god’s hot touch, XD didn’t seem to notice his discomfort, but they noticed the way he was staring at those, arguably, beautiful outfits. XD led him towards them, holding him by the arms.

“I could change your suit if you wish, anything for you, my fox.” Fundy paled, refusing to look at the suit now that it was in front of him. It was in a beautiful hue of orange pastel, decorated with a pastel green flower pinned to its chest. XD had chosen to wear a dress for the wedding, and if Fundy wasn’t being held there against his will, he might have even blushed at the thought of the god in a dress… walking down the aisle. It was a mostly white dress which faded into a pastel green in the middle and into a forest green at the bottom. “You could wear a dress if yo—”

“No.” Fundy already loathed the suit, he wouldn’t know what he’d do if he had to wear a dress. At least XD didn’t mind, though - and Fundy knew it was stupid to feel - he found it somewhat adorable that XD wanted to wear a dress. The wedding dress suited them, even if Fundy didn’t want to marry them. The god hummed behind him, a low sound that had no lyrical or musical tone to it whatsoever, before picking him up. He shrieked, holding tightly to the god’s shoulders.

“My dear fox, the wedding will be divine, it shall take place the hour between day and night.” Fundy had a few hours of freedom. Then… He clenched his hands, angered that he no longer had his claws to tear into the god’s skin. “The wedding venue has not changed from the last time we tried to marry, but, sweet fox, would you wish for any new changes? What do you wish for?”

His only wish was to go home.

The god leaned down and Fundy knew what was to come. He closed his eyes, letting the god do what they wanted. Maybe he should have heeded his papa’s advice. Maybe he shouldn’t have befriended the god who seemed too kind to be true. Maybe he should have stayed at home and lived a normal life instead of searching for… he didn’t even know anymore. But he knew he missed his home, he missed his dads. He missed the normal life in their little cabin in the fields.

Once the god leaned away from the kiss, Fundy let out a sigh. “I want cake.”

---

“Wil, I love you, but now is the time for your ritualistic shenanigans.”

George tapped his foot on the muddy ground, placing his head in his hands as Wilbur ignored him for the tenth time. Wilbur had refused to say what his secret was, in favor of showing what his secret was. If George had known that said secret would involve Wilbur drawing intricate symbols in the mud, George would have gone deeper into the forest on his own instead.

After a few more seconds of agonizing silence and waiting, Wilbur finally stepped back, gesturing for George to come near him. He raised a brow, choosing to stand beside Wilbur despite the nagging voice in his head telling him to leave and go look for their son. George took in the symbol that Wilbur had drawn. He’d traced a circle in the mud, and within the complex lines, George could make out five symbols. The lines merged to showcase a woman. In her right hand, she held a blade. In her left, there were musical notes and discs emerging from her palm.

At the bottom of the symbol, the lines converged to create a pair of angel wings.

“Wil, is now the time to show me that you can draw—” He cut himself off once Wilbur started to chant under his breath. He stepped back, doubt racing through his mind. George had never been interested in magic, being more talented in redstone and engineering, but he feared those who excelled in the practice. Magic meant gods, and gods meant double-edged deals. “Wilbur…”

The symbol began to glow a light gray hue, the smell of metal and death tainting the air. His fear doubled, but he didn’t try to run off. Nervous as he was, he trusted Wilbur, his dear husband.

A splash of cold landed on his cheek, he brushed it away, but then a downpour of rain began to fall around them. The ground turned muddier, nearly grasping onto their legs. George looked up, furrowing his brows at the sight of sunlight. It was raining despite the warm sun rays that were filtering in through the trees. The intricate symbol wasn’t affected by the sudden storm, its glow intensifying underneath the torrent of water. George didn’t know why, but he felt sick. A sickness that wasn’t nausea, it was worse. Like someone had taken a sharp pickaxe and started to chip away at his heart. He held a hand to his chest, grasping for Wilbur’s arm with the other.

Wilbur’s chanting had grown louder despite the rain, almost like he was fighting against the noise. The light gray glow had taken over the entire drawing, the lines scorched away by its brilliance. Then the world began to shake, and for a moment, George could hear screaming.

He slipped once the earth started to sink. Wilbur pulled him up just as the ground gave way, the symbol had caved in, going deeper and deeper until he could see bright red. He shuddered, but Wilbur held him close. He had half a mind to throw his husband an irritated glare. If his husband would stop with the theatrics for a moment and actually tell George what his secret was, then maybe he wouldn’t be second-guessing everything that's happening right now. He glanced back down at the hole. Wilbur had just opened a gateway to the underworld. Despite the red lights of the underworld, the chasm let out a chilling cold that seeped deep into George’s skin and soul.

“You’re a hellspawn, is that the secret? If so, it was not much of a secret I already knew that, Mr. Soot.” Wilbur rolled his eyes, pressing a kiss to George’s cheek. Once Wil had left George on stable ground, he watched as his husband walked close to the chasm. Wilbur reached down a hand. George wondered if Wilbur was asking to get kidnapped. “Wilbur, the dead can’t help us.”

“You’re correct. Zombies are pretty shit at… everything. Skeletons… perhaps.”

George took a breath through clenched teeth. He knew Wilbur was worried about Fundy too, but he couldn’t afford to waste anymore time with Wilbur and his shenanigans. XD had taken their son, a wish god had taken their son and George knew the god would refuse to let Fundy go.

“Wilbur, please. We need to find Fundy. XD would do anything they could to keep our son from ever leaving them, we have to go.” He pleaded, but Wilbur was too busy looking into the chasm.

George loudly sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The rain continued to pour around them, and if he didn’t hurry, he’d lose his way down the forest path due to the mud that was beginning to drown everything in its path. He turned to leave, but then a voice broke through the silence.

“A sunshower…? Did you forget to tell your own mum that you're getting married, Wilbur?”

---

Fundy flitted about the room, pressing his hands against his ears as the rain continued to pour outside. He didn’t know why XD had thought it would be romantic to marry one another while a storm threatened to destroy the land, but the constant tapping of the rain on the ground was beginning to grate on his ears. Despite the heavy rain, he hated the warm sunlight even more.

Why couldn’t the weather just be either gloomy or happy? It was a mockery of his life.

He glanced down at his suit, fixing the green flower so it wouldn’t fall off by accident. He didn’t know what XD would do if anything were to ruin their “special day.” He huffed, pressing his head against the glass window. He could see the neverending forest from there. XD had insisted that they live on one of the highest trees in the forest. They wanted to give Fundy a good view.

When XD had first shown him their abode, Fundy had been ecstatic to see the entire forest. He collapsed on a nearby chair, putting his head in his hands. Now everything felt like a big joke.

It was so wonderful before, but he saw through the roses, and now knew their thorns.

He looked back up, worried for a moment that XD would be standing in front of him, ready to whisk him away to the altar. There was a shift of movement at the right side of the forest, perhaps XD reimagining the wedding venue now that the rain had completely ruined the god’s chosen outdoor setting. He took momentary pleasure at the thought of the weather going against the god’s wishes. No, today was not a radiant day for a wedding. But Fundy knew that a “little” storm wouldn’t stop the god. They were too excited, too eager to get the ceremony over with.

Fundy winced, maybe his constant escape attempts had been the cause of that rush. It had only been a week since the god had taken him captive and kept him in their domain, but Fundy had spent every day trying to find a way to escape. He’d given up after the fifth escape… after… Fundy pulled his knees close to his chest. He didn’t want to think about it. But he had to. He had to keep a reminder in his mind about how much he loathed the god and what they’d done to him.

The first attempt wasn’t even an attempt, it was him screaming until XD forced him to sleep.

The second attempt had begun the moment the god had gone into stasis, or the godly equivalent of what was sleep. The god’s hands were wrapped around Fundy, keeping him close to their chest, but Fundy had managed to sneak away after hours of slowly moving. He’d gotten to the door of the bedroom, unlocking it with a bobby pin that he’d found in one of the drawers. He’d gotten down the tree by the time XD realized he was gone. They’d teleported him back to the bedroom, vines growing against the surface of the door, effectively keeping him locked inside.

The third attempt was Fundy painstakingly cutting through the clump of vines after XD had left him to prepare for their wedding. He’d gotten through half of them by the time the god had come back. They’d been disappointed in Fundy, sad that he hadn’t even gotten dressed in his wedding suit yet. Then in a blink of an eye, the vines had grown back, with even more thorns than before. Then XD had whisked him away to the wedding venue, where Fundy then pretended to faint.

The fourth attempt was Fundy getting so frustrated that he took a chair and threw it at one of the windows. The glass shattered on impact, and he’d quickly tried to squeeze through the space, not caring for the shards that pierced his skin. XD had not taken that escape attempt all too lightly.

