#withering away waiting for season 3

[lofinfon]

SHIBUYA KANON 💥💥💥

[irisintheafterglow]

HAND TWO - PAIR

summary: in a season where you're determined to fly under the radar, newly-returned crown prince!touya todoroki has other ideas. in this hand, a deal is made.

wc: 2k

cw/tags: royalty!au/regency!au, fem!reader, official first meeting, banter and dialogue driven, fake dating, sassy touya again

note: idk how fake dating premises with plots are created like this took me a good 30 minutes of just straight thinking trying to figure out what is a plausible fake dating idea. anyway thank you for all the love on part one, hope you enjoy this part!! also overdue idea credit to @andypantsx3 who originally created a crown prince!touya piece (read it here!) that probably subconsciously inspired this entire series. thank you and hope you enjoy :))

likes, reblogs, and replies are greatly appreciated <3

Your maid’s face was whiter than her knuckles gripping the sides of her apron. 

“You have a caller, miss,” she informs you carefully, bowing slowly and failing to hide her trembling. “It is…”

“I am aware of who it is,” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose between your pointer finger and your thumb. It’d been exactly one week since Prince Touya all but julienned the ego of your pasty-faced suitor and you hadn’t received so much as a letter of greeting from him since then. All you received once the dust settled were mixed expressions of disgust and awe, along with a shit-eating smirk from the royal currently waiting to be led into the drawing room. “My stepmother?” 

“At tea, miss, with the neighbors. She won’t be back for several hours.” You swear under your breath. With all other members of the family out of the house and your stepmother bragging about your prospects with the sought-after prince, you were on your own. 

“Send him in when the minute hand next strikes six. Tell him I’m in the bath, or something.” 

“As you wish, miss.” Your maid nods and promptly exits the room, leaving you slumped on the settee with no ideas but to beeline for the back doors and disappear among the trees of the garden. Hiking up your skirt and slipping into the yard, you’re careful to shut the door quietly behind you. 

It’s not that you didn’t want to see him, even though you didn’t; in truth, it was fear of what he might say to you or how you two may interact. How are you supposed to look at a man suspected of committing treason against the king, his own father, and upkeep the manners drilled into your head since birth? It seemed too great of a burden to bear, so you resolved to forget your problems and the stranger in your house by walking amongst the flowers, blue hydrangeas that continued to bloom despite the sweltering summer heatwaves. It’s calming, being alone with nothing but the greenery. As your fingers brush over the delicately clumped petals, the hairs on the back of your neck suddenly stand up stick-straight and you don't need to turn around to see why. 

“It’s rude to enter a lady’s house unannounced, Your Highness,” you say into the open air and hear him step out from behind a neighboring tree. 

“I believe I was announced, considering the shaken demeanor of your poor maid.” His voice is low and raspy, like he’d just woken up.  

“What if I was still in the bath?” 

“You’ll have to tell my maids what you use to dry your hair so rapidly,” he replies and you catch him slinking over to you from the corner of your vision, approaching you carefreely with his hands in the pockets of his coat. You don’t look at him yet; in your mind, he was like a monster under the bed. If you simply didn’t look at him, he’d go away. “Unless, of course,” his voice appears over your shoulder and goosebumps break out over your skin. Not yet. Don’t look him in the eyes yet. “You weren’t in the bath at all. At least, not recently.” 

“I’m not sure what gave you the right to invade my house and muse upon my bathing habits,” you counter, finally turning to meet his stare and willing yourself not to wither under it. He wasn’t close enough to feel his body heat, but the arrogance that radiated from his entire being was enough to make you sweat more than the bright sun. He considered you curiously, tilting his head to the side and narrowing those molten blue eyes that perplexed you so. You risk a glance at the scar tissue just under his eyes and chin, its deep purple color rumored to be the result of a fire accident while he was sent away. It unnerved you, but you still found the courage to stare back with consideration of your own, challenging him to say something else. His eyes narrow again for half a second before he brushes past you, walking further down your current path in the garden. 

“You were keeping me waiting,” he states simply. “Not to mention, I am royalty.” You freeze, keenly aware of the power of the man admiring your daisies. “I believe it is you who should be considered the rude one.” The teasing lilt in his voice is not lost to you, but you’re too dumbfounded by his bluntness to think on it further. 

“Argues the one who won my affections and then refrained from any means of communication for a week,” you point out with slight irritation, following him around the bend at a safe distance. He hums again thoughtfully, walking among the flowers like it was his property. Your tease falls from your lips before you can stop it. “Did His Highness run out of royal parchment to write his letters?” 

“Royal candle wax, actually,” he answers stoically, but you catch the mischievous shine in his eyes when they flick to meet yours. “Dreadful effort, trying to write without my beloved candle lit.” 

“Oh, and what is a prince to do?” You’re unable to hide the smirk that finds its way onto your face and he seems to notice your less-hostile demeanor, the faintest amusement breaking out on his features. Handsome features, you had to stop yourself from admitting. “I don’t understand,” you say after a deep exhale.  

“I believe the candle was a gift from my great-grandfather.” His eyes continue to look over the rainbow of petals lightly swaying in the breeze. “Terribly well-loved by my father and the court alike.” 

“No, Your Highness–”

“If this is to work, you must refer to me as Touya.” He’s still not looking at you. 

“That is precisely what I don’t understand.” You muster up what courage you could to close the distance between you two, crossing your arms to properly confront him. “What are you trying to play at, Your Highness? What is supposed to ‘work?’ With all due respect, I’d like to know now if I am one of your latest games to irritate your relatives.” 

“And what would you do if you were?” Shit. His attention moves from the flowers to your face and you’re met with the same cold, unwavering stare from the week prior. “What could you do, realistically, but play along? I am royalty.” 

“You needn’t keep reminding me, sir,” you mumble. “But before we continue, I feel you must know. I did not have the intention of entertaining suitors this season.” You catch one of the maids peeping from around the corner of a topiary and motion for her to prepare tea for you and your caller. 

“What were you doing at the presentation duels, then?” 

“Fulfilling the wishes of my stepmother,” you answer wryly. “Whatever plans you have devised, I am the wrong lady to assist in enacting them.”

“I imagine that, instead of participating in this season, you would rather be reading from the libraries of King All Might himself?” The Prince falls into step behind you while you make your way to the garden’s gazebo, fully furnished to accommodate callers. You sensed, however, this particular suitor would rather sit on the floor than at your family’s lofty dining set. 

“I’m surprised you understand,” you remark, neatening a stray napkin. When you look behind you, the prince is leaning his shoulder against the frame of the gazebo and observing you. Your manners somehow return, despite his lack thereof. “Do you prefer Earl Grey or green?” 

“Neither,” he replies immediately. “I don’t care for tea.” 

“Nor do I, but the servants will linger if we don’t give them a chance to gossip in the kitchen.” The prince’s eyes narrow once again only for a moment, like you said something unexpected. 

“In that case, tell them green.” You murmur his request to the nearest servant and the handful subtly eavesdropping politely excuse themselves back into the house, no doubt eager to relay what little information you and the prince had exchanged. 

“You still haven’t enlightened me on why, of all the ladies present at the duels, you chose to duel for my hand,” you begin as he takes his seat across from you and pops a piece of fruit into his mouth. “Especially when I am guaranteed to hinder any plans you have for–”

“You know nothing of my plans, as of yet,” he interjects. His face is carefully blank, seemingly too calm for your present situation. “Your reluctance to entertain suitors is exactly what is going to help me leave this kingdom.” 

“I don’t understand,” you reiterate. “Your Highness, I do not wish to be in this season at all.”

“I share the same sentiment. Here is my proposal that will, in theory, rid us of both of our stressors: I will court you and, on the night of my father’s ball where I will surely propose, I will disappear, leaving you with nothing but a broken heart and a humble reparation of $100,000. A percentage of which, I note, can then be used to book passage out of Musutafu and find those books from King All Might’s mythical library. Do you follow?” You don’t remember when your jaw fell open, but it takes significant effort to regain your composure. When you eventually register what the prince had just offered, your face burns from a feeling you had never experienced before. It was a mixture of shame and shock, but mostly…excitement? 

“You’re out of your mind,” you manage to force out. “I don’t think–How could we–It would never work!” What the hell was he thinking? 

“You don’t know that,” he answers coolly. Maybe he’s not thinking at all. Maybe the prince is an idiot. 

“But why not leave now? Why wait until the night of your father’s ball?” An unreadable look crosses over his face, one that makes your stomach turn. He fixes himself in a blink, though, and the sudden darkness that fell over the prince’s face is gone before you can comment on it. “I just don’t understand why you need my help doing this, Your Highness.”

“My father grows impatient,” he admits bitterly and when you meet his gaze, it’s burning. “He wishes to crown me as king within three month’s time, and I–” 

“You do not wish to rule,” you finish quietly, the realization clicking together in your mind. “By courting a lady, you force him to put off your coronation until you propose.” 

“By courting you,” he explains further, “I also guarantee that this affair will remain strictly one of business.” You can’t help the scoff that leaves your mouth. 

“You think that if a woman were to fall in love with you, she would reveal your true whereabouts?” 

“Women are fickle creatures,” he states simply. “You did not wish to fall in love this season, so you will not reveal my true whereabouts once I have faked my passing.” He sighs, pulling back the sleeve of his coat and checking the time on his watch. “It really is quite simple. Allow me to court you, stay silent about my disappearance, and be rewarded with $100,000.” 

“And if we’re caught? If this charade is revealed as a farce and your father declares you King the following day?”

“Doubt in my plans is the first step away from succeeding,” he concludes. An approaching servant with a fresh pot of tea momentarily takes your attention and the prince stands, bowing in farewell while you’re still frozen behind your teacup. “I do hope you’ll join me at the races tomorrow afternoon,” he drawls out your name once the servant places the pot on the small table. His voice drips honey-sweet poison, drawing you in even as your body screams at you to run. The message hidden beneath his words, however, is clearer than crystal. “But, in the case of your absence, I will assume my affections have been denied.” You stand, dipping into a graceful curtsy. As you rise, your words ring in your ears before you can stop them. 

“I look forward to our time together, Your Highness.”

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[cheezbites]

Headcanons of Dating Ghost PT.3

✎: Fun fact, part one is on 600+ NOTES??? HOLY SHIT?!? THANK Y’ALL SO MUCH😋!!! (You don’t need to read the other parts to read this one)

🌸Part One

💕Part Two

♡Summary: Wholesome headcanons of dating Ghost PT.3 <3

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷.-*

Bf!Ghost loves seeing you wear his clothes. Although you practically own or have worn at least half of his wardrobe, he still gets that same content feeling that surges throughout his body when he sees you lounging in one of his t-shirts. They looked way baggier on you, but that makes it even better. No matter what you’re wearing, he’ll always do a double take, smile, and say:

“It looks cuter on you, keep it.”

Bf!Ghost never backs down from his light hearted pranks, no matter what day, season or time it is. Halloween was coming up and he remembered that uncannily misplaced skeleton prop in your garage, slowly withering away as other things piled on top of it. Compared to how it was originally bought, it honestly looked ten times scarier. The quality was worn out and old, perfect for the prank he was about to play on you.

He stood at the end of the dimly lit corridor, calling out your name like he needed your help with a favour.

“Y/N?” he said, trying to contain his laughter by clearing his throat.

“Hmm?”

“C’mere for a sec, ‘need yer help with something.”

You turned your corridor’s lights on before making your way to where his voice was, before you made the final turn he held the flimsy skeleton prop out which admittedly scared you half to death.

“Boo.”

“Ahhh,” you replied, trying to mask how genuinely scared you were with his thoughtless prank. He saw how scared you were, even if it was very, very brief.

“The skeleton checks out,” you quipped, rolling your eyes.

Bf!Ghost always ties your shoe laces for you. Always. It’s honestly became a tradition for whenever you guys go out.

“You ready to go?” you asked, kneeling down to slip on your Jordan’s.

“Wait, I forgot something.”

You expected him to make a quick trip upstairs to grab whatever he forgot, but he suddenly knelt down in front of you, catching you off guard for a second until you realised what he was doing.

You stood up, smiling down at him as he effortlessly tied your shoes.

