#and all of them have been easy to pay attention to/understand except my old lady lit teacher

[aeempress]

Apritello Express Evidences, part 3

Apritello, my dear friends, is really all hints, devil in details, little pieces that, in the end, become a huge picture.

I can't say that there are a lot of episodes with April and Donnie spending quality time together, no. But all episodes are important to understand how their relationship are involving, growing. If you have sharp eyes and think about all of this even a little bit, you will be surprised how gracefully their relationship changes and grows, how characters evolve.

Dear passengers, we're about to start. Mind the gap!

Episodes “The Gumbus” and “Mrs. Cuddles”. 

I think it would be appropriate to analyze these episodes in bunch, because they have common situations of spooky supernatural stuff and reactions of characters to this.

When you watch these two eps in raw, it's easy to see how alike are reactions of Donnie and April in some scary, really odd situations. 

Adrenaline ‘n’ reclessness

April is really into all spooky things in “The Gumbus”, she's not afraid of some creepy stuff and she's really brave girl who easily copes with stressful and life-threatening situations.

Donnie is incredibly calm and collected when alive doll talked to him.

But still, April was frightened about plush rabbit because it was really unexpected for girl, she wasn’t ready to realize that plush doll that she’d worked with is alive fear-eating monster who will hurt and intimidate to get their precious screams. But point remains: Donnie and April share crazy fearlessness, which turns into an adrenaline addiction.

And here I am, a science guy, who tell you: adrenaline is a big deal for our body. This hormone can even provoke an onset of romantic feelings. Chemistry and anatomy come to fill the gaps: when a person is afraid, their pulse quickens, a cocktail of hormones is releasing into the blood, which sharpen the senses and reflexes. It will create a strong emotional bound, that's important for maintaining romantic kind of feelings. The more impressions there are (even negative ones), the higher the chance that person will remember his|her partner, and want to see them again – the body gets hooked on adrenaline, like a drug.

That’s why D&A have so strong, unshakeable boundaries. They are so alike: their attitude to scary things, the way Donnie and April cope with them, the adrenaline addiction their share. They even express feelings the same way.

And one tiny detail: April and Donnie start the teasing Raph for his fear of mrs. Cuddles. So they become the first victims of plushie.

Friendly reminder: they were the 1st victims, and what’s happened with them we don’t know, because it wasn’t shown due to not ruin the atmosphere of suspense.

But we have a beautiful quote of mrs. Cuddles and this precious shot which explain everything

Raph: Where’s Donnie?

Cuddles: In a happy place where he’ll scream and I can grow forever and now you’re gonna join him!

In a happy place, huh? Tied up with April in Splinter’s bedroom, a really happy place. Hold a sec, are they -

And after that Donnie’s responding is killing me.

Donnie:[OS] I'm afraid of togetherness.

Yep. All normal here. We should continue.

"Operation Normal" even though doesn't show a lot of interactions between April and Donnie, however continues the general outline highlighting the topics that were mentioned earlier in the show.

Firstly, April's relationship with her classmates. We're able to see how poor her scholar life is in "Hypno Part Deux" and "The Purple Jacket". She has no "normal", human friends except some strange remora guy, more like acquaintance than friend, though. But still, having "be normal" kick she's fine with Donnie's weirdness ( Mikey is always beyond all normal comprehension, Raph goes weird while he's alone, without brothers, and his fear of miss Cuddles is no big deal to fam, Leo didn't show any weird stuff during the series, like, reeeeal weird, m'kay?).

Conversation between April and Donnie at pizza spot

Really interesting and smooth scene. We’ve got Donatello who stares at April while he’s waiting his favourite pizza, no big deal.

And his legs.

If a person is interested in you, during a conversation, they will put their right foot forward (a left-handed person is more likely to put their left foot forward) in order to close the distance between you. - Check.

being in company, peson will point the sock at the most pleasant interlocutor for them. - check.

April’s legs are ponted at Donnie. Checkmate.

Yeah, April is hanging out with Donatello and Leonardo, but the main focus of hers is on Donnie. 

All these scene makes me think that Donnie, knowing about how badly sometimes April  wants to be normal, is up to help her overcome this. Fight fire with fire:  fill up her life with all of this weird, mystic stuff so it will be normal with time. Regular people go to pizza spot to spend some quality time together, so we have pizza restaraunt here, in Hidden City. Make all odd normal, and problem will solved.

Donnie really tries his best, look at his face. Dee’s fine with all this bizzare things what happens to April, he’s fine with her. But still he fails, because April’s concept of normalcy differs drom Donnie’s.

And again, for Donnie it’s not a problem at all. He’s always was at the opposite side of normalcy and it doesn’t matter for him if April is in the same boat with him. Cause, as I said, Don’s fine with that.

Second, how much Donnie knows about April.

- Scoff! Are you really still on this whole "I want things to be normal" kick?

- Yes, what big city girl doesn't have a kayak and has hazmat suit?

Interesting detail here: this line launches Donnie’s flashback (because the first scene is from “Purple Jacket”, it’s Dee’s episode, obviously). And Don, as far as I can tell, has in his flashback moments with April when she did something reaaally impressive. His face is way more louder than any words.

- Short answer: no. Long answer: nnooooooooo.

- Oh, no! You know how April freaks out around the cosplay wizards!

These tiny lines are containing a lot of background, stories, intimate conversations that April and Donnie share. This show always does the same trick: we never see a direct action, we are only able to see a result or statement of the result. But series do a great work telling us with such small and imperceptible gestures that their bonding at this point is mutual. Not only D tells April about his inventions, family and fam's issues he has and even his falls, mistakes and failures. April does the same thing, sharing with Donatello one of the most important things to her. Problem that really bothers her.

C'mon, he'd even memorized Sunita's name, though April messed up with this situation a bit. It seems Donnie memorizes facts about April - he remembered the wi-fi password from old April's work as we can see in "The Longest fight" (he could hack it easily, he's a genius, why he's been keeping in mind some piece information that useless for a year? It doesn't make any sense)

Oh, and that. Just a coincidence, I guess?

Just alike suits, no big deal. Plus, the whole family has it (and something tells me that guys have suits at the behest of Don, so probably April does). But Donnie and April has a lot in common like emotional expressions, reaction about some kind situations, fight style and even tastes in fashion.

Also, it seems like Donnie's been watching April for sometimes.

While Leo was hiding in trash can, to not catch anyone's eye rather than April. He definitely couldn't know who was passing by, but there was Donnie to observe from above. That's why he was hanging down the stairs when Leo spoke to April.

It’s not the first time Donnie dress up as old lady to monitor April’s day.

Leo: Why do you always make us dress up as old ladies? Donnie: №1: confort, №2: to blend in as we monitor April’s day for max normalcy.

 3. Even when D took away this cosplay wizard, he's still keeping eye on her.

Oh no, you don’t. Grandmas here!

Donatello changes his foe to save April exactly. He fought all evening with Brutus, but when April slightly gets in danger, Donnie just attacked anyone who has intention to hurt her and ruin her evening.

Is that a flying turtle in an old purple dress?

April, who all evening was trying to look “normal”, hiding her real friends because they are mutant turtles and pretending that nothing unusual happens here, finally gives up when Sunita mentioned Donnie. Even though new April’s friend has asked her before about Leo.

His eyes. 

Donnie is really impressed but what he saw, and the reason - April O'Neil.

The episode "Warren & Hypno, sitting in a Tree" is another incredible piece of whole picture.

Turtle tank is decorated for April birthday in purplish scheme, definetely Donatello's work.

Dee's nonverbal speech.

• He seems more interested and softer than usual looking at April. It's easy to say comparing him with brothers. Mikey is in anticipation of fun mode, Leo relaxed and show his "whatever it will be fun" attitude, Raph is listening carefully, but still, Donnie could just turn his head in April's vouce direction, not a whole body.

• Warren felt Don's gaze while talked with April, so worm made the remark. Pay attention to the construction of the frame of neighboring scenes. The second frame is April's perspective. And Don is looking namely at her.

Indignation. Disappointment. Spark, storm, madness (i love this russian meme, sorry not sorry)

• Donnie seems sincerely sorry for this situation with April's b-day. And again, this soft gaze and "Raph, shut the shell up, your nonsense is upsetting her"-eyes.

• Donatello is kind of person, who’s avoiding a proper confrontation, so he rarely stands up for someone.  He were remaining silent, when Raphael tried to cheer April in the most radiculous way, but when Hypno tried to play with April’s feelings, Donnie blew it. 

He’s obviously in wrath as D emote that expressively. Yeah, he had much on his plate at April’s birthday, but it’s her b-day on the line, not his pride.

Warren used April, playing with her fan feelings. Her idol betrayed her, she was locked up in a cage, and now we have Hypno who wants to use her again by pitting and pushing for her compassion, because, it’s obvious - boys would do everything she said. 

And Donnie tries to keep Hypno away from her, protect her feelings from another betrayal. 

As he’s already stated - “For you, anything”.

The show always tells us: if you wanna trigger Don, bring April in. 

Hypno tried to turn this thing around, Leo did the same in “Al be back”. 

If Hypno-tamus did that accidentally as he found out that April O’ Neil is a birthday girl, so her wishes that day were laws, Leo did it on purpuse.

Leo is good at manupulating and pulling some strings, plus he knows his twin as back of his hand. That’s why Leo mentioned April in the end as she was always the most powerful argument, the reason and motive for Donnie. At second he’s even panicked, but remained calm. He almost blew up his coolheaded image because of one certain girl in yellow.

• Donnie is really happy to present Warren's arm to April. He even holds it like a rare, priceless treasure. D is really proud of himself right now: he saved the day, after all. The emotional reaction of hers is exactly what Donnie wants to get. And then, his final pose, while April is on 9th cloud from happiness - that's really territorial gesture, D claims his supremacy and confidence, telling "See? That's my happy birthday girl".

Leapfrog with a composition

Donnie and April are more and more eager to be together in the frame. Composition’s boners, m’kay.

Special ride for April

Yeah, Donnie used to offer his battleshell to give April a special ride. It even has  a seat and handlebars for her comfort. She can control the flight as well as Donatello, they are like co-pilots. But he never carried her on his back before.

Usually, April is carried by Raphael, on his neck/shoulder, and she’s fine with it. Raph is strong enough to carry her without any difficulties or slowing down.

It’s not Donnie’s weak to carry her - no, he strong enough to carry his battleshell with a lot stuff in it everyday, Don can carry Splints on his shoulder without any apparent difficulty. He strong enough to hold the weight of his battleshell+April. Oh, c’mon, D assembled the Turtle tank only by himself and this for sure requires a lot of physical strength in order to engage in auto mechanics. Try lifting the wheel with tyre, and you'll see what I mean. Of course, there is a jack, but it will not solve all the problems. Don could use hydraulics and Archimedes ' laws, but I'm sure he did most of it with his own hands. Lifting and carrying, all by himself.

Not the strengh what’s matter but another point.

The sequence where Donnie carries April on his back doesn’t last long, it’s pretty easy to miss, while Raph openly do that with April on him. 

Plus April’s gaze: she’s staring right at us with her “ninja-eyes” as if they were caught in the middle of something. The duration and length of the sequence, the way it is made all of this arouse certain thoughts. 

It’s like nobody should see this. Too personal. To be more specific - too close and intimate? 

Donnie stated a few times that he’s not into togetherness, tactile interaction and phisical side of contacts. Although he's fine with his brothers, don't forget that April is a girl. Even if she feels like part of family, she’s not his relative. She’s not his sister. 

Some people tend to avoid physical contact with the objects of their interest. And this behaviour fits in Don’s character. He’s anxious type with a lot of psychological and emotional issues. Yeah, he tries to cover it up, built a shell to protect himself, behave as confident extravert but he’s nothing like that. Sometimes D tends to distance himself from his family, to hide in his shell, and we've seen that throughout the show. 

Don hangs by his phone quite often, he addicted to this as his comfort zone, his peaceful cave, where everything is much easier,

Don pretends he’s so busy with his science stuff to ward off his brothers (ep. Mind Meld), 

Don went to the lab to work on his projects, while he could hang out with April and the brothers (ep. Mrs. Cuddles). And he left for what? To work on self-cleaning tooth pick, or the titan bust of himself? It’s seems like lame excuse to be alone. He’s definetely an intovert, who sometimes needs some space and time with himself. 

All his cocky behaviour is showing off to hide insecure, diffident and vulnerable creature, softshell purple turtle. Yeah, Donnie has confidence in what he’s great in: tech, science stuff, where he’s only one is capable of. But if someone steps on his domain or doubts his authority, his true colours exposed.

And, once again, “Mind meld” is a great evidence of that. Would callous, unsumpathetic guy without heart have a wall with pictures of his fellows? I’m afraid not. Donnie has a soft, caring heart.

There’s an alley of his the dearest moments, because photos - are always memory, precious moments we want to keep. 

1 - from “Minotaur Maze”. Don loves good pizza, loves his brothers, and they have a little adventure together. Yeah, this photo isn’t on champ wall, but still.

2 - from “Mascot melee”. Important day for bros as they show themselves to people at daylight to rescue Raph and their operation to buy a new robe for his father. It’s their joint brothers dance, and D is loving to dance, remember? Definetely special occasion.

3 - from “Mascot melee”. Splints was really glad to receive a gift from boys. And Donatello, as we know, is always eager to achive for pop’s approval. This for sure must be in his precious moments collection.

5, 7 - from “Donnie’s gifts”. He even keeps a dorky photo, which Raph uses as profile pic at Donnie’s number.

8, 9 - “Down with the sickness”. It was funny to survive all the 7 stages to achive what boys wanted. They failed, but still.

10 - from “Al be back”. Who knows that Splints is so good at singing?

4, 6 - from “The Fast and the Furriest”. Strange choice, cuz, you know, photos ten seconds before his collision with April bat?

And yeah, he HAS April’s photo here. And at this pic it’s April, and April alone,without his brothers. 

Don’s a real softie, see?

And avoiding physical contact is a way to protect Donnie’s already shattered self-esteem. To not cause any doubts in front of girl which he’s interested in. That’s possible reason why we did not receive any heartwarming hugs in “The Purple Jacket”.

But Donnie carries April, because it’s her birthday. On the one hand, the girl claims that  her b-day is cursed, and Donnie could, by any chance, do something nice for her, and on the other hand - any request of the bithday girl - is the law, as we could see earlier.

Gift for birthday girl

There is no Donnie in the scene after Draxum throw off Warren's arm. While Raph comfort April about her birthday, Donnie was looking for it to present it to April.

He knows the best what is the most precious gift for her. Warren Stone, her idol, goat of making news; she have been in Stoneheads fanclub for 9 years. Also, it seems that Donnie is the one of turtles, who collected info about this worm.

Also, he stopped immediately when April stepped between them and show no disappointing (remind you about Donnie's sadistic science guy nature). The reason is April.

And another cute detail: their glasses are the same form.

Another episode "Mystic library" has slightly touched D&A interaction. But were talking about Apritello, it's all hints but quality.

When Mayham trapped in the mirror and Raph, Leo and Mikey obviously are not coping, April decides to call Donnie to clear situation up.

Donnie, mister "I ruin everything", she's going to call for help. I repeat this. April calls for help Mr. Science to solve mystic problems with her pet. MYSTIC PET.

 And he AGREES.

Turtles dissuade their friend from calling Donatello but after a while, April returns with Donnie, and sees the bathroom in ruins.

I'm gonna clear this moment.

1. April haven’t called Donnie.

2. Some time later she returns with Dee.

3. Our girl is pretty shocked to see her bathroom in ruins, argo she didn't see/hear Raph chose to solve problem with smashing.

It must mean only ine thing: April went for Donnie by herself. We don't know where was he, we don't know what the reason April brought Donnie with her by herself, 'cause we know that if she call Dee, he will definitely get to her immediately.

Something is definetely off.

By the way, April changed Don’s profile pic.Yeah, the first one is very informative since Donnie is a turtle and he’s purple and he has bandana. Seems like April have done it by herself, editing the photo of real turtle. She didn't put a lot of effort into this, this image doesn't show her real attitude towards Don. But second is more personality-tinged. Sleeping Donatello in all his gear - this detail can tell us about only one thing - he was photographed when he fell asleep after his sleepless night(s) working hard at something - is something she can catch or receive by boys (namely speaking, it’s Leo, according to Ben Schwartz stated in an interview, that if Leo had an Instagram account, that 60 to 70% of his photos would be his brothers caught sleeping or slipping on things). And still. April has a dorky and little embarrassing pic of Donatello and this is... Interesting and cute?

This profile pic remind me about ROTTMNT: Sound off! (2nd issue)

The next station is “The Purple Game”.

Another episode in which the interaction of the characters is small in timing, but great in content.

And once again: they have a lot in common. I’d never tired of repeating this thing ‘cause the series do the same trick, showing one thing from different points of view. April and April shares the same taste in games, the same attitude, the same mojo. 

But the most important thing here is how D&A interacrions are shown in this episode. Unlike other episodes, the interaction here is indirect, is provided by gaming.

Their customized avatars reflects their personality. I mean, the colour schemes (though Donatello has never shown any interest in yellow, he used it for customization of his persona), the way their avatars looking. Game even refering to Sherlock_Corn as “she”, albeit it’s impossible to refer to her avatar in female pronoun. Because, you know, design and nickname?

And the in-game interaction of the avatars resembles D&A irl relationships. Bootyyyshaker 9000 don’t like togetherness, he’s looking like Donnie’s expectation of himself (cool and tough guy, as D sees himself in his own dreams)

Their dialogue

Actually. Actually, Donnie and April are not able to hear each other as game has no voice chat, but their lines make an perfect dialogue nevertheless.

April:Bootyshaker9000? Donnie? 

Donnie:April? You’re the last person I need to destroy to achive rank №1!

April:Ditto!

Both:There can only be one!

Donnie said the cheat combination, so April would know for sure what he is supposed to do, but she has no idea.

So, once again: their sync is incredible.

And can we talk about that?

April’s attack

As it seems, attacks may be customized by players. Bootyyshaker has attack that refers at Donatello main feature - superior intellect.

And this attack isn’t effective, because REAL April O’Neil has a resist towards it. She has known D for years, she knows what he’s capable of, she’s aware of his nerd side. April’s immune to it, so Sherlock_Corn is.

 Sherlock_corn has a default attack - kernel cannon. It’s nod to her nickname: kernel, corn, the same book. But her second atteck is something reflecting her personalitiy. Plus, April is aware of Donnie’s “fear” of togetherness. All’s fair in love and war, right?

April took a lot of BS9000 hp by her “friendly hugs”. And, by the way, his sweet reaction for hugs.

So:

The selection of the final opponent. It might be literally anyone, but we wouldn’t be able to see Dee’s obsession in that case. Yeah, he’s already had a  demon possesion ™, but it was too easy to him to win. No challenge. No “kill or be killed”, “It’s me or you” mojo.  He needed some tough gamer for challenging, to develop his character, push him too far. And  April, actually, is an excellent choice to reveal the character of certain purple turtle.To expose his true colours. And April do a great job: they know each other, so battle will be spicy, they are both compepitors, they are so alike, so it would be intersting to watch Donatello vs April. And it will, ‘cause In-game April and In-game Don is somewhat different than them usual.

April is Don’s slayer for sure. She’s good at gaming, her last attack was almost fatal for him. So he had to to cheated on her. 