The fifth and last attempt… he’d convinced XD to give him some sand and gunpowder.

The god had been furious, even more so than what they’d been after the fourth escape attempt. Fundy had nearly killed himself in the process and had even attacked XD out of anguished rage.

Well… XD made sure Fundy could never attack them again.

Fundy sniffed, wiping at his tears. He didn’t want to be crying at his own wedding.

---

It was odd to have a wedding without a wedding officiator. Fundy kept his gaze on his hands, his fingers trembling each time XD traced his knuckles with their thumb. He could feel his throat dry up, his head heavy with nausea that he thought he was actually going to faint and fall over.

“Do I take Fundy Lore-Soot as my lawfully wedded husband?” XD paused, “I do.”

Fundy found it ridiculous. XD had taken up the mantle of wedding officiator, and if Fundy didn’t know any better, he would think that he was part of some comedic play or some big cosmic joke.

“And do you, Fundy Lore-Soot, take the god of wishes, XD, as your lawfully wedded spouse?”

Fundy gritted his teeth, he could feel the god’s magic in his throat. He could barely breathe a few seconds ago, but now it felt like he needed to speak like his life depended on it. “I do. I do. I do.”

He trembled, uncontrolled anger racing through his veins. It was torture to say ‘I do’ once, but the god forced him to say it three times, like Fundy was as desperate as them to get married. XD pulled him close, their gaze hot against his skin. He wished he would melt, that he could melt against the god’s touch and be swallowed by the grass. Anything that could set him free.

“Then by the power vested in me as the god of wishes, I now pronounce us married for eternity.”

The god leaned close, “I may now kiss the groom.” Fundy tried to move back, but the god had formed one more pair of hands. One hand held his hands, curled gently around his wrists. One hand was cupping him by the waist. One hand was on his chin, pulling his face up and towards them. The last hand was at the back of his head, pushing him forward and keeping his head in place. He closed his eyes, losing himself in his mind, refusing to accept what was happening. He focused on the life he’d lost, and his dads who would no doubt why he never came back to them.

After what felt like a lifetime, the god finally let him go.

Well, they didn’t. But they’d stopped kissing him in favor of picking him up.

XD laid him down on the altar.

Fundy blinked, holding onto one of XD’s hands out of fear. The god chuckled at the “endearing” display. “H-hey… the wedding’s over, ya? Time to head home, right? W-what are you doing?”

“The ceremony is not yet over, my star.” XD tilted their head, “You are still mortal.”

Any thread of cooperation they had established broke with that proclamation. Fundy screamed, pushing himself away from the altar just as a series of golden chains rose up from its sides. They wrapped around his arms and his legs, pulling him back down on the altar’s marble surface. He wailed, tears slipping past his eyes. He thought he’d only endure it for this lifetime, that the god would have no choice but to give him up to death at some point in the future. XD watched his struggle, summoning an intricate dagger. “Don’t worry, my sweet fox, I shall make it painless.”

“I OBJECT!”

---

George pushed past the leaven doors, not caring that the action caused the whole entrance way to collapse to a flimsy pile of autumn leaves. He stood at the end of the wedding venue, drenched from the rain. His heart beated loudly in his chest, his ears ringing as he made his way down the aisle. Wilbur was still by the entrance. George had told him to wait before he actually entered.

“Papa—” Fundy’s scream was cut off with a hand, the god having swiveled around to face whoever had dared to ruin their perfect day. George kept walking down the aisle, anger racing through his bones. His son looked so frightened. He clearly didn’t want to be marrying the god.

“Let him go, XD.”

“Why ever shall I do such a thing, my dearest friend, Georgenotfound? I have no intention of ever letting my newly wedded husband leave me. My old friend, I believe you are a few seconds too late. Fundy and I are married.” He heard Fundy scream out a protest, muffled by the hand that the god had left. George could see the tears on their son’s face, and his gaze turned towards the dagger that the god was carrying. He took the chance to look behind him, catching Wilbur’s pale gaze. His husband was looking at the dagger. “Leave before I cast you out. You are tresp—”

“I’ll take his place.”

The only sound that could be heard was Fundy’s fit of screaming. Wilbur was silent. XD had merely tilted their head, the god’s cold gaze meeting George’s eyes, piercing right through the goggles that he wore. He swallowed down the sickness he felt at the thought of marrying the go. XD had been his best friend once, and George had never thought of them in any other way. But the god had taken his friendship as romantic affection. “Fundy doesn’t love you.” The god reeled back, the ‘XD’ carved symbol on their head disappearing, only to return as golden chains that surrounded their white spherical head. “You and I know he doesn’t love you, and neither did I.”

George shook his head, “But I am willing to stay with you if you let him go.”

He met his son’s eyes, holding Fundy’s gaze for as long as he could. He worried it might be the last time they’d ever see each other again… if it went wrong… George shook his head. It won’t go wrong. He turned back to the god, the chains still present. “We could pretend like nothing has changed. I could stay here with you for all of eternity. We could be friends again, you and I. It must have been lonely when I left. You were never really great with making friends with others. We could try again. Just you and me, stuck in this forest forever. Like how it used to be. I won’t run away anymore. I won’t leave you ever again. Let Fundy go, and I’ll stay with you forever.”

The god was silent. For a moment, George thought they would agree. Then the ground disappeared from underneath him and a large hand was painfully gripping him by the leg. “No.”

Sharp cold pierced through his leg. The god glared down at him, “You are nothing to me.”

XD looked over at Fundy, “He… He is everything to me now.”

George placed his arms over his head, preparing himself for the fall. He heard the loud screech, and then his leg was free. He closed his eyes, but instead of hard earth, he fell into a pair of warm arms. He opened his eyes, embarrassingly laughing once he’d realized that Wilbur had caught him. His husband placed him back down, looking at his leg with worry when George stumbled. It wasn’t broken, but XD’s sharp cold magic would keep him from properly walking for a while.

Wilbur helped him away from the angered god. George looked up, watching as the hand that was previously holding him rotted away. XD screeched, turning to them, their golden chains glowing with a blinding light. A scythe appeared within view, striking the wish god right on their face.

The Goddess of Death entered the wedding venue, a disappointed look in her eyes.

“You should have let my grandson go, God of Wishes.”

=============================================================

Ambiguous ending but uh... I have preferred ending and it's def not the bad one.

Clarification for the title (which can't be seen here but is in the ao3 version): So a sunshower is a weather phenomenon where it is raining despite there still being sunshine. While the rain is not as heavy as a storm, I changed the rain here to be that like a rainstorm despite the sunlight that is still present. The reason for this is because where I'm from (or at least according to my mother) when a sunshower happens, that means a kapre and a white lady are getting married (or well, other Filipino mythological legends are getting married).

I just think with XD here being a somewhat monster of a god... well, poor Fundy having to marry him.

The sunshower is basically an indication here that a god is getting married, that's why Mumza asked Wilbur if he was getting married (also Wilbur is the god of music here, not all that powerful against a wish god).

#fundy #dreamxd #dreamwastaken dsmp #fundywastaken #fundXD #wilbur soot #georgenotfound dsmp #georgebur #goddess of death kristen #dream smp fanfiction #dsmp

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theajaheira · 3 years

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ok you know what i think it’s actually really vital that i talk a little bit about tea time. buckle up kiddos.

first off, a brief and relatively spoiler-free summary: the premise of the issue is very simple. the kiddos (aged up, if willow’s mention of being engaged is any indication) are hanging out in the library to help giles with research, swapping stories about what it would be like were giles a vampire. each of them, save giles, gets a chance to tell a detailed story -- xander tells two! -- and each story plays out in a way that says a lot about the scooby that’s telling it AND the way they view giles.

obviously this is a VERY character-driven issue, and it’s a really really interesting look at giles and how he is perceived as well! shit like that is my bread and butter, so this has honestly become one of my favorite things that boom has put out -- possibly my ACTUAL top favorite issue if we’re being real here.

below the cut is a spoilery dissection of every story told -- a literal summary of Every Single Thing that happens in this issue, as well as what it has to say about the scoobies and their perception of giles, so definitely keep that in mind.

as can be seen in the preview, xander’s first story is about giles rising from the grave as an ineffectual british caricature, who is easily defeated by smoldering, sexy xander harris (and xander in turn walks off with buffy and willow draped all over him, cooing about how amazing he is). it’s more of an intro to the premise than anything, but it still sets the tone pretty clearly wrt how xander handles this situation: there’s some laughter and levity, and he’s center stage. obviously a lot can be said about xander’s self-esteem issues and how he overcompensates by casting himself as the main protagonist both in canon and here. however, i wanna save my more in-depth xander analysis for his second, longer, story, so i’ll stop myself there.