“Aw, such a gentlemen.”

You always tease him for his officious habits, just like how he always keeps them up.

Bf!Ghost is used to solving your unserious petty arguments with pillow fights. Upon hearing a satirical remark from him, you’d grab any nearby pillow and thwack his face with it. He would grab a pillow and use it to shield his face before you guys have a blast with pillows. They always start off with teasing before they gradually grow in competitiveness. He’s fully aware he can easily win each and every single time but he still acts defeated so you can win. But you still are pretty good at beating people with pillows… is that something he should be taking note of?

“That’s it, let it all out.” He teased, still using a pillow as a shield whilst flailing it at you.

Bf!Ghost draws on your arm/thigh when he’s bored.

“Y’know ink poison is a thing, right?” you asked, still closely watching as he draws an intricate flower on your arm.

“Eh… you’ll live, dove.”

The drawings are honestly impressive, you kind of want to keep them on - possibly get them tattooed just to surprise him and catch his reaction. They’ll be worth the ink poisoning, anyways.

Bf!Ghost can’t go to bed knowing you’re upset with him. He will not go to sleep until he’s forgiven or if he sees you smile, literally. He knows you’re unaware of how many nights he’s kept himself up just because you wouldn’t talk to him and he plans on keeping it that way. He doesn’t even know why he does it, it’s just his guilty consciousness gnawing at him.

Bf!Ghost tickles you just so hear you laugh - it’s always out of nowhere, too. You could be in bed together as he’s resting his head on your stomach and out of nowhere he’d turn to face you. You curiously peer at him. His fingers make way to your stomach and start mercilessly tickling you and you’re suddenly dying from all the giggles and laughter,

“Simon!” you exclaimed through chuckles, trying to clutch onto your stomach whilst floundering his hands off.

Bf!Ghost has only one collection: his beloved teacup collection, of course. You decided to ironically gift him a skeleton cup you saw when you were shopping. God, if you only knew how much that flimsy cup with that cute little chibi cartoon style skeleton waving a British flag around meant to him.

It’s his go to cup each time he drinks tea, which is everyday. If any of his lads comes over and he’s casually sipping his tea, he never fails to mention how you got it.

“The misses got me this,” or something along those lines. He completely abandoned his other ones, this was just his signature cup.

Bf!Ghost has his occasional late night cravings, some weird, some not. But he’s just continually found himself having them and each time it’s at night. He’s not one to typically participate in British stereotypes, well… sometimes. But the urge for a good ol’ beans on toast was starting to get irrepressible. You were willing to try some, too. It honestly wasn’t even bad - in fact, it was good. You added some cheese on yours for the sake of the exquisiteness, so did he. You guys also mix any drinks you have together like odd scientists taking ‘shots’.

Bf!Ghost was trying his very hardest to keep quiet as you took a nap on him. He was a light sleeper, it was only natural to assume everyone else was. He’d inherently hold his breath every now and then whilst keeping his body meticulously still. When he felt faint and dizzy, that’s when he knew about his involuntary breath holding. Little did he know, you were deep in sleep. There could be a boisterous, off-beat 80s band playing and you would still be knocked out.

Bf!Ghost had a long, dreadful day - so did you. You were both burned out and feeling so overstimulated from the lingering buzz of people and their loud conversations and the dizziness from somehow feeling faint. When you have days like this, you’d silently endure in each other’s company, laying with each other in bed with a comfortable tranquility. You’d just appreciate each other being there as his warm hands are wrapped around you. You were both feeling unbothered. but the only person you could both bare seeing at the moment was each other.

•••╰┈➤Masterlist

Dating Gaz

Dating Price

Dating König

[lorei-writes]

Glimpse

Chevalier x Reader Fluff/Comfort Word Count: ~600

A little simple something written for @ikemenprompts Week #2 <3

Content Warnings: none

Chevalier lets out a breathy sigh, but his eyes remain closed. He stretches his back to then turn on his side, sheets sliding against his skin and off his body. Creases form over his brow, insistent warmth clinging to his limbs like a possessive mistress. Chevalier holds no affection for it, however. He buries his face in a pillow.

The morning air smells of lemon grass garnished with a pinch of oceanic salt. It heaves sluggishly as heat streams from above, perhaps still drunk with the wine spilled the prior night. No matter. The breeze is not allowed rest, so it collects the orange sweetness to then combine it with bitter coffee scent, carried over from the narrow streets so typical for Benitoitian towns. Only then does it trespass into the palace, and dressed in the still pale light, sneaks into the guest wing. The air is as curious as it is shy, so it dares not disturb the curtains. Not while the lovers lie side by side.

Chevalier lets out a breathy sigh, but his eyes remain closed. He stretches his back to then turn on his side, sheets sliding against his skin and off his body. Creases form over his brow, insistent warmth clinging to his limbs like a possessive mistress. Chevalier holds no affection for it, however. He buries his face in a pillow.

Another gust blows past a steppe somewhere far away, a commotion stirring within the grass waves – a hand falls over his, much smaller and more delicate, undeniably fragile despite the firmness it has so often displayed. Not unlike a drop inspiring sea inside a cup, it overfills him with affection words fail to describe. Chevalier lifts his heavy lids, both for and against himself. His surprise has dulled, but never will it cease. Not when you are there.

Sun rays melt into an ephemeral dome to shelter you, as vulnerable as a dandelion seed. Perhaps it is the obliviousness you display in regards to your own fragility that enables this state; regardless, you rest, just within the reach of his arm, but also somehow still too far away. You breath evenly, quiet puffs of air emerging from your lips. Judging by the peaceful expression you wear, your must be sleeping and dreaming well. Chevalier turns his hand below yours, to stroke the back of your fingers with his thumb. He smiles the most timid of smiles, too amused with your delight to hold it back. How can you be so open, so honest, when not aware of the dear world around? Truly, so foolish… But is he not?

It is as if an ice pane shattered, a fleeting whimper splitting the air in half. Summer withers for unbearable chill to flood the room, hearts struggling due to thermal shock while lungs contract. Chevalier watches your tranquillity crumble, to be gone completely within a breath or a half. You clutch his fingers now, as if convinced they alone are the lifeline that could save you from whatever nightmare that haunts your mind. And perhaps you are not wrong to have assumed as much.

You grimace, and he does not wait. Chevalier shakes you by the shoulder, albeit with more force than he’d like. You… deserve better, but alas. At the very least, he is efficient in helping you surface from the horror in your mind, however disoriented and terrified you are. It does not matter. Not when your binding is intangible, not when he can steal you away, not when he can lock you in his arms and cradle you against his chest. Not when he is close enough to dry your tears himself.

Tonight you will drink the wine again; the wheel of seasons is bound to turn. Before then, however, let your face be cupped in his rough hands. Let his thumbs wipe moisture from your cheeks, as unpractised and uncertain as they may be. Banish the thoughts of complaining about heat – when the words fail, it is the bodies that speak… and speak they must, for how else could he console the one treasure he has?

You've seen a typo? Please, tell me!

--

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[scoatneyhall]

I love love love that they kept the same London house for Jamie between season 1 and season 3 but it does make me think about just how fast he got booted back to Manchester in season 1. Like absolutely he just would have had to leave things as they were and pack up a few bags and go. If he was renting it (which is very, very likely for a loanee, especially a loanee who didn't want to be there) he just had to... keep paying the rent and wait until the off season to organise moving out. Not that this is a problem financially or anything, that boy was making £50,000 a week at an absolute minimum. But he clearly never got around to it? And then he went on Lust Conquers All. That house was sitting there empty for I guess around over 6 months, until he came back to live in London in the October. He wouldn't have been staying there for London based away games, he would have been with the Man City team at a hotel. But I keep imagining him popping in during those trips and finding things he'd forgotten, or hadn't been able to pack in his rush - especially if he was upset when packing. Like one half of a pair of favourite trainers still under the bed? And every time he came back there, being reminded once again that he'd just made a happy home for himself at Richmond only to be, from his perspective, punished for too little too late, and kicked out.

Most of all, I keep thinking, did all his cute kitchen plants wither and die? Or did he drive back to Manchester with a box of potplants in the back seat of the Aston Martin? Both are terribly sad options.

The garden is also super cute through the windows of the main room. Did he pay the gardener to keep coming and maintaining it? Or did he come back to it all wild and overgrown after a summer of neglect?

I do wonder if he's still meant to be renting by season 3, or whether he's bought the place. If he was committing to a London property, it's interesting that he would make enquiries about buying the home he moved into as a presumably bitter loanee, rather than hand-picking something else. Makes me think about the relationship he had with the place, whether he actually likes it, or whether he just hasn't found the time yet to bother house hunting for something that he really does love. Either way, I hope he absolutely fucking fills it with plants.

[scribblecake]

Gentle Lights Ch) 3

Something short and sweet(?) bc I'm fading fast and needs a sleeb. The author is very tired. She is eepy. The author has had a very long day of writting sins and wants to take just a small sleep. She eeby and neebies to sleebie. audor sleepy and need bed by time. the ator is currently experiencing critical levels of being a sleehjy little guy and needs to go to beb. she is retired and needs to slep. just a little sleejing time as a treat.

TW: Idk how to write fluff... or dialogue...

~***~

“Izogie!”

Warm arms wrapped around her. The scent of honey and oil greeted Izogie as pure elation coaxed tears to her eyes. Oh to be hugged again! To feel something welcoming and familiar!

“We thought you were gone forever!” Nawi sniffed before being overcome with hiccuping sobs. Tentatively, Izogie lifted an arm and shakily wrapped it around her young sister. The warrior did her best to comfort Nawi and fight off sobs herself. 

But the tears were all too eager to fall. They stung at her eyes before streaming down and scorching her cheeks. Izogie felt more hands on her shoulders, they pulled upwards. Her limited view of the world shifted as her body was propped upright with Nawi still clinging to her.

Two other figures hovered over Izogie and Amenza shifted into focus. She wordlessly pressed a clay cup to the warrior's lips. Water! Cool, quenching water! It greeted Izogie’s system like a storm in the dry season.

Liquid life trickled down her throat, bringing strength to withered limbs. Izogie gulped it down greedily and it was gone far too soon. Cracked lips parted to voice displeasure but a jug lifted to her thisting mouth quickly dispelled any protests. 

After Izogie had drunk her fill, two more sets of arms encased her. The solid embrace of Nanisca and the welcoming tenderness of Amenza breathed strength into Izogie’s sore body. They stayed that way for a time. Tears, sobs and relieved murmurs were exchanged in the quiet moment. However; Nanisca was the first to break away.

“You never cease to exceed what is expected of you. I just wish you’d stop terrifying me in the process.” She chuckled. Amenza shook her head fondly at the comment, playfully smacking Nanisca’s arm.

“Behave!”

“W-we’re so happy to have you home! The palace was horrible and empty without you here!” Nawi cried as she tightened her hold on Izogie. The warrior grimaced when she felt a sharp twinge of pain in her chest and stomach. This did not go unnoticed by her friend who was quick to move away, but only just. She was still practically glued to the warrior’s side.

“Eh? What are those tears for? Just wait and see! When I heal, I’ll really give you something to cry about! You won’t miss me so much after a ten mile run.” Izogie rasped mischievously. Her words made the young soldier gasp and her commanders snicker.

Amenza hummed as a cheeky grin curled her lips. “Bold words for someone who could barely move, not even a few minutes ago.” 

Laughter rippled through the room and they settled into relaxed chatter, briefing the soldier on what she had missed. Izogie learned that after she lost consciousness and contact with Nawi, Nanisca had returned, against the king’s wishes, to retrieve them. 

She sat awestruck as they recounted how they had led an additional rebellion and burned The Trade to ash. Izogie smiled widely at the lively narration of their triumphant return. She nearly doubled over laughing at how Nanisca snatched the title of The Woman King right from under Shante. 

The more she listened, the more her mind and heart relaxed. The soldier let the familiar voices scrub away any lingering burden of worry and fear. She finally felt safe, no longer adrift in uncertainty and pain. Izogie had found her way back to the ones that loved her. She had found her way back home.