Captain Cuddlecakes. Yes, she know about his afraid of togetherness. And there’s lovey-dovey attack animation with this cuddling and Donatello’s persona behaves like him. And it was SPECIAL RUN, so... I haven’t the foggiest why. Cute detail, I mean.

Just look at it.  Isn’t it cute?(at least we got their hugs somewhere... kinda. kinda.)

“Snow Day“, albeit  being family episode, shows a lot about D&A relationship through “family war”.

First of all, the same taste in films.   

Donnie’s already shown the same attitude to fashion, scary things as Cap O'Neil, April shares the same gamer’s mojo as Donatello, but now? We have Donnie and April that are loving the same movie.

For love of purple supernovas, of all the Jupiter Jim’s movies (and there are more than 60 of them), that's a convinient coincidence, they like the same movie.

It stated in series several times that Dee is fond of Atomic Lass. He had crush on her when he was child, he admires her by all his heart, so it will make sense if films with this character he would be his favourite. It’s logical, isn’t it?

Atomic Lass, even if she is part of JJ-universe, however, isn't in every movie. Leo described "JJ: Pluto vacation IV" and there is no sights of Atomic Lass. Like, at all. 

Nevertheless, April’s claimed that “PV-4” is the best movie of the time, and Don agrees. 

April:What the whaaaat? Hold up, Skip. “Jupiter Jim Pluto Vacation 4″ is the best JJ movie  of all time.

Donnie:Ranked, by us, just now. So it’s basically official, no arguing.

And they do this thing again. Reflecting each other. Facial expressions, intonations, poses and etc. Haven’t I mentiones that? Mirroring is natural way to build communication. People, who communicate enthusiastically, who have sympathy to each other, feelings of certain nature, unconsciously copy each other's poses.

Direct reflection and close contact have a strong effect. This is used between lovers, people with close relationships or interested in each other.

And you can see that during not only episode, but through the whole series. 

Poses, gestures, facial expressions they share constantly. Even if they are apart, they are mirroring each other, showing their bound. Because Apritello is not always about sitting close, holding hands and blushing. Apritello is about staying together even if they are not.  It’s about solid foundation, about synergy, about chemistry Donnie and April share. And all of these are not always so obvious and clear, evident. But so realistic nevertheless.

And that’s why they splitted off the fam - they are too close and alike. 

I stated it before but DonniexApril team is way more effective than Donniexbrothers team. Donatello and April are equal, worth each other. They are comfortable with each other, their teamwork is amazing. 

They are always near, close to each other for the entire episode. Stand up for each other, side by side. They have no need to do team-building, because their sincronization is incredible. April works well together with Donnie, their skills compliment each other. 

I love that April in a first place look at Donnie to check is everything alright.

And a cherry on top?

This inviting gesture. Donnie just watched all along how his brothers and April try to throw some cold water on this situation (khem, it slipped). But when April call him with this inviting gesture, he’d like to help. 

In other words, he was waitng when April requests for his help.    

Composition’s boners

Sometimes it happens during the show, but this episode beat hte score at this point. I say only one word: physics. Or, more precisely, the force of attraction. Or, maybe Mayham.

... Anyway.

Fitting in the type

April can play not so nice against her enemies, she got steady hand and meanness, merciless and reclessness. She’s passionate and kinda badass, sassy - in a positive way, she’s baddest girl who can kick your butt if you mess with her, and she really good at this. 

She has a fire, and Donnie likes that. Dee never stated that directly but miss O’Neil impressed him so many times and in different way so it’s kinda pretty obvious. 

Just look how Donatello reacted the way April took Raph down a peg. Her actions are elegant, relaxed but really sly. She almost dare Raph to put his flag on top only to bring him down to Earth in really painful way. She destroyed Bros’ team so easily just by waiting a bit and by calling Mayham. 

She’s definetely got some pepper.

Pretty cute but baddest, don’t you think?

And Donnie was impressed for sure, he admitted it - “That is fun for me”. He don’t even stand a chance, c’mon: she’s smarass and elegant, she can be mean and cute at the same time. 

Even though that’s it for season 1 analysis (the last series is more appropriate  to review as part of 2nd season, plus it was a reaally big post, I need some time)

You can refresh this whole situation in the car 1 and the car 2 or follow the hashtag #apritello express as you please. It’s a pleasure of mine, keep in touch :)

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja #rise of tmnt #rottmnt #apritello express #apritello evidences #rottmnt apritello #aprilxdonnie #rise donnie #rise donatello #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #donatello hamato #rise april #rise april o'neil #rottmnt april #rottmnt april o'neil #tmnt2018 #donnie 2018 #april o'neil 2018 #apritello 2018

[holykillercake]

Love Ordeal

SANJI X f!READER

word count: 2k

summary: The Strawhts decide to play Secret Davy Treasure and Sanji doens´t stop asking whom you got. 

highlight:  ¨Sanji,¨ you sighed ¨I love you, but if you don´t stop, I will be forced to throw your cigarettes in the ocean and straighten your eyebrows.¨

warning: F.L.U.F.F.

notes: Guys! This a part 2/3 of a request for a fluff where they have a s/o that made them a thing with crochet and how they would react. Also, Secret Davy Treasure is like Secret Santa, but you know. ALSO, there is a surprise at the end! 

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖛𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘, 𝖗𝖊𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖘, 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊!

¨Just pick one, Luffy!¨

¨But which one?¨

¨It doesn´t matter!¨

¨Hmm, can I pick two?¨

¨NO!¨

Earlier that day, an old lady told Nami that whichever path Luffy chose would always lead to another Winter Island. So with the end of the year approaching and the cold weather, you decided to play Secret Davy Treasure, a great South Blue tradition.

It consisted of the participants writing their names on a piece of paper, mixing them in a bowl - or Luffy's hat - and drawing them.  Whoever’s name you picked is who you will buy or make a Secret Davy Treasure.

You should have guessed that even something that sounded so simple would be complicated in the Thousand Sunny. The crew didn´t seem to understand nor follow the rules of physics, reality, and the game. 

At first, Zoro folded his paper with his name on the outside; then Brook picked himself and didn´t tell anyone. Now you were struggling with Luffy, who couldn´t pick one because A) he wanted to know what was written inside, and B) he wanted to pick more than one. 

While Franky, Usopp, and Chopper yelled at him, trying to make him understand, Brook laughed at the whole situation, and the rest of you wished to die and get reborn as clams. 

Sanji adjusted the blanket around your bodies and hugged you tighter, chatting until the commotion was over.  

¨Will you tell me?¨ he blew some smoke, and you tilted your head to look at him. 

¨Tell what?¨

¨Who you got.¨

¨What? Of course no!¨ you laughed ¨This is not how you play it!¨

¨But we are a couple, Y/N-chan!¨

¨.., and?¨ you sang the word.

¨We shouldn't keep secrets from each other!¨

A cloud of white smoke came out of your mouth when you giggled before snuggling deeper in his arms. 

¨Okaay,¨ Usopp crawled closer to you, defeated and holding Luffy´s hat ¨he will be the last one.¨

Despite your captain yelling that he should be the first to pick, you were all getting tired and opted to ignore him. 

¨Thanks!¨ you used the blanket to cover yourself as you unfolded it.

A chuckle left your mouth when you saw the name written, and the blonde behind you tried to peek over your shoulder. But you were faster to put the piece of paper with the name of your boyfriend inside your bra.

You turned and gave him a peck on the cheek while he pouted. 

You would have one week to come up with a Davy Treasure for Sanji, and you knew exactly what to do, but some butterflies still flew in your belly, wondering if he would like it. 

As a matter of fact, he loved everything you did, from sweet love to extremely salty culinary disasters. He would find perfection in every little thing done by you.

Enjoying your last days on the island of Snow Globe Pole - yeah, almost as bad as ¨Long Ring Long Land¨ - you decided to tour the city, looking for what you needed to make your gift. Or rather, to crochet your gift.

That was the easy part, for you were on a winter island, yarn and wool were pretty abundant. Every style possible of every possible color, anything that crossed your mind was available in the store. It would have been distracting if you didn´t have the colors already chosen. 

But again, so much for an innocent game. So much for a bit of fun. So naive to believe that Sanji would stop asking you whom you picked. 

In his defense, he had gotten calmer during the first night. But after seeing the bag you brought from the store, he became even more annoying. 

Charming, loving, but still annoying. 

¨It´s not Franky, right? His hands wouldn´t fit in it.¨

¨His regular-sized-robotic-mannequin hands would.¨ you looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. 

You could almost see the gasp stuck in his throat and his heart skipping a beat. 

After that, he kept bringing you desserts, offering massages, and doing everything in his power to bribe you. Skypiea Sanji was not the real Love Ordeal. Secret Davy Treasure Sanji was the real Love Ordeal. 

¨Sanji,¨ you sighed ¨I love you, but if you don´t stop, I will be forced to throw your cigarettes in the ocean and straighten your eyebrows.¨

He grumbled ¨I love you¨ back among some other things and marched to the kitchen with flames on the top of his head. You chuckled and went back to your colorful wools. 

Before you chose his gift, you thought about Sanji and the things that he liked or needed. From cooking to smoking and women. 

Cooking for him would be outrageous. You wanted to give him something amazing, and you couldn't compare to him in the kitchen. At all.

Women. You were the only woman he wanted and needed, and honestly, you were the woman for the job. 

Now, smoking. You would not buy or make him cigarettes, obviously. But he had this adorable and clumsy thing of always burning the tips of his mittens whenever he lit a cigarette. 

Because of that, you decided to crochet him one of those fingerless gloves that come with a mitten flap so he could cover his fingers once he was done. Like that, he would be warm and natural disaster-free. 

¨There is orange, Y/N-chan! You got Nami, right?!¨ you jumped and almost stabbed yourself with the hook when he yelled in your ear.

¨Oh, my sweet Davy Jones, give me strength...¨ you whispered ¨There is also purple, Sanji-kun. It could be Brook or Robin.¨ 

He pondered over it a little, frowned, and made his way to the door.

¨Hey!¨ he turned with sad puppy eyes ¨Is this really important to you? To know who I got?¨ he nodded. 

You gestured with your head, telling him to come closer. A big and bright smile appeared on his face, and your heart beat stronger. That smile, you would punch the Red Line broken to create another All Blue for that smile. 

Oh, how you love this cook. 

¨Ok! Just because I am asking I´ll tell you first, ok?¨ he spoke with a lower voice but still sparkly. You smiled and nodded. ¨I got Chopper! And I bought him a new backpack with a lot of compartments for his medical stuff.¨

The way he paid attention to the tiny details made you melt. He was always taking care of others, complimenting the crew - except Zoro - and celebrating even the smallest of the successes. 

He showed you the blue backpack, very similar to Chopper´s current one, but a lot stronger, prettier, and more practical. He would love it, no doubts. 

¨Well,¨ you began ¨I got... Usopp.¨ 

You felt terrible about telling him a lie, but you couldn´t spoil your surprise.

 ¨Since we´re going to winter islands, I don´t want his finger to get tangled when, Uhm... he´s picking his Ketchup Stars, Green Stars, or Let´s-scare-creepy-girls-to-death Stars. I really hope he likes it.¨

If you were not paying enough attention, you would have missed Sanji´s disappointed look, which he quickly hid with a kind smile. 

¨You always think about everything, Y/N-chan. He will love it.¨ he kissed your forehead and went back to the kitchen. 

You waited until he closed the door to cringe ¨You are going to hell, Y/N.¨ 

Finally, the Secret Davy Treasure day arrived. You would exchange gifts and then have a nice dinner if Luffy didn´t make a party out of it. He definitely would. 

But you were also grateful that today was the day. Since you told Sanji that you had picked Usopp, he has been acting a little upset. The other guys didn´t notice, but you did. 

You would always notice. And you had an idea why. 

The gift exchanging rules were pretty simple.  The Secret Davy had to offer information about the person receiving the treasure, and the others had to guess. 

It started with Usopp, whose Secret Davy was Franky. He gave him a bunch of super tools and some colored light bulbs for the ¨Party Nipple¨ idea.

Franky´s Secret Davy was Robin. He gave her a journal with waterproof pages he created. 

Robin´s Secret Davy was you, and she presented you with a beautiful copy of a fictional adventure book since you were always reading them on the ship.

Then it was your turn. You held the gift wrapped in a shiny blue paper and began to describe your Secret Davy. 

¨My Secret Davy is... slightly annoying sometimes.¨

¨It´s the stupid-eyebrow.¨ Zoro said.

¨Shut up, marimo head!¨

You continued after Nami punched them. ¨My Secret Davy always takes care of us.¨ 

¨It´s Chopper!¨ you shook your head.

¨Hmm... my Secret Davy is an exceptional fighter! Really strong!¨ 

¨It´s me!¨ 

¨No, Zoro! It´s me! I will become the Pirate King!¨ 

¨Shut up, you two!¨

¨My Secret Davy is...¨ you looked at Sanji and smiled ¨... loving and caring.¨ 

He looked back at you, confused.  Why would you say those about Usopp? Not that he wasn´t loving and caring, but... still. 

¨My Secret Davy is... the man of my dreams, the prince of my fairy tale, and the love of my life.¨

A minute or two passed while everyone waited for Sanji to say something, but he remained frozen with a perplexed expression. 

¨Sanji-san, I think the treasure is yours.¨ Brook said calmy. 

The cook made his way to you slowly, taking the gift from your hands and opening it gently, without tearing the wrapping.  

Did he get upset because of your lie? 

¨Sanji...¨ you called him, but he kept staring at the gloves. 

You saw his eyes fill with water before he excused himself and exited the deck, leaving everyone staring at you. 

¨I don´t... I´m gonna...¨ you pointed and left too. 

When you entered your room, he was standing, back turned to you. Was he really crying, or you saw things?

¨Sanji-kun?¨

¨You remembered...¨ he turned around, still holding the mittens ¨These colors...¨ 

¨Yeah, they don´t really match, but...¨

¨I wanted it so much, Y/N. When I saw it, I wanted it so much.¨

He rushed in your direction and hugged you tight. He hugged you and you felt all his emotions, you felt the weight he carried in his heart. Not a bad weight, just the weight of missing someone you love. 

You knew that that was the reason he was pestering you so much, the colors. You had chosen the colors that Zeff, Sanji´s mentor, wore. 

The fingers were orange and purple, like his striped shirt. You added yellow details of his hair; the blue of his ascot, and the white of his apron. 

As you said, they didn´t match, but apparently, Sanji didn´t care.

He would always share stories about their lives and cook recipes that Zeff taught him. Despite him always calling him old man or damn geezer, the Red Leg was his father.

¨Thank you, Y/N-chan. I loved it.¨

The sound of him sniffing made you hold him stronger. 

¨I miss that damn geezer.¨ 

¨I´m sure he misses you too, Little Eggplant.¨ 

¨Oi!¨

You squeaked and laughed when he threw on the bed.

¨I´ll show you Little Eggplant!¨

Hey, Guys! SURPRISE! Here´s my first decent art? hahaha THE MITTENS!

I don´t know if the quality dropped. I´m using krita and still don´t know how to adjust the settings stuff when I´m saving a jpeg. Anyway, I hope you liked it!

#vinsmoke sanji #sanji #black leg sanji #one piece #one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #oneshot #sanji x reader #thousand sunny #davy jones #gift #baratie #zeff #chef zeff #red leg zeff #little eggplant #cook #luffy #zoro #nami #robin #brook #usopp #chopper

[write-r-die]

Prisoner - Part 14

February, 1067

Henry Cavill is a respected Norman baron who has been tasked with finding Lady Thomasin, an ill-tempered Saxon noblewoman, and returning her to London so the king can marry her off to a cruel Norman invader. The two grow close during the long journey, and Henry puts his own life in danger (more than once) to protect the woman he loves.

Masterlist

This chapter sucks but it’s about to get super good!

Thomasin went straight to church in the morning to confess. She liked and trusted Elaine, but she wasn’t comfortable sharing her innermost thoughts with her yet, especially since her daughter was likely to eavesdrop. 

Not that she particularly trusted William’s priest to keep her confidence, especially considering what she planned to confess.

Her conversation with Charlie pricked at her mind like a sewing needle hidden in a bed might prick at her body.

Thomasin lowered herself to her knees and made the sign of the cross. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three months since my last confession.” It was the custom to confess at least once a month, but the past year’s events had altered everyone’s routines.

“What are your sins, daughter?”

“I have been unkind. I have blasphemed. I have not loved my neighbors. I have not kept the Sabbath day. I have been . . . amorous.” These were mostly the same sins as usual, but the amorousness was a new addition thanks to that week she spent in Henry’s lap. “That’s all I can remember.”

“Are you sure of that?” asked the priest.

Thomasin took a deep breath. “No. I have not yet - that is, I’m considering another sin. You won’t betray my confidence, Father, will you? That must surely be a sin. Is it not?”

“It is. No, child, I won’t betray your confidence and share your secrets. What is this sin you consider?”

“I’m thinking of . . . lying . . . to the king.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the curtain. “Explain.”

All at once, Thomasin’s story came rushing out starting with the night the Cavills took her prisoner to Charlie’s idea that she lie to the king about her virginity. “And I know I mustn’t bear false witness against my neighbor, but I am not bearing false witness against my neighbor, only myself. You see?”

The priest was silent for a long time. “Would it truly be so bad to marry Lawrence?”

“Yes!” He drove his wife to commit self-murder. Didn’t he? He didn’t seem actively cruel. Did he truly become so angry that he beat his wife until she lost the child in her belly? It seemed to Thomasin that he couldn’t be bothered to do such a thing, that he didn’t feel anything strongly enough to act in such a way – to act at all, really.

“I think so,” Thomasin amended. “I can’t be sure. But it cannot be good.” Of that, she was quite certain. 

“Is that the only reason you don’t wish to marry him?” asked the priest.

“There’s Henry, too, of course.” She swallowed hard. “I cannot bear the thought of Henry being with someone else.” The words stuck in her dry throat like fish bones. Lord. That was the first time she’d admitted it. It was painfully true. The idea of Henry bedding another woman, her bearing his children – it made her sick to her stomach. 

The priest sighed. “It is never easy to follow God’s laws. We all must make sacrifices to enter His Kingdom, for the road to Heaven is narrow and steep.”

“You think I ought to marry Lawrence? Don’t you know what happened to his last wife?”

“Seek solace in the spiritual world. Devote yourself to God. It is through Him that you will find comfort and joy.”

Thomasin had to literally bite her tongue to keep from lashing out. Wouldn’t God want His children to be happy? Didn’t He want Lawrence to be punished?

The priest told her to recite certain prayers to atone for her sins. She thanked him as graciously as possible and nearly stomped out of the chapel. 

She was being childish, she knew, but she could not help it. Most girls were married off at fourteen to men they did not know. She was some twenty years old and unwed. She spent her life being coddled and guarded by her father. And now she was a piece of chattel to be traded by men who did not know her or care for her wellbeing. 

She knew in her heart that Henry wouldn’t let that happen. He’d give his arm for her if she asked him to. But it might not be enough. 

She believed that he was a finer swordsman that Lawrence – better than even King William, perhaps – but she also believed his honor made him vulnerable. Henry might be the finer warrior, but she suspected Lawrence had a great and dark mind. That could be just as dangerous. Sometimes more so.

Henry ordered her to let him deal with the matter. It was the only thing he ever truly asked of the woman he held so dearly and treated with such generosity and respect. But if it was in her power to preserve the life and limb of the man to whom she owed her own, how could she not? Surely he would understand. He must.