willow immediately responds with skepticism: she’s of the mind that giles would be an incredibly serious big-bad level threat. the tale she spins involves giles as a dangerous vampire cleric with access to a cryptic altar, killing xander almost immediately and slaughtering buffy as a sacrifice to create eternal night. her view of giles is more clinical than anything -- and, i would argue, the most perceptive and realistic from a threat standpoint. the guy knows a fuckton of magic and he is incredibly well-read and powerful. he’d have some kind of terrifying master plan. where xander goes for comedy, willow goes straight for logistics, already looking at the battle like it’s a battle rather than laughs aplenty.

xander and buffy have a bone to pick with willow’s story (xander is indignant that he’s immediately and brutally killed, buffy is of the mind that she would easily defeat giles in hand-to-hand combat even if he IS a vampire), so (after one more teasing story where buffy lives and xander dies) willow gracefully alters her narrative to reflect her friends’ objections: after a dramatic tussle, xander helps willow and buffy unceremoniously stakes giles in the heart. still pretty straightforward and plausible. willow sees vamp giles primarily as a threat -- one not easily neutralized. one who could easily wipe them out.

buffy, about to tell her story, is interrupted by xander, who “had an even better idea!” the web he weaves is this time purported as realistic and entertaining: while partying at the bronze, buffy and co. are interrupted by a bunch of balding, greying vampires in curlers and bathrobes, led, of course, by giles -- who is wearing a hair bonnet and disapprovingly informing the bouncers how late it is at eight PM. a knockdown brawl breaks out at the bronze -- old people feeding on and decimating the young -- and culminates in giles and the geezers taking over the band to sing “some terrible song” that’s “probably something really old and bad!” the rest of the story descends into b-movie chaos, with buffy throwing a broken guitar neck up at the stage lights to send the whole thing crashing down onto vampire giles and his vampire old person band. it’s categorically absurd.

the thing that really sticks with me about this story is how dumb it is. xander’s take on giles is not even slightly serious and wholly underestimates him. fandom at large talks a lot about how giles dropped the ball with xander, but i think tea time explores an easily overlooked factor: xander constantly, consistently underestimates giles. in canon, xander’s view of giles is not often challenged: to him, giles is a bumbling, british librarian who regularly gets his ass handed to him by vamps and demons and the like. certainly part of his story’s intent is about laughingly entertaining his gal pals, but there’s a very real and consistent thread involving giles being hilariously nonthreatening.

giles, taking umbrage at this particular tale, calls out both xander and willow: xander’s story, in giles’s opinion, emasculates vamp giles and turns him into a ridiculous caricature -- and willow’s story, though much more flattering, lacks the kind of imagination that vamp giles would clearly have. he then offers a suggestion of his own. it’s worth mentioning here that both xander’s and willow’s stories get gorgeous multiple-page spreads depicting the vampy action, but giles’s is a simple and chilling little thing: this is his vampire story. this meeting, called to ostensibly “research” a vampire altar, is really an excuse to get the scoobies to do his dirty work and find the thing for him. they’re tired and silly because the tea and donuts he’s given them are drugged, and their library location is to keep them out of daylight. he laughs it off when he sees they’re bothered, and the meeting is then adjourned when willow finally finds what they’re all looking for.

buffy’s left her phone in the library, so she doubles back, and accidentally wakes up a dozing giles. just as she’s about to leave, he inquires, casually, “...you never did tell your version of the story.”

and good god here is where it gets interesting.

see, buffy’s take is simple: she’s fighting giles in a cemetery, she’s given the chance to kill him, and she is entirely unable to do it. they share a tearful embrace as she sobs about the unfairness of it all -- “you’re giles! and you’ll always be! ...how will i do this without you? without your guidance?” and as the sun is rising, giles turns her into a vampire, with no resistance whatsoever from buffy. the next handful of pages depict bloody, indulgent violence on the parts of giles and buffy, the two of them cuddled up together as they watch the world burn.

buffy’s tale is the most emotive, the most loving, which makes me so damn soft! i love this girl so much! she is unable to even joke about giles as a foe to be taken down -- he is her watcher. he is her friend. she loves him endlessly and that does not change when he’s a vampire. vamp giles as she portrays him is gentle and understanding, holding her as she cries, because he knows that they’re connected. it’s easily my favorite part of this whole issue.

notably, there is a definite buffy/giles bend that the comic itself tries to contradict. the art is sensual in nature -- vamp buffy all dolled up in a way somewhat evocative of drusilla, giles tenderly caressing her face as he waits for her to wake up. “watcher and slayer connected forever” being the quote chosen to describe the situation. i think it’s kind of what naturally happens in a vamp giles sitch, especially if he turns buffy -- the childe/sire bond is incredibly sexual in nature, especially in canon, and a lot of frustrating human sentiment gets translated into something sexual as well. sex is a big BIG part of the relationships between vampires we see in canon; it would make a lot of sense for that to hold true for buffy and giles.

the comic is reticent about Going There, which i can understand -- though buffy is decisively aged up in this issue (willow mentions being engaged to a woman, later revealed to be tara), the buffy/giles bond is always seen through a father/daughter lens in canon. i do think it’s also important to always recognize how desperately giles wishes to escape the label of father in reference to buffy, pretty much entirely because there is no way to parent a child soldier who you’re also training, but that’s a whole other kettle of fish. point is, buffy very pointedly refers to vamp giles as her father not once, but twice -- once as a human, once as a vampire herself. it’s a very clear attempt, imo, to un-sexualize the vampy experience. the reason it doesn’t totally work, at least for me, is the fact that -- like i said -- the childe/sire bond is VERY sexual (spike and dru, angel and darla, angel and dru) and it seems just totally implausible that vamp buffy/vamp giles (two people who, as human were both VERY repressed) would chastely remain within the socially acceptable version of their relationship.

i can definitely understand why they did their best to blur that line, though. the idea of buffy and giles being romantically involved as vampires is 1) Kind Of A Lot and 2) not exactly the target demographic that i think this comic is going for. but the subtext is there, to the point where the issue itself has to actively obfuscate it, which i think is .... so interesting? especially as a counterpoint to the way i often see buffy/giles in fandom, wherein the father/daughter subtext in canon is at times actively obfuscated in fic in an attempt to push a preferred reading.

the ending i particularly enjoyed: after buffy leaves, it is lightly and ambiguously implied that giles might really be a vampire. works GREAT as a standalone, imo, and the end is like the cherry on top. it’s a really REALLY interesting issue and i highly recommend it for any giles fan.

#meta #btvs comics #buffy and giles #''a little bit'' they say. and write a full fucking essay #anyway i love this issue it's my prized possession i am dying for at least one (1) person to read this insane summary and talk to me abt it

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starryevermore · 3 years

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evermore: the epilogue (22) ✧ colby brock

evermore ✧ a royal colby brock au | ao3

summary: the ending.

word count: 1,442

warning(s): you’ll be happy, I promise; not a perfect rendition of a regency wedding, but I did my best lmao

Peace.

It was something you so desperately longed for so many years. You remembered when you first learned that your role as a woman in high society was to marry well, to be a good wife, to bear as many children as your husband wished. You remembered when you learned that not all women marry good men. You remembered that all you could ever hope for was to be at peace with whatever man you had to marry. You didn’t have to love him. Not at first, at least. You could learn to love him, eventually. But you knew that you could never marry unless you knew that you live a life of tranquility with that man, whoever he may be.

You supposed you were one of the lucky ones. To be able to marry a man you loved, you mean. It was such a rare thing. You’d think that being of high society meant that you had more choice about your happiness. But, for a woman, you weren’t granted that luxury. So, every day after Prince Cole’s proposal, you thanked your lucky stars that you were given the chance to marry a man who loved you as much as you loved him.

Cole had wanted to marry you on the spot when you accepted his proposal and Elias allowed him to have your hand. He wanted to race to get the marriage license immediately, to be wed by morning. But you knew that the Queen would want some extravagant wedding and, for as much as you wanted to marry him immediately before some other threat could come, you knew it was best to abide by the Queen’s, your future grandmother-in-law’s wishes, lest you pay the price.

So, you allowed the Queen to plan the most extravagant wedding Liberdon had seen since, well, her own wedding. She allowed you to have say in some things, like your wedding dress and the theme of your reception ball, but for the most part, she took the reins to make sure everything was a picture of perfection.

That left you plenty of time to get to know Cole better. You and him were practically joined at the hip. Wherever he went, you were to follow. Where you went, he was to follow. And, though it was generally frowned upon, you joined Cole on an adventure or two before the wedding, because who could tell a prince what he could and could not do?