~***~

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@mybonafidefeelings @zeezeecave @shanas-baby

[cassyapper]

HIIIIIII omg I haven't been active much on Tumblr at all aside from mindlessly reblogging stuff :wail: anyway oh my GAWD some (a lot) of the lyrics in this song fit wwm/ta 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 also I still haven't been able to do any digital art noooooo I'm going to shrivel up and wither away if I cant soon I NEED to do things like draw ur blog banner with kakyoin on it like I said I would 😭 but anyway,,,,

"Now I am stuck between my anger / and the blame that I can't face / And memories are somethin' even / smoking weed does not replace / And I am terrified of weather / 'cause I see you when it rains" "No, I am no longer funny / 'cause I miss the way you laugh" "And it's half my fault / but I just like to play the victim" "And I'll dream each night of / some version of you / That I might not have / but I did not lose / Now you're tire tracks / and one pair of shoes And I'm split in half, / but that'll have to do"

"Oh, that'll have to do / My other half was you / I hope this pain's just passin' through / But I doubt it"

AAAAAUUUUGHHHH THEM. DO YOU GET MY. MY VISION.

wait I think this song is in that one Spotify list I put together for wwm/ta oughhh,, but I never like. explained it. anyway GAUGH howve you been!!!

IT'S OKAY DUDE YOU DON'T OWE ANYONE AN ONLINE PRESENCE I JSUT HOPE YOU HAVE BEEN WELL!!!! IT'S GOOD TO SEE U BACK!!! <333 i've also been busy as hell so i get it chief

AND PLEASE IT'S OKAY IF U NEVER DRAW IT MAN I DONT WANT U TO FEEL PRESSURED AT ALL IT IS ALL GOOD IT'S ONLY IF U EVER GET AROUND TO IT <3 I WANT U TO HAVE FUN PRIORITIZE UR JOY...

as for the song oh my FUCKING GOD. IT'S SO FUCKING REAL. THIS IS SO KAKYOIN WWM/TA CORE IM GONNA BE FUCKING SICK oh im actually shivering as i type im giving into grief FUUUUCK. OH MY GOD. kakyoin.............im actually sick. im adding this to my own wwm/ta playlist like FUCK

AND IVE BEEN OKAY JSUT BUSYYYY U KNOW HOW IT IS <3 I HOPE U HAVE BEEN WELL THANK U FOR THIS SONG IM ROTATING IT IN MY HEAD

[artficlly]

lady of the ghosts [chapter 3]

After a great plague ravages your city, you are looking to marry to secure safety for your people. With a war finally ending, the nearby kingdoms are looking to celebrate. King James "Bucky" Barnes decides to continue his family's tradition of hosting a courting season. A medieval courting marvel AU.

Pairing: king!bucky x lady!reader

Warnings: mention of war, mention of torture, mention of poison, mention of burning alive, sexism, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 6.7k

A/N: this was an absolute mission to write! i was going to sit on it overnight and do another quick refine but I decided to post it early. thank you all for all the love and support. this chapter is setting up some plot points but trust me the bucky x reader drama is going to heat up next chapter. lots of love for you all, thank you for reading! as per usual sorry for any typos, not proof read!

chapter masterlist | main masterlist

If you had thought being in Galanta would save you from forced socialization, you had been sorely mistaken. Shortly after breakfast, all of the guests were summoned to one of the upstairs tearooms. The room was large enough to accommodate a group of people but small enough that hiding in the corners was impossible. You expected they did it on purpose, to keep ladies like yourself from straying from the conversation. Events like these were designed to encourage mingling while keeping the environment appropriate.  

A fresh breeze blew in from the balcony, which overlooked the city, sending the emerald green curtains swaying with each breath. There were a variety of sweets and savories on the dark oak tables positioned between the waiting staff and potted plants. You had inspected the pastries, tarts, and fruits with mild interest, observing how each piece was only a mouthful in size. All the food, you had noticed, was love themed. The pastries and tarts are shaped like little doves and roses, and the fruit cut and diced into heart and star shapes. You wondered if King James was actually a romantic at heart or if he had just let the planners go wild. The Galanta Season was famous for its beautiful details, entertaining events, and impressive love matches. You supposed by now the event would plan itself without much input from the royals beyond the gold they paid. 

You had opted for some tea to keep yourself looking busy. Galantian teas were imported from the south, adding a tang of citrus to their flavor. You were unsure if you liked it as much as the stronger black teas of Faliene, but you enjoyed the sweetness. You had been horrified to see a woman add more sugar to her own tea while complaining that the citrus had made her mouth hurt. Faliene rarely had the luxury of sugar and sweets, so watching the overindulgence left an uneasy feeling in your gut.  

With one of his signature scowls on his face, Prince Micheal had been staring at you nonstop all morning. You knew the moment the two of you were alone, he would reprimand you for your actions the night before. You could not find the energy to care. Instead, you found yourself avoiding King Harrison and watching as he lingered near Princess Peggy. She was blushing and smiled politely at King James, who seemed to be keeping her entertained among the circling lords. Peggy would be quite the catch if James didn’t snatch her up in time. Watching the scene unfold, you imagined the lords as southern vultures, circling the available ladies as they slowly withered away. 

James had not offered you a glance the entire morning. You could understand why, considering that Princess Peggy had been determined to capture his attention since breakfast. You couldn’t help but wonder if Peggy truly liked James or if it was just to please her father. As children, she had mentioned James in passing to you, but never in recent years. During the war, she had not shown much concern for him, instead keeping her opinions to herself. She had never seemed to be the type to swoon over knights and princes; maybe she kept it a secret, or maybe she truly had no interest. 

“Lady Y/N. Forgive me, King Harrison was supposed to introduce us, but it appears he is busy.” A rough voice spoke from beside you. Your eyes moved from Peggy over to the man who spoke, instantly recognizing him. Lord Rumlow. The Lord of the Snakes. 

He wasn’t unattractive. Or old. He was quite handsome in a rugged way. His face was sculpted, with high cheekbones and a defined jawline. His skin had a light tan; he was a man who had seen labor before his time as a lord. His brows hooded over his dark eyes, and his strands of hair were dark and short. From the way he held himself, you could tell he was a fighter. You had seen it in knights before – the way they prowled on their toes, ready to strike. He was muscled and tall like Steve, his hands callused and steady with intention. 

Those hands, that body – the way he held himself. You had heard rumors about his blood ties to Hydrina and how his leap to lordship had been questionable. Although Rumlow was unofficially known as Lord of the Snakes, his actual title was Lord Rumlow of Dorasea. Dorasea was a port city, although smaller in size than Faliene. It was located on the border between Hydrina and Galanta, trading goods between the two kingdoms. Only within the last few years had the port been founded, around the time that the plague struck Faliene. Before the port was built, Dorasea was a small section of land, mainly known for its tavern, which supplied rooms for those traveling between the two kingdoms. The previous Lord of Dorasea was Rumlow's grandfather, and Rumlow's mother had been wed off to a Hydrian lord to protect Dorasea from raids by Hydrians. You supposed that was where the blood ties came in – the Lord of Dorasea was half Hydrian. At least, that is what you heard. 

“You made quite the entrance yesterday.” Rumlow continues, eyes snaking over your dress. 

Today you wore another traditional dress that was adapted to fit the Galatian weather. The silk skirts were made of a light blue with gray sections. It had been hardened with whalebone to keep the fabric tight against your skin, forgoing the need for a corset. The bodice cuts a deep v-shape in the chest area, only coming to a point below your sternum. Your shoulders were exposed with small cutouts, and then the blue fabric continued snuggly down to your wrists. You wore the same trident necklace, a belt made of woven sealskin leather, with silver chains looped loosely around your hips. The silver rings on your fingers tapped against your teacup as you replied. 

“It didn’t scare you off, you must be used to uncommon traditions after spending time in Hydrina?” You say, paired with an innocent smile. Your kohl-lined eyes survey him, judging his reaction to your comment. To your surprise, he smiles. It isn’t a kind smile; there is a darkness to it that you can’t quite analyze. 

“Tell me, why are you here? Everyone here seems to think you are here to find a husband, but you seem to be intentionally scaring them all away.” Rumlow asks, hand finding your shoulder as he guides you towards a quiet corner. You follow reluctantly, abandoning your cup of tea at a nearby table. You presume he doesn’t want to be overheard. He must also know that he can’t speak to you fully alone due to the questions that may arise. 

“I am here to find a husband, one who will accept me and my people.” You reply. Your tone bored, it felt like you had repeated those words countless times since arriving in Galanta. Stepping away from his touch, you clasp your hands in front of you, your thumb rolling over one of your rings. 

“So you are here to find a lord, not a husband.” Rumlow retorts. You note how still his body is, like a predator tracking its prey through the forest. 

“A lord, a husband… the title doesn’t matter, as long as he can help me.” You drawl in disinterest. Across the room, you spot Steve watching you warily, like he’s preparing to march over and drag you away. 

“Lady of the Ghosts… She's too smart for her own good, they all say. They must be wrong because you are speaking like a fool.” His tone is mocking as he speaks, yet he is still armed with a taunting smile. 

“I am no fool.” You say, narrowing your eyes at the Lord. 

“You have been given a choice, marry to save yourself or perish alongside your people. Why do you insist on perishing?” Rumlow continues.

“In saving my people, I will save myself. I get a choice in who I will marry, and I will marry the man who will help Faliene. If that man is not you, then I suggest you leave.” You snip back, motioning out into the room with your hand. Rumlow only chuckles darkly at that, shaking his head. 

“You must understand that realistically, no one will save Faliene. There are other ports, such as Dorasea, that have better weather conditions and could supply jobs to Falienean sailors. No one will marry you because you insist on holding onto that husk of a city.” He spells it out with a mocking grin. Any sense of politeness for the sake of pretending drops from your face, a glower overcoming your face. 

In that moment, it dawned on you. The moment he mentioned Dorsea, it all clicked into place. Now you understood why Rumlow had taken up the challenge of trying for your hand. Not only because you were both disgraced in the eyes of polite society but because you held something powerful. From what you had heard, Dorasea was successful in small amounts but needed more sailors with experience. Too many wrecks and lost cargoes had shaken the recent profits. 

There was a reason why Faliene had survived for all these decades, and that was because, undeniably, Falienean sailors were the best in the world. Not only could they navigate the icy Northern Ocean, but they could navigate any ocean. They were born with salt water in their blood; they called themselves the children of Nemue, Goddess of the Sea. Your house was ancient and known for its loyalty in seafaring and trading. Other continents and kingdoms trusted you because of your long line of dealings. They trusted Falienean’s because they knew they were one with the water and that they did not make mistakes. 

Dorasea did not have the same reputation. She was a new port, filled with inexperienced and unknown sailors. The only thing stopping Faliene from losing what little trade she had left was her legitimacy. That legitimacy was granted by the Falienean sailors, by your house, by your name. Rumlow needed legitimacy to stake a claim on the seafaring world. Rumlow didn’t just want you for heirs, but to reinstate himself as a sealord. He had the men, the money, and the land to do so. With your name and your sailors, Dorasea could become the biggest and best port in Galanta. All he needed was you. 

“Faliene is the biggest port in Haiford. It has the biggest imports of fish, ice, whale bones, and seal leather. It is the closest port to the capital of Haiford, and the cold weather means that the imported food does not expire as quickly. The men who work the sea are skilled at what they do, they can navigate the ocean like no other. Continents and kingdoms respect my name and my house. Why do you think that because Dorasea has seen some success that it will live up to the legend of Faliene?” Your voice is deadly as you speak, and your words are clear and precise. Rumlow stays calm, not even a fleeting look of discouragement crossing his features. You are growing to despise the way he holds himself, like he is better than you. 

“It will take money, time, and men to rebuild Faliene to a point where it will turn a profit. Not many are willing to spare those things for their own people, let alone a dying city of legend. These past few generations never saw Faliene at its best, they cannot perceive it as anything other than a weakness. Even if you did hire men to bring to Faliene, they would not survive the winter. I can understand why you do not want to abandon your people, but there are other ways to save them than rebuilding a city. You have your name and your house.” 

“What do you offer me? You want my name to secure Dorasea’s legitimacy, why should I give it to you?” You ask, tilting your head. 