***

The next few days numbered among the most difficult in Thomasin’s life. She felt sick even after her courses passed; she’d worked herself into a fine state. She had an episode like this when she was young, around the time of her mother’s death. The healer, a monk, called it hysteria. She’d been blessedly free of it since then – it didn’t even happen when her father got sick – but now it was back, and it would not go away.

One of the Saxon prisoners died – of what, Thomasin did not know – and two more pledged their loyalty to William, even though it meant giving up everything they owned, including their dignity. They made their pledge in front of the entire court just before supper.

Thomasin and Henry were seated at the table at opposite sides, one chair over from each other. They could steal glances at one another during the meal, but they could not speak. Thomasin supposed that was the point. 

Lawrence had taken to sitting next to her most nights. They didn’t speak. Lawrence had ceased with the pleasantries after her comment about his last wife. He ignored her as much as possible, but he sneered whenever she spoke. 

Thomasin understood that he didn’t want this any more than she did, but he needed a wife to produce heirs and Thomasin was a gift from the king. He couldn’t refuse. He did still get pleasure out of the arrangement, for seeing him with Thomasin upset Henry to the point where he could hardly hold back his anger. Between Henry’s jealousy and Thomasin’s feistiness, conquering her was sure to be excellent sport.

The Saxon knights came forward and fell to their knees before the king and his wife and made their pledges. The other Saxons in attendance – mostly women, but a handful of warriors and former nobles that pledged themselves to the Normans early on – showed a range of emotions. Some of the men applauded their brothers for being sensible; others appeared to be ashamed. Most of the women looked like the wanted the whole thing over and done with, especially Elaine, who knew most of the Saxon prisoners either from tending their wounds or meeting them at court before the Norman invasion.

Henry’s reaction was surprising. He glared at the trencher of food in front of him, nostrils flared and jaw clenched as though he were the one being forced to swallow his pride. Thomasin made no effort to hide her concern, and neither did Charlie.

He, of course, knew about Cerdic’s presence in the dungeon, and he worried that Henry would allow his emotions to get the best of him. Frankly, he didn’t understand why Henry was so upset. He thought Cerdic was dead already; soon enough he would be. Perhaps he was feeling guilty for his part in the conquest. Thomasin had his head in knots. 

During the applause that followed the oaths, Henry shoved away from the table and made a beeline for the main doors without offering any excuse or explanation.

Thomasin looked quizzically at Charlie, who sat directly across from her. He shook his head. She stood up and went after him anyway.

The large corridor was mostly empty, except for a young couple kissing deeply in a shadowed corner and a handful of female servants walking back and forth between the hall and the kitchens. They gossiped as they walked, paying no attention to those around them.

“Henry,” Thomasin called, scurrying over to him. He had his shoulder leaned against the wall and he was rubbing his face with his hand.

He looked up at the sound of Thomasin’s voice and gave a weary smile. “You should not have followed me,” Henry said, trying to sound stern; he just sounded tired. He caught sight of his ring hanging from the chain around Thomasin’s neck. He held it in his hand, still hanging from her neck, and smiled slightly. 

“You followed me when I ran off in the woods,” she said. “I’m only returning the favor.”

“Or exacting your revenge,” Henry teased.

Thomasin shrugged her narrow shoulders and repeated Henry’s earlier words back to him. “It’s a matter of perspective.”

“This looks very fine on you,” Henry said of the ring. 

“Will you have a pendant made for me like your brothers’ wives and your mother?”

“Patience,” he said teasingly. In fact, he had commissioned a jeweler shortly after arriving in London, though the piece’s production was delayed because Henry didn’t have his ring to show the jeweler. Instead, he had to provide the man with his shield so he could study the symbols painted on it. It wouldn’t be very pretty, he thought, but as long as it was recognizable it didn’t matter.

He knew better than to seek to borrow Charlie’s ring when he arrived. He would lend it to Henry if he asked him to, but he’d certainly put up a fuss about it.

And then he remembered the Saxon awaiting his death three floors below them.

Henry’s smile faltered. 

“What’s wrong?” Thomasin murmured. 

Seeing Cerdic, simply knowing that he was alive and nearby, upset Henry. As far as he could tell, the man was a boar, and it would be no great loss to the world for him to die. But it still bothered him.

Cerdic didn’t know about Henry’s relationship with Thomasin, her betrothal to Lawrence, or even that she was at court. He had no fondness for Thomasin, it seemed, and he would certainly not treat her with respect if they were wed, but he was still a living reminder of the life the Normans stole from her. That Henry stole from her. He sometimes felt that Thomasin was as much a prisoner as her former intended.

She cared for Henry, of course, but he wondered how much of her affection was true – true, in that it would still be there if she were free of Norman rule – if she had the option to return home to her father and go on living as she did before.

More than that, he worried how Thomasin would feel if she knew Cerdic was here. He swore Roger and Charlie to secrecy, of course. Lawrence didn’t know of his intended’s former relationship with the red-bearded prisoner – if he did, he would surely use that information to inflict pain.

“The Saxons . . .” Henry shook his head. “I’m so tired of all this fighting.”

Thomasin took a deep breath knowing she was about to start a fight. “Then why do you insist on fighting Lawrence?”

Henry’s nostrils flared in anger; he let the ring fall back into place. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not trying to start anything,” she said apologetically. She stepped closer as he started pacing in a circle, one hand on his hip as he rubbed his brow with the other. His hair, still short by Saxon standards, was a small pile of tumbling curls stacked atop his head. But he still looked so handsome. “I just . . . I’m just . . .”

“Just what?”

“I’m frightened! All right?!” How dare he make her say it out loud?

Henry stopped pacing. He tried to soften his features, but he was still stiff with nervousness. “It will be all right, Tom. Nothing will happen to you.”

“I don’t care about me!” she hissed. “I want to protect you just as much as you wish to protect me. Why won’t you let me?”

Henry was lost. “How?”

Kal let loose a warning bark that nearly made Thomasin jump. She hadn’t even realized he was in the hall with them. “Go,” she said to Henry. “I need a moment to compose myself.”

Henry slipped past her just as Lawrence came into view, carrying a goblet of wine in one hand and holding the other behind his back. Henry tensed his muscles so hard he nearly shook. Thomasin nodded silently to assure him that she was all right. Henry stomped back into the hall as Lawrence took a long drink from his goblet of wine.

“Would you like some?” he asked Thomasin.

“No, thank you.”

“Very well.” He tapped his fingernail against the rim of the glass. “You remember the nobleman’s family that I put to death?” he asked, lifting the cup to his lips again.

What sort of a question was that? “Yes.”

“Do you think they would’ve been better off alive, surrounded by lustful soldiers?” Lawrence asked calmly. “Do you think the baroness would be pleased to see her young daughters beaten and defiled in the same home where she was once mistress? It was a mercy killing in some ways.”

Thomasin was silent. She’d considered such questions for months after the Normans landed up until the night Henry lifted her out of her hiding place. She always concluded that she would rather be dead than passed around like a brood mare. 

 “You’d never have been so lucky. That would’ve been your fate if the king weren’t so set on bringing your brother to heel, which he clearly cannot, and if anyone but the Cavills had come for you, you would’ve been tied and beaten into submission and raped nightly, not carried about like a babe with your virtue intact.”

“I know that,” Thomasin snapped. What was his point? “Are you truly surprised that I might wish to marry someone who would treat me well? Someone I know would never raise a hand to me?”

“I won’t deny that I struck my wife on more than one occasion,” Lawrence said. “She came to me when she was fifteen years old. Still a child in need of discipline. You’re more intelligent, more mature, and I think you will know better than she did. I was not the source of all her troubles, as much as you might like to think so.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I dislike the way that you fawn over Henry and regard me as the most heinous of villains. You should be grateful for your good fortune. You’re betrothed to a man capable of mercy toward women.” 

Beating his wife was mercy? He likely just meant that he wouldn’t take her against her will, and that was a great mercy indeed for women. Beating wasn’t so heinous, Thomasin supposed, but that didn’t mean she was all right with it.

“What do you care what I think?”

“I don’t. I care about whether or not my peers perceive me as weak, though, and I won’t have a wife who runs after another man anytime he frowns.” His voice remained even but his whole face had gone bright red with anger. “We’re to be wed next week. Once you are mine, I won’t tolerate such behavior. A wife obeys her husband in all things; you will not embarrass me by fawning over a weakling. Should you continue to do so, I won’t hesitate to show you my displeasure. Am I clear?”

The calm with which he spoke was unsettling. God’s truth, Thomasin would have felt better if he shouted. 

Thomasin dipped her head. “I understand, my lord.”

Lawrence’s face returned to its normal color and a smile bloomed across his face. “Good.” He gave Thomasin a peck on the cheek. “Sleep well, my beloved.”

She didn’t notice Elaine and her daughter standing nearby until Elaine called out to her. “Thomasin?” She scurried over to her friend. “Are you all right?” Thomasin swallowed back the lump in her throat and nodded. “Here. Come with me.” She released her grip on Mercia to pull Thomasin around a corner for greater privacy, squeezing her hands reassuringly. “What’s happened?”

Thomasin didn’t realize all the color was gone from her face or that she was quaking like a leaf. “I’m fine.”

“Mamma?” Mercia said.

“A moment, my love,” her mother told her. “She was falling asleep at the table; I was leaving to put her to bed,” she explained to Thomasin. “I didn’t mean to listen in on your conversation.”

“I don’t care about that,” Thomasin said, shaking her head.

“I didn’t hear anything clearly,” Elaine said over her. “I only saw that he was talking to you and the look on your face.”

Mercia wasn’t paying attention to what the women were saying, she only saw the sadness in Thomasin’s eyes. “Why you crying?” she asked, eyebrows knit together. Thomasin noticed for the first time how cherubic the child appeared.

“I’m not crying.” Thomasin honestly didn’t think she was. And she wasn’t really, in that there were no tears, but she certainly looked distressed.

The child wouldn’t accept the non-explanation. “Mamma, why she crying?”

Elaine released her friend’s hands and crouched to look her daughter in the eye. “Go back inside, please. Lady Thomasin and I are speaking. I’ll take you to bed just as soon as we’ve finished.”

“But she sad!” Mercia objected. She looked around. “Where Bear? Bear make you happy. I go find!” She was still upset with Kal for assaulting Batty, but she trusted in his ability to bring joy to others.

“No, no, that’s all right,” Thomasin said with a sniffle. “I don’t want to bother him.” The last thing she needed was for Henry to be involved.

Mercia frowned for a moment before thrusting her doll up toward Thomasin’s face. “Take,” she commanded. “Batty make you feel better.”

Thomasin swallowed again and reached out numb fingers. She couldn’t remember the last time she held a doll. “Thank you.”

“Not for always,” Mercia said, holding up a finger. “You keep just until you feel better.”

“I understand. Thank you.”

Elaine and Mercia walked Thomasin back to her room. Elaine gave Etheldreda some instructions. “Mercia, can Lady Thomasin borrow some of Batty’s magic?”

“Just a little bit,” Mercia agreed.

Elaine smiled in thanks. She tore the doll open just enough to pull out some of the dried lavender, which she instructed Etheldreda to put in hot water for Thomasin to drink. “It will keep you from getting upset. I’ll send along some more herbs to help you rest. And more of Batty’s magic,” she assured her daughter. She turned back to Thomasin. “It won’t seem so bad in the morning. A good night’s sleep always helps.”

“I don’t think I can shut my eyes,” Thomasin said.

Elaine smirked. “Sleeping drafts are my specialty.” She didn’t mention that the drafts were the only thing that kept her from going mad when the Normans arrived. Without them, she’d spend all night staring up at the ceiling, clutching her daughter to her chest, praying for mercy from God and the invaders both. 

She slipped away to put Mercia to sleep while Etheldreda prepared Thomasin for bed she sent a servant back with a pack of herbs for Etheldreda to make a sleeping draft and a handful of lavender to replace Batty’s stuffing.

Thomasin watched the fire flicker until the draft was ready. Etheldreda watched her drink, ensuring she drained every drop. Thomasin wiped her mouth with the back of her wrist.

“Lie down,” said Etheldreda.

Thomasin shuffled down in the bed as her maid drew the covers over her. “Etheldreda, have you ever been married?”

She nodded. “Twice.”

“Did you love your husbands?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Did they ever beat you?”

The old woman frowned. “Peasant women can be lucky on occasion. Sometimes we get to choose our husbands.” She tucked Batty under the covers beside Thomasin. “Shut your eyes and rest.”

“I don’t feel tired,” Thomasin said skeptically. She was asleep moments later.

**

Thomasin woke around noon the following day. She was still in a daze, so she decided to keep to her rooms for the day. She’d go visit Henry once she was feeling better.

Etheldreda drew her a steaming bath to ease her into the waking world. She washed and brushed her mistress’s hair, as there was too much of it for Thomasin to manage on her own. She told little stories about her daughters and granddaughters. She had sons, too, Thomasin thought, but she didn’t talk about them. Thomasin guessed they were killed in the war.

A servant dropped off some bread and cheese so Etheldreda and Thomasin did not need to leave the room for their nooning meal. Thomasin did feel better, she thought as Etheldreda laced the back of her simple gown. 

The servant had only just finished when someone pounded on the door so hard that it shook. “Thomasin!” It was Charlie’s voice.

She pulled the door open, knowing immediately that something bad had happened. “What is it?”

Charlie’s shoulders heaved as he breathed heavily; he’d clearly run from wherever he had been to Thomasin’s room. “Henry’s challenging Lawrence.”

“Today?”

“Now!” Charlie said. “If you want to help him, we must go.”

Thomasin didn’t even stop to put on her slippers. She ran alongside Charlie, damp hair loose and whipping around her. The people they passed looked at her like she’d gone mad. Maybe they thought she was drunk for presenting herself in public like that. Or a strumpet.

They finally reached the throne room.

Charlie shoved the doors open and Thomasin rushed inside. Henry had removed his glove and prepared to throw it down; Thomasin surged forward and managed to grab it out of his hand before he could and careened toward the dais and the king.

She fell so heavily on her knees that she scraped the skin. She’d have awful bruises tomorrow. It didn’t matter.  She stared up at the king with enormous eyes. “Your grace, they can’t fight,” she gasped. “Please don’t let them fight.”

“Thomasin,” Henry snarled.

“There’s no need for them to fight,” Thomasin said over him. She refused to turn and look at him.

William raised an eyebrow. “No need? Does this mean you’ll marry Lawrence willingly?”

“Absolutely not.” Her tone was far too harsh but she prayed William would excuse her given the circumstances. “But – I cannot be his wife. Not truly.”

William asked, “Why?”

Oh, God help her. This stupid, stupid girl. Charlie’s plan might not work but she at least had to try.

“Because. Because I’m not – I’m – I’m not a virgin!”

#henry cavill #the cavillry #melot #Tristan and Isolde #whatever works #Stardust #humphrey #RPF #the tudors #jersey #Charles Brandon #duke of suffolk #superman #superhero #kal-el #clark kent #Daily Planet #man of steel #justice league #zack snyder #snyder cut #the witcher #geralt of rivia #the white wolf #the man from uncle #Napoleon Solo #Guy Ritchie #mission impossible #fallout #john lark

[softsebnbuckystan]

Soul ties - Part 9 (Bucky Barnes au)

"If I lay here

If I just lay here

Would you lie with me and just forget the world ?"

"Can I come in?"

It was Bucky's voice – of course it was. You tried wiping your tears away before speaking. A part of you didn't care if he saw you crying, but you still hated when you couldn't hold back the tears.

"Yes." Your voice was husky from the crying and you weren't sure he'd heard you until he opened the door. You were still on your knee, unable to even look at him.  Bucky seemed to understand talking wasn't really what you wanted at the moment. Instead, he kneeled next to you and unexpectedly wrapped his arms around your shaking body. You'd noticed how rare it was for him to touch people ; even tapping Steve's shoulder seemed to hardly ever occur to him. Your shaking stopped instantly as you gave into his embrace, leaning against his chest.

"He was about to call me a whore, wasn't he?"

Had it been Steve, he would've told you no in an effort to comfort you. But Bucky radiated blatant honesty when he talked to you, which you appreciated more than you would say.

"It doesn't mean he's right," he said.

"Maybe not. But that's still the word he wanted to call his wife. How did I even- fuck." You shook your head. "How did I ever fell for his tricks? I knew his friends were trash but...I thought he was the exception. I never thought he'd act like this with me."

"Act how? Rude?" Bucky asked, unsure about what you exactly meant.

"Yeah. The neglect has been going on for years, you know." You looked up at him and got out of his arms to sit properly. It didn't take him long to take a seat next to you, leaning his back against your bed. "I just put it all on his job." You grabbed Bucky's hand : you'd never needed to touch him as much as you did now. Something in the controlled way he breathed and the warmth of his skin helped you think straight and prevented you from spiralling.

"Is it the first time he insults you?"

"Openly? Yeah." You sighed. "He's been petty before but calling me names...never."

"I'm afraid to ask this, but I have to." He looked you in the eyes, searching for...what, exactly? "He was pretty violent when he grabbed your shirt. Was that the first time as well?"

The question made you look away once more. Inexplicable guilt flooded your body as you tried to think of some lie. You leaned your head back on the mattress and closed your eyes, opting for honesty.

"No."

You could almost hear Bucky's jaw clenching ;  his other hand formed a fist, whereas the one holding yours remained gentle.

"He's never been violent intentionally," you quickly explained. "It's just... We've had our fights, alright? And when we start yelling at each other, I always tell him we both need to calm down but that doesn't suit me so he tries to stop me from leaving the apartment and...well. It goes from grabbing my arm a little too hard or just locking the door and hiding the keys. He even threw them out the window once."

Recalling those fights didn't help your tears stop rolling on your cheeks but damn, it felt good to actually say it to someone. Wanda never needed you tell her things : she could just read them when she felt like you were lying. With Bucky, it was different. You actually wanted to tell him what had happened.

"What did you do when he did those things to you?"

"Not much. It only made me angrier so I would sit on the couch or even in my room and stop talking to him until he opened the door."

"You do realise how that's...far from right, yeah?"

"I'm starting to." You shrugged. "This might be stupid but, seeing how everyone here treats me, how you treat me, it's making me realise Darren is not this perfect husband I imagined him to be. He was the easy way, you know? We met, we liked each other and he had a good situation and I could already see the white-fence family every American movie depicts. I just didn't know it would turn into a soap opera." You laughed bitterly at your own not-so-funny joke.

Bucky suddenly got up, keeping your hand in his to help you stand as well.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

"It's still your birthday and I don't want it to be ruined by that guy," he let out in one breath. "C'mon."

He took a right turn after your bedroom door, walking you further away from where the party was supposed to be. You didn't walk for long before he opened an other door, walking you into his own room.

"What's the plan, exactly?" you asked again, more than confused. "I thought you meant we'd go back to the others, and..."

"Damn, I didn't realise how this looks." He let out a nervous laugh and you mentally slapped yourself for going blank over how cute it was. "Nobody even asked you to a proper dance on your own birthday and I want to fix that, if you'll allow me."

He looked back at you through his eyelashes, looking all anxious about your answer.

"What music choice do we have?"

His face lit up and he went through a box of vinyls on the floor. "I only have old stuff, I'm sorry. I believe this should do it, though," he said as he picked out one of the pockets. "It's from 1956, but it actually came out first in the 30's. Most people know the most recent, so..."

"I didn't know you were a music nerd," you said with a smile.  "How very cute of you."