But, when the wedding finally came, oh, you felt like you were in paradise. As was the case with all of your gowns, Xepher and Devyn designed. And, though you felt that way with all of their gowns, they continued to amaze you with their sheer talent. And paired with that beautiful necklace Cole had gotten you all those months ago? You already felt like you were a princess. The entire time you got ready, Amber and your mother by your side, you could hardly contain your excitement. Finally, you could have a life that was truly yours, with the man you loved by your side.

And, God, when the chapel doors opened? You were breathless. You took a deep breath, unable to contain your smile. You looked down the aisle, Cole waiting for you at the altar a mere few yards away. And, though you wanted to sprint down the aisle and join him as quickly as possible, you forced yourself to take it slow.

The respected families, who rose from their seats as the doors opened, stared at you in awe. They marveled as you, ooh-ing and ahh-ing as you were revealed. You took a step, followed by another and then another. You kept your head held high, and kept your gaze forward on your future husband.

Your brother led you down the aisle, him smiling slightly as he walked with you. But you tried to pay it no mind, trying to keep all your focus was on maintaining the steady pace you had set for yourself. But even you couldn’t ignore the loving gaze from Cole, and you knew that he was as excited for this as you were.

When you were only a yard away from the altar, you stopped and let your brother give away. Then, you joined Cole and the Vicar at the altar. The Vicar began reading from the Book of Prayer, thought you could tell that neither you and Cole were paying attention, both of you focusing only one each other.

Finally, the Vicar said, “Cole Robert Brock, Prince of Liberdon, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will,” Cole said.

The Vicar said to you, “Y/N Covington, Viscountess of Evermore, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate? Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will,” you said.

The Vicar asked, “Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?”

“I do,” your brother said.

The Vicar continued, and directed Cole to take your right hand with his right hand. He said to Cole, “Repeat after me. I, Cole Robert Brock, Prince of Liberdon, take thee Y/N Covington, Viscountess of Evermore, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

Cole repeated the lines.

Then the Vicar had you take Cole’s right hand with your right hand, and said, “Repeat after me. I, Y/N Covington, Viscountess of Evermore, take thee Cole Robert Brock, Prince of Liberdon, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

You repeated the lines.

You let go of Cole’s hands as he was given a ring, which he slid onto your left ring finger. As he did so, he said, “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly good I thee endow: in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Once the ring was placed on your finger, you both kneeled before the Vicar, who led everyone in prayer. And, truthfully, you paid little attention to the rest of the wedding, following the Vicar’s directions without truly listening. Because, you cared little for the ceremony itself. You only cared that you were finally marrying the man you loved.

After the Vicar blessed your marriage, you and Cole were out of the chapel and into a carriage that was to take you to the palace for the reception. You smiled up at Cole as you sat together. He smiled back down at you, leaning in to give you the first kiss of your marriage.

“You look beautiful, my love,” he said.

“And you look handsome, Cole,” you said.

He said nothing for a moment, and you could tell he was thinking of something very intently. You waited patiently, knowing that he would tell you when he was ready, that there was no need to rush when you had all your lives to live together now. And then—

“All those months ago, I asked you to call me by my name,” Cole said as the carriage lurched forward. “But, if I may, I’d like you to call me something else now.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“My mom, when she was still alive, she used to call me Cole baby. Somewhere along the way, it evolved into Colby. No one…no one’s called me that since she’s passed, but…I know she would love you, and I know that I should keep her memory alive in whatever way I can and…”

You grabbed his hand and smiled. “Of course I’ll call you Colby.”

And, God, with a smile like that, you’d call him anything he wanted, for you were his.

He was yours, and you were his.

Forevermore.

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

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Back, finally, with Word of Honor, Episode 11, which involved a lot of waving my hands around over precious button Zhang Chengling and his concern about whatever ridiculous argument between his Murder Dads left his shifu in a snit and must be solved right this minute. I really think if he could’ve just pushed their heads together like two Ken dolls to make them kiss and make up, he would have. Didi, I could eat you up with a spoon, although not in the creepy way that Du Pusa threatens. I promise.

First, though, due diligence: Spoilers, possibly likely for the entire show, not just this ep, so scroll away and come back later if you are still, at this point in the game, trying to watch the whole 36.5 eps unspoiled. Also, this is hella long. Strap in. Hashtag long post (remorseful).

First thing I actually want to do is point out a couple of scenes that I found particularly striking for various reasons. The first one is not quite the opening scene - which is super-brief and involves Yueyang’s prep for the Heroes Conference, Gao Shan (AKA Chengling’s bully-in-chief) being smug about Yueyang’s upcoming ascendance (oh boy, are you in for a surprise, you little schmuck), and Gao Chong’s extreme weariness at the idea of Yueyang’s upcoming ascendance. Gao Chong is very tired, y’all. It’s been a long 20 years. There’s also a ginormous sword on display, like Yueyang is now having a dick-measuring contest with who they think is the disciple of the Changming Sword Immortal (and oh boy, are you guys in for another surprise. I’m not sure what part of “immortal” y’all don’t understand). But I digress - as I said, this is a very brief scene, and then we cut back to Luo Mansion, where we left Ghost Valley and Lunatic Wen at the end of the last ep. Everyone is gone except for Wen Kexing, who’s still plotting, Beauty Ghost, who’s trying to stay tf out of this current shitshow as much as possible (good luck with that), and Tragicomic Ghost, who is totally and completely Done With This Shit. She berates WKX for acting crazy, he gets snappy back – I feel like their relationship is maybe a little bit fraught at this point – and Beauty Ghost attempts to soothe the waters, leading to an eyeroll from Tragicomic Ghost with a directive to stand the hell up and stop being scared of this idiot child throwing his weight around. WKX dismisses Tragicomic Ghost so he can plan a Very Secret Mission for Beauty Ghost in secret. WKX is … he is super-tired at this point. Painfully, achingly tired. I would almost say weary. We can see it in Gong Jun’s face. It’s a nice subtle bit of acting, and it definitely says something about WKX’s relationship with these women that he’s willing and able to show it in front of them, even as he’s still throwing his weight around.

Anyway, Liu Qianqiao proves her smarts by showing her hand just enough for WKX and us to see that she’s seen through the Lunatic Wen act to the utility of chokin’ out a dude as a warning, to try keeping Changing Ghost in line (good luck with that), but she also assures all of us that she only wants to serve the Ghost Valley Master and has no agenda of her own. WKX assures her that he has everything under control (Uh … huh. OK, my dude) and tells her he has a task for her, before detouring into a quiz about her disguise technique (learned from Qin Huaizhang, Zhou Zishu’s shifu at Siji Manor, and this is probably a tipoff that the Very Secret Mission will involve disguising herself), about Siji Manor, and about why she never visited there. We get some interesting vague hints about her past, including the fact that she met Qin Huaizhang when she was “little” and he took pity on her “disfigurement,” according to both the Youku and Netflix English subs. @coralcoloratura pulled out 童年时 (tóngnián shí) from the Chinese subs for me, which does mean “childhood.” Given that the going story is Yu Qiufeng’s wife threw acid in LQQ’s face over their affair, this opens up some questions about how old LQQ actually was when all that happened. Viki subs, per @janedrewfinally, add that she says she treated Qin Huaizhang to a meal, so she couldn’t have been too young. But Qin Huaizhang dies when ZZS is just 16, and LQQ can’t be any older than ZZS, and is likely younger (good lord, I just checked actor ages, and Ke Naiyu is 7 years younger than ZZH, so that’s probably not a good age gap to port over to the show, because just. No.). All this leads me to place LQQ at somewhere between Zhang Chengling’s age and Gu Xiang’s age (at most) when this whole tragic backstory happened, which is still pretty freakin’ young, and I can see why she would consider herself a child, at least metaphorically, in terms of naïvete, if not literally. I don’t know how much exploration has been done about this, on the fannish side of things, but it seems like an area rich for exploration. Also, I CANNOT TELL YOU how much I now want to read the AU of WKX and LQQ both actually being brought to Siji Manor at various times by Qin Huaizhang and staying there. I suspect that with those two shidi backing him, ZZS might never have had to go to Prince Jin in the first place. (Clearly this makes some things problematic, including A-Xiang, but I keep thinking about ZZS, WKX and LQQ growing up together … And anyway, I’m ALSO willing to read the AU(s) where WKX’s storyline stays the same, but LQQ does come to Siji Manor – both the AU where she and ZZS together manage to save the sect, and the AU where she goes with them to Jin, and the kind of weapon she could be for ZZS there, as he runs Tian Chuang. Who’s writing all this? Anyone? Anyone?) Anyway, when WKX asks why she didn’t visit Siji Manor, LQQ tells WKX that she’s a ghost now and doesn’t want to think about the living world anymore, which is probably a way of saying she wishes she had gone there and doesn’t want to talk about her many and varied bad decisions back in the day; it also acts as an unknowing reinforcement of that bright line WKX is desperately trying to maintain for himself between the world of ghosts and the world of humans. Plus it gives him the chance to speak the very portentous line that “Yes, we’re ghosts, and ghosts disappear in the light,” pulling the theme of light back in, again and giving us all kinds of foreshadowing. Cut away as he leans in to whisper her mission to her.