It was no wonder why he wanted this conversation to be private. He couldn’t have anyone knowing he planned to take a monopoly over the sea trades; chaos would ensue. Even if these men scoffed and rolled their eyes at you, undeniably, sea trade was one of the richest in the Northern Continent. The way these kingdoms made money was by import and export; whoever ruled the sea ruled them all. They did not want to see you succeed because they knew that with money and men, you could take over the sea trade. By allowing you to be married off to an old lord who only wanted heirs, they would be ensuring that Falienean sailors would be cut from the competition. Only because you were a woman, due to Haiford's laws, were you unable to lead. As a woman, you had no way to make or use money effectively, no way to access your dowry, no way to handle accounts, and no way to handle politics. With a husband, you did have a way to lead. With a husband, you could conquer all. Did these lords understand the power you held over all of their heads? In that moment, you could have laughed at the irony of it all. You, a disgraced lady, holding the fate of sea trade for an entire continent. Rumlow had revealed his hand; otherwise, you would never consider his offer of marriage. He wanted to be the King of the Northern Ocean, with you, the Queen, by his side. 

“I can offer you safety and security in Dorasea. I can offer your people safety and security. I have land that your people can work on and jobs for seafarers at the port.” Rumlow explains, lowering his voice. He steps closer as a nearby lord lingers, hoping to catch parts of your conversation. 

“My people will never leave Faliene. They are strong-willed, their ancestors built that city, they bled into that snow and their ashes lie in the crypt. Falieneans won’t abandon their home at the command of a Southern lord.” You reply lowly, a grin spreading across your face as you lift your chin in defiance.

“With some persuasion, they will.” Rumlow says, and you scoff at his words.

“You don’t know Northerners. You can talk and pretend to understand, but you do not know the North or the ocean. You are a fool if you think you can control it. You cannot hold water in your hands, it will slip between your fingers.” You laugh at him.

“I am offering you an opportunity, I am offering to help you. Do consider it, you are an intelligent woman. You must see that this fantasy of saving Faliene will never go your way. I can offer your glory and riches, I can offer you an opportunity to laugh in all of their faces.” Rumlow says in a hushed tone, his eyes following the nosey lord. You resist the urge to flinch as he reaches out, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen from your braided updo behind your ear. 

“I do not want glory handed to me by a man. I am not weak or incapable. If I am to find success, I will be building it with my own hands and blood. I would rather be The Lady of the Ghosts than The Lady of the Snakes.” You hiss at him, pulling away sharply. 

—

You hadn’t stood on the balcony long before Steve found you. After your chat with Rumlow, you decided to take some air. Most of the other guests had remained inside, watching you warily as you stared out across the land. Winter was mild here; Galatians referred to it as the wet season. The ground didn’t freeze and snow didn’t fall like in Haiford; instead, it remained green and lush, with the occasional heavy rain flooding the fields and turning the grass to mud. Your hands gripped the brick railings, the coarse texture rough against your skin. 

Winter was drawing to an end, which filled you with worry. It felt like any day you could receive news of your mother's death. When you left Haiford, the castle was damp and cold, and your mother’s cough was worsening. You wondered if you should have brought her here, into the fresh air and sun. A part of you dared to think you should’ve taken her back to Faliene and let her die with the salty air in her lungs. You would’ve let her swim in the bay one last time and collected rocks like when you were a child. You wondered if those same rocks still remained in your father's study, lined up by size on the windowsills. 

Rumlow’s offer haunted your thoughts, lingering and clinging like smoke. A part of you wondered if you should give up and take the offer to save your people. You knew they would never forgive you, but they would be safe. You would never lead; you would have children and watch as Rumlow stole all the glory and brought Galanta to her knees. You wanted to be a leader and to be successful. You knew you were capable of great things; you had known it since you were a child. There was a feeling inside of you, scratching and gnawing away, that knew that you hadn’t completed your destiny yet. Yet you knew you may never see greatness because of your gender. But in that moment, regardless of all that you did and thought, you couldn’t help but worry that you could either die alongside your people or die surrounded by a husband and children you would never come to love. 

“You’re not going to jump, are you?” Steve asks you from nearby. When you stormed out of the room, you watched him track your every move. You had barely been out in the fresh air for a few seconds before he followed you out. You couldn’t imagine the rumors that would be flying around inside; you didn’t want to think about King Harrison’s reaction to it all. 

“Perhaps I am.” You joke, glancing his way with a half-smile. Steve was dressed in his knight's uniform – leather chestplate and all. It was a seal-leather. That made you smile a bit more. He stood with his back to the railing, eyes focused inside the room, like he was pretending to be surveying the crowd. But you knew he was only paying attention to you at that moment. 

“What did Rumlow say to you?” Steve asks, his voice low. Your eyes flicker over his uniform, noting the shield with a star carved into the breastplate. His hand was on his sword, Ravensclaw, knuckles white around the leather-bound handle. The pommel of the blade was silver, intricately carved with the swirling pattern of ravens. You guessed the sword was from an Asgardian forge, the raven being the symbol of the Odinson house. Asgard was well known for not only their magical tattoos but also their forging skills. You wondered if the blade itself had similar patterns; you had never seen it drawn. 

“He offered to help relocate the people of Faliene to Dorasea on the condition that I marry him.” You sigh, looking back to survey the city and farmland. Directly below the balcony on the castle ground, there was a large garden. You watched as the gardeners fluted through the trees and bushes, pruning and watering the blooms. 

“Why is that so terrible? Other than the fact you would have to marry him,” Steve asks, and his voice feels distant when he is not looking directly at you. You hope the breeze doesn’t carry his words into the room; you don’t want any of the sneering lords to know. You bite the inside of your cheek. As kind and intelligent as Steve could be, sometimes he was completely oblivious to your feelings. He knew you wanted to restore Faliene, yet sometimes he was just as ignorant as the lords that chortled away inside. 

“He doesn’t want to save Faliene. He wants to give Dorasea legitimacy.” You mutter, a loose strand of hair tickling your neck. 

“I thought Dorasea was already legitimate?” He questions. 

“They lost three of fifteen ships to the Northern Ocean in their last export. He is losing money and respect. Even if he is legitimate in the eyes of the law, the traders do not respect him.” You explain with a sigh, glancing back over at Steve, who meets your eye with a worried look. He is silent, as if in thought, for a long pause before speaking. 

“He wants your men and your name.” He states, as if enlightened to your dilemma. 

“He wants control over all imports and exports coming from Galanta.” Words hang in the air for a long pause, and Steve’s brows furrow. He is deep in thought, his knuckles wrapping tighter around the handle of Ravensclaw. 

“You need to tell James.” Steve says abruptly.

“Why?” 

“Listen. There are things you don’t know about the war. About Rumlow and Hydrina. If Rumlow is plotting...” Steve trails off with a sigh, and you narrow your eyes at him. “If Rumlow gains that type of power, it would leave us vulnerable to an attack by Hydrina.”

“You think he is still working for Hydrina? Wasn’t he pardoned?” You question, moving closer so you are not overheard.

“It’s a suspicion. It is complicated.” Steve mutters, glancing back past the balcony into the room warily. 

“Explain it then.” You pry.

“I can’t. Not here, not now. Too many eyes and ears –I’ve already said enough. Talk to James.”

You open your mouth to say something, but Steve shakes his head at you. His eyes have moved past where you stand, observing someone nearby. You turn, and to your surprise, Princess Peggy has joined you both on the balcony. Her pink skirts dance around her in the breeze, strands of dark brunette hair sweeping across her face. She pushes them behind her ear with a smile.

“Lady Y/N, so sorry to interrupt.” She speaks, clasping her hands in front of herself as she sidles towards you. Her voice is soft and polite, with only hints of her Northern accent shining through. 

“Of course not, Princess. How can I help you?” You asked, subconsciously taking a step away from Steve. Had she noticed the two of you talking? You doubted she would say anything, but if she had noticed, others would have too. 

“Myself and a few of the ladies were going to take a walk through the flower gardens. I noticed you were already out taking some air, I thought you would like to join?” Peggy asks, still armed with a dashing smile. 

“Oh! Of course, that was kind of you to think of me.” You can’t help but let your icy composure melt a bit, returning her smile bashfully.

“Delightful!” Peggy squeals, linking her arm with yours in one swift movement. Her eyes met Steve’s for a moment, a blush crawling over her nose and cheeks. “Sir Rogers.” She squeaks. 

“I hope you enjoy the gardens, Princess Peggy, Lady Y/N.” Steve responds politely with a nod of his head. You note how his cheeks have grown a little pink. You give him a confused look as Peggy drags you from the balcony. 

—

One of the first times you spoke to Peggy, you spoke about flowers. Haiford had its own gardens, although they were sparse. It was mainly made up of mountainous plants and flowers, hardy and rough like the climate. Most of the time, the garden was made up of skeleton branches, knotted roots, and gnarled thorns. In the summertime, the daisies, buttercups, and blue wildflowers would bloom and add some color, but nothing in comparison to the blooms of Cala’s Keep. 

All those years ago, you caught Peggy out in the gardens, the hem of her dress caught on a dead rosebush. You had helped her untangle herself with minimal damage, although she did receive a scolding from her governess for sneaking out and ripping her hem. 

“What is your favorite flower?” You had asked her while untangling her skirt from the bush.

“A gallica rose. They grow them in Galanta. I saw them when I visited a few years ago… I tried growing them here, but they always withered.” She had replied shyly, inspecting you as your fingers pried the fabric from the thorns. 

“Maybe they don’t like the cold. Where did you get the seeds?” You had asked, beaming up at her as you freed the fabric. She had beamed back, although it had fallen from her face when she saw how it had torn. 

“Prince James of Galanta gave them to me as a gift... He is very kind.” She had said it with a blush, loose strands of hair covering her face. 

“Hm. That is kind. It is a shame they don’t grow here.” You had replied while brushing the dead leaves from your skirts. “In the library, there is a book of all the flowers in the world, it even has colored illustrations beside each description.”

“But I can’t read.” Peggy had replied embarrassedly, the flush only growing a darker pink.

“That is okay. I can read it for you, and you can look at the pictures.” You hadoffered, and, Peggy had beamed at you with excitement. 

You stood staring at the bush of gallica roses with a frown now. The petals were bright pink, the center yellow, dusted with pollen. You couldn’t help but wonder if the engagement unfolding between Peggy and James had been in motion far before the war. Although Peggy and you had grown apart since those childhood days, you did feel happy for her. She seemed smitten with James, and from what you had witnessed, he was with her. Since the Season had officially begun, Peggy had captured his attention, chattering and blushing away. You couldn’t blame James; she was beautiful, sweet, and kind. But after that moment in the library, where he had looked at you with such delight and kissed your hand… you didn’t know why their flirtations stung so much. Steve had obviously put delusions into your mind, convincing you that you had a chance. 

Steve. That was another man on your mind. You had noticed the looks and blushing between him and Peggy, and you feared asking what it was about. There were more pressing matters anyway; Rumlow was proving to be more of an enigma than anticipated. Steve’s words hung over you – why did you need to tell James yourself? What did James and Steve know about Rumlow’s involvement with Hydrina? There were missing pieces that confused the picture, but what you knew for sure was that Rumlow had a plan. You weren’t sure if that plan was to conquer the sea or something even bigger than you dared imagine. 

You lost Peggy and her crowd of ladies some time ago. While you were captured inspecting every petal and leaf, the ladies giggled and strutted their way through the garden. Many lords also twisted through the maze of bushes and trees, eyeing up the bashful ladies who blushed and battered their lashes. Falling behind had offered you some peace to think and also given you some time alone before lunch. You imagined it would be just as tortuous as dinner. You could only hope you weren’t seated next to Rumlow. 

As you turned the corner, finally abandoning the gallica roses, you paused. Down the narrow path stood King James, inspecting a bright blue flower. You hadn’t realized he had decided to wander into the gardens as well; you had assumed he would stay upstairs in the tea room with Steve. You watched him for a moment, noting how the light breeze blew through his brunette locks. Your eyes wandered across his face, then down to his tattooed fingers. 

“I wouldn’t get too close, that flower is poisonous.” You called out. His eyes snapped to yours almost immediately, a pleased smile crossing his face as he recognized you. The rest of the path was empty and silent. You knew it was improper to be alone with him, but you couldn’t resist the temptation. 