He shrugged as he placed the disk on the record player. Piano notes started rising through the air and you recognised Louis Armstrong's voice.

"May I?" Bucky held out his hand and he waited for you to nod before grabbing yours, placing his left hand on your hip. Your instinct was to inch closer to him as you both started swinging slowly in the middle of his room. His blue eyes were sounding  you out.

"This was indeed a wonderful idea," you whispered, not wanting to break the moment as Ella Fitzgerald started singing her own chorus of Cheek to cheek. Bucky beamed and you enjoyed the view, returning  his smile before resting your head on his chest. His heartbeat became another rhythm to follow and be lulled to. "I can't explain how you make me feel and that scares me, Buck. And yet, it's the best feeling I've ever experienced."  The use of his nickname did something to him : you felt his heart skip, causing you to smile discreetly. "Talking to you is ridiculously easy," you continued, "and I'm not that muck of a talker. Just ask Wanda."

He laughed softly and you tilted  your head up as his chest shook from the movement.

"I know what you mean," he confided. "I don't feel all of the guilt I carry when I'm with you. It's refreshing. I don't feel like I'm being judged at every second."

"I couldn't possibly do that," you explained. "I know a little more about the things they made you do, now, and I'm more impressed at how you came out of this. You're still there whenever someone needs help, like when that fire alarm rang for no reason the other day. And when that thing went off in the lab, you took time to help me. How could anyone judge you negatively?" Your frowned. "Sorry, I interrupted you."

"It's fine," he assured you as the next song on the vinyl started playing (not that you were paying much attention to the music, even though Dream a little dream of me was an all time favourite of yours).

Your eyes scanned his face and when you noticed his own gaze lingering on your lips, you moved  your hand from his shoulder to his neck. You were still slow dancing effortlessly, and you could feel his breath slightly picking up.

"I want to do something," you muttered. "But if you don't want me to, I won't feel bad if you stop me." The last thing you wanted was him to let you do anything out of pity ; you didn't think that was the type of thing he'd do, but there was no harm in making sure. Your fingers fiddled with the short hair on the back of his head and you extended your neck a bit. You felt Bucky's breath on your nose and lips as you got even closer to him, closer than you'd ever been until now.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked in a whisper. "Trust me, I do, but last thing I want-"

Those were the only words you needed. You pressed your lips against his and a whole firework show started in your belly. His hand on your hip pulled you into an even closer embrace as you kept playing  with his air. When you broke the kiss and rested your forehead against his, you couldn't get rid  of your smile. So it was true, what books said about butterflies.

--- I'm so happy to finally post this part!! This was definitely my favourite to write so far, even though it's a tie with the stars scene. :) I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it.

P.S. : the tag list is still growing and damn that makes me so happy!! Your support means everything.

P.S. 2 : I feel like this story will be wrapped soon. If you have any request/idea you'd like to see for a next one (short one shots or series), I will gladly hear it!

Tag list :

@ginger-swag-rapunzel @joscelyn02 @writehistorynotthegrocerylist @bluemoon-icecream @lady-loki-ren @simplybombshell @lizajane3

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #james bucky barnes #catws #cacw #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #self insert #x you #x reader #soulmate au #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff

[pastaaa-bird]

Day 4:historical

@aphrarepairweek2021

Sorryforbeingadaylate

Oh warning for very minor swearing(only happens three times) but other then that there is nothing inappropriate and also there is implied period typical homophobia in this

Summary: An 80s human AU where a stressed out Chiara (nyo Romano) is saved from going crazy by a hero(Amelia aka nyo America)

Basically this is just fluff, fluff and more fluff

Chiara Vargas was a second a way from flipping her desk and raging down the halls, or at least she would be if she had not possessed just enough self control to hold back on the urge.

“Fuck fuck fuck….” Chiara muttered, the sound coming out muffled from her face being squished against her desk in failure.

“OH, CHIARA” came a high pitch voice down stairs.

Reluctantly she lifted her head to the sound.

“WHAT?I'M BUSY”,she yelled back, mentally cursing her brother for disturbing her sulking.

“A CERTAIN SOMEONE IS HERE FOR YOU",

“WHO IS IT?”,

“YOU'LL HAVE TO COME DOWN AND SEE",

After managing to hold back a bitter protest she stood up then stormed down stairs.

“This better be worth my time, Feli or l swear to Dio l’ll-",

Chiara came to a halt once she saw the girl beside Feliciano.

“Hey!” a cheerful voice as usual from the smiling blonde with pink sunglasses in her hair, dressed in her demine shorts,  red t-shirt and long white socks with a pair of roughed up old sneakers.

“Amelia- uh hi there" She replied while awkwardly fidgeted with the sleeves of her jacket, embarrassed at the realisation that she had heard her yelling.

“Nice to see you calm down, anyway l’ll you two ladies to it”, he winked at Chiara who rolled her eyes at the look, not sure whether to love or hate that it felt the exact same to when her grandfather would make comments about her bringing a boyfriend home.

He disappeared into the sitting room to join Valentino on the couch.

“I was wondering if you would want to hang out, we haven't done that for ages”,

“Oh right, ugh l don't think l can”,

“Sure you can! You're not busy are you?”,

“l am, study”,

Amelia raised an eyebrow at that.

“Study? Our exams aren't till two weeks" ,

“I know, l know but l'm sick of revising everything on the night before the exam, besides l need as much of time as possible to understand this crap",

“Ah fair enough- how about l help ya with it? math l'm guessing?”,

Sighing at the memory of her many failed attempts at completing and understanding equations and formulas she nodded.

“Yeah, but are you sure?”,

“Definitely!”, stated Amelia with both hands on her hips and standing tall to her eagerness for the task.

“Alright then...",

A while later Chiara found her self back at her desk with Amelia standing beside her reading over her practice questions, nervously waiting for the results.

It felt like an eternity before Amelia finally looked up and spoke.

“And…that's like sixty five percent right!”,

“Sixty five?! Where did l go wrong this time?!”,

They had been at this for quite some time now. Despite Chiara’s frustration she stayed relativity calm for the most part thanks to Amelia’s encouragement and little jokes that made her either outright laugh or complain due to what she claimed was annoyance even if though she did find it humorous.

“Symbols, you forgot them again, there's supposed to be a measurement symbol at the end of this to say whether it's centimetres squared or cubed or meters squared- eh you get the point...", she paused then continued.

Miss Kirkland is your math teacher, right? She's real strict when it comes to small stuff like that so she takes off a lot of marks”, explained Amelia while doodling with the pen in the corner of the practice sheet of paper Chiara had used.

Miss Kirkland, certified smartass- even if it is technically her job to be one. Now, Chiara didn’t exactly hate her but she was far from a favourite in terms of teachers she was forced to put up with.

She hated how Miss Kirkland loved to call on those who she knew where not paying attention, there was a sense of snobbishness when it came to the way Miss Kirkland would proudly correct the unsuspecting student with a smile that more closely resembled a smirk.

“l hate this, I'm so close to getting this right but l keep screwing it up”,

“Come on it's fine! You've made awesome progress since when we started! It's only been like what….an hour? Give yourself some credit",

“…l guess you're right. But I'm also stuck for other things- like history and geography suck",

“ Wanna head to the library? They got good resources for both”, questioned Amelia now looking up from her doodling.

“Nah, I've had enough school for today. Let's do something else, anything in mind?”,

“Ooh! A few things-“,

Understandably Chiara was not surprised when they had arrived at the arcade on their bikes.

“Is this becoming an addiction for you?”,

“Ha-ha very funny, you have your obsessions and l have mine”,

“You even call it obsession, keep all this up and l'll be hosting an intervention for you",

This time Amelia genuinely laughed in response, Chiara savoured every second of the sound.

They were stuck there for a while, when it came to Amelia's great interest and Chiara’s competitive attitude it was easy to guess that there would obviously be competitions to see who could score the highest.

To Chiara’s dislike Amelia ended up winning proportionally more then she did followed by listening to the victory taunts from Amelia.

And it seemed that as quickly as they arrived they where off again.

“No, no, no, nah, no, nope, no”,

“Oh come on! l thought you weren't a quitter”,

“I have my exceptions, this is one of them",

Roller skating, she wanted Chiara to roller skate. Clearly Amelia wasn't aware of the fact that Chiara would likely crawl into the ground out of embarrassment if she would likely- no when, when she would end up falling flat on the floor.

“l'll help ya along! You'll be fine", urged Amelia tilting her head to the side with pleading eyes.

Upon arrival to the centre she instantly felt her heart sink knowing what would be expected her. After much convincing from Amelia and equally as much rants about what could go wrong from Chiara- she ended up agreeing to at least attempting to skate.

Chiara felt her chest tighten and face heat up once she suddenly felt the hand of Amelia intertwine with her own, guiding her into the skating area after they got their roller blades.

It was fascinated to see how effortlessly Amelia could move, practically gliding with ease although at a much slower pace due to guiding Chiara along. For this moment anyway, Chiara forgot how to feel anxious.

The last destination for the day was the local diner.

“Two milkshakes please, a double chocolate for myself and a strawberry and banana mix for her”,

“Coming right up, dear", replied the waitress.

“Oh and don't worry l'm paying, l owe ya for last time with the ice-creams” reassured Amelia after she placed their order.

It was the small things that Chiara adored about Amelia the most, how she remembered her favourite foods was one of them. Along with her passing small notes with funny faces on them to her whenever they shared a class and she had noticed that Chiara was dying of boredom.

They sat on the high chairs in front of the counter top as they awaited her drinks, Amelia flapped her hands with giddy excitement once they were received, Chiara couldn't help smile at the sight.

She thought about sharing the milkshake together, putting the straw in her drink like those shitty romantic movies Amelia loves so much. It would be cute wouldn't it? Cuter to see Amelia's reaction to the gesture! She smiled to herself at the idea.

Then her face dropped.

No, no they couldn't, not here, although her smile was brought back again by looking towards her girlfriend who had all her attention on blowing bubbles into her drink.

“Should you really be playing with your food like that?”, she questioned placing the straw into her own drink.

“Might as well make the most of it when my folks aren't here to tell me off ", Amelia shrugged in response.

Chiara found her self agreeing with that mentality and joined in with the childish behaviour.

They cycled back to the house, it was getting dark already.

Amelia was invited in and the two walked past the living room seeing Feliciano and Valentino with their eyes still glued to their precious TV.

At peace now they were sat together on the back porch. There was a small garden behind the Vargas' house, it was closed off by the tall fence( put there mostly so the neighbour's cat couldn't hope over and ruin the vegetable patches or flowers).

The air was humid all day and was beginning to cool down with the sun getting lower and the clouds moving in.

For what could have been anywhere from a minute to a thousand years the two spoke about anything and everything, the topics seemed to flow so easily, naturally changing with ease.

Finally the two sat in comfortable silence, looking towards the sky who’s colours had turned into oranges, yellows and pinks.

This is what Chiara so deeply enjoyed, how they could just sit together and feel so secure.

Routinely this what would be done for one another if the other was upset and asked for so, this time was often spent with their hand held or being hugged by the other.

 There would be times where Chiara in particular would wish to be alone, in cases like this Amelia would go prepare or buy a snack for whenever Chiara is feeling okay again, it gave her something to look forward to when she needed to be alone with her own depressing thoughts.

Sometimes when Amelia would be upset she would just want to vent and vent with no words of “it will be okay" or “look on the bright side of things", Chiara was there to listen and agree with the difficulty of whatever situation she found herself in.

Chiara's head was rested on Amelia’s shoulder, her arm wrapped around her in response to it.

Now it was getting cold, thankfully she still wore her jacket…but maybe…

“Amy?”,

“Yeah?”,she quietly answered back to the nickname.

“It's getting a bit…chilly don't you think? Would you, would you like my jacket?”,

“Oh...Uh sure.If you wouldn't mind that is”, a blush covered Amelia’s cheeks, she was rarely flustered or at least visibly.

The jacket was a gift to Chiara for Christmas from one of her relatives, it was given oversized to her but she kept it since it seemed more comfortable like this. On Amelia the jacket finally looked normal, it fit her well and looked quiet lovely.

They went back to silence until Chiara broke it again.

“Thanks by the way. I really needed today- to get my mind off of all this stupid fucking stress l've been trapped in lately",

“Of course. We all need a break now and then",

“You could say that again…l love you" Chiara looked up, her chin now on Amelia's shoulder.

Amelia glanced down at her and grinned.

“The feeling is mutual, sweetheart"

The end

Okay now for me rambling

Uhhhhh l read through this and l don't think l made any mistakes? I'll edit this if there are and sorry if you saw any, idk l'm bad at checking for mistakes and l don't have someone to proof read for me

Oh and Valentino is human Seborga and alsooo not sure if l made it clear but Feliciano does know about their relationship and also Chiara is Bi and happy to feel valid in her relationship with Amelia as if it were the exact same as when she is with a guy and not something taboo in this time period

ALSO damn, sorry this isn't that particular to the 80s- l did leave out things l was originally going to add in though! Like l was going to have Felicianio and Valentino have a movie marton but according to Wikipedia they werent common around then and the ones that did happen were anime soooo y e p

Also thought about adding in a house cord phone but eh idk it felt nicer to have Amelia visit instead of having Chiara call her or if l tried writting it as Amelia calling and then showing up it just felt forced and weirdly put in any way l tried to write it in

AH l am so worried that this is boring or cringy, like l honestly can't tell if it is or is this fine-ehh l guess l've written worse um yeah if you've read this far thanks :)

(I'm editing this for mistakes and wtf 90 is so high why would she be shocked- damn l think l know why l originally wrote that, l was thinking Amelia said ONE of the questions is 90% right but before it l said she was correcting multiple questions so it reads as multiple questions being 90% right all together ANYWAY l corrected it so it's fine again okay bye -AND it turns out l missed some mistakes yet again-editing this for the 3rd time rip)

#hetalia #hetalia 2021 #hetalia america #nyotalia #nyo america #nyo romano #hws america #hws romano #romerica #hws americano #hws romerica #hetalia fanfiction

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - Rapunzel’s Return Part 2

Continuing on from part 1 - 

https://rachelbethhines.tumblr.com/post/635068926214258688/tangled-salt-marathon-rapunzels-return-part-1

Summary: When Rapunzel tries to defeat the Saporians by herself she gets captured; but once Varian realizes that the Separatists plan on using one of his potions' destructive properties to destroy Corona, he and Rapunzel work together to stop it.

Let’s Talk About What a Let Down the Sapiorans Are

Throughout seasons one and two the Sapiorans were built up to be this intriguing race of people with a complex past and real problems that are sadly relatable to this day. They had a history, goal, motives, and special abilities like magic.  

Yet all we got was a really bad hipster parody. 

Heck, the crew can’t even keep it’s stereotypes right because they mostly slide into hippy territory instead. Hipsters, Yuppies, and Hippies are three distinctive counter culture movements for three different generations with completely different social concerns and fads. 

Basically Chris tried to “stick it to the kids” again and just wound up insulting his parents' generation instead because he’s that oblivious of other human beings.

And that’s not even taking into account that previously the Sapiorans were living on the run as nomads in caravans not dissimilar to common Romani stereotypes, so the show is once again making negative racial connotations due to thoughtlessness.

Why Do You Have a Secret Underground Room Hidden Behind Your Workshop Xavier?

Like that not a thing normal people happen to have lying around there workspace. We still are given zero explanation for why Xavier has all this plot convenient knowledge and rare unordinary plot useful stuff. 

Given his previous connection to Saporia and Zhan Tiri wouldn’t it not have made more sense to reveal that he is an actual plot important character in season three rather than keep him as just the exposition fairy? 

So Was This Before or After the Saporian Take Over? Cause Either Answer Makes This a Dumb Plan.

Why would the guards, especially Cap, just give up? Did they even bother fighting and then lost to Varian’s weapons or were they told to stand down by a brainwashed Frederic? If they knew something was wrong then why not stay and help? What makes them think they even could find Rapunzel given how no one knew where she was heading and her letters were infrequent? What difference would they think finding Rapunzel would do? 

Basically, just like with the “former cellmate” line, we needed to actually set up and establish this conflict rather than relying solely on exposition dumps. Because what we get here doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. It goes against established character and leaves a lot of unanswered plot holes. 

More Promotion of Authoritarianism From the Show

Remember that these are the same people who formed a lynch mob to hunt down a fourteen year old all because the king told them to. The same king who had been lying to them for years and placed their lives and homes in danger for months. The same king who persecuted the poor and orphans for years. Him suddenly sending townsfolk to the mines isn’t anything new, so what are these people’s breaking points? Anyone else would have revolted by now.  

But noooo, they need Rapunzel to do it for them. Cause Rapunzel is royalty and they can’t do anything without royal permission because they’re sheep. Sheep that’s been subjugated for years and conditioned to be afraid of their “beloved ruler”. 

I understand from a meta point of view why you would want your main character to take charge but...

Like this isn’t inspiring.

It’s disturbing. 

Why are we promoting blind loyalty to a person who’s not earned it just because they were born special? In a freakin’ kids show no less! 

Oh and still no one bothers to call out King Frederic’s abuses here, FYI. 

Take Note That Quirineon is Activated By Heat

This will be important later on in the review. 

He’s Already Built Grenades For You. Wouldn’t Those Be Better Because They’re Easier to Control?

He’s already built explosive chemicals for you. You just used them in part one of the episode. And it came in an easy to use form rather than an unstable, and untested, mess that could literally blow up in your faces since no one, not even Varian himself, knows how to control it yet. 

You Don’t Hammer Out a Cast Iron Pan

It’s literally in the word. To make a cast iron pan you pour the metal into a casted mold. You don't hammer it out like you would with a sword or something. And you can’t even go with the “rule of cool” here cause Rapunzel surrounded by molten metal and fire would have been far more impressive looking.  

Yes I’m being picky cause I’m stalling. I don’t care. This is just yet another instance of the crew not paying attention to details like they should. 

Behold The Final Time Eugene Will Ever Call Out Rapunzel’s BS

This is the last time Eugene will hold an honest discussion with Rapunzel like an equal to her. By the end of this episode he will have transitioned into full on doormat mode. 

Also burying negative feelings and not addressing issues is who Rapunzel is. She’s been pulling this shit since day one. It’s what causes 90% of the conflicts in the show. Have you not noticed Eugene?  

So This Episode Has Contradictory “Lessons” 

The episode presents this idea that Rapunzel needs to open up to others and trust again after Cassandra’s betrayal. The problem is that the episode doesn’t follow through on that. It makes a knee-jerk decision to go with a “responsibility” lesson that wasn’t built up to instead at the last minute. 

More on this later.    

Varian Doesn’t Actually Interact With the Saporians at Any Point.

The only person Varian interacts with is Andrew. We have no concept of how he fits in with the rest of the group and what his dynamics are with them. What do they think of Varian? What does Varian think of them? The consequence to this is to further divorce Varian from narrative, even though this is supposed to be his redemption episode. 

As I said in the last part, you can easily write Varian out of this episode and nothing really changes plot wise. That’s bad writing. 

Also I was robbed of Khary Payton and Jeremy Jordan exchanging lines. I was this close to having audio material for my BH6 crossover, dang it! 

Behold The One Time the Black Lady Gets a Line!

I think her name is Juniper? 

You can tell it’s her because of the shadow on the wall.

Anyways they casted this part and only bothered to give the character a single line? What a waste! 

But this just goes back to the series' poor representation. The only WOC in the show are presented as “shifty” and untrustworthy, even when they are ultimately “good guys”. The majority of them are straight up villains tho, and even as antagonists they’re not afforded any real screen time. 