The other really striking scene, for me, happens near the end of the ep, when Gao Chong visits the shrine room, with the memorial tablets of his various brothers and friends. This hit me not just because of Hei Zi’s acting (which is great, don’t get me wrong) but also because this is a scene that reflects both backward and forward in the show - back to ZZS in Ep 1 and forward to the two scenes that Zhao Jing will have in this same room – as well as giving us all sorts of subtle clues about relationships throughout the show. So first of all, we see, in a shot that will mean more the deeper we get into the show, tablets for Zhen Ruyu and Gu Miaomiao (or, “his wife,” as the Youku subs call her, and this is me, rolling my eyes), who were apparently close enough to Gao Chong that he keeps memorial tablets for them on his home altar - which helps explain why WKX is so incensed that none of these Five Lakes Alliance assholes helped his parents when they were turned out of the Healer’s Valley, although that’s not something we would have known yet on a first watch through the show. Gao Chong lights some incense and apologizes to the tablet of Zhang Yusen for letting Zhang Chengling get kidnapped. He talks about waiting 20 years to learn the truth – which is kind of cryptic, but probably means the truth about who poisoned his sword before the spar with Rong Xuan, which we hear about in a later scene this ep – and gets a little bit salty about the fact that it doesn’t matter if everyone else doesn’t believe him, but why didn’t Zhang Yusen believe him? Again, I’m assuming this is about Gao Chong’s protestations that he’s not the one who put poison on his sword. We also learn in this same ep – from Chengling – that Zhang Yusen’s break with the Five Lakes Alliance seems to have at least started that far back, and that Yusen would have been at Mount Qingya to stand with Rong Xuan against his other Alliance brothers, if Yusen’s shifu hadn’t broken his legs so that he couldn’t travel there. (Yusen clearly had some strong feelings about this, if that’s what it took to get him to sit still for it. Also, it makes me wonder how Ye Baiyi’s feelings about Chengling might change if he ever learned that Chengling’s father intended to defend and stand with a guy who Ye Baiyi considered his own child, as well as his disciple.)

Gao Chong then proceeds to have a little crisis of faith – he’s very tired, y’all, it’s been a long 20 years – and talks about how no one understands him, and he’s old, and everyone’s dead. He also yells at Rong Xuan’s tablet, calling Rong Xuan da-ge but also saying he’s sorry he ever met him, but then there’s this brief little moment after, when he seems a little bit shocked at himself for saying it out loud, which reminds me, honestly, of the moment in CQL (we’ve all seen The Untamed, right, I don’t have to put spoiler warnings for it, right?) when Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are in the Yunmeng Jiang memorial hall and Wei Wuxian talks about Yu Ziyuan’s punishments back in the day, then pats his own mouth and says “My fault, my fault, my fault” before bowing to her tablet. Like, yes, their relationship was multiple levels of fucked-up, and his reaction is not out of place given some of his continuing neuroses, but also, this is just not a thing you do, speaking ill of the dead to their faces. I’m sure Gao Chong does regret ever meeting Rong Xuan, and the way that led to the building of the Armory and the Five Lakes Alliance to guard it, and the position that ultimately put Gao Chong in - not to mention that if he never met Rong Xuan he never would have accidentally killed him. But you can’t say things like that OUT LOUD to the MEMORIAL TABLET. Then contrast this to Zhao Jing, who literally takes a piss on the tablet in one of the later episodes. Because he’s the worst. And THEN, Gao Chong kneels and talks to the tablets of Zhang Yusen and Lu Taichong, his dead Five Lakes Alliance brothers, saying they must have met again in the netherworld, and that they’re probably swearing about him right now, and this is the point when I sit straight up and exclaim, out loud, “Fuck. Me. This is Zhou Zishu’s breakdown at the mirror in Episode 1.” When he talks to Jiuxiao about how Jiuxiao and Jing’An must have met again in the afterlife by now and are probably discussing what an awful shixiong ZZS is, right? And then Gao Chong even laughs bitterly like ZZS, and cries like ZZS, and I just. OK. FINE, show. I’ll try to go a little easier on Gao Chong, because you’re clearly linking him to ZZS, here, and I’m willing to forgive ZZS for anything. I suppose I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t try to extend just a little bit of the same grace to Gao Chong.

So, that’s a lot of verbiage, and I haven’t even gotten to Wenzhou yet, but trust me, I have some things to say about them. While WKX has been terrorizing the troops, ZZS left Han Ying’s place and immediately started drinking again, because that continues to be the best way – in combo with his Nails – he knows to kill himself by increments, but so sad, he’s run out of wine as he wanders the marketplace, alone and zhiji-less. Inside Yueyang, Chengling finds a note purporting to be from “Xu,” instructing him to meet at the North Gate that night, and like the little idiot they keep calling him (he really is too pure for this world), he takes it at face value. On his way that night, he runs into Gao Shan, who inadvertently almost saves him by interrupting his sneaking around to try to bully him back to his room. Something something food as bonding, because the lie Zhang Chengling comes up with is that he’s hungry (he’s not eating Yueyang’s food, and it’s not nourishing him), and he’s on his way to find something to eat (because he and his Murder Dads are in a mutually nourishing relationship, and that’s who he wants to be with). Also, no, he would prefer going to find something to eat for himself and not eating whatever Gao Shan will bring back to Chengling’s room. (A little bit, I’m sad there’s never any place to fit in some canon-complicit long-form enemies to failboats to lovers fic for these two. I have to admit, I would read it. Someone should do something with the tension between them, although I don’t really want it to be anything that will make Best Boy permanently sad.) Anyway, A-Xiang shows up just as Gao Shan is about to frog-march Chengling back to his room, and Gao Shan never sees her coming before he’s knocked out on the ground. A-Xiang is confused about the note but nevertheless helps Chengling get to where he’s supposed to meet “Xu,” whereupon she gets beat up and gets her didi took by the Scorpions. (There’s an interesting moment here where Pretty Arhat is fighting with A-Xiang and asks what her relationship is to Beauty Ghost, which whaaaaaat? THERE’S some backstory I need more on. I’m assuming this is based on A-Xiang’s hand-to-hand fighting style, which I think is the only thing Pretty Arhat has seen at this point, and exactly WHEN has she gotten so familiar with Beauty Ghost’s fighting style? Also, I like the apparent nod to Beauty Ghost’s influence in raising A-Xiang (and we’ll see more of this).) Meanwhile, ZZS has been inexorably drawn to the place he left his child disciple child and is moping right outside of Yueyang, so he sees Pretty Arhat fly away with Chengling. Murder Dad 1 springs into action.

Yueyang disciples run around like ants whose hill has been kicked over, looking for Chengling in town, and two of them encounter Wen Kexing, out for a midnight stroll in a fetching pastel blue and green combo. They ask him about seeing a guy. With a pipa. Or maybe without a pipa. So maybe just a guy. Wen Kexing correctly deduces they’re asking about Phantom Musician Qin Song, who covered Pretty Arhat’s getaway by incapacitating everyone with his magic music. YY disciples are excited and tell WKX yes, this dude was involved in kidnapping Zhang Chengling! Y’all. WKX’s face when he hears that. He is not happy. Almost immediately, he spots Qin Song on a rooftop. Murder Dad 2 springs into action.