“Is it? I wonder why it is planted in our garden. Maybe my gardener is plotting.” He replied, his eyes following you as you stood next to him to inspect the flower. It was brilliant blue in color, only fading to white near the tip. It was shaped like a cone, reaching as high as your hip. The petals were small, rounded diamond shapes that encircled the main stem. One could mistake it for a lupin hybrid if they weren’t careful. You ran a finger down the center of its star-shaped leaves.

"Its name is Kali Esoterica, although some call it Widowmaker. It originates from the Southern Continent in the swamplands. There was an Asgardian lady by the name of Fridga Gestidotr who was famous for using the poisonous petals to kill her husband. Every morning she would kiss him after coating her lips in a balm made from the flower, and then she would take the antidote. Her husband grew weaker day by day, until one day he dropped dead.”

“So, you are suggesting I don’t kiss my future wife?” He jokes.

“Maybe. Only if you find yourself growing sicker by the day.” You respond with a smile, and a silence falls over the two of you. 

You withdraw your hand from the plant, walking over to the next section of bushes. A large group of orange lilies greeted you, their leaves thick and green. You watched as a bee landed on one of the orange petals, collecting pollen from the center of the flower. As you walk further down the path, James follows you, observing as you inspect each flower with interest. 

“Are you alright? After Prince Micheal’s actions last night, I mean.” James speaks up, breaking the silence. You look up at him, smiling to yourself as you notice half of his face is obscured by a low-hanging branch. 

“I am fine. He had taunted me with far worse words, trust me.” You hum, ducking under the low-hanging branch so the two of you are face-to-face. The leaves tickle the side of your face as you tilt your head at him. “How much did you overhear?”

“Enough.” James replies. There is a haunted look in his eye. You frown, pushing the branch away with the back of your hand. 

“I am sorry. About what happened to your sister.” You say it quietly, noting how James swallows hard at your words. The two of you retreat further into the maze of hedges and trees. 

“Thank you.” James murmurs in reply, his hands running through the leaves of the tree parallel to you both. 

“I know that apologies and condolences will never be enough.” You sigh, a feeling of sympathy squeezing your heart as you survey his troubled face. 

“I expect you of all people to understand that. I am also sorry about your mother. And your father... And the countless other Falienean’s you have lost.” James speaks; he doesn’t look back, instead leading you deeper into the maze. You wonder if he knew it like the back of his hand, if he had grown up running and playing between the bushes and trees. 

“When my father died, it was so sudden. With my mother… I think it will be a mercy when she finally passes. I have spent so many years mourning her, I don’t think I have any tears left to shed.” You explain hesitantly.

“It is strange. The suddenness of it all. I was angry with my parents before they were killed. I was angry because of what they allowed to happen to Rebecca. I hadn’t spoken to them in days, and then suddenly... they were gone.” James’ voice is faint as he speaks, pausing as he pulls back a branch so you can pass without becoming entangled. 

“Do you miss her? Rebecca?” You ask, and his eyes meet yours. Despite all the worry and darkness that haunt the blueness that stares back at you, you swear he smiles. His body is close to yours, and as you pass by the branch he holds back, you can feel the heat of him against your skin. 

“Always. We fought like siblings, and she was insufferable at times, but when she was gone? She was too good, too kind for what happened to her.” You watch the branch swing back into place as he releases it while speaking. 

“I never understood why they killed her.” You admit. You don’t think anyone outside the Barnes house did; maybe a few of the royal advisors and knights understood. They had kept it quiet; only half the story was ever known to the public. 

“They wanted to send a message. Prove that Galanta was weak. They accused her of being a witch and tortured her for weeks before she falsely confessed. They burned her alive and mailed her ashes back to Galanta. I remember my father opening the letter at breakfast and watching the ashes fall on his plate. They didn’t let me read the letter at first, but... it detailed everything they had done to her.” His tone was pained. You look away from James with a hard swallow.

The Northern Continent was known for its varying opinions on magic. Some believed it to be real, like the Asgardians, who practiced magic with their forges and tattoos. The people of Faliene were known for being superstitious and practicing what could be viewed as magic. Other kingdoms believed it was just rumors and scare tactics. Many people made fun of those who worshiped the gods, while others lived in constant fear of their wrath. You supposed that was why it was curious that Rumlow had approached you. It was clear he followed Hydrinan values, which filled you with a sense of dread. The Hydrinan’s were known for their hatred of magic and witches. When they suspected a village had been tainted by magic, they would burn it down entirely out of fear. You had heard of what they did to women who they suspected were witches – how they would torture them for weeks or months until death seemed like a welcome release. 

Prince Micheal’s words haunted you: ‘I’ll make sure they send you away to Hydrina like they did Princess Rebecca. I would find delight in hearing the ways they torture a woman like you’. He knew that by Hydrinan law, you would be considered a witch. Your people worshiped Nemue alongside other gods and goddesses; they practiced superstition and observed rituals. The new king of Hydrina would enjoy killing a woman like you; he was called Witchslayer for a reason.   

“I am glad you killed King Alexander.” You say abruptly, earning a tired smile from the troubled king. 

“Sometimes it does not feel like enough. Sometimes I wonder if I should have destroyed Hydrina completely.” James admits.

“There is always time.” You remark, and James chuckles quietly in response with a shake of his head. 

“Thank you. It is refreshing to talk to someone who truly understands.”

“Does Steve not understand?” You ask, and James shrugs.

“He tries.” He replies with a sigh, his tattooed fingers running through his hair. 

The two of you round another corner, ending up on a brighter, larger path. The trees are not as thick; instead, the hip-height flowers allow you to look into the nearby pathways. You pause near a bush of peonies, watching as a ladybug crawls across the salmon-colored petals. As you watch, you observe how no one is nearby. Steve’s words from earlier on the balcony hang in your mind. You needed to tell James about Rumlow. If Rumlow was plotting revenge with Hydrina, Galanta needed to be prepared. 

“Forgive me, but why did you pardon Lord Rumlow?” You ask, avoiding eye contact as you stroke your fingertips over the soft petals of the peonies. James’ curious gaze burns the side of your face, a short sigh escaping his lips as he rubs his stubbled jaw in thought. 

“It is complicated. He thought he had an allegiance to his father's blood in Hydrina. He thought so because Rebecca confessed that she was a witch. When he realized that Hydrina was losing the war, he came crawling back like the coward he is. He gave insider information that allowed us to succeed in the siege upon the Hydrinan capital, so unfortunately I had to pardon him.” 

“Do you have reason to believe he is still aligned with Hydrina?” You pry cautiously. You dare to look up at him, watching as his eyebrows furrow in confusion. 

“Why do you ask?” He asks, his voice low and suspicious. 

You open your mouth to reply but pause as you notice movement nearby. A few pathways across, King Harrison and Prince Michael have emerged. James’ eyes follow yours; the four of you are locked into a silent battle as King Harrison scowls in annoyance. Your hands gather your skirts, ready to make a quick departure. 

“I should tell you later. It would be improper for us to be seen together like this.” You say in a hushed tone.

Your eyes find a small path nearby, and your feet quickly move to escape the tense situation that is quickly unfolding. You move only a few steps away before James follows you, lightly grasping your forearm with his hand. You give him a bewildered look, your eyes following King Harrison as he watches the interaction with a look of outrage. 

“I do not care what King Harrison thinks. Tell me now, has Rumlow threatened you?” James asks, his voice low and urgent. 

“No. Quite the opposite.” You reply, your hands leaving your skirts. Across the garden, King Harrison and Prince Micheal had disappeared behind a group of bushes. You hope they get lost in the garden before they can interrupt your conversation. Or reprimand you. 

“What did he say?” James continues to question. His fingers carefully unwrap themselves from your arm. You stand in place, warily watching as he smooths down the fabric of your sleeve and takes a step back. 

“He wants to marry me. He wants the Falienean sailors and my name to gain dominance over the sea trade through Dorasea.” You reveal, watching as James’ forehead creases, brows knitting together in thought. 

“He wants to control all trade entering and leaving Galanta.” He states. 

“I fear this is bigger than Galanta. I believe he wants to control all imports and exports in the Northern Continent. He has the money and the men. With the legitimacy of my name and my sailors, he could start a war.” You express, your fingers twisting one of your silver rings.

“That snake.” James hisses, loathing clear in his tone. You share the sentiment.   

“Do you think he is working for Hydrina?” You inquire, watching as James turns around to stare into the bush of peonies with an irritated huff. 

“I am not sure. All evidence leads to that, but I know that he has not left Galanta in over a year. The new king of Hydrina, Zemo, does not seem particularly fond of Lord Rumlow either. This may just be a scheme to make himself important now that his reputation has been destroyed. But it is still alarming and suspicious.” He clarifies, his blue eyes boring into the layers of pink petals in front of him. 

“Regardless, I am not accepting his offer.” You reply with a sigh, lowering your shoulders as you step closer to the peonies. You watch James’ eyes snap over to you, and you wonder if the look he is giving you is one of relief. 

“No? I wouldn’t blame you if you did. It would make those lords you despise respect you.” He speaks carefully, as if gauging your reaction. You scoff with a smile, shaking your head at the king. 

“I have enough self-respect to not marry Lord Rumlow.” You chuckle, watching as he plucks one of the peonies from the bush. 

“Well, I am glad to hear it.” He hums in reply, handing you the flower with a coy smile. 

“What will you do? About Rumlow?” You ask, voice lowered. You roll the stems between your fingers, watching the flower spin. 

“I fear I do not know, at least not now.” He sighs. You tilt your head, looking up at him through your lashes. 

“I have every belief it will be fine.” You say, watching as the distressed look on his face melts, replaced by a soft smile. 

“With your help, I am sure it will.”

chapter four

taglist| @kimomoraba @gostodosopa @sweetwritingfanficfriend

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

How am I supposed to wait MONTHS for season 2, now that I have a glimpse of it??? Oh, I will wither away in front of my screen by then *insert dramatic fainting*

/j

On a lighter note, you are a gift for this fandom and I appreciate all your work<3. Hope you have a nice day:)

Hiya! :) We just have to take one ineffable day at a time! :) Ooooh thank you so muuch!  😊❤

[starzy-drawz]

hi uhm, this chapter is ALOT <3

4 | Appearances

TW’s are in this chapter so uh yip (I’m putting the cut thingy)

Several Years Later

Summer was back in bloom, and there were hardly anymore kids being born. The adults were nervous now that Mothra had been left to live with her marking, as if it was really her fault.

Though, everyday she felt like she was going to pay for that mark. Her father made sure of that.

"Cursed child!" Azar screamed, hitting her with his wings into the floor. "It's your fault that your mother left!" He continued. Mothra winced, her head tilting upward to see her father. She had bruises on her knees, hands, and elbows all the time, a constant pain.

Azar soon left, leaving her alone in the nest again. That's how everyday began and the pain level was different, sometimes it was an easy pain she could get over but other days it was much worse.

Today was a much worse day, but she picked herself off the floor anyways. Mothra brushed off the dust from her wings, letting them expand and shimmer in the morning sun.

Once she bandaged herself up with vines and leaves, she took in the fresh summer air. A gentle reminder that she was still alive despite her not knowing the reason.

The other kids looked at her strangely as she walked past. She didn't mind, or at least that's what she told herself, she had become accustomed to this way of life. She was the only Daku-Moth left until the next mating season.

Mothra kept walking to the beach, finding Saki already waiting for her. Saki and her had been collect herbs and shells on the beach for months, the elder had said it was for the gods or something.

Mothra didn't understand it much but she knew she was related to them through her mother. "Good morning," Saki said happily, giving her a smile.

"Morning," Mothra muttered, taking a silk-like bag from Saki and putting it around her waist. Saki noticed her bandages but said nothing. Every morning, Saki thought.

"Come along, we have much to do," Saki murmured as she led the way. Mothra obliged, shuffling her way across the sand.

It was always quiet in the beginning of their day, though sooner or later, they'd find something to talk about.

Mothra plucked the herbs from the trees,  select few withering away in her hand— much to her dismay. "Curses," she muttered.

Saki looked over, "Are you alright?"