And the only other outright black women on the show is the inventor lady who was given zero respect and the ghost of a barbarian. 

Once again, I don’t think the crew are intentionally racist. I think they’re just sloppy. They wanted to be more inclusive but they failed to actually give voice to minorities behind the scenes and so failed in representing them well. This is a problem with the industry as a whole, not just this one show, and must be talked about as such if we wish to change things for the better. 

None of this “Stuff” Holds Any Real Meaning

We get several callbacks to season one through Cassandra’s personal things that she left behind, but none of this stuff holds any real personal meaning. It’s just there. They wind up triggering these big emotional reactions from both Rapunzel and Cassandra but the audience is just left confused because what they’re crying over are things that have little significance to these characters. Even this line from season one is just dripping with sarcasm and not some pleasant past memory that either Cass or Raps holds dear to their hearts. 

Way To Go, Dumbass

It’s not that she went alone, or that she broke down when it finally hit her that Cass left, that I’m making fun off. The episode already addresses those two points. 

No, what ticks me off is that Rapunzel has taken down killer robots, ghosts, and monsters before now with her magical hair but a handful of regular dudes can just bring her down? I don’t care how much alchemy they got. Depowering your main character for no stated reason just for narrative convenience is poor writing. 

Because If He Didn’t He Would Have DIED, Rapunzel!!!

He literally would have freakin died had he not done something! He was left inside a jail cell to rot away! Before that he was threatened with hangman’s noose! Before that violence from an angry crowd! Before that he was left alone to starve and/or die from exposure! There was no way out for him except to fight! 

And here you are inside the very prison that you kept him in and you still don't have the fucking self awareness to put two and two together! 

This Right Here the Assassination of Rapunzel’s Character and the Killing Blow to the Series

Yeah, and what about after the storm? Hun, bitch!?

We’ve spent two damn seasons watching Rapunzel stepping on people and making excuses for herself and the one time when she should realize her actions are wrong and finally own up to her behavior and she still does not fucking change.

This is supposed to be a coming of age story! That means the main character is supposed to grow and learn shit! But when it matters most, Rapunzel only digs in her heels and refuses to change! 

Why should I care about this character anymore if she’s just going to keep on being selfish no matter what? Why should I bother watching the show if it fails to deliver on its premise? How is this in any way shape or form an appropriate message for children!? 

If you’re watching the series for the first time, then it’ll take awhile to register just how awful this scene is and how it really is the beginning of the end, because they did have time to turn things around after this. But they didn’t, and here we are. 

This Isn’t a Real Apology

It’s not a real apology if all you do is make excuses for yourself. Rapunzel doesn’t address what she actually did wrong here and it has nothing to do with her stupid promise. 

She neglected and enabled the abuse of a child for a year and three months, and she’s not even sorry for it! 

You Were Never a “Friend” Rapunzel

Friends, actually do shit together. They enjoy each other’s company. They care when the other is hurt or in trouble. 

Rapunzel only came to see Varian when she needed him for something. Even now, after this confrontation, that’s all she’ll ever do. She does not actually care about Varian, because the creators will not let her care. 

And Here Comes the Death of Varian’s Characterization

In order to make this stupid, forced, “redemption” work the writers had to do a complete 180 with Varian’s character and his motivations. Instead of freeing his father, seeking revenge, or just, you know, surviving, he now suddenly cares about “being friends” and “being accepted by people”, only he has no reason to want any of that! 

Rapunzel is a shit friend. Heck all the mains are crap friends to him. They ruined his life and the townspeople tried to kill him. Why would he want anything to do with any of these a-holes!? 

Varian doesn’t get assassinated in the same sense as Rapunzel and Cassandra do. He doesn’t suddenly become a hateable dumb douchebag or anything, but he nevertheless has his character retroactively sabotaged by the writing.  

Uh, Were You Not There When Your Dad Rounded Up a Lynch Mob Against Him, Raps?

I believe you were. Also Varian literally told you to your face that he had to go into hiding cause the townspeople were willing to attack him just because those rumors that you failed to stop and pretended not to know anything about. 

Just because the characters shout something repeatedly does not make it true. The audience isn’t dumb. They can remember what happened only two seasons ago. 

Where Was the Inciting Incident For This Change of Heart?

Why should he even want their forgiveness? Why has he given up on freeing his father? Why is he having second doubts about overthrowing the kingdom that persecuted him? 

If you’re going to drastically change a character’s motivations, goals, and moral alignment then you need to present an in story reason for that change. We don’t get that. There’s no inciting incident on screen for us to see the shift in his character development. 

The audience is left to only infer, and that’s poor writing. The audience shouldn’t have to do the work of the writers for them.  Characters’ motivations and goals  should not be guess work. 

The only thing we can glean from this is that he had a change of heart while in prison and that’s a horrifying thing for the show to suggest. That’s basically justifying Frederic’s abuse. It also recontextualizes Varian’s arc into one of submission to his abusers and not one of learning to do the right thing simply because it’s right. 

Once Again, Were You Not There For Season One Rapunzel?

They had a year and three damn months of chances. These people actively tried to do him harm just for simply seeking help. He has no reason to trust them nor you. 

Why Are We Shoulding All of the Blame Onto the Abused Child?

Yes, he did do all of those things, technically, but they’re being presented here without context.

The Queen enabled his abuser who was threatening his life and destroyed his home. He kidnapped her as a last restore when all other methods to get out of his desperate situation failed. 

The princess he threatened neglected him for three months and repeatedly refused to help him, even throwing him out into a deadly snow storm. Despite him being her responsibility, thereby making her neglect a flat out abuse of power.  

He would have died a slow and painful death in prison had he not helped to overthrow the kingdom that persecuted him. 

I’m not going to pretend that what Varian did was right or that he shouldn’t feel sorry for what he did, but this is a highly skewed version of events that are being recounted here just to create bias in the viewers. It’s manipulative writing intended to gaslight the audience. 

Also, why does he even want a second chance!?   

Doesn’t This Undermine The Saporian’s Goals?

The Saporians wanted to reclaim their ancestral homeland so that they would no longer be a displaced people. How does blowing up that homeland help them? 

Season three just throws all logic out the window. There’s barely a single villain who doesn’t undermine their own goals at some point with their stupid actions. 

So Why Varian and Andrew Not Some Other Team Up?

Out of all of the various recurring baddies in the show Varian and Andrew have the least in common. I’m not saying that they couldn’t work together, but doing so required more set up than this. Because as is, this is a very contrived teamup. 

They have diametrically opposed goals and moral alignments. Varian doesn’t bring anything to the table that the Saporaions couldn’t have supplied themselves. Meanwhile the Saporians have failed to offer Varian anything that he could want. 

At best it’s a marriage of convenience for them to both break out of prison together, but even that is contrived because we don't know why neither of them were sent away on the prison barge with the rest of the season one villians.  

Better combinations would have been 

Varian & Lady Caine

Andrew & Lady Caine 

Varian & Cass

Andrew & Cass 

Varian & Zhan Tiri

Andrew & Zhan Tiri

Varian & Hector

The Baron & Varian

Andrew & Staylan 

King Trevor & Varian 

Like there were tons of options here that the writers just ignored, even though any of them would have made more sense than the one they went with.  

The Andrew and Varian Dynamic Can Be Seen as an Allegory for Grooming; Unfortunately the Writers Didn’t Consider That Implication.

Yeah... That’s pretty much what Andrew has done here. He’s groomed this desperate and lonely teen to become a child soldier for him. And one only can only pray that’s all he tried to groom him to do since they were trapped inside a confined and enclosed space together for several months. 

Listen, I don’t mind children’s shows touching upon darker subjects. Often fantasy is a good way for people to process complex themes and uncomfortable real world situations through the safety of fiction. It can even be helpful for those who have had the misfortune to experience certain traumas. 

I’m not complaining that TTS is too dark. 

I’m complaining about it being shit. 

All of the crap Varian goes through is just thrown in there for shock value. It’s not here to commentate on the real world nor provide a complex story. The situations are brought only to then be outright ignored. This isn’t thoughtful nor deep. It’s not meaningful nor heartfelt. It’s just hollow drama done in bad taste. 

You’re Not In a Position to Judge Rapunzel 

You got captured first because you decided to throw yourself a pity party. 

Would He Though?

I’m pretty sure Quirin is very well aware of how shitty Frederic is. If anything I would think he’d be pissed that his son, that he tried so hard to protect, was mistreated in such a hordenous way. 

This isn’t some satisfying ending to Varian’s arc. It’s a heartbreaking revelation that he’s been beaten down by his abusers.  

Varian’s Arc Isn’t Actually About Validation, and Rapunzel Giving It Here Doesn’t Really Change Anything 

I spoke about this before on its own, but Tangled the Series places far too much stock in validation. Yes, it’s an aspect of his character arc, but it’s not the end all and be all of his motivation. It’s not the force that drives him to do what he does. 

His primary goal is survival, both for himself and for his father. His secondary goal is gaining his father’s approval, but that’s not because he’s seeking generic praise, it’s because his father is emotionally distant. The “validation” is a mask for the real issues which are to fix his relationship with his dad and avoid the guilt of having possibly killed him in an accident. 

Rapunzel has fuck all to do with that. 

He doesn’t need to hear approval from her. He needs her to get her shit together and help him! 

Rapunzel’s and Varian’s Situations Are Nothing Alike and Rapunzel Doesn’t Know Jackshit

Rapunzel you were dumped by your bestie because you’re a shitty friend. 

Varian was neglected and abused by those who were supposed to take care of him. 

Unless you’re drawing parallels to how Frederic and Gothel treated you, and even then neither of them denied you basic fucking needs! 

This should be an “Oh Shit! I’ve become just like Mother Gothel” moment for Rapunzel, not an “Oh yay! Someone to share in my personal misery” moment. 

Man, Rapunzel suuuuuucks! 

Also This Still Isn’t An Actual Apology

Once again, Rapunzel is not admitting what she did wrong here. She’s not actually acknowledging Varian’s pain, nor what she needs to do to make admins with him. 

What she’s doing is making things all about herself again. She’s talking about her feelings. About what she is facing. Rapunzel is an incredibly selfish and egotistical person and the show is trying to present this as a positive thing by rewarding her for such behavior. 

Varian’s Redemption Should Have Nothing to Do with “Friendship”

Varian has no reason to want to become friends again with the woman who ruined his life and abused him. 

But more than that, redemption shouldn’t be dependent upon Rapunzel’s friendship, nor even her ‘forgiveness”. Varian should be able to do the right thing just because it’s the right thing, Rapunzel be damned. 

This cheepens not only his character development but also Rapunzel’s development as well. Rapunzel is not allowed to grow as a person and accept that not everyone wants to be her friend, and that people may have valid reasons to hate her even, and that doesn’t make them evil. 

It also rushes through Varian’s arc undermining what the audience had to get through to get to this point.  

OK, Let’s Talk About The Goatee

I wouldn’t have minded the beard had it just not looked like a fucking barcode. There’s production art where it looks fine. But just wiping it away ties back to what I was talking about in part one. It’s denying Varian the chance to grow up. This is supposed to be his coming of age story as well but the crew won't let him do that because “rule of funny” apparently overrides what the characters actually need in order to develop.  

Once again, the show isn’t a sitcom. You can have comedic moments but the comedy doesn’t need to outright undermine the drama. 

Once Again, Shouldn’t Eugene Be the First Person to Jump to Varian’s Defence?

You mean the orphan on the streets who stole stuff and fought to survive when the adults failed to take care of him? Is that what you’re talking about Eugene? Cause if I remember correctly that was you not just three years ago. 

You Mean Rapunzel Needs Him To Make Her Feel Better About Herself

Spoiler alert, but Varian doesn’t actually do anything after this point in the episode. His entire “redemption” is just about making Rapunzel feel better about herself after Cass has rejected her. He’s literally become the rebound. 

How Come Varian Suddenly Became Shorter Just for This Shot?

I know the meta reason is to reflect that scene back in Queen for a Day when Rapunzel promised him that she'd help him before everything went tits up. Where he was also drawn shorter in that episode to make him seem more verunable, but here he’s just suddenly shorter for only two shots and then suddenly back to his usual height. 

Crap like this is why I insist that Varian didn’t actually get any taller in season three. The show just has always been inconsistent with his height and most of the “evidence” for his growth are cherry picked instances where the show drew him smaller than usual for reasons, like here.   

So Where Did They Get That Much of the Explosives and How Did They Get Them So Fast?

Only Varian knows how to manufacture that stuff. Why would he make that much of it if he was still in the experimental phase with it? He’s even surprised that they have so much, so where did they get it? If they made it then, how did they make it so fast? 

So This Plan Goes Nowhere

Spoiler alert: Varian doesn’t actually get to do any of that. In fact he’s kind of pointless for the rest of the episode. 

Why Would the King and Queen Care About a City That They Can’t Remember?

Like this revenge doesn’t make sense. It’s just a contrived way to get Eugene and Lance out of the way.

If the Quirineon Explodes From Being Exposed to Heat Then What Good Does Just Dropping It Do?

Yeah, remember? The stuff explodes when heated. Simply dropping it shouldn’t do anything other than make a mess on the ground maybe. 

All That Build Up and Varian Still Doesn’t Get to Do Anything Useful

Up till this point, Varian was shown to be the most competent threat in the show. Yet here they have him be a screw up twice in a row just for comedy antics and to glorify Rapunzel again. 

If you got to nerf other characters just to make your main look good then you’ve failed to establish your main character as being capable in their own right. 

Remember That This Boy Was Trapped in a Jail Cell With This Guy for a Year!

No, I’ll never be over this.

Andrew is the most directly violent and scummy out of all of the villians in the show. 

If he’s willing to do this now, if he was willing to do this to his ex-girlfriend, then what the heck was he willing to do when he and Varian were trapped alone together? 

So Andrew Just Willingly Sacrifices His Own People Here....Even Though His Goal Was to Give His People a New Home....

People need to use this gif more often when concerning this show and the villains’ ass-backwards plans.

And yes they survive because of Varian alchemy. But that was on accident. Andrew had no way of knowing that would happen. He’s willing to destroy his own people just to blow up his ancestral homeland and for what!? What does he gain from this action?  

The Mind Wipe Kills Frederic’s and Arianna’s Characters; Littraly

Frederic and Arianna are effectively dead at this point. Anything that made them, well them, has been wiped away. Their personalities, hopes, dreams, their on going stories and development, just gone. And we never get them back, even when their memories supposedly return. 

Varian’s Not Even Allowed to Get the Idea On How to Save Corona...In His Own Redemption Episode No Less

This is his episode! We’ve spent two years building up to this point and you can’t even let him help? He’s denied the chance to make up for his own mistakes! Just so Rapunzel can play hero and be a very shallow representation of what a bunch of men think a “strong” woman should be! 

It’s fucking insulting. That’s what it is. 

Making a female character the center of the universe to the point where other people are just props for her is not empowering! 

No It’s Not!!

Uh you wouldn’t even be here had you just fucking helped Varian to being with you dumb bitch! This is very much you and your father’s mess! 

Even now, while pretending to be responsible, Rapunzel can’t actually be responsible and own up to what she did! 

She’s fucking 20 and the 16 year old shows more maturity than her! 

Also Your Hair Can Protect Two People at Once Rapunzel; Remember?

There’s no excuse for leaving Varian out of the action. We’ve been shown multiple times now that Rapunzel’s magic hair can protect her and other people at the same time. 

Having Rapunzel Save the Day By Herself Undermines Everything the Episode Was Trying to Establish

What happened to needing to “trust again” and letting other people help you? Having Rapunzel save the day alone just tosses out the lesson that the show was trying to build up to. 

The show tries to frame this as Rapunzel learning “responsibility” but that also does not work. For one it was never established that she needed to learn that within the episode itself and secondly, she doesn’t actually do anything different from what she usually does. 

Being an action hero isn’t the same thing as being responsible. Being responsible is being considerate of others, doing the borning shit or mundane crap that you hate, and being mature enough to recognize your own failings and admitting when you were wrong. 

So in the end Rapunzel is neither responsible nor more open to others. 

And There’s the Death of Eugene’s Character

Lance, who has maybe exchanged all of three sentences with Raps, is more distrught than the guy that supposedly wants to marry her. This isn’t heartwarming, nor it is growth. It’s just lobotomizing a character right in front of our eyes. 

In this very episode he was worried about Raps going to face the Saporians by herself and was, guess what, fucking right to do so. But he doesn’t give two shits if she gets blown up!? 

Ooookaaaay.....

This is the completion of turning Eugene into a doormat. From now own he shan’t be allowed to have any thoughts or feelings of his own that disagrees with Rapunzel. 

The Eugene we knew is now dead. 

But Of Course the Show Rewards Everyone for Behaving In the Dumbest Way Possible Anyways

Don’t expect any of these grossly out of character moments and oxygen deprived logic to be addressed nor fixed within the show. The series will keep on shoving unearned endings into our facing while insisting that this is positive development. 

How Did Y’all Get Here Before Varian?

Yes, he was left on a roof, but he can climb and y’all were outside of the city. 

Yeah... A Year and Half Fucking Later!

Ok, a year and three months, but that’s still not any better. Worse, all this implies is that Rapunzel would not have ever concerned herself with trying to free Quirin had Varian not broken out of prison. She would have literally left them both for dead and we’re supposed to find her suddenly doing the bare fucking minimum heartwarming and inspiring?

Where Was the Inciting Incident to Use the Decay Incantation for This? 

How did Rapunzel come up with this plan? When did she come up with it? 

When the hurt incantation was first found no one mentioned how it could be used to save Quirin. No one even gave Quirin a thought. Since then the incarnation hasn’t been brought back up, ever. This is a pretty big leap in logic for Rapunzel to suddenly think of this. 

All it highlights how Varian was originally meant to be there to translate the scrolls and incantations in order to establish all this but of course it got cut so now it just comes the fuck out of nowhere. 

Not Letting Varian Have Anything to Do With Saving His Father Is Even Worse Than Not Letting Him Save the Day

This has been his motivation since the beginning. It’s been the driving plot for a season, and now that the time has finally come what does get to do? 

Hold a dang bucket. 

Part of coming up with satisfying endings is following through on what you’ve established. The audience needs closure. Simply freeing Quirin isn’t enough, we need the carthartis of Varian specifically fulfilling his goal. 

I don’t know how to break this to you Chris, but this isn’t Rapunzel’s story. Not this segment of it anyways. It’s Varian’s and it just so happens to connect to Rapunzel’s. She shouldn’t have been center stage for this. 

The Series Blows It’s Load Too Early with the Incantations

This is the last time we’ll hear any of the incantations sung on screen, cause someone in budgeting didn’t know what was important to throw the money at and what was not. 

It’s not bad here, but if we could only hear one incantation only once this season it needed to be in the finale with the final heal incantation. 

Varian Was Right All Along

Also, all this does is justify Varian’s actions in season one. Rapunzel was indeed the only one who could free his dad according to this. For a series that desperately wants to shove all of the blame onto an abused child’s shoulders they sure go out their way to prove him right. 

So How Is the Hurt Incantation Suppose to Work?

There were so many fan theories after this scene because Varian and Quirin don’t respond to the hurt incantation the same way previous characters had. 

No one is gasping for breath, Varian can touch Raps without burning his hands, and Rapunzel can control the direction of her power. ect. 