So, WKX the Ghost Valley Master finds Qin Song, asks him where Chengling is, crushes his playing hand, threatens to break every single bone in his body one at a time (meanwhile dropping the tidbit that he learned the number of bones in the human body from his dad), and tells him a little story about a time when – apparently – he asked another guy the same question (about WHO? has A-Xiang been kidnapped in the past, because that’s about the only other person I can imagine him being like this about?) and only had to break 80 bones before he got an answer. Meanwhile, ZZS actually finds Chengling, in the Scorpion lair where Du Pusa and Pretty Arhat have variously been molesting him (srsly, I feel like I should probably say something to a trusted adult Murder Dad), torturing him with unpleasant magic pixie dust, smacking him around (he loses a tooth, y’all), and waterboarding him. During all this, Pretty Arhat says she’s yet to meet a man who can stand up to waterboarding, and I’m kind of reminded of WKX’s scene threatening Qin Song, and I don’t know if that’s on purpose or not. Chengling literally spits in her face and proclaims that he’s the son of Zhang Yusen, none of whose sons are cowards, and about then, ZZS busts down the door like he’s WKX (by throwing Monster Jiang through it), tells the Scorpions he’s their daddy, and gets into a big fucking fight with all three of them. He flags a little bit somewhere in here as he starts having some Nail pangs (which, yeah, it must be getting about midnight, which is when that’s supposed to happen) and spits some blood, but he reassures Chengling and then tells the Scorpions no one can stop him from killing who he wants and getting what he wants (OK, Wei Wuxian …). Then he shoots some projectiles from some little contraption up his sleeve that we get a quick look at that I did not remember AT ALL from my first watch of the show but is literally like the gun hanging over the mantel in the first act. Huh. Anyway, he kills Monster Jiang, and Du Pusa (who didn’t give a shit about Monster Jiang OR Qin Song earlier), wants to capture him alive, supposedly so she can get revenge for them by teaching him how it feels “to want to die more than live.” Joke’s on you, lady – too late! That’s literally his constant state of being!

About this time, Qin Song comes flying through the doors – or what’s left of them – gasping his last breath as WKX makes his dramatic entrance. Chengling not only calls him “Wen-shu” but also has already figured out exactly how to manipulate Murder Dad 2 and tells him that in addition to kidnapping him, they also hurt ZZS. WKX is predictably murderous, and Du Pusa and Pretty Arhat run away and hide behind the skirts of Xie Wang’s robes as the Zombie Drug Man Army approaches. WKX tells ZZS to take Chengling and leave, ZZS refuses, and Xie Wang LITERALLY SAYS “IN LIFE AND DEATH YOU WILL NEVER PART. WHAT A TOUCHING MOMENT.” and I am DYING. Also, this will not be the last time ZZS/WKX will exhibit what Xie’er wants from his Awful Yifu. Anyway, Xie’er calls ZZS “Leader Zhou,” then tells WKX that he’ll tell them who he (Xie Wang) is if WKX tells them all who he is first. ZZS is Very Done with all of this and smoke bombs the Scorpions to escape. Xie’er shows he actually does know who both of them are – even though each of them doesn’t know everything about the other’s identity yet, and won’t for a while – by telling Du Pusa and Pretty Arhat that they’re the leader of Tian Chuang and the leader of the Ghost Valley and wondering “How did these two devils end up together?” Like calls to like, I guess.

OK, this is getting super-long, so I’m going to attempt to wrap up with the actual Wenzhou material. We cut to Murder Dads and Chengling sitting in the forest, around a campfire, and Chengling is in heaven, back with his family. He’s super-emotional, and ZZS is all, come on, be a man, don’t cry (OK, crybaby). WKX gives some campfire-cooked rabbit? maybe? to ZZS, who starts a precedent by passing it to Chengling. Please, A-Xu. WKX wants to feed his laopo, will you eat something, ffs? Chengling, still emotional, tells them that he knows they’re the only ones who are sincerely kind to him, that Five Lakes Alliance has all kinds of agendas and none of them care about him, and nobody has asked him what he wants. (I know, bb, they were awful.) ZZS asks what he wants, and Chengling says he wants to learn martial arts, to get revenge, and to not be a useless child anymore. Oh god, the cut to WKX here. His face, y’all. He is not cool with the fact that Chengling thinks he can’t be a child anymore, and probably with whatever role he (WKX) had in it. He is so sad. It’s killing me. However, it’s not as if WKX has lost his edge, and he also pounces, asking Chengling if something happened that made him suspicious of the Alliance. Chengling spills that his dad already didn’t trust them and also told him not to trust anyone ever, but he trusts his Murder Dads! This kid, I tell you. He tells them that his dad hid the Mirror Lake Glazed Armor in his stomach and starts getting ready to cut it out for them before ZZS stops him. He tells them Yusen gave him a letter for the Changming Sword Immortal detailing Rong Xuan’s injury (and we get our first iteration of the story of the battle between the Five Lakes Alliance brothers and Rong Xuan, the poison on the sword, and how that turned Rong Xuan evil). Per Chengling, the original argument was about the Combined Six Cultivation Method. Also per Chengling, the Alliance bothers should have been responsible for Rong Xuan after that, but no one stood up for him – I mean, Zhang Yusen would have, but his legs were broken. We learn that the poisoned sword that injured Rong Xuan belonged to Gao Chong. ZZS looks taken aback, but this all just CONFIRMS WKX’s SUSPICIONS.

Cut away for another scene. Cut back. ZZS has suddenly remembered that he’s pissed off and that someone (else, not him) is sleeping on the couch tonight. Earlier, they were sat in order of Chengling, ZZS, WKX. Now Chengling has been put between them. WKX asks for wine, A-Xu is being passive-aggressive and ignoring him before finally handing the wine gourd to Chengling to pass to WKX. He won’t even look at WKX. It is hilarious, particularly as he only remembered he was mad after they’d all eaten dinner, which WKX cooked, and the pair of them made sure their child was OK. Chengling wants to know if they fought and tells them there’s nothing confidants can’t resolve. He’s in full puppy mode. He tells WKX to hurry up and comfort ZZS, because you know he looks tough on the surface but he’s got the softest heart! Didn’t you teach me that tough women can’t resist clingy men? ZZS’s indignant little face at this is a picture. Chengling offers to apologize for WKX. WKX’s face is all fondness for Chengling, except for the eyebrows, which are doing the Tragic Sadness Eyebrows at ZZS. ZZS is all, OK, fine, although he immediately changes the subject and starts talking about the kidnapping attempt. He tells Chengling that the world is dangerous right now, and the safest place for him is Yueyang Sect. ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS? Chengling sadly nods. My little dude, c’mon. ZZS’s Nails are bothering him and WKX takes the chance to feed him qi, which ZZS accepts – might I note - without complaint. WKX waxes rhapsodic about A-Xu’s shoulder blades, and says he once saw a dead body with beautiful shoulder blades. Smashcut to a flashback of two people who we don’t yet know are Zhen Ruyu and Gu Miaomiao dead on the ground. Although this takes place immediately after the scene of Gao Chong at the altar, when the first tablets we see are Zhen Ruyu’s and Gu Maiomiao’s, we also don’t know yet to connect those names to these bodies. Tricksy, show. We see Zhen Yan place his hand on Gu Miaomiao’s back, and WKX’s voiceover talks about how he could tell she was a beauty despite the blood everywhere. ZZS interrupts this morbid tale to say they should let the past stay in the past, and then tells WKX, “My condolences,” even though WKX hasn’t actually mentioned anywhere in the story about this dead body that it was even anyone he knew, let alone someone he was related to. Because A-Xu isn’t stupid. Immediately after this - after saying they should leave the past in the past - ZZS asks WKX who he is. WKX goes into his Philanthropist Wen evasion spiel. ZZS shakes his head, visibly steels himself, and apparently comes to the decision to model the behavior he’s trying to encourage by coming clean about his real name, his relationship to Siji Manor, all of his bad decisions, his choking guilt over the deaths of all the Siji Manor disciples, and his reign of state-sanctioned terror as founder and leader of Tian Chuang. Notably, the very first word Chengling speaks to ZZS after hearing this rundown of supposed and actual crimes is to call him “Shifu” again to get his attention before asking for more info about the Scorpions. THIS CHILD. MY HEART.

ZZS tells them both, “I spent half my life alone, doing things I didn’t want to do and killing people I didn’t want to kill,” and I literally want to reach into the screen and shake WKX, because OMG LAO WEN. You are reflections of each other, and he’s baring his soul, and you’re going to continue to be so afraid that he’s not going to accept every part of you that it’s going to be episodes and episodes before you open up, and even then, only after he figures it out on his own. :hands: To make things even more OBVIOUS, ZZS then asks Chengling if he still wants ZZS to be his shifu after learning all of this, and Chengling doesn’t even hesitate, he says “Of course,” and ZZS and I are both about to cry. UGH. Zhang Zhehan, your face. It’s killing me. This is a man seeing the hope of resurrection for the sect he was convinced he had ground into dust. ZZS and Chengling are both so busy being emotional at each other that WKX has to take matters into his own hands, encouraging Chengling to bow, and we get a real bow to shifu this time, in a scene that once again mirrors the later scene when Zhen Yan makes his bow to Qin Huaizhang to become a Siji Manor disciple.

ZZS tells Chengling, all right, then. You are the first disciple of the sixth generation. (SHIXIONG. NO PRESSURE.)

End ep.