Mothra groaned, rubbing her face. "No, the herbs keep burning up in my hand," she then kicked the sand.

"How much have you collected?"

"Five herbs, the rest are withering," Mothra replied. Saki took off a few more herbs from the tree then placed them in the basket attached to her waist. The elder turned and walked over, grabbing Mothra's hands. "Miss Saki—"

"—Look," Saki stated. Mothra was confused, staring blankly at the moth in front of her.  "You don't wither away the people you care about, that's the extent of your power." Saki released Mothra's hands, "Extend that side to the plants, you want the herbs to heal us and make the gods happy right?"

Mothra hummed in response, "Good, so then, try it." Saki ordered. Mothra turned her attention back to the plants before her, reaching her hand out and focused all of the care and kindness she had her heart to go to her hands.

She slowly plucked the herbs again, finally able to retrieve several at a time. Mothra gasped and smiled, "Saki! Do you see—"

"—Focus child," she replied, not giving Mothra the attention she wanted. Regardless, Mothra went back to work happily.

Saki sighed, smiling a little at Mothra (unbeknownst to her, of course) as she continued to collect the herbs. Though, as she started doing this, her mind began to wander to a talk from a few days ago.

.

.

"So, Saki, how is she?" Kenji asked, sitting on a grassy bed before her.

"I assume she's fine, besides the scars her father leaves her," Saki muttered. Kenji nodded in acknowledgment, "Her powers are growing but I feel as though they're changing as well."

Kenji leaned forward, "Changing?"

Saki signed, placing her hands on her lap. She shifted uncomfortably on her own bed. "Well, it seems that her power affects things she doesn't have a care for— plants and shells, the thing we wanted her to collect while we figure out what he want her to truly do," Saki rubbed the back of her neck. "However, I've noticed that when it comes to me or Aspen, her power doesn't affect us and I don't believe it has anything to do with us being Akari's children," Saki concluded as her gaze fell on the elder.

Kenji took in this information carefully, unsure of how to use it. "Thank you, Saki. I'll keep it in mind."

.

.

Saki shook her head, and focused on anything else besides whatever fate Mothra may face. It didn't stop though.

Once Saki was frustrated enough, she sat down the basket. "Let's take a break," she told Mothra.

"Oh? Okay, it's kind of early though," Mothra murmured but she sat down on the sand with Saki. "Everything alright?" She asked.

Saki chuckled, "I should be asking you that question," she whispered.

Mothra looked down at her bandages for a moment and turned her head away. "It's nothing," she muttered.

Saki sighed and carefully grabbed the younger moths forearm, unwrapping her bandages. A golden string crept around Mothra's arms then to the rest of her body, healing her wounds.

"Thanks," Mothra whispered, not looking at Saki out of embarrassment. "We should get back to work," she stated as she stood up.

Saki winced, How can she keep her head up so high? She thought and joined her as they collected shells and herbs.

𑁍

As Mothra walked around the main gathering area, she noticed the trees beginning to glow and dance in the wind. Midnight, she said, glancing up at the moon.

Everyone was gathered in this place tonight after they had received news of a mass die off of Kaiju in the most recent battle against the MUTO army.

As far as Mothra knew, it seemed like everyone was at war with the MUTOs— no matter how far you were. You weren't safe.

Aspen poked at her arm, "Are you alright?"

"Huh? Oh, yes. I'm quite fine, come on," Mothra replied as she led the way to her spot with her father. Aspen and his family always stood with them, it was the only time her father didn't want a hit or scream at her.

Tonight was about prayers and showing the gods that they needed aid, and that the people of the war were in danger if the gods didn't step in.

Divine Moths were always known for their songs and when they would sing, it seemed like nature responded to their calls with lights and calls of its own.

Mothra scratched her arm nervously, continuing to sing along with all them. Something didn't feel right, then again, most days didn't feel right.

She glanced up at the sky momentarily, sensing a weird presence in the air. The sky flickered and changed color, it wasn't black but rather a purplish-blue.

When she looked down, the ground beneath resembled glass. The people around her didn't reflect in the glass, only her as she stood with her father.

All in an instant, the purple-hued sky and glass-like flooring disappeared and returned to its natural view.

What was that? Mothra questioned, trying to focus back on the song. She saw Aspen glancing over at her, and it made her anxiety bubble in her stomach more. Focus, don't get caught acting out. She reminded. Aspen turned back to the tree.

The song picked up as a white light formed at the base of Aethymia tree, which was the Divine Moths best connection for contacting the gods. It looked like a wisteria willow but its power was much greater than its twin.

The voices went silence as a white mist floated in front of them all. Mothra's eyes landed on it, and suddenly her ears rang loudly. The sky flashed purple again, doing it over and over again— making her eyes shut tightly.

"Don't fear me," a voice told her. "Relax in my presence."

Mothra gasped quietly, "it's that voice again— is the mist you?" She knew she had telepathic abilities but didn't they'd help with her speaking to a spirit.

"Gatix! We come praying for the lives lost and the lives suffering in the wars destroying grasp!" yelled an elder, who happened to be directly in front of the mist on his knees.

Gatix? Mothra questioned in her mind as she watched the mist form into a moth. She was much larger than them anyone there, standing on two legs just like the Akari-Moths and Mothra— the last Daku-Moth.

The elders were all quiet. "Your prayers are heard," it was a deeper feminine voice than the normal ones Mothra heard daily.

"Mother, please have mercy on all of us," another elder murmured.

The glowing white moth twitched, the soft grey-blue eyes shifting momentarily to Mothra (or at least she thought) and then back to the elders.

"Mercy comes at a price, for you must watch your tongue and remember why you are here," Gatix replied. The elders all turned to each other in confusing. "Farewell," was all she said after.

The elders and everyone else watched as she disappeared, all confused and looking around in either fright or wonder.

Mothra glanced up at the sky again, it faded back to black and amongst the stars, she saw a white butterfly flying away.

"Will I be okay?" Mothra asked the goddess, understanding that telepathy was the best form of communication.

"Trust me," Gatix paused, "you'll be fine."

Everyone slowly began leaving and Mothra didn't hear the voice anymore. It seemed a heavy shock and disappointment hung over the crowd.

Aspen gingerly walked off with his family, which left Mothra alone with her father.

"Father?"

Azar turned to her, a scowl on his face. "What?"

"May I stay here a little longer?" Mothra was trying her best to remain polite and calm, but she had the feeling her father wanted to smack her.

"Fine, but be quick and come home when you're done," Azar replied as he walked off.

Mothra waited by the Aethyemia tree until everyone was gone. The silent night falling over her and the world.

She hopped down from the small cobblestone stage that had been built around the base and stood before the tree and its swaying leaves.

"I know you left but maybe you could come back?" Mothra murmured, her purple wings gleaming beneath the glow of the tree. "I used to think you didn't exist, I mean they spoke of you in folktales but I never thought..." Mothra's voice trailed off.

What was the point?

Did she have one?

Why would a god speak to her?

Mothra sighed, hanging her head. "I don't know why you spoke to me, but I'm sure you have your reasons my lady," she spoke.

"Oh, she did," said a male voice behind her. Mothra whipped around and saw a moth similar to her, much taller and darker. "Hello, Mothra."

"How do— Who are you?" She muttered, backing up into the stone stage.

"You don't know your grandfather?"

"Eep!" Mothra jumped and flapped her wings, moving far enough between the both of the moths. An Akari-Moth stood on the stage, she was bigger as well and definitely brighter than anyone else she had seen.

Her wings had orange and yellow ascents, a few blue colors thrown into the mix. "Then again, you were so young," the male said.

Mothra combed through her mind, trying to remember anything her mother could have said. But nothing came up.

"You know your faction types correct?" The girl asked, and Mothra nodded. "Well then, you're off to a great start! I am Akari: goddess of life, the sun, prophecies, healing, and the list goes on!" Akari said with a giggle and a flicker of her wings.

The darker moth sighed, "Akari is also your grandmother, like me— your grandfather. I am Daku: god of death, the moon, and I'm sure the rest you know."

Mothra's gaze kept running between the two. "My grandparents? On my mother's side?"

"Yes," Daku replied, folding his arms. "Gods, you really don't know much."

Mothra nodded, "I can agree with that. Though, why did you both show up now?"

Akari sat down on the stage, "Well, life as a god is busy." She stated as she stretched out her wings. "But we wished to see you, and since Gatix showed herself— We thought we might as well."

Mothra smiled a little, glancing up at the sky once again and noticing that it changed briefly. Akari and Daku seemed to notice her actions.

“Gatix was right,” Akari said telepathically to her soulwing.

Daku shook out his wings a little, "I know, but what if she gets hurt worse?" He relief.

"She can handle it, or at least that's what Gatix said," Akari replied. The moth then slid off the stage, and stood a few inches away from Mothra. She opened her arms and wings as if she was ready to receive a hug. Daku did the same. Then, they waited.

Mothra titled her head. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Hug us silly! Which ever one you feel closest to!" Akari chirped, giggling softly.

"Can I hug you both? I've never seen you two before and... I know mom would want me to hug you both." Mothra stated, her wings folding around her torso.

Akari and Daku glanced up at each other, then slowly came to Mothra and put their arms around her. Akari's forehead pressed against the left side of Mothra's head, meanwhile Daku's forehead pressed against the right.

For once, Mothra felt warm inside and she felt safe within their arms. It's almost like she could fall asleep within their presence or she could do whatever she wished with them nearby.

"Goodnight, Mosura." Their voices intertwined. It was sweet and she wanted to stay like this forever.

———

A/N: you all are welcome for the angst <3

PREVIOUS PARTS

- Pt. 0 & 1: https://www.tumblr.com/starzy-drawz/737712784729571329/0-monarch-file-61

- Pt. 2: https://www.tumblr.com/starzy-drawz/737713442358755328/note-tws-from-the-terms-and-disclaimers-are

- Part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/starzy-drawz/746441149199302656/3-the-lie

[wheneclipsefalls]

HEY BOO😘😘

HOW ARE YA DOING!? HERE I AM, ALIVE AND STILL STANDING!!! HOPE YA TOO!!! Um, wait, let's get into the topic first btw!

It's the last season of 2023, and I have something in mind I wanna gift it to you on December 25th... But I would like to know if you'd like it first though —— I've been thinking of the troupe Alpha!Neteyam's (from Withered) and how would they work, including Unip (which I didn't visualize it as I believe you have your own concept of him) — Here's the thing: can I write it down and gift it to you for Christmas? Considers it a connection between both of us, the 🥔 & 🌗. If you love it, I would find my time to perfect it for ya💕💕, and if it's okay, to know about Unip? I wouldn't want to drift away from his personal dynamics🥺🥺

Once again! It's almost that time of year! Be sure to stay warm, eat healthy, keep hydrated and have nap more often! I ❤️ YA!!! 🫂🫶🤞🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

— 🥔-anon

Hello my love! Oh my goodness I would love that! Kind of a coincidence because I have been thinking about Withered a lot recently since I've officially started the one shot on Neteyam's rut for that couple.

Unip doesn't have a lot of details about him but I do want to make it clear that he holds nothing against the reader. His brief appearance is to show that there are people out there who worry about Neteyam and have doubts about his ability to make this tricky relationship work. Of course once the two become mated he drops the subject and comes to accept that Neteyam will do whatever he sees as best.

Were Neteyam to find out about Lo'ak and Unip's conversation and how that was what set reader off into a spiral he would be livid with the two. However, reader is not the type of person to tattle on them. Truthfully they weren't doing anything wrong, but she knows how protective Neteyam can be and that he would most likely chew them out for the instance. Unip and Lo'ak have carried on blissfully unaware that they had anything to do with the seperation.

I'm glad you are alive and doing well, baby! Make sure to take care of yourself. As always, I love hearing from you<3

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

India Lima Yankee - Chapter 29

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 2104

Warnings: A little bit of dirty talk, mention of death

Summary: Juliette Kazansky discovers Maverick is back in town for a special training detachment, but she's more than a little blindsided when Rooster arrives too. Having not spoken to him for almost ten years after their less than amicable break-up, Juliette can only imagine how the next few weeks are going to play out when she remains head over heels in love with him while he wants nothing to do with Juliette other than to forget her.