Turns out there was nothing there, the writers just didn’t know what the fuck they were doing and made the hurt incantation very inconsistent just like all of the magic in this show. 

BULLSHIT!!!

You literally turn into a villain because she gave up on you!!!!

She also didn’t give two shits about you throughout the entirety of season two. 

Why are we just pretending like season one didn’t exist!? 

Why!?

The Note!!!

No It Fucking Didn’t!

Does That Look Like “I’m Proud of You Son” To You?

Chris went on to confirm that, yes, the note did hold more information that then got cut. Pretty much confirming all that we suspected. That Varian was cut from season two and his story hastily shoved back into season three at the last minute. 

Below is the link to the tumblr post he made.

https://cnotes.tumblr.com/post/190534585146/apparently-one-of-the-writers-said-a-while-back

What’s worse is that his defense is such bullshit. The below exchange pretty much sums it all up.

This Doesn’t Actually Resolve Anything and Is Therefore Unsatisfying to Watch

Part of the reason why this conclusion doesn’t work is because it doesn’t actually address any of the problems that they have in their relationship. Quirin never owns up to what he did wrong. There’s no discussion of what Varian was up to while he was entrapped, no conversation about what secrets Quirin hid from his son, and zero admission of wrongdoing on either side.   

Also Varian has done nothing significant to earn those particular words. Saying I love makes sense, but in context saying “I’m proud of you” does not. It doesn’t even work on a meta level cause the episode prevented Varioan from accomplishing anything. 

It’s empty. 

There Could Have Been More Screen Time to Fix This If Not for Season Two Mucking About

https://discord.com/channels/427940661589704715/569296212218347522/777635115978457098

Above is the link to the original storyboards. It doesn’t fix everything but there’s a lot more satisfying emotional beats including adding Ruddiger back in who is suspiciously absent for the entire episode for no stated reason. 

This version was cut due to time. Which, like with the Crossing the Line song, didn’t need to be had they been more effective with their usage of time in season two. 

They also could have had a better conclusion to Varian’s arc in general had he not been cut from season two altogether. 

So What Does Freeing Quirin Add to the Series?

I’m serious. What does freeing Quirin at this point and time do for the story?

It doesn’t add any character development, Quirin just wanders around aimlessly in the background until the finale and even then his part in that is a pointless dead end. Varian doesn’t gain his emotional closure, just empty, hollow “praise”. Nor is he allowed to accomplish any of his established goals. No new lore or history is exposed. No mystery uncovered. 

There’s no reason why this couldn’t have been done later in the season. Provide more tension and keep up the consequences of the characters actions. Give the mains something to do and work on until Cass and Zhan Tiri show up again.  

The only reason why this is here is to wrap Varian’s story up as soon as possible so he won’t “steal Cassandra’s spotlight”. That’s it. He’s rewarded for conforming to Rapunzel’s will and all the fans should shut up and be grateful, at least according to Chris.

I Like This Song But It Wasn’t Needed

It doesn’t add anything to the story. It’s just a generic celebration song. Which would be fine if it wasn’t for the fact that we have a limited number of songs, even less than in previous seasons, and the story isn’t over yet. This is the wrong place to put a victory song at. 

Especially when we could have had a song that furthered Varian’s redemption instead.  Yeah, that was cut too. 

So Is Varian the New “Lance” This Season?

He’s right there! This is his dang focus episode! 

Why hire Broadway singers and not let them sing!? Why waste talent and money like that? 

Also These Lyrics!

Did Glenn Slater just not read the scripts before writing the songs? That’s all season three ever does! Give the mains what they want without earning it. Even in this very episode!

So Is This Rapunzel’s 20th Birthday or Not?

Ok I have gotten into many a heated debate about how long season three is supposed to be. And that’s because what the crew says doesn’t match what the series shows us. 

By all accounts this should be Rapunzel’s birthday. According to season two she’s been gone for one year, and there’s the lanterns that they fly specifically on her birthday. 

But no one verbally says it’s her birthday and I’ve heard conflicting accounts from different members of the crew. Some stating that it is her 20th birthday and some disagreeing that it is. 

Well I’ll take what evidence that the show actually presents to its audience on screen over what the cast and crew says after the fact any day of the week, so I’ll be gathering up this evidence and proving by the end that season three is two years not one. 

But the fact that I must comb through series to prove this, the fact that we can even have this debate, and the fact that the crew have to state basic info after the series is over is just proof of the bad writing. 

Fun Fact: Cupcakes Weren’t Invented Until the 20th Century

Yeah, that’s the fault of the OG film, and yeah it doesn’t really mean much, but still it’s one more thing to add to the pile of stuff that doesn’t fit. 

Plus I’m just a hardcore nerd for historical cooking and I like to share my knowledge.  

Yeah But How Can He Trust All of You Again?

You’re the ones who let him down first; repeatedly. And you only started to make things up to him once he became useful to you. What assurance does he have that you won’t mistreat him again next time he’s in trouble or is no longer of any use to y’all? 

Yes, Let NOT Show What the Main Character Is Actually Going Through

Yup, this is “Rapunzel’s show” but we’re not going to let Rapunzel have any focus on her feelings or give any insight into her thought process about what is the main conflict of the series now.

Conclusion

Ducktales was robbed! 

I can’t believe this shit won an Emmy for “best writing.” It utterly fails on every possible level. It fails to be a continuation of the ongoing story and it fails to be a stand alone episode. Even the very structure of the story is fundamentally flawed. The only reason why it’s not the worst episode of the entire series because the finale and the penultimate episodes exist. 

Anyways...I finally made it through. It literally took my entire weekend but I’m finally caught up. Next week I’ll be going back to the usual one episode a week schedule. 

#Varian #tangled #anti-rapunzel #rapunzel's tangled adventure #tangled the series #Eugene #andrew

[girlmeetsliv3]

Prince of Nothing I

~ Part One of Five ~

Release Date: March 19th, 2020 @ 9 p.m.

Word Count: 6,608

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything except for you…

Jeon Jungkook was the prince of everything: heaven, hell, and everything in between. His family was an enigma who came to power under mysterious circumstances and had managed to retain hold over the kingdom for centuries - even if no one knew how. There was one thing that Jungkook wanted though, something that could never be his: you. A nobody. A girl with no title. No land. Just money and a pure soul to your name. Jeon Jungkook would’ve never spared a look your way, had that incident not occurred. Now you find yourself the target of his affection and the most hated woman in all the land. Which will kill you first?

Trigger Warning: The following story contains mentions of manipulation, abuse, and vivid, as well as implied, descriptions of abusive acts. The behavior and mindset of the characters in this will be incredibly yandere and toxic. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~

“YN, please listen to me,” Hyunshik spoke a frown etched into his pale face. From where he was standing YN could see how his leg twitched anxiously. Hyunshik wasn’t the type of individual to be easily stressed, in fact, the man had a perpetual optimism that often irked his sister. Which is why her brother’s sudden switch unnerved YN. “Shik, what’s going on?”

Hyunshik had suggested a holiday for the two of them. Though the way he shaped his words, YN wondered if it was less of a ‘holiday’ and more of an escape. From what exactly she didn’t know. YN shook her head, she didn’t understand where all this was coming from. Things had been going well for the siblings as of late: their house was small but quaint enough for them to live comfortably. While Hyunshik had been employed in Mistress Eun’s manor since he was sixteen, YN had recently been employed in a small shop in the town square. Her employer was a bit strict but well-meaning. Is it Mistress Eun? YN had heard enough around town to know that she wasn’t a kind woman - often barking orders and treating her staff like scum beneath her feet. Hyunshik though simply cleaned, he wasn’t in high enough of a standing to be able to communicate much less see her.

YN stopped organizing the different fabrics on the shelf and walked towards her brother. “Talk to me. Did something happen?” In her eyes, there were unspoken words - one that Hyunshik could easily understand. Did she do something to you? Though Hyunshik was always happy, he wasn’t naive about the cruelty of the world. Something his sister had yet to experience fully, so for her sake he smiled. “Nah, work has just been piling up recently and I thought the two of us could use a break you know. Maybe go to the seaside and enjoy the ocean for a bit.” YN smiled though it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “I just started working silly. Maybe we can go for the solstice? That way we can actually enjoy the sea. It’s far too cold now.”

Hyunshik gave an exaggerated sigh, “Fine but don’t complain to me later on,” his finger came up and gently massaged the space between YN’s brows. “Stop frowning, it’s unladylike and makes you look like a hag.” YN scoffed, “Rude. Plus, I am hardly a lady.” She returned to the counter and began organizing the small intricacies placed there. Hyunshik rolled his eyes, “Please my sister is the fairest maiden in all the land. I have to fight off suitors every day.” His tone became a strong bravado as he flexed his arms.

“Don’t lie to yourself, if anything I fight off my suitors every day. You couldn’t harm a fly.”

           YN and Hyunshik had moved to their current home when the latter was sixteen years old. Their parents had just passed shortly before and they couldn’t afford to live in the city anymore, despite them living in the slums; which only grew worse over time. Slavers often went around picking up orphaned children to either sell or trade, so Hyunshik sought to get both of them as far away as he could. In desperate times came desperate measures, but Hyunshik had always stayed on the right side of things. Even when doing the wrong thing would have provided an easy out to all their hardships, he wasn’t that type of man. YN knew this deep down in her bones. So, when she saw a detained poster pierced to her front door with Hyunshik’s name under it she knew it had been a mistake.

           Soojin knew this was a part of her role, didn’t mean she hated it any less. Soojin had woken up that morning to the advisor telling her that the King had relayed his duties of standing council to Jungkook, and Jungkook to her. She didn’t have to do it - not really but it wouldn’t bode well. Even if these were technically not her people, they would be someday and it would be better to win their favor than their apathy. Soojin was meant to be the velvet to the Jeon's leather and she would play her role well. So she had sat in that wretched chair that seemed to wrap around her, tightening every second she sat upon it. It wasn’t too difficult, most of the cases were simple cases. As she was not a princess by blood, she couldn’t make any impactful decisions but it was a bit fun nonetheless to have people look up at her in the opal throne, fear in their eyes. It sent a tingle down her spine.

           Still the sensation would fade quickly as the black mamba kept coiling around her form; a reminder that it was not her throne - not yet. “Princess Soojin, the next case.” Soojin felt her eyes roll to the back of her head as she looked down upon Joo Eun feeling nothing but disgust crawl up her throat. The lady was Yoongi’s latest fling, but she felt the need to parade that around the entire court. Though one could tell just by looking at her attire that modesty and sensibility wasn’t something she knew. “What seems to be the problem?” Before Eun could speak a younger girl stepped forward, her attire worn but pleasant. Her eyes were red and brimming with unspilt tears, but somehow the girl’s head remained held high.

           “Good Morning your highness, I am here on behalf of my brother to ask that he is released as I believe there may have been a mistake.” The commoner kept her head low as she spoke, body angled in a bow. It wasn’t until she finished speaking that she looked up and Soojin’s eyes met hers. When she gazed into her eyes a weird sense of Jamais Vu consumed Soojin. What? “Why that’s just ridiculous. Why would I lie?” Eun’s voice was a high shrill, too high to be genuine. “I know my brother, he would never steal or harm anyone. Even if they tried to harm him.” The girl pleaded. She never once looked at Eun, perhaps knowing that would be a lost cause. No, all her words were directed towards the princess sitting on the throne. “Are you implying something?! Look at these people, we give them everything. Allow them to live under us, yet they bite the hand that feeds them.”

           Soojin would’ve normally agreed with Eun’s statement, but her attention was focused on the girl. She knew her from somewhere but it almost felt like what she was seeing wasn’t real. An illusion. A vision. “There are no witnesses. My brother doesn’t even have access upstairs. How would he steal?” It seems that Eun hadn’t thought out her plan to incriminate the boy or she hadn’t expected that he would have someone come to bat for him. Nonetheless, it seemed this case was a simple one. Soojin raised her hand to signal her decision, about to wave in the direction of the village girl until -

           “He assaulted me! He asked me to bed him and when I refused he threatened to kill me.” Ah, so that’s what had happened. Poor boy had refused Eun’s advancements and now he was paying the price. “Do you have any proof of this statement Mistress Eun?” She didn’t need proof, Soojin knew that. Just her words were enough to condemn him. No one would ever dare question a noble - their words were gold. Still, Soojin felt pity for the girl. “He took that necklace off of me.” Eun pointed towards the girl’s neck.

“No, this is my mother’s. She left it to me when she passed.”

“Liar. As if a vermin as yourself could afford something like that.”

“Please Mistress Eun. Please, Your Highness.”

Soojin was beginning to get a headache with all the back and forth. She rubbed her temples slowly. Just let Jungkook deal with this when he gets back. For some reason, something twisted in her gut when she had that thought but she ignored it. Soojin leaned back, feeling more claustrophobic by the second. A sigh left her lips, “The prince will deal with this when he returns. Take her to the dungeons.”

 YN couldn’t stop the tears flowing from her eyes even if she wanted to. She’d long given up on holding in the sobs that racked through her body as her brother’s fate dawned on her. Hyunshik...we should’ve run away. There was a time for should've. If only she could’ve gone back and recognized the absolute terror in her brother’s eyes. The dread. Please. Please. Please. Please. I’ll do anything. It seems someone had heard her pleas for YN felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand, goosebumps rising beneath her clothes. YN turned to look past the iron gate, she saw nothing but pure darkness - but she could feel it. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. She was hesitating, afraid of what would occur next. Unsure if she was prepared for it.

“Who are you?” She heard a slight snicker back. YN jumped off the slab of metal she was previously sitting on. Her eyes pierced into the dark abyss trying to find something, but she came out empty-handed.

“Someone.” It was curt, monotone in its nature. Not giving much away except that it was a man.

“Why are you here?” The question was echoed back at her. YN stepped forward heart wavering, but her voice was strong. “You know why.” It seems he didn’t have a remark for that. Something inside YN told her to keep her guard up, she had only ever felt like that when she was younger and living in the slums. Life had been a tightrope walk without a safety net and YN felt transported back to her youth.

“Tell me YN, if you had to choose, would you rather be the fool or the one doing the fooling?”

“Does it matter?” YN didn’t see where he was taking this conversation.

“Better to be the fooler than the one being fooled.” The smugness seeping from his tone was palpable.

“I disagree.”

“Oh?” His voice seemed closer now, though she still couldn’t tell which direction it came from.

YN stepped forward once again, “I’d rather trust blindly, stupidly, and be fooled than be the one doing the fooling.”

“Why?” The voice was even closer now, YN threaded carefully still uneasy about not knowing who this mysterious man was. There was something familiar about his tone, though she couldn’t quite place it.

“Because the world needs more of it...hope I mean.”

“I don’t think that is what it comes down to.” YN could feel his disappointment, but she didn’t care. The man seemed to want to converse in circles and she wasn’t in the mood to entertain whims.

“Doesn’t it? I would rather live a life full of hope that the world out there is good and pure, even if it is a short one. It would be worse to live a long life without hope where I rob others of it.” There was a strong silence that followed. As if the man was mulling over her words, then suddenly there was a shift in the air: it became lighter. Pushing all the warnings aside YN took one last step until she was mere inches from the metallic rods that imprisoned her in the cell.

“I can save your brother.” YN felt disoriented as if the air had been robbed from her lungs before she even knew it. Happiness swelled in her. Hope-filled her, but - “Did you not just confess to fooling others?” YN knew better than to trust the words of a mysterious stranger lurking in the shadows. It seemed the man was aware of this for he finally stepped out of the shadows and into the light, his body inches from the door.

Jeon Jungkook, the prince, stood in front of YN with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It was a cocky smile, the type that alluded to an inside joke or something ironic. “Did you not just confess to trusting blindly?” YN peered into his eyes trying to decipher what he wanted. Though YN was trustful, she wasn’t a fool to the way things worked. The only time a man in a position of power like Jungkook offered something to someone like her - is because he wanted something in return. The devil is in the details. YN had heard enough stories about the Jeon family growing up to know they gave the devil a run for his money. ”What do you want?”

“Hm,” Jungkook seemed to actually think this over as he glanced away from her and towards the long dark corridor. He’s trying to play it off. “Your highness?” At this, his attention returned to the woman in front of him. “Yes?” Jungkook whispered, his eyebrow quirking.

“What would your highness like in return for helping my brother?” YN had tossed caution out the window, the second she realized it was the prince she was speaking to. Not that royalty could be trusted - no - but he was the only person who could aid her. Besides Princess Soojin, who threw me here in the first place. The princess had appeared to be on YN’s side only for her to throw her in a dark cell the second her patience wore out. If she treated her subjects like nuisances rather than people, it seemed she wasn’t the good well-mannered princess the media portrayed her to be. Just another spoke in the wheel.

Jungkook could see the wheels turning behind her eyes and spoke quickly, “I am lonely and require stimulation...of the intellectual kind, of course.”

This dazed YN for a bit, “You wish to debate?!” At this the prince shook his head, “I wish to converse. It’s not often I get to speak with my subjects, especially not ones as well-versed as yourself.” That was a back-handed compliment if there ever was one.

“Perhaps if you did, your highness, you would find that many of your subjects are as well-versed as I am. Some even more. It’s a survival tactic, not a skill.” Hyunshik had always said that tongue of hers would only get her into trouble. Considering how intrigued Jungkook looked by her response, he was right.

“How so?”

“It's a dog eat dog world out there.” More like a snake eat snake.

“And yet you trust blindly, stupidly even and hope.”

YN had no response for that so she chose to change the subject, “When do you wish for this to happen?” Jungkook chuckled, stepping closer to the iron bars. YN could faintly feel his breath and he hers. “I’ll send a guard to escort you.” YN didn’t respond, something in the back of her mind warned her against this. Told her to turn her back at the extended hand, to bite it, spit at it, and never accept it. However, to do so would mean losing her brother; the only thing she had left in this life. As if sensing her reluctance Jungkook gave that final nudge, the one that would send her tumbling down the rabbit hole.

“What would you do to save your brother?”

“Anything.”

 Yoongi had never excelled at pleasantries or small talk, he preferred standing in the corner and merely observing everyone else. His father used to joke that it would’ve been better if he was born in the lower class, that way he could live his life unnoticed and unbothered. Still, there were definite benefits to being in his position and Yoongi had long taken advantage of them. Plus, the food wasn’t too bad. Although having to sit in awkward lunches such as this one often turned any delicacies in his mouth to ash. He picked up on the discussion between his two patrons, but when the subject of Eun came up Yoongi scowled. Yoongi had taken her as a Mistress simply to entertain him. She wasn’t too bad to look at and did decently in bed.

Her blowjobs, though, we're out of this world. Still, she proved too difficult to handle and had been bragging nonstop about being a Duke’s lover. While normally Yoongi wouldn’t care, it would only cause trouble at home and Yoongi already caused enough of it all by himself. Deciding it better not to dwell on those thoughts in public, especially in front of them, Yoongi’s attention returned to the Prince and Princess. Why the hell am I here?!

Yoongi had been resting in his room when he’d been informed that he'd been invited to a private lunch with the Prince. Though gauging from how out of it the young man seemed, especially whenever his lover spoke to him Yoongi was only more confused as to why he was here. Yoongi was in a high standing position, but there were definitely others who outranked him. Other’s that made for much more interesting players in the Jeon’s chess game, but it seemed the younger had a soft spot for him. It wasn’t the first time the prince had shown him a kindness he reserved for those closest to him. Maybe it meant he liked him? Or maybe he sees me as easy prey? Actually the more he focused on the young prince, the more it dawned on him that Jungkook was daydreaming - he was thinking.