#zhou zishu #wen kexing #zhang chengling #beauty ghost #liu qianqiao #gao chong #gao shan #du pusa #pretty arhat #qin song #gu xiang #xie wang #tragicomic ghost #luo fumeng #qin huaizhang #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

Heaven, We’re Already Here - t. 05 - JJ Maybank

Summary: Things are progressing between y/n and JJ.

A/N: We’re halfway to the end...can you even believe it?

You Are Ok Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✞ My soul isn’t yours to save anymore ✞

The bet had become a thing of contention between JJ and John B since the night of the kegger. It was fairly obvious that JJ wanted out and the only reason he was still hanging on was because he had convinced himself that he desperately needed the cash.

But the more he spent time with you the harder it was becoming to justify to himself that cash was worth the level of humiliation he would be subjecting you to if you knew that this was all just one massive joke on you. From the moment he saw you in the church JJ knew that this was no game or bet, no matter what he tried to tell himself when you weren’t around. And after spending the day in Chapel Hill with you he was more convinced than ever that he needed to end things before they got out of hand.

“Here.” JJ practically slammed the money on the table, pushing it across to Sarah.

“What’s this?”

“I forfeit.” He replied. “Take your 200 back.” 

“I thought you needed the money,” John B said, tone mocking the way JJ had grumbled about needing cash three weeks ago. 

“Yeah and now I don’t.” He snapped.

Kiara looked away, grabbing the empty glasses off the table and taking them back to the counter. The only nice thing about him doing this in the Wreck was that she could walk away from the table when it got uncomfortable. Kiara hadn’t been shy in telling JJ that he should call off the bet, “if you really need 200, I’ll front you.” But she was less inclined to put herself in the middle of the altercation with him, John B, and Sarah. 

She knew that he regretted making the bet in the first place and she had felt guilty hanging out with you, knowing that it was all just a joke behind your back that JJ and his friends could laugh at. But he was making good on his promise to cut off the head of the beast, giving Sarah her money back and ending the bet before anyone really got hurt. It could fade into obscurity, just be something no one even remembered anymore. 

“You were almost to the finish line,” John B teased, feeling shockingly okay with a bet he’d first made when he was drunk and barely coherent enough to walk. “I mean, unless you don’t think she’ll let you get that far-”

“Shut up.” JJ snapped. “I said I was done, so I’m done.”

“Why?” Sarah pried.

“I thought it would be funny but it’s not. She’s a real person, I’m not gonna fuck with her just so you guys can laugh.” JJ replied. He’d been feeling guilty about the bet since that first day he saw you in the church. The way you looked at him, a mirrored image of his own restlessness, depression, and emptiness. He didn’t deserve you on a good day, when he was completely devoted to you with no ulterior motive at the back of his head.

He couldn’t do this to you, make you the butt of the joke to every pogue who heard about the bet and was enough of an asshole to find it funny. On his second time around the thought, he knew he really couldn’t do that to anyone. But John B thought it was funny and he and Sarah had used JJ’s lack of funds and general ‘go-with-the-flow’ attitude as a means to an end. 

“You’d do it if she was some kook.” Sarah commented, counting the 20’s he’d handed over. 

“Well she’s not.” JJ snapped, “look, I’m giving you the fucking money back, bet’s off.”

“Dude-“

“He said it was over John B, just quit being a dick.” Kiara piped up. She hadn’t been there when the bet was made but she had heard about it after the fact and been pissed. She was only relieved now that JJ seemed ready to put the bet to rest.  

“She might like you now but it won’t last.” Sarah said when JJ started to walk away, “I mean, you guys have nothing in common JJ, do you really think she fits in at keggers or sitting around getting high all day?”

JJ stood there, jaw tense, clenching his fists so hard that his nails dug into his palms, face turning red. The anger was just insecurity because, yeah, he agreed with Sarah. He knew he didn’t have a lot to offer you but hearing her say it knocked him down a peg and had him seeing red. 

“Just go,” Kiara urged, grabbing JJ’s arm and pushing at him, trying to get him to turn around and leave, “go.” She would yell at them for him, a much better defender of his character than he was. 

The door slammed behind him, the spring on the old wooden screen creaking in protest when JJ threw it shut as he left, already brushing tears out of his eyes as he walked, cutting through the woods back to the cut. It was stupid to get so upset about something Sarah said but he couldn’t help it. He’d been worked up as it was over calling off the bet and Sarah had only made him feel worse. 

Despite that, or maybe because of it, JJ took the path through the woods that led to the church. Taking a walk to cool down worked for everyone in the world but him, the further through the woods he walked the angrier he got. At himself, at Sarah and John B, at everything that made him take that stupid bet in the first place. The only thing keeping his anger in check was the thought of you. Sitting in the church practicing the piano or hanging laundry outside. Anywhere he could stay just out of sight of your parents, relishing in your attention.

JJ came up on the church, not thinking to look inside before he entered. All he was thinking about was seeing you, forgetting entirely that you were not the only one who lived on the property. He stopped at the end of the aisle, still a little worked up, and caught off guard by the sight of your dad at the altar, rehearsing his sermon for Sunday. He tried to back up but failed, his clumsiness catching your dad’s attention.

“Can I help you?” He called out when JJ bumped into one of the pews, the sound of his boot colliding with the wood reverberating in the nave. 

“Sorry,” JJ spoke up, “sorry I-“

“You came to church a few Sundays ago?” Your dad said, recognizing JJ’s face when he stepped off the altar and walked down the aisle. The blond, he realized, was the boy he’d noticed watching you. Though his wife told him he was being crazy, he was certain that he’d seen the boy in the yard once after that. 

“Ah, yeah...” JJ nodded, sniffling a little to clear the congestion from crying, “wrong turn on the way to the smoke shop I guess.” He was sure his face was still red, eyes still bloodshot, and the last thing he wanted to do was get cornered into some weird testimonial moment with your dad. He just wanted to see you, to remind himself that what Sarah said was bullshit, that you liked him, that this was more than a bet.

“Is there something I can help you with now?” Everyone always said how welcoming and charismatic your dad was. The church wouldn’t have half the congregation it did now if it wasn’t for your dad’s ability to reel people in with smiles and an easy-going personality. 

That ease was not present as he stood there sizing up JJ. The kid gave him a bad feeling and he was absolutely certain he’d seen flashes of him around the yard before. The teenage population on the island was not a group your father was a fan of and JJ seemed the perfect embodiment of all the things wrong with that group. He looked unkempt, a little worse for the wear, and he smelled like pot. 

Before JJ could say anymore, the doors to the church opened and you walked in, eyes wide at finding your boyfriend there, “uh, mom said to call you for lunch?” You said. 

For his part, the second the door opened, JJ’s attention had snapped that way, and there you were. Exactly who he had been looking for and he felt like he could breath, like things would be alright because you were right there and he shouldn’t be so conspicuous but he couldn’t take his eyes off you. Like a magnet.

“Of course,” he seemed to recover his bad mood relatively quick though he glared at the back of JJ’s head when he realized the boy was staring at you. “Go ahead back to the house and tell your mom I’ll be in.” 

You kept your eyes on your dad, not daring to look at JJ, “should I ask her to set an extra space?” Your dad had always been a fan of inviting church members in for dinner or lunch when they stopped by with something, you weren’t sure if it was compensation for a dwindling household or if he just liked to seem approachable but you used it against him now. If you had looked at him, you’d have noticed the slow smirk on JJ’s face as he stood there. 

If your dad said no it reflected badly on him. He always guilted you about not being helpful enough or considerate enough. “If...” he trailed off, clearing his throat to get JJ’s attention as he waited for a name. 

“JJ...JJ Maybank.” 

The frown increased in size; he’d heard the last name before. He’d hired a Maybank to do work on the roofing a few years back and remembered the man being nothing but a mean drunk. “If JJ wants to stay, we would love to have him.”

“I’ve got no where to be,” JJ replied, grinning at your dad. 

Lunch had already been finished when you went to call your dad, needing only to be plated, something you were thankful for because the awkward and uncomfortable silence that settled between JJ and your dad was unbearable. There was no way you could’ve survived waiting through lunch prep with the two of them.

You weren’t even entirely sure what JJ was doing there. He hadn’t mentioned seeing you, he was supposed to be spending the day with his friends, as he’d already told you the night before when he snuck over because “couldn’t stay away”. He’d invited you on the boat but both your parents were home all day so there was little chance that you could go anywhere without drawing attention to yourself. Weekends were easier, your brothers and sisters who had stayed close came over with their kids and if you left no one missed you. But during the week it was just the three of you, an odd adjustment after so many years with so many kids.

You sat at the table across from JJ, doing your absolute best not to look at him, knowing he was staring at you just to piss off your dad, who had already mentioned your upcoming engagement twice. Your mom let your dad lead the conversation like she always did and didn’t object to his over excessive mention of Timothy.