Or so she thinks.

Notes: Chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: Wolves Born for This Born Ready

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13 Chp 14 Chp 15 Chp 16 Chp 17 Chp 18 Chp 19 Chp 20 Chp 21 Chp 22 Chp 23 Chp 24 Chp 25 Chp 26 Chp 27 Chp 28 Chp 29

Rooster

The mood amongst the pilots was more subdued than usual. Even Hangman remained quiet while waiting for Maverick to arrive. The only person missing from the group besides their captain was Juliette. Despite declaring she'd attend today, Rooster had his doubts. He knew all too well how one felt after losing a parent. He remembered barely being able to sit up, let alone get ready for school. Had it not been for Maverick and Juliette, Rooster would've laid in bed, allowing himself to wither away and die from grief himself after his mom passed. 

Bradley would much rather have stayed at his girlfriend's house than come to training, if not just to be with her and savor the remaining time they had left before he was shipped off. However, he'd made Juliette a promise to come back, and in order to do so, he needed to nail the practice missions in the slim event he was chosen for the actual one.

Still, Rooster worried about her. He pulled out his phone and shot Juliette a text, asking if she was still coming to training. A few minutes passed by without a response, so he assumed she'd fallen back asleep. Juliette needed it, considering how early she'd gotten up that morning.

The clock struck 0800 hours, and Maverick remained nowhere to be seen. Part of Rooster was relieved. He still harbored a deep resentment for the seasoned aviator, so not having him here allayed those feelings. On the other hand, it wasn't like him not to be here already. He was always early, and not for the first time since their falling out, Rooster worried about where Maverick was, about his wellbeing.

Scanning the room, Bradley noticed Hondo in the back. If Hondo was here, surely Maverick would be too? But the long face on the aviator's right-hand man sent an ominous foreboding down Rooster's spine. When Cyclone walked in a few seconds later, the sensation only grew.

"Captain Mitchell is no longer your instructor," Cyclone informed, taking a stance in front of the room. Everyone shifted in their seats, looking around in confusion and silently asking: what happened to Maverick? Cyclone, either not noticing or not caring about the unrest, continued, "And as of today, there are new mission parameters. Time to target is now four minutes. You'll be entering the valley level at reduced speed, not to exceed 420 knots." 

Everyone looked at each other for a second time, doubt now mixed in with their confusion. To Rooster's surprise, it was Bob who spoke up. "But sir, won't we be giving their planes time to intercept?"

"Well, Lieutenant, you have a fighting chance against enemy aircraft. What are the odds of surviving a head-on collision with a mountain?" Cyclone countered, bracing himself against the podium. "You'll be attacking the target from a higher altitude, level with the north wall. It'll be a little harder to keep your laser on the target, but you will avoid the high-G climb out."

"We'll be sitting ducks for enemy missiles," Fanboy whispered to Payback, just loud enough for Rooster to hear. He had to agree. As much as he hated to admit it, Bradley realized that the best, possibly the only way to navigate the course successfully and survive it was to do it Maverick's way.

Rooster's eyes drifted from Cyclone to the computer screen when it shifted without warning, tracking... was that a plane? Evidently not the only one perplexed by this, Rooster noticed everyone lean forward in their seats out of his peripheral, and Cyclone demanded, "Who the hell is that?"

"Maverick to Range Control." Pete Mitchell's familiar voice came over the radio, and Bradley almost wanted to laugh. He should've known. Who else would steal a plane to make a point after being grounded? "Entering point Alpha. Confirm green range."

A very bewildered air traffic controller responded, "Uh, Maverick, Range Control. Uh, green range is confirmed. I don't see an event scheduled for you, sir?"

"Well," Maverick began nonchalantly, "I'm going anyway."

"Nice," Phoenix breathed, smiling to herself.

"Setting time to target: two minutes and fifteen seconds."

"Two-fifteen? That's impossible," Payback remarked, so far off his seat that the only thing supporting him might as well have been his legs.

"Follow tag point. Maverick's inbound. You ready, Princess?"

Rooster's heart nearly leaped out of his chest at the sound of Juliette's calm voice replying, "Show them what you've got, Mav."

Juliette probably regretted saying those words because the speed of Captain Mitchell's plane dramatically increased. Rooster watched as the jet crossed the threshold of starting point, and the countdown began. Maverick flew through the simulated canyon at a speed that made Rooster's head spin. Had it been anyone but Mav, he would've been terrified for Juliette's safety, but she acted wholly unfazed, calmly marking off when they reached the two-minute mark, then the one-minute mark. Finally, as they neared the mountain, Maverick said, "Popping in three, two, one!"

"Thirty seconds, Mav!" Juliette informed, her voice strained against the intense pressure as the jet climbed up at an immense speed before Maverick inverted and dove down, righting themselves back up. Rooster was amazed at the both of them, his captain for pulling this off and his girlfriend for staying conscious and coherent during the entire thing.

"Bombs away!" Maverick announced, snapping his jet upward.

"Ah, shit, here we go again," Juliette muttered, and Rooster could only imagine what was going through her head. The last time she'd been in this position had been with Coyote, and she'd nearly died. She might've been with Maverick, but Rooster had no doubt it was still at the forefront of her mind. 

"Ten seconds," Juliette said weakly, evidently barely staying conscious. "Five seconds. You've... got this... Mav!" 

Maverick released the second wave of missiles. Rooster swore time slowed down as he watched the projectiles, on a dead straight course for the target, race the rapidly counting down timer.

Three...

Two...

One...

The missiles smoked the target, and the timer stopped at 00.16 seconds. Maverick had done it with milliseconds to spare. Everyone stood up, an involuntary reaction at what they'd just witnessed. It was reserved Omaha who exclaimed in confirmation, "Bullseye! Holy shit!" 

The squadron exchanged looks of disbelief and happiness, and Rooster noticed Warlock discreetly shake his fist in secret victory, a small smile tugging on his lips. He might've been Cyclone's right-hand man, but he undoubtedly supported Maverick just now. He might've even had a little something to do with this...

Rooster heard Juliette laugh breathlessly over the radio and say gleefully, "Great balls of fire!"

Hey, Dad. Rooster thought, smiling to himself. Juliette had never said those words before unless she was singing, and Maverick had told only Rooster it was his dad's saying whenever they did something cool or ballsy back in the day, which had probably been often. Juliette should've had no reason to say that, so Rooster could only believe his father had come through her to let Mav know he was still there, that he still had his back, even in death.

"Damn," Hangman said, impressed. His statement, although simple, spoke for everyone in the room. While the others chatted excitedly about what Maverick had just pulled off, Rooster watched Cyclone and Warlock exit the room. He waited a couple of seconds before slipping into the hallway himself, taking an alternate route to the hangar to avoid being caught. He needed to see Juliette, to ask how in the hell she and Maverick pulled that off, and to determine if he was going to have to plan his time home around visiting her in prison.

Rooster rounded the corner of the hangar and nearly stepped into the peripheral of Cyclone and Warlock, the former looking ready to blow a gasket as he ordered irately, "Get your asses out of that flight gear and up to my office. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," Maverick and Juliette's voices replied simultaneously. Rooster couldn't see them, so he assumed they were behind the stack of boxes. Warlock and Cyclone strode off. Bradley waited for them to disappear from view before he padded quietly over to the women's locker room and slipped inside, calling out quietly, "Jules?!"

Juliette's head popped out from behind a row of lockers, her brow furrowed. "Rooster? What are you doing here?"

He rushed over to his girlfriend, skidding to a stop in front of her. All words died in his throat at the sight of Juliette's outfit. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest and asked, "Are you here to yell at me?"

"I mean, I was going to ask what the hell you were thinking, but it's hard to be mad at you when you're in your underwear." Rooster couldn't stop his eyes from trailing down her body, but he immediately brought them back up. He might've seen her in less than this before, but they'd just started dating, and Rooster wasn't sure how comfortable Juliette would be with him ogling her perfect body.

"Noted for future reference," she replied, her voice tinged with amusement. "But for the record, I called in one of my dad's favors. I'll call in a couple more to get myself out of trouble."

Rooster stared at his girlfriend with a mixture of awe and slight terror. What kind of power did she hold that she wasn't afraid of the repercussions of what she'd just done? "Well, then. Mark me down as scared and horny."

Juliette let out a small burst of genuine laughter, and it simultaneously warmed Rooster's soul and calmed his nerves to hear it. She acted wholly unfazed by what she'd done, and surely, if she was this confident in her ability to get away with it, then who was he to doubt her?

Allowing himself to breathe, Rooster sat on the bench, letting Juliette finish getting dressed. If Cyclone hadn't been expecting her, Bradley would've pulled her into his arms and kissed her senseless, letting his hands travel down her sides and to the backs of her bare thighs and-

"It's not hard to know what you're thinking of," Juliette teased, lightly knocking her finger underneath his chin, causing him to realize his eyes had been staring directly at her butt. Heat rose in his cheeks as he averted his gaze, looking at everything but her. His reaction must've prompted her to say, "I don't care if you look. It's not like you haven't seen me in less."

"I know, but I wasn't sure how you felt about- I mean, it's been-"

"Let me put it this way-" Juliette, now wearing pants, stood between his legs and cupped his cheeks, lifting his face upward so she could meet his eyes- "if I didn't have to go get my ass chewed out by Cyclone right now, I would let you do what was on your mind."

Juliette bent down and kissed him, adding, "Unfortunately, I do have to get my ass chewed out, so I'll need to ask for a rain check."

"I don't know how you're going to get out of this, but just make sure that when I come home from deployments, I get to see you at home and not in prison," Rooster requested, bracing his head against her stomach. "I'd rather not have to schedule conjugal visits."

Juliette snorted. "Don't worry. I know what I'm doing, believe it or not."

"You better get going," Rooster said, standing up and pecking her on the lips. "Don't want to give Cyclone any more reasons to be mad at you."

"I'll see you later?"

"I'll meet you in the break room." Exchanging their love and bidding each other goodbye, Rooster leaned against the locker as he watched Juliette strut away, too confidently for someone who had just helped steal an F-18. It'd been so long that he'd forgotten how loyal Juliette could be. If she loved you, if she cared for you, there was nothing Jules wouldn't do for you, and she always found ways to get what she needed to accomplish what she wanted. What Juliette had just done for Maverick proved as such.

Rooster also reminded himself that as much as his girlfriend was Iceman's daughter, she'd been raised alongside Maverick just like he had, and she'd obviously learned more than a thing or two from him, including how to get away with things that no one else could. How she did it, Bradley would never know, but he wouldn't complain. Still, he started to wonder who would put him in his early grave first: Juliette or Maverick?

***

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[pugzman3]

John 5:1-17 KJV

1 After this there was a feast of the Jews; and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.

2 Now there is at Jerusalem by the sheep market a pool, which is called in the Hebrew tongue Bethesda, having five porches.

3 In these lay a great multitude of impotent folk, of blind, halt, withered, waiting for the moving of the water.

4 For an angel went down at a certain season into the pool, and troubled the water: whosoever then first after the troubling of the water stepped in was made whole of whatsoever disease he had.

5 And a certain man was there, which had an infirmity thirty and eight years.

6 When Jesus saw him lie, and knew that he had been now a long time in that case, he saith unto him, Wilt thou be made whole?

7 The impotent man answered him, Sir, I have no man, when the water is troubled, to put me into the pool: but while I am coming, another steppeth down before me.

8 Jesus saith unto him, Rise, take up thy bed, and walk.

9 And immediately the man was made whole, and took up his bed, and walked: and on the same day was the sabbath.

10 The Jews therefore said unto him that was cured, It is the sabbath day: it is not lawful for thee to carry thy bed.

11 He answered them, He that made me whole, the same said unto me, Take up thy bed, and walk.

12 Then asked they him, What man is that which said unto thee, Take up thy bed, and walk?

13 And he that was healed wist not who it was: for Jesus had conveyed himself away, a multitude being in that place.

14 Afterward Jesus findeth him in the temple, and said unto him, Behold, thou art made whole: sin no more, lest a worse thing come unto thee.

15 The man departed, and told the Jews that it was Jesus, which had made him whole.

16 And therefore did the Jews persecute Jesus, and sought to slay him, because he had done these things on the sabbath day.