“My mother has called and requested I visit her, says it’s an emergency. I’ll be leaving right after lunch and should return the day after tomorrow.”

Jungkook’s entire aura had shifted, a gleeful look now in his eyes. “Is that so?” pondered the young man, with an exaggerated pout on his lips. Yoongi had fallen victim to that trick so often he now recognized it, but it seems the Princess was none the wiser. “Don’t miss me too much,” Soojin replied, a smile on her face. Yoongi was often confused by the dynamic between the two of them. They didn’t act like lovers - no it was as if they were both pretending to be lovers and just happened to be really good at it. Or at least that’s how it should’ve been. For when Soojin stared at Jungkook for too long, her mask began to slip and Yoongi could see traces of affection and admiration in her eyes. Jungkook’s, however, remained forever blank and cold.

Their relationship reminded him of his own. “Tell me Yoongi, how has Jisoo been doing?” Shit, he wasn’t prepared for the cards to turn on him. Now both of them gazed at him with unrecognizable looks in their eyes. The masks are back on. “She’s well. Resting at home and tending to my mother.” Yoongi grumbled, he didn’t like being asked about his wife. It only served as a reminder to him and everyone else how undeserving he was of her. Thankfully the conversation had strayed away from him again onto some random girl. Yoongi let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding in. I need a break. Well, he had been taking a break he hadn’t seen his wife or lover in weeks, but now he needed a break from his break. Yoongi was getting angsty again and there was only one person who could fix that for him.

“If the two of you would excuse me, I’ll be going now.”

Before Yoongi could even blink, Soojin had left the room; left him alone with Jeon Jungkook. Those sharp snake-like eyes trailed over him like a beast assessing its prey. Any second now Jeon would strike, Yoongi could feel it. “Say Yoongi, your little songbird, does he still sing?” Yoongi was frozen in shock. H-how does he know? Jungkook had his head resting casually on his hand with an almost unamused look on his face, though Yoongi could see the wickedness gleaming in his eyes.

There was no point in denying the accusation, Yoongi knew, but perhaps to agree would cause so much more harm. “Not anymore, your highness.”

At this, the man sighed, “What a shame. I was in need of his services.” Jungkook was baiting him, Yoongi was too much of a coward not to bite.

“Services for what?”

“Nothing too major, just information.”

Information Yoongi could deal with, but there was something about the dark look in the Prince’s eyes that unnerved him. Still, this was a test, Yoongi would lose far too much if he failed it. God bless the poor soul. “Who?”

Yoongi didn’t miss the way a grin spread Jungkook’s lips apart.

 It was hours later that a guard did appear, his jaw sharp and nose held up high as if she were scum. YN was used to nobility treating people like her as if they were inferior, but a guard? YN smiled a bit which only seemed to upset the man more, for he practically dragged her out of her cell before threading through the dark corridors of the dungeons. The castle was beautiful - there was no denying that. Exorbitant and excessive in only the way the rich could be, still the palette of the castles were mostly shades of blacks, greys, and muted whites so it didn’t appear as if Midas had gone mad. It was a fairly long walk until they reached what she assumed were the apartments. The room they seemed to be heading for was the one at the end of the hall, whose doors stood taller and prouder than those around it.

YN did note how she hadn’t seen many nobles loitering around and decided it must be offseason. Why else would they let me into a room? The doors slid open before either the guard or YN could even touch them, which confused her. The guard wasted no time in pushing her inside and gesturing towards the bed, “Twenty minutes.” He stated before slamming the doors shut. For her to say the room wasn’t beautiful would be a lie, it was so unlike everything else the palace was: simple and almost vacant. Though what definitely stood out the most were the tall rounded stained glass doors that led out onto a balcony. There was something so beautiful about the way the moonlight streamed into the room, creating a beautiful highlight that contrasted all the darkness in the room. YN found herself walking towards the doors, drawn in by the moonlight.

When was the last time she’d seen the moon? Surely, it couldn’t have been so long ago? Her hands reached out towards the handles, as she pondered if the moon would look that much beautiful up close. It must. All beautiful things look better upon closer inspection. She was so close - STOP! YN jumped back and looked around the room, catching sight of the dress on the bed. It was a black embroidered gown, from just putting it on YN was sure it was worth more than her life. She assumed she should be using this time to make herself look presentable to the prince, but all she really did was try to smooth down her hair and calm her heart. It wasn’t long until there was a harsh knock on the door before the guard from before threw the door open.

YN assumed they were heading down towards one of the dining rooms or maybe a parlor, but instead they continued to climb upwards until they reached the top floor. Where the guard made a sharp left turn they were met with large opal doors with the Jeon’s crest embedded in it. “I thought we were having dinner.” The guard smirked, raising his fists to knock. The doors opened to Jungkook sitting at the head of a table with an elaborate feast in front of him, whilst he sipped on a glass of wine. “Thank you, Jinyoung. You’re excused.” Jinyoung smiled and bowed, before pushing YN into the room.

YN lingered by the door, her focus lay entirely on the man ahead and now that she was in his presence without a barrier to separate them - she realized how threatening he was. Almost as if the cell was keeping him out. The room itself screams Jeon in every sense of the word, it's dark colors accented with green, silvers, and golds. It must’ve been the largest room in the castle save for the king’s - a penthouse in a way. “Come, sit. I don’t bite.” Somehow she doubted that. YN walked towards Jungkook counting the steps as she gazed straight ahead, she wanted to sit away from the prince but he had other plans as the chair to his left was the only one not tucked in. It was once she sat that he finally looked at her, trailed his eyes delicately across her body.

YN shifted uncomfortably aware that the evening dress, though long, still accentuated her figure in a way she wasn’t used to. YN cleared her throat, “I thought we were going to have dinner.” He seemed to understand what she was implying but played coy nonetheless.

“Is this not dinner?” Jungkook gestured to the row of dishes in front of them. Not when it’s served in your bedroom it isn’t.

YN surmises all of this was supposed to impress her, but all it truly did was make her annoyed at the prince. There was a clear disconnect between the palace and the world that existed outside the tall metallic gates. If the prince was willing to spend all this for a simple village girl, what might he do for someone of actual ranking and value? Then again he was a Jeon and their reputation precedes them, the image they conjured up wasn’t of ‘for the people’ but rather ‘for themselves.’

“You don’t seem impressed.” The prince leaned forward, eyes piercing into hers.

“I am…”

“Please, don’t hold back on my account.” Jungkook leaned back, resting on his chair. One of his legs was perched up and his hand resting on it, as the wine inside the glass swirled around. His eyebrow quirked, indicating he was waiting for a response and YN thought it best to simply give him what he wanted. After all, hadn’t he asked her not to hold back?

“It just seems like a gluttonous amount of food for two people.” She remarked looking at it.

Jungkook chuckled, “Gluttonous that’s a big word.” The stare that YN sent him had him laughing. She was taken aback by it, his laugh: the way his crinkled eyes shined and the melodic airiness of it. “Sorry but you are quite amusing. Telling the prince off for ordering too much food.”

YN’s eyes widened and she was quick to apologize, biting the inside at her cheek while she scolded herself for forgetting her place. Jungkook dismisses her apology, waving her off. “It’s refreshing.” For a second, YN felt comfortable around him. Truly comfortable, as if they were young acquaintances - not a prince and his subject. Someone next in line for the throne while YN was fighting to prove her brother’s innocence. Things would’ve been different. Things could have turned out different for the two of them, were they in another world and another time. Or maybe they were always destined to bring nothing but pain and suffering into each other’s lives. It’s easy to wonder and pretend, but fate is cruel and has a twisted sense of humor. Still, YN wondered if in another world Jungkook and her could’ve become friends. Maybe.

 “Tell me about yourself.” It wasn’t a suggestion, more of a statement really. YN places the knife down pausing cutting the steak as she looks up to meet Jungkook’s eyes. There was something lurking in them.  “Why?” The prince shrugged as if he was simply trying to make small talk. It didn’t go unnoticed by her how throughout the course of their meal he had gotten closer to her: his chair was tilted towards her, his feet were outstretched so they occasionally brushed hers, and he stared at her as if he were trying to pierce into her soul.

“My mother and father died when I was fairly young, so it has been my brother and I for a while. My brother has been working since he was eleven and I’ve managed to get a job recently,” she moved around the food on her plate. “I haven’t had an easy life, but I don’t have room to complain when there are others who have had it far worse.” YN’s early life hadn’t been easy and she still didn’t know how she got out. Still, there was always someone who had it worse and she had her brother, a good home, a sense of security. Jeon Jungkook might seem polite, or at least he’s good at pretending he is, but he would never understand what it’s like. YN doesn’t want to bother educating him, so the sugar-coated version of her life is better.

YN heard a chair screech and suddenly Jungkook was incredibly close to her, sitting at the edge of his seat. “No, I want to know you. All the little things about you.” The change in his attitude almost gave her whiplash, he was whining now. Like a child that didn’t get what he asked for. That sense of unease crept back into her system as she leaned back trying to get as much distance between the prince and her. “I’m sorry, but why?” It wasn’t a ridiculous question to ask, but the way Jungkook was looking at her made her feel like it was. “Why not?” His dark coal eyes boring into hers were almost predatorial.

Goosebumps began to rise throughout her body the longer the silence prevailed. YN didn’t feel safe anymore, Jungkook looked just about ready to strike at her but instead, he simply smiled. “Why were your parents killed?” What? “Why did you run away from the slums? Why did you move into Giihan? Why were you never engaged?” YN’s jaw slackened as she sat there unable to comprehend how he knew all of this. Finally, Jungkook paused, seeming to deliberate on whether or not he should ask his final question. “Don’t you think it’s inappropriate to live with a man with no blood relation to you?”

YN was frozen with fear, she saw at that moment a brief glimpse of Jeon. What he was capable of. “H-how...” How does he know all those things? How does he know Hyungshik and I aren’t related?

“I had to make sure I wasn’t being fooled.”

Rage. That’s what began to rise inside her, though it was mainly at herself still it was a cruel reminder that to him this was all just a game. Something to entertain him because he was bored. YN grips the chair handles to stand up but freezes when she feels something slither across her neck. Her ears picking up on slight hissing. Jungkook grinned, “Ah yes, that’s Morte. Don’t worry he’s harmless just try not to make any sudden movements.” His eyes were alight with humor, finding the entire situation funny.

The snake settled comfortably on YN’s shoulders and the girl willed herself not to cry. It would only further wound her pride and it might startle the snake. Jungkook reaches over to the wine bottle and pours himself another glass, “By the way, I spoke to Eun. She admitted to having a fancy on the boy and getting upset when he rejected her so blatantly. It’s his fault really if he had gone along with it none of this would have happened.” That wasn’t true if Hyunshik had been caught in an affair with Mistress Eun his corpse would be hanging from the gallows.

“Thank you, your highness. May I see my brother now?”

“Oh, he’s still imprisoned and awaiting trial.”

“...what?” YN couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. He had said, he had agreed. A sudden flashback of the first words Jungkook had ever spoken to her, “would you rather be the fool or the one doing the fooling? Better to be the fooler than the one being fooled.” It wasn’t until she felt the tears rolling down her face that YN realized she was crying. The next words were the ones that solidified how naive she’d been. “I only agreed that I could save your brother if you had dinner with me, not that I would.” YN felt her entire world begin to crumble. Here she was playing dress-up, feasting with the prince, trusting him, while her brother was about to be imprisoned for the rest of his mortal life. She should feel upset, disappointed, enraged, but all she felt was a cold apathy overtakes her as it finally dawned on her why she was here.

She was a nobody and yet the prince had visited her, dolled her up, and had her delivered straight to his bedroom. There was only one way to save her brother.

“What would it take for you to save my brother?”

“From imprisonment?”

“Yes.”

“A kiss...just one.”

“Do you swear on your life?”

Jungkook laughed, “I swear on the life of everyone in this kingdom, save for yourself of course.”

It was sudden really how she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his, tears still trailing down her face. It was so sudden in fact that it startled the snake, who sank its fangs straight into her neck.

  Yoongi had barely the night before images of his loved ones massacred while a snake suffocated him plagued his mind. It had been months since Yoongi had been home, but he had this urgent need to return; to make sure everything was okay. His current definition of okay meant that everyone was alive and not dead by the hand of some psychotic prince who had recently found himself a new toy to play with. It was quite ironic how much Yoongi felt the need to criticize Jungkook, considering he too had fallen victim to the same type of infatuation. He would never dare recognize it as such though, no, what they had was different. No one understood him like he did. No one would ever love him as much as Yoongi did. J-

“Duke Min?” Yoongi spun around and was greeted with the sight of a young girl. There was a sense of urgency, need, in her eyes and Yoongi thought she looked familiar. “Pardon, but I must be getting somewhere.” Yoongi spun back around but was halted when she gripped the sleeve of his jacket. “Please sir, it’s regarding Mistress Eun.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and proceeded to walk away, Eun was clearly too much of a hassle and he would get rid of her as soon as he could. “Whatever issues you may have with Mistress Eun have nothing to do with me, take it up with her or the king for all I care,” Yoongi grumbled, speeding up trying to get away from the girl but she chased after him. There was something about her that made him nervous.

The girl took off in a sprint and managed to get ahead enough to block him, “Please. Mistress Eun has accused my brother of stealing and he is to stand trial today,” Yoongi tried to push past her but the girl wouldn’t budge. “The prince has already promised his help but if you could just -” No wonder she looked so familiar. Yoongi’s widened eyes cast downward, truly taking in the girl for the first time. Fuck. It was her. Yoongi felt a deep sense of remorse crawling up his throat, it practically choked him as he saw the desperation in the girl’s eyes. “- just get her to drop the charges then the entire trial could be avoided. Please I’ll do anything.” No, it wasn’t because of her picture that she was familiar to him it was her expression. That was the exact same expression his songbird had when Yoongi had first laid eyes on him.

“How many lives will you ruin all to satisfy your needs?!” As many as it took, Min Yoongi was not a good man. He would never be. He’d been raised with a silver spoon in his mouth and the world handed to him on a silver platter like it was his to play with. Yoongi only really took advantage of it when he saw something he wanted and now he’s willing to risk everything to make sure it is forever in his hold. Even the life of the poor girl staring up at him as if he was her last hope.

“I’ll get Mistress Eun to drop the charges. You have my word.” Words are empty. It is actions that truly speak. Yet when Yoongi saw her smile, the way her eyes filled with hope, he realized that he had a lot more in common with Jeon Jungkook than he previously thought.

 YN waited among the crowd, her hood up to shield her from the downpour of rain that fell. Person after person had stood trial with whipping, banishment, imprisonment, and other methods of torture being the most common sentence. Death was rarely ruled as most of the cases were light criminal offenses. She thanked the gods, as YN didn’t think she could stomach seeing a man being hanged. Still, she knew some of the people around her begged to differ, they would scream and curse at the men on the wooden stand begging for blood and pain. It was moments like these that reminded her that although the nobility was cruel, sometimes they were no better.

“Kim Hyunshik.”

YN saw as her brother stepped up the stairs and into the stand. His clothes were dirty and full of grime, his lip was cut, and the bottom of his eye had begun to swell. It hadn’t even been forty-eight hours, yet he still looked like he’d been through hell and back. Her heart pounded in her chest as she willed herself to calm down. Hyunshik’s eyes darted all over the crowd and YN knew he was looking for her, yet he would have difficulty finding her in this heavy rain. The guard pulled out a paper, beginning to read the offenses and the verdict. YN held her breath.

“Kim Hyunshik stands accused of thievery, disrespecting a commanding officer, and assault.” The crowd began to spew insults at him, some going as far as spitting. “The court finds the defendant...not guilty.” Oh, thank god. YN almost cries of happiness. Hyunshik seems to visibly relax too, thankful that he wouldn't have to spend the rest of his life behind bars.

“Kim Hyunshik also stands accused of plotting, assaulting a member of the court, and conspiring against the crown.” What? No. The crowd became louder, venom spewing out their mouths towards Hyunshik as YN stood in shock. This can’t be happening. “The court finds the defendant guilty and sentenced him to...death.” No. No. No. No. NO! The crowd goes into a frenzy with jovial shouts as Hyunshik is dragged away to the post by the left of the stage. YN tries to fight against the crowd to make her way to her brother, desperate to reach him. “Hyunshik! Hyunshik!” Her brother looks around panicked, begging for mercy as he is placed on the false bottom and the noose is placed around his neck. It is then that their eyes finally meet, Hyunshik staring straight into YN’s eyes, his mouth moving gently as he stares at her with nothing but affection. ‘I love you.’ He mouths.

The lever is pulled.

#yandere bts #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere bts x reader #yandere jeon jungkook x reader #yandere jeon jungkook #yandere jungkook #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook #prince of nothing #girlmeetsliv3 #bangtanarmynet #prince of nothing masterpost #pon

[noladyme]

The Frog Princess. Chapter 1

1

“You can all bloody kiss my ass!”, I growled at the men standing around me. “There isn’t a chance in Hel I’m getting on that ship!”.

“Breathe, Y/N”, Eist tried calmingly. “This is what’s best for everyone”. “Best for you and your bloody war!”, I snarled.

In the corner of the great hall stood a mess of cases, containing most of my earthly goods. None of it had any importance to me; except for the small chest of knickknacks I’d gathered while on trips around the smaller islands of Skellige, and the one time Eist had brought me to Cintra Capital with him.

“Y/N, you’re not a child. Stop acting like one”. I smacked him across the face. A murmur of stifled laughter rose among the leather clad men surrounding me and Eist.

King Eist Tuirseach. The great leader of our lands; and my pain in the ass older cousin; who was getting ready to ship me of to a place far away – that I had no intention of going to.

“What you’re really trying to say, is that I’ve gotten too old to marry of to someone worth while; so now you’re using me as payoff to a sweaty sister-fucker!”. I picked up a goblet, and threw it at the wall; mead dripping down from where I’d hit. “You don’t know that he’s sweaty”, Eist smiled.

“Eist…”, I said, trying for sweetness. He looked at me pointedly. “When we are in public, you’ll address me as is fit my title”.

“My liege”, I sneered. “Great majestic cousin, and king of these isles. I am merely trying to explain to you, that if you intend to proceed with this plan of shipping me off to Temeria; there is a great chance that I might burn this whole fucking castle to the ground, and piss on the ashes!”.

I heard a gruff chuckle from a dark alcove connected to the hall.

Eist sighed. “Well, we’ll just have to keep you away from fire until you’ve boarded the ship”.

Rage boiling inside me, I stomped my foot into the ground, and screamed.

Eist closed his eyes and raised his eyebrows; shaking his head. “You can scream all you want, my dear. This is happening”, he said calmly. “No!”, I yelled. “Yes”, he answered. “You are going to Temeria. You are marrying Foltest. You’ll bear him whatever children he wishes to produce. And you’ll do it all with a smile”.

A stranger stepped into the light from the alcove. He was tall, and built like a boulder – muscled and strong. His eyes shone a strange shade of amber, and his hair was grey- verging on white.

“Why does he even want me? I have no real title…”, I said. “You’re my cousin. That is title enough”, Eist interrupted. He sat down at the head of the table, pouring himself a new goblet of mead. Apparently the one I had thrown was his. “Foltest needs a queen. You are a highborn woman; with a dowry that goes with it”.  He took a sip from the goblet. “You also happen to be a bloody pain in the ass; with the reputation that goes with that as well. You are lucky Foltest has agreed to this union. You weren’t exactly an easy sell”.