“Do you go to the high school then?” She was doing her best to be polite, not completely certain your dad’s paranoia was based on fact. (“Just because you say you saw him in the yard doesn’t mean you saw him in the yard.”)

“Ah, yeah...” JJ nodded, “sometimes.” He took another bite of the sandwich, “hey, this is really good, you’re a really good cook.”

While The Wreck technically counted as homemade because it was Kiara’s dad who made it, JJ hadn’t eaten a real, home cooked meal, in a long time. His mom, when she had been around in his childhood, was not making lunches or any meals for him that she couldn’t microwave.

“Oh, Ace made it.” Your mom said, beaming at you, “she’s a natural in the kitchen.” 

“You’ve been-“ JJ stopped himself short of saying you’d been holding out on him, coughing and then continuing on, “it’s good.”

“Thank you,” you chanced a glance up and then quickly back down at your plate. 

Lunch was excruciating and when it was finally over, JJ leaving and your dad watching him walk back into the woods, you told your parents you weren’t feeling well and went to lay down. You were flushed all over from lunch, sitting there across from JJ with your parents in the room. It was like knowing a secret you knew you weren’t supposed to. 

Tapping sounded on your window and you opened it, JJ standing there outside, “you’re gonna get me trouble,” you whispered. “My dad is convinced he’s seen you around our yard.”

“That’s cause he has.” JJ replied, kissing you once he was inside the room. 

“I know that.” You whispered, “what are you doing?”

“I’m reading your love letter from Timmy,” he shrugged, sitting down at your desk and pulling the letter out of the envelope. 

“It’s not a love letter,” you huffed. When you got close enough to try and take the letter away JJ spun in the chair, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you into his lap. 

“Let’s see, oh, coming to visit?” JJ said, poking your sides as he read the letter, leaving kisses along your shoulder. “So you get to go on a date?”

“Well, chaperoned.” You replied. “My dad wants to go somewhere ‘outer banks’ style, whatever he thinks that is, to show off to Timothy and his parents.” 

“Go to the Wreck.” JJ said. 

“I’m not going to Kie’s, I’m not gonna embarrass myself.” 

“Trust me,” JJ insisted, kissing you, “go to the Wreck.” 

You ran your fingers through his hair, brushing it back out of his face and kissing him. Your hands moved down so you could hold his face, leaning your forehead against his.

“Are you okay?” JJ asked, his hands sliding up under your shirt, his warm skin against yours.

“I don’t want to do this.” You admitted, “I don’t wanna have dinner with Timmy.”

“Hey,” JJ pulled his face away, tilting so he could look you in the eye, “That shit doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does in the long run,” you replied. When you had gotten Timothy’s letter that morning you’d been more than upset, knowing he was coming to North Carolina felt like the last nail in the coffin before your dad was sending you off to Tennessee.

“Do you like him?” He asked, matter of fact.

“No, no.” You shook your head. There was no way you had any feelings toward Timothy other than mild annoyance. He wasn’t bad but he wasn’t for you. And maybe he would’ve been if this was all there was but you had JJ and there was an entire other space out there. “I wish we could just…stay like this.”

“Me too.” JJ replied.

You pulled away from him suddenly, remembering the way he’d looked when you had walked into the church and found him there with your father. “I forgot, you were upset earlier-”

“It’s fine, it was just a dumb fight with John B.” He insisted, “I’m over it.”

“Are you sure? You can tell me anything.” You promised. You had been secret keeper and confidant for your siblings plenty of times over the years and while their conflicts had never really been worthy the secrecy, you had still been good at the task.

“I’m fine, I promise,” he repeated, “I was just upset and I wanted to see you.”

“Well you’re seeing me now,” you teased, holding his face again so you could kiss him, “though I think you should consider leaving before anyone comes to check on me.”

The Wreck was totally not where you wanted to be going on a chaperoned first date with a guy who looked almost more sheltered than you felt on a regular basis. He had khakis and a polo tucked in, spikey blond hair and you were trying so hard not to be mean in your head. This was the guy your parents thought would make a great addition to their family. This was your future husband?

Any concerns or reservations you had about Timothy went out the window as you walked into the Wreck ahead of him and realized that JJ and Pope were sitting at the counter. JJ turned in his stool as you came in, propping his chin on his hand and smiling at you. 

“Hey,” Kiara had donned jeans and a t-shirt for the occasion, “six?” 

“Actually, these two will have their own table.” Your mom piped up and you looked at Kiara, attempting to convey the absolute horror of the early evening dinner.

“Of course,” she said, grabbing menus. You could hear your father behind you, mentioning JJ’s presence in the restaurant. Whether Kiara heard it or JJ had just requested that this be the most difficult first date to get through, the table she sat you at was facing the counter. Your parents sat two tables over with Timothy’s parents while you sat down in perfect view of JJ and Pope.

“So, what’s good here?” Timothy asked, his voice an octave higher than he looked like it would be.

You scanned the menu as if you ate there all the time and then looked at Kiara, hoping she could offer more of an answer then you could.

“The grits are good, we do them with sausage and shrimp.” Kiara replied.

“That’s fine.” You handed off your menu, not bothering to consider another option. Even though Kiara knew that this was all something you had to do, you felt a sense of guilt, sitting there with Timothy while JJ was sitting at the counter.

It was palpable, you felt like you could taste it in your mouth as you spoke, felt the guilt dripping off you. Timothy wasn’t the worst, probably, and, probably, in someone else’s life he would make them happy but you weren’t sure there was any reality that would allow you to walk away from what you had with JJ and resign yourself to this life. To your mom’s life, or your sisters’ lives.

“I’ve been looking into getting my pilot’s license, I’ll be done seminary soon-” Timothy started to say after Kiara walked off.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were interested in becoming a pilot.” You replied, glancing over his shoulder at JJ who was turned around in his stool, his back against the counter, watching you. If your dad wasn’t facing the opposite direction you were certain he’d be having a fit right now.

“...the plane license would take another year at least but it’s something I can easily pursue after the marriage and it would allow us the opportunity to be missionaries-”

“Missionaries?” You paled, focusing your attention back on Timothy and away from JJ.

“Timmy’s older brother is ministering in Zambia and they’ve always talked about Timmy joining him,” his mom cut in.

“Missionaries in Zambia...all the time?” You asked. Your father had already launched into a separate conversation about the importance of ministry work and you felt close to absolute collapse. When Kiara came back to the table to make sure the food was okay you practically clung to her, “bathroom?”

“Through the kitchen,” Kiara lied, noting the look of distress. “Our regular bathroom is being fixed.”

“Thanks.” You bolted. Through the restaurant and the kitchen, right out the back door and you might’ve run all the way home but somehow JJ was right there, grabbing you as you collided with him. “I can’t do this...I can’t, I can’t....I can’t be a missionary! I can’t live in Zambia and have like thirteen kids and name them all something stupid and have poufy fucking hair!”

“Whoa, hey, babe,” JJ urged, pulling you into a hug, rubbing your back soothingly, “it’s gonna be okay.”

“What if it’s not?” You could keep pretending like you didn’t have to think about it but the truth was, you couldn’t run from your parents’ expectations and plans forever. “I can’t do this.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” JJ promised, kissing the side of your head as he stood there holding you, “I love you. And I don’t give a shit about Timmy, or your parents, or whatever...we’ll figure this out.”

“This was a bad idea, having lunch here.”

“Hey, I don’t think so. I got to hear you curse for the first time.” He joked. “We’ll be okay, just head back inside alright?”

“Okay,” you pulled away, fixing your hair and taking a deep breath, trying to right yourself. It was just dinner. It wasn’t Zambia yet. It wasn’t even the wedding. Just dinner and JJ was right there. “Oh, JJ?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.” You said before hurrying back inside, leaving him standing behind the Wreck with a sad smile on his face.

“Scarlett does it every year with some of the kooks, like a raffle.” Sarah explained, recounting Scarlett’s ’Touron Game’ for JJ and John B, “500 to whoever gets the most tourons...they have like a scoring system. Kind of awful, I guess, but...I mean it’s not like they don’t know it’s just sex.”

“500?” JJ asked, “I could use that.”

“What are you gonna do, pimp yourself out?” John B joked.

“I’ll give you 200,” Sarah replied immediately, cutting her boyfriend off. She was looking across the parking lot of the convenience store.

“What’s the catch?” JJ asked, following Sarah’s line of sight to the old minivan, a girl their age standing with her mom at the trunk.

“That’s the weird pastor’s daughter, right?” Sarah asked, already knowing the answer, “get her to sleep with you. I’ll even give you the 200 dollars up front.”

“Yeah okay. It’s a deal.”

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