17 But Jesus answered them, My Father worketh hitherto, and I work.

[mejomonster]

Yall weren't lying about Tantai Jun being a Disney princess type

He reminds me more of Regina Mills from Once Upon a Time though like

1. Disney princess but not planned for a happy ending but instead to become like or crueler than those who hurt him

2. He's already past Regina at that age, he killed a dude with a wasp! (Phenomenal btw)

3. The crow is basically conditioning him to give up his body and soul to the devil inside when hes at his worst life moment???

4. I hope we get to see SOME earlier flashback where it shows when he started talking to the devil thing smoke face guy about giving it himself when he's ready to die and gain power. Like was a 2 year old him oddly comforted by that once upon a time? Or a 4 year old him afraid, but over the years he realized the "devil he knew" who said exactly what it'd do to him and how he would benefit would be WAY better than the current people hurting him? Was he gently coaxed a little more every year until the face finally put death on the table? I want to know how he got to the point of being convinced to give himself to it when he dies. Also! Maybe it wasn't even there as a child, it's not part of his devil bone, and it's actually an outside entity enticed by his Very Compatible Devil Body to want to possess him. In which case how did he get convinced to trust it. Also HOW is rhe crow involved. I love the crow! It's like 1 part Disney princess companion but the evil henchman ones instead, and 1 part the crow from Sandman.

5. I love that he is actually already with a plan. It's not actually take it until dead. It's "die on my own terms and gain magic power and emotional numbness and get worldwide revenge" if he DOES wither away, and in the meanwhile figure out what to do next while alive. (Which I mean yes ouat went Wild with the writing but in season 1 some old notable things I remember was a Snow White who had her own plan, just in general the vibe of even if a damsel imprisoned people were generally thinking about what to do) I appreciate that Tantai Jin is smarter than just waiting to die as plan A.

6. Love Susu? I love? I love that she's fulfilling this typical Heroic Good Xianxia Heroine role but like. Idk the role feels written FOR AN ADULT. I don't know how to explain just.. often xianxia will start with a teen girl heroine. An innocent one who doesn't know about sex and crushes much yet, or the idea of actual political marriage and dynamics is irritating to her even if her parents had one etc. Susu immediately sees her clan (and the world?) die so she's not innocent in the sense of no destruction yet, she is aware of the outcome and the stakes and a heroine with total awareness of WHY she must succeed. She's already a skilled fighter, and though she loses her powers as a mortal, her knowledge means she's still more competent then the cultivators in the human realm she runs into, aware of how to handle demons, aware of how to judge people's strengths and weak points, she's more like watching a sect shi-jie save the world than the usual younger disciple setting out. Not quite a sect elder, but someone already established with skills and years of practice and competence and awareness of the stakes she faces. I love that while we don't know her personal romantic past yet, that adult feel of her carries into her treatment of marriage and family. She can judge the family she transmigrated into logically instead of taking it personal like she's really the human now... instead of making enemies with the sister or being apologetic she can try and be level headed, she can use the cruel reputation of the human to help her when needed, or shift her political weight for positive change. She is aware to get background info on people instead of floundering trying to adapt. She is not shy around a supposed husband and her only awkwardness with Tantai Jin IS REMEMBERING WHAT AWFUL STUFF HE DID TO HER LOVED ONES which is fair and a response that's expected. She's not worried to be flirtatious or blush, she can jump into "this human spouse ordered him around and hurt or was solely able to protect him" role and not be bogged down by a shy or awkwardness of like "Oh how could i/I don't love him/I shouldn't see him so intimately blah blah" (which is probably partly why she was cast, bai lu plays very straightforward and not shy or hesitant in The Legends even when she is playing basically a young somewhat naive xianxia hero). It's just like. Refreshing (for my tastes in a show anyway lol) that our heroine feels like an adult with experience trying to save the world. I didn't realize how much I enjoy when lead characters don't blush and act all shy and worried about politeness until I get lucky with finding them (xuanji was innocent xianxia hero girl but honestly her lack of Care for such usual behavior was also nice)

7. I love enemies to loverssss

[tldhf]

Day of Prayer (04/12/24)

Psalm 1

[1] Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked, nor stands in the way of sinners , nor sits in the seat of scoffers; [Walking in the way of the Lord is good, seeking to do what is pleasing to Him. We do this by listening not to the sinful deception of the world, but rather Godly counsel and biblical truth from God's word. We must not stand or align with sin or what the sinful world says, but rather with the truth in God's word. We also must not sit or stoop down to the level of those who scoff or dismiss the truth, but rather rest in our faith in What we know to be true.]

[2] but his delight is in the Law of the Lord, and on His law he meditates day and night. [We must delight or enjoy and turn to the law of the Lord, keeping it constantly on our minds.]

[3] He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in its season, and its leaf does not wither. In all that he does, he prospers. [If we seek the Lord and turn to His word for our truth, we will be like flourishing trees that grow near streams and never thirst or wither, even in the coldest and darkest of seasons. We will bear fruit in our time through the Lord and experience growth in all that we do.]

[4] The wicked are not so, but are like chaff that the wind drives away. [The ones who do evil and do not turn to the Lord in repentance will not be like thriving trees, but rather will be like chaff that is discarded into the wind.]

[5] Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment, nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous; [The evil ones who do not repent will not pass through judgement, they will be found guilty and as such will not join the body of the righteous ones who are justified through Christ.]

[6] for the Lord knows the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked will perish. [The Lord knows and guides the path of the righteous ones who have turned to Him, but He will not keep those who seek out evil and do not turn from their sin, they will be destroyed.]

______________________________________________________________

Lord, I adore you...

~ I adore the way you care for each and every one of your children in such personal and intimate ways. You know our needs best and meet them fully. We can trust you in all things, knowing that you not only can meet our needs, but also that you enjoy doing so. ~ I adore you for being so unconditional with your love. It doesn't matter how "good" of a Christian I have or haven't been, you still love and bless and discipline me all the same. My works have no bearing on the blessings you lavish upon me. I cannot earn them or your love, but I also cannot lose them or do anything that will remove your love from me. What a glorious gift this is. ~ I adore you for being so faithful to provide us not just with what we want, but also what we truly need. Not just physical things of the world, but also things we need deep in our spirits and souls; like healing, love, discernment, conviction, and satisfaction of our deepest desires in a way that nothing else in this world can. Not just our wants and needs, but also true purpose for our lives in building the kingdom while we're here on earth. Not just a life and beautiful creation to enjoy and thrive in now, but also an eternity of perfection, with you, to look forward to. We will always be in want in this life, because our souls have a longing to be with you, but even so, you still grant us contentment while we wait to be with you. You are so faithful to us, Father.

Lord I confess to you...

~ I confess that I am so quick to see what lacks in my life rather than what is so plentiful. There is much to be grateful for that I all too often take for granted and do not thank you for. I look for things to be wrong rather than for the things that are right. I seek out what is not how I want it to be rather than trying to see how it could be what you want it to be and how that is good because you are. Please forgive my ingratitude and open my eyes to your goodness rather than my selfish desires for more and more. Let my heart be full of thanksgiving for you and the cross and all that you have blessed me with. ~ Father I confess that I do what is right in my own eyes. I have been foolish and sought to do and emulate what I think is good in life rather than what you say is at times. I want to seek you, but often find myself wondering along a self created path that I have merely labeled as a path you created. Please forgive me for my self deception, self reliance, and utter foolishness. Turn my eyes to you. Let my path truly be one of your creation and my let my guide be the light of your truth rather than my thoughts or feelings. ~ I confess, that I have been so distracted from you Lord. I have let idols creep in and given precedence to other things over you. The top priority to me has rarely been you and because of this I have not been spending time with you in the way that I truly need to. My soul has not been fed your word and your truth, but rather has been gorged on things of this world and my own sinfully selfish desires. The time you bless me with has been selfishly used and even wasted as I fill it with things that waste away and do not matter or bring you glory.

Ephesians 5:15-17 [15] Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, [16] making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. [17] Therefore do not be foolish but understand what the will of the Lord is.

Father, forgive me for not making time to sit in your presence and enjoy you. Forgive me for not looking carefully at how I walk and for using time so poorly. Help me Father to walk as a wise woman, and to seek understanding of what your will is rather than falling into foolish pursuits of my own making. Please help me to lay aside my idols and give you preeminence in my life. Let my thoughts be saturated with you, Lord. Let my heart be full of joy at your truth and goodness and be content with what you have set before me rather than constantly seeking to fill itself with all the world has to offer. Father, please wrap me up in yourself and draw me to you. Please be gentle with me and nourish my soul with your truths.

Lord, I give thanks to you...

~ Though I simply do not in any way deserve it, you have saved me and granted me true salvation that cannot and will not ever be removed or taken from me. I have done nothing to deserve it or to be worthy of your sacrifice for me, but yet you still choose to lavish your mercy and grace upon me, daily. You have removed the guilt of my sin from me fully, even though I yet still struggle against the sinful desires of my flesh. You have given me the strength and will to fight my sin and have opened my eyes to the places in my soul that are being rotted by sin. It is not an easy battle, but you do not leave me to fight it alone, rather you join me in the fight and give me all that I need to fight it well. Thank you granting us your armor and the sword, to both defend and attack the enemy.

Ephesians 6:10-18 [10] Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. [11] Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. [12] For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. [13] Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. [14] Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, [15] and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. [16] In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one; [17] and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, [18] praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end, keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints...

I thank you Lord for my husband, for my friends and community, for my family, and for the sweet critters I get to care for in my home. I thank you for the gift of stewarding the girls I have gotten to minister to during my time on staff with CO. I thank you for the season of ministry that I have gotten to experience, even with its hardships. All that I have gotten to see and the ways this time has grown me are invaluable and simply irreplaceable. Thank you for it all Lord.

[dfroza]

have you grown a vineyard in your inner garden?

[Anam Cara Ministries]

Midday Meditation: What season is your inner garden in, when it comes to hope? It may match the external season (whether that is the delight/weariness of midsummer heat or the seemingly barren/restful wait of winter, depending on your hemisphere!), or it may not.

Spend some time in the garden of your heart today. What is the state of hope in your garden this Monday in July? Is it still a seed you planted long ago, waiting and waiting for it to show its leaves aboveground? Is it just beginning to sprout, tender and vulnerable? Is it something that has already borne much fruit, but currently seems to be in a kind of withered state? Can you look at whatever stage you discover without judgment? Simply noticing the life of hope in you, and letting it be?

What would it be to take the next step of cultivating hope (particularly if it seems like the seeds never sprouted, or the plants withered away to nothingness years ago!)? Talk to God about whatever you see in your garden today, and about your desire for it (or lack thereof).

7.24.23 • Facebook

(Are you a peace seeker?)

Does a spring gush crystal clear freshwater and moments later spurt out bitter salt water? My brothers and sisters, does a fig tree produce olives? Is there a grapevine capable of growing figs? Can salt water give way to freshwater?

Who in your community is understanding and wise? Let his example, which is marked by wisdom and gentleness, blaze a trail for others. If your heart is one that bleeds dark streams of jealousy and selfishness, do not be so proud that you ignore your depraved state. The wisdom of this world should never be mistaken for heavenly wisdom; it originates below in the earthly realms, with the demons. Any place where you find jealousy and selfish ambition, you will discover chaos and evil thriving under its rule. Heavenly wisdom centers on purity, peace, gentleness, deference, mercy, and other good fruits untainted by hypocrisy. The seed that flowers into righteousness will always be planted in peace by those who embrace peace.

The Letter of James, Chapter 3:11-18 (The Voice)

the ‘god’ of this cursed world, a fallen prince of darkness was created as good but fell into pride against our Creator along with other spirits who rebelled. denying that the influence of evil exists in this world is obvious ignorance. death has already been defeated through the sacred Blood of Yeshua our Messiah to bring the peace of God into the heart and the promised rebirth of the body, but we still have to live in a world that bears the curse of sin and pride until its cleansing, until the world is Judged and Yeshua returns as King.

And so in the [here, & now] of the meantime we are to focus upon the good fruits of heavenly wisdom by planting seeds of peace and embracing it.