I laughed out loud, and sat at the table, a few seats from him; worried that I might stab him with a fork if I got too close. “There it is. A sell. I’m a commodity to be traded with”.

“You will do as you’re told, woman!”, Eist said, patience clearly running thin. I wasn’t having it.

“Would you say that to Calanthe?”.

Eist slammed both his fists into the table. “Enough!”, he roared. I froze in place. He breathed deeply, collecting himself. “Y/N; you are my favorite cousin. A fact that has unfortunately let you to run wild and do as you’ve wished for much too long. I cannot allow that to continue anymore”. His pained but resolute eyes met mine. “I know you won’t believe this, but I am doing this for your sake as well. You can no longer call Skellige your home”.

“You’re right”, I said, swallowing tears. “I don’t believe you”.

He looked down, clenched his fists, and sighed. “We’ll speak later. I have to finish planning your travel arrangements”, he said; and stood up, walking in the direction of the whitehaired stranger; who’d been watching our exchange with a smirk on his face.

“Geralt, I wish to discuss something with you”, Eist said, before turning to his men. “Take her to her room. Make sure there are no ropes for climbing out the window; cut up her sheets if you must”. He and the man walked towards the door leading to his private chancery.

“And hide the matches”.

---

I stood in front of a mirror in my now barren room. Thrude – my nanny turned hand matron, and dear friend – was desperately trying to cheer me up.

“Chin up. You’ll be a queen, m’lady”, she said smilingly. “I’ll be a puppet”, I answered. She raised a sponge to cover my face in powder. “Don’t”, I said. “Let them see that I’ve been crying”. She sighed. “At least brush your hair”. She handed me the hairbrush; and went to get my dress for the feast.

It was a ridiculous thing; nothing near what I would have chosen for myself. Black velvet with puffed sleeves, white laced trim; and a white lily on the front of the skirt. They’re dressing me up as the Temerian fucking flag, I thought.

I brushed my hair; and allowed Thrude’s old hands to run through it, braiding it into and intricate crown on the top of my head. When she was finished, I grabbed her hand, and put it to my cheek. “Tootie”. She smiled at my use of the nickname I’d given her as a child. “I could go with you! I could live with you in your cabin. You could continue to train me as a vöelve!”.

“I never trained you to become any such thing”, Thrude said indignantly. I smirked at her. “Teaching me about herbs, healing and monsters? That’s a proper lady’s education?”. “You’d do best to forget those things where you are going”, she said. She put her hands on either side of my face; and looked at me kindly but sternly.

“Listen to me, girl”. I hadn’t been a girl for quite a few years; but her age and the respect I held for her made me accept her choice of words. “Skellige is not the place for you anymore. You are off to a better future than you could ever have here... or anywhere else”.

I snorted in a quite undignified way. “A future as the wife of someone who is only taking me, for the money my cousin will pay him to do so… as a stepmother of a girl conceived through incest; and whose age I am closer to, than I am her fathers!”. I swallowed bile. “I’m going to be sick”. I put my head between my knees; my nose touching the velvet of the dress. She patted my head comfortingly.

“You must leave this place behind”, she said. “Become what is expected of you”. “Instead of…?”. I looked up at her.

She looked down and shook her head. “That’s for another time”. She shuffled her old body in the direction of my bed – the bare mattress reminding me of my cousins’ heartless elimination of my escape plan.

“But there won’t be another time”. I stood up. “I leave tomorrow”.

“Then cherish tonight”, she said.

From under the bed, she pulled out a small pouch; and handed it to me. “My own mother gave me this on my wedding night”, she said; tears in her eyes. “I was saving it for you; for when you’d finally stop being a little imp, and settle down with a good man”. She shook her head. “At least he’s a king…”. I chuckled through my tears, and took the pouch in my hands, opening it. Inside was a silver chain, adorned with an appendage shaped as a small frog.

“Ma’ told me that sometimes you get a frog; but shower it with enough kisses, and it might turn in to a prince”. She helped me put it on. “In your case; I believe it’s the other way around. You are stubborn, you act before you think, and you jump around too much”. She kissed my forehead. “But you can be something more”.

She took both my hands into hers and squeezed them gently. “You can be a queen. And one to be reckoned with!”.

I sniffled. “All I have to do is let a man I don’t know and don’t want, kiss me… and touch me… and…”. I heaved. “I really think I’m going to throw up!”.

She chortled. “He managed to bed his own sister. He must have some charms”. She winked at me. “Might even have a good enough cock to go with them”.

“Tootie!”, I cried out.

“Oh, calm yourself, girl! You know your way around a mands body. We both know that”. She wasn’t wrong, but I wouldn’t give her the pleasure of an answer. In stead I rolled my eyes at her.

“There we are, dearie. Now I recognize you”, she smiled. “Remember, it is not unheard of, for queens to take lovers other than their husbands. You might not even have to bed him that often”.

I sighed. “What am I going to do without you?”.

She patted my cheek. “You are going to grow up”.

---

The great hall was filled with laughter and dancing.

A bard from the continent was playing his lute; surrounded by red-cheeked girls, all vying for his attention. He seemed to me to be an absolute windbag; but I could understand the effect he had on them; blue eyed and brightly smiling.

As I stepped into the room; the music stopped, and the crowd turned to look at me. A roar of cheers and well wishes from all sides; and my strongest impulse was to turn around, and run back up the stairs. Thrude took a firm hold of my hand, and pushed me forward. “Go on, girl. This is your night”.

The bard began his music again, leading the room into a singalong of a gay tune; about a selkie and her lover. Dancing continued, and drinks were flowing. This was a joyous event – and I wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock; and die.

We were stopped in our tracks by a tall man, I had not met before. “Lady Y/N”, he said haughtily. “Let me congratulate you on this glorious occasion of your engagement and upcoming marriage. I must admit that my master had hoped a different arrangement could have been made. But, alas, here we are”. “I’m sorry”, I said, caught off guard. “Who is your master?”.

“My apologies, my lady”, the man bowed. “I am a representative of Nilfgaard; Gaunter O’Dimm. Loyal servant of the true emperor of the fore mentioned lands”. “Usurper”, Thrude said, and spat at the floor. She pulled at my hand.

“I am sorry, sir, but I must take my leave. I must see my cousin”, I smiled, voice shaking. “Of course, my lady. I wish you good health”, O’Dimm said, and stepped aside for us to pass.

“Who was he?”, I asked Thrude. “No one good”, she answered quietly.

I sat down at the head table, watching the festivities; completely numb. The small silver frog rested between my breasts, cold against my skin.

“You look beautiful”; Eist said from next to me. “I look like a pig for market”, I answered, pulling at the uncomfortable corset Thrude had squeezed me in to. “Well; a lovely pig none the less”, he said.

I spent most of the night staring into space; not touching any of the food placed in front of me. The mead and schnapps on the other hand; I had my fair share of.

“You must eat”, Eist grumbled. “Not fat enough for slaughter yet?”, I sneered. “You’re not being slaughtered. You’re getting married”, he answered. “What’s the difference?”, I mumbled.

A fight broke out in front of the table. Well; not so much a fight as a beating. A drunk distant cousin of Crach an Craite’s new wife, had apparently taken a disliking to the bard reciting a sonnet to his fiancée; and was now dragging him by the nose to the floor in front of us.

“Witcher!”, the drunkard growled. “Control your pet!”.

The whitehaired stranger was leaning against a pillar; staring into a mug of ale. “He’s not my pet”, he muttered with a gruff voice. It sounded like it came from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Well, I don’t know how you do it on the continent”, the drunkard said, “but here in Skellige, if a mutt is acting wild; we cut of his balls!”.

The bard looked terrified. “Geralt!”, he pleaded. “Do something!”. The angry man pulled out his dagger and started waving it in front of him; swaying from side to side – obviously having trouble focusing through his drunken haze.

“Ger… Geralt!”, the bard shrieked. I couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene.

Eist looked at me. “Rognir! You’ve made the lady smile! Thank you!”, he laughed. “Now let the poor lad go”.

The man burped. “Bugger that”, he said, and stepped forward, dagger raised.

A hand grabbed his wrist, and pulled it behind his back. The stranger was holding the drunkard in an armlock. “That’s enough”, he said. “Leave the bard, drink some water; and go remind your woman why she chose you in the first place”.

The bard ran to safety behind a group of girls; who all began to fuss over him.

The stranger let go of Rognir; who shuffled away into a dark corner; where a plump girl was waiting for him.

“Wolf”, Eist said. “Join us”.

He sat down on the opposite side of the table from us; accepting a new mug of ale from a servant.

“Y/N; this is Geralt of Rivia”, Eist said. My eyes met the strangers; who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Geralt, let me formally introduce you to my cousin; Y/N. The future queen of Temeria”.

“Princess”, the man nodded at me. “I’m not a princess”, I answered, and drained my fourth serving of mead that evening.

“She’s right”, Eist said, and took away my goblet. “Princesses don’t usually drink like sailors”. The stranger chuckled. “Y/N; Geralt is a witcher”, Eist continued. “I have asked him to accompany you on your journey to your new home”. The witcher looked at me again, his eyes narrowed.

“Him?”, I asked. “What happened to me being a future queen? Don’t I get a dozen soldiers on white horses?”, I snorted, and grabbed my glass of schnapps to replace the mead.

“No, you don’t. Mostly because I know you’d either annoy them until they leave you on the side of the road; or try to seduce some of them into letting you run away”, Eist said. I rolled my eyes. “Don’t give me that, Y/N; I’m not stupid. Poor Eyrick’s heart is still broken after your tryst last spring”.

Eyrick – firm, handsome… dumb as rocks. I’d made it clear I was in it for one thing. He’d taken that as a sign that I was playing hard to get; and sold his only goat to buy an engagement ring.

“Did he ever get his goat back?”, I smirked. “I bought him two new ones”, Eist answered. “The other one had already been made into dinner”.

I laughed heartily. “Poor Eyrick”. “Poor goat”, the witcher said. I caught his gaze. Had the situation been different, I might have flirted with him; handsome as he was… in his own rugged, I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-I’m-wearing-as-long-as-it’s-clean way. I corrected myself as I saw a black stain on his sleeve. “Nekker”, he said, studying my expression. I held his gaze for as long as I dared, and returned to my glass.

A sudden rush of blood to my head reminded me that Eist had probably been right about me eating. I was well and drunk.

“So”, I said, “Eist has asked you, but you’ve not accepted? Coin not good enough?”. “I don’t make it a habit to meddle in politics”, he rumbled, and took a sip from his mug.

“See, cousin?”, I smirked. “Even the witcher knows a livestock trade when he sees one”. “Not the time, Y/N”, Eist muttered, and put a chunk of bread on my plate. I took a resentful bite of it.

“Geralt”, Eist said. “I am not asking you to take a side in the war. I am asking you, as a friend, to keep my cousin safe until she is in the arms of her new husband. Nilfgaard has been making moves north of their boarders, and I worry she will be in danger from kidnapping on her journey”. The witcher sighed. Eist leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You are many things, wolf, but you are not heartless. You’ve already shown me this once. You know what might happen, if they get to her before she reaches her destination”.

“And what is that?”, I interrupted. Eist sat back. “You won’t have to worry about that, if the witcher agrees to my proposition”. He smiled solemnly; before looking back at the witcher. “I will pay what you ask”.

They were both quiet for a long minute. Something unspoken passed between them, before finally the witcher grunted; and nodded. He took another sip of his ale.

“How is the child?”, he asked. “Last I heard, still growing in its mothers’ belly”, Eist answered. “She’s well, and will – along with the child – have the best care both during and after the birth. You know I would not lie about this”. The witcher nodded again.

“So, you will do it?”, Eist asked. “I will. On my terms”.

“Of course”, Eist answered, seeming relieved. “Anything. I have the ship ready for tomorrow afternoon, and will send any men with you that you might need. The lady’s belongings have already been packed, and horses will be waiting for you in Cintra Capital once you make land. Nilfgaard will be relentless in their search for her. They want nothing more right now, than to stop this wedding”.

“No”, the whitehaired man said. “We leave tonight. She packs light; and we take a fisherman’s ship to Attre; travelling on from there. Just her and myself”. A giggle was heard from behind a pillar; where the bard was charming one of the maidens from his fan-club. “And him. If he stays here longer, I’m afraid he’ll become a gelding in no time”, he said, glancing at a stout and angry looking old man; who was probably the girl’s father. Eist nodded.

My head was beginning to clear, as I was realizing what was happening. “You’re sending me with him? On a fisherman’s boat across the ocean; to then traipse across the continent in nothing but my plain dress and boots?”. “You can bring your sgian-dubh”, the witcher chuckled gruffly. I was surprised he knew the word for my hidden knife.

“I don’t have one”, I said, and looked at him defiantly. “Yes you do; you’ve strapped it to your leg”, he said in a bored voice. Eist bit his lip to stop from laughing at my affronted face. “Calm yourself, girl. I haven’t been looking up your skirts. The velvet in your dress gave away the shape of the knife against your thigh”.

I scoffed at him. “Well, you were looking at something, since you noticed my thigh”, I said. “You’d be better of slipping it into your boot. Makes it easier to reach when needed”, he smirked.

I did not like this man. 

“Eist…” I began. “It’s done”, Eist answered. “I’m begging you…”, I pleaded, “in the name of the love I know you have for me – please. Don’t make me do this. I can fight. Make me a shield maiden!”. “That would require that you actually were a maiden, dear heart”, he said. “Y/N, I do love you. That is why I am doing this”.

My heart dropped, and tears began to well up in my eyes, as I desperately tried to control my panicked breath.

“Wolf; I’ll send the ship to Cintra tomorrow afternoon, as planned, packed with men and the lady’s luggage. They will travel to Temeria; pretending to be transporting her – but the carriage will be empty”. “That will give us some extra days before they come looking for us”, the witcher answered. He turned to look at me.

“Princess, finish your meal calmly, then make your way to the courtyard. Pretend to be going to relieve yourself. I will meet you there”. I was breathing heavily. “No…”, I whimpered. “Not yet. Let me have tonight. Let me sleep in my own bed. I want to say goodbye”.

Eist was pretending to smile, his eyes miserable. “This is goodbye, Y/N”, he said, and took my hand to kiss. “I wish I could have made things different for you, child. You have my heart and my brotherly love; always”. He stroked my cheek.

“Now go!”. He turned away from me.

From behind me, Thrude put her hand on my shoulder, gesturing for me to follow. Not breathing, I grabbed it, and we walked briskly towards the door nearest our table.

---

We hurried down some stairs. Going in to the courtyard, I halted; making Thrude turn to look at me. “Come along, dearie. We must haste”. “Tootie… will I ever see you again?”. She looked down. “I hope so, child”. She kissed my cheek.

“Princess!”, someone hissed from the shadows. The whitehaired witcher stepped into the moonlight. “Follow me”. He walked towards the stables. Thrude let go of my hand, and patted my back to follow him. “Go on!”, she whispered.

I walked into the stable, where the witcher and the bard were waiting. “My lady!”, the young man said, and bowed in reverence. “It has been a great honor to perform at this extraordinary event, but unfortunately my friend here insists that we must leave”. He grabbed my hand and kissed it, beaming at me.

“She’s coming with us”, the witcher said; readying his horse – a beautiful red mare.

The bard looked from me to his friend. “She’s… the package?”, he asked in disbelief. “Yes”, the other man answered. “Geralt… are you sure this is a good idea?”; the bard said below his breath. “No”, the witcher grumbled, and looked at me indifferently. “Change”, he said, and threw a satchel on the ground in front of me. I was getting tired of being bossed around. “Why?”, I asked. “Because I said so”. “Go to Hel”, I said. The bard gasped at my words. “Bad-mannered words for a lady!”, he proclaimed. “Go fuck yourself, milksop”, I sneered.

“Geralt!”, the bard cried out. “Shut up, Jaskier. Do you want the whole castle to know what we’re doing?”, the witcher said; and walked towards me, picking up the satchel.

“Put on the clothes in the bag. I’m not asking you again”. I smirked at him defiantly.

He grabbed my arm, and looked at me; dormant rage in his eyes. His hold on me was strong, but not painful. “I will strip you down myself if needed”, he said.

I ripped the satchel from his hands, and went behind a wall to change. Inside the bag was a simple white chemise; and a blue, sleeveless peasant dress, which could lace up in the front, making me able to put it on myself. I reluctantly removed my sgian-dubh from my thigh, and slipped it into my boot.

From behind the wall I hear muffled talking.

“Geralt, this is madness. You can’t drag the future queen of Temeria across the continent on horseback”, the bard – Jaskier – said. “She needs pomp and… spectacle and ceremony; and everything else that goes with the title. Not to mention that she is rude; and will probably get in the way when we are fighting monsters!”. “You don’t fight Jaskier. You moan and whine, and run away at any sign of danger”, the witcher answered. “That’s not the point, Geralt… Geralt… Look at me when I’m talking to you!”. “What are you; my wife?”. “Gods forbid. I’m quite sure I’d be able to make a better match!”. “Well, if you come all the way to Temeria with us, maybe Foltest will choose you in stead of the princess. He does have strange tastes”.

“I’m not a princess!”, I thundered, and stomped out to face them.

The witcher looked at me, clearly about to roar for me to shut up. At the same moment, Thrude stepped in to the stable, carrying a gray cloak.

“Are you all ready to leave then?”, she said, and put the cloak around my shoulders, tying it under my chin. “Yes”, the witcher answered, and climbed onto his horse. “Come”, he said, and reached his hand out to me.

“She gets to ride?”, Jaskier asked woundedly.

I put my hand into the witchers, and he pulled me into the saddle in a swift and strong move; to sit in front of him, my back to his chest. He smelled like fresh dirt; musky herbs and metal.

“Pomp and spectacle, Jaskier”, his voice rumbled behind me. “Hood up, girl”, he demanded, and I did as asked.

I looked at the bard. “The grey stallion”, I said earnestly. “It’s mine. You can bring it as far as the ship”. Thrude smirked, and shook her head at me.

“Witcher; you will take care of her”, she said. A command; not a question. The witcher grunted behind me. “As promised”, he said. Thrude nodded.

With a last look towards my beloved old friend; I kissed the frog still hanging around my neck; and we we’re off.

---

We rode through the night, reaching a small harbor when the moon was at its highest. A fisherman was waiting for us, standing on the dock by an old boat; just large enough to transport all of us, and the witchers horse.

After Jaskier had gotten of the grey stallion, I smacked it’s behind, making it run of into the trees.

“Eist won’t like it when his favorite horse is gone from the stables”, the witcher said. Jaskier looked from him to me with horror on his face. “I’m a dead man!”, he whimpered.

The witcher chuckled silently, and handed me the satchel that had held my “new” dress. “Your name is Zaba. You are an herbalist in training, on your way to Lyria; to learn from your new master there”. I looked at him confused. “Zaba?” “It means frog”, he added, and turned to lead his horse onto the boat.

I frowned, and looked down at my necklace. Frog. Opening the satchel, I found in it some dried herbs, and a small book; filled out with what I recognized to be Thrude’s handwriting. There were recipes for draughts against headaches and simple stomach pains. Most of them I already knew; as Thrude had been diligent in her training of me as a non-vöelve. I had never been able to see the future, or predict next year’s crop; but I did know my way around simple healing of wounds and the occasional childbirth. I’d also managed to avoid pregnancy with the few lovers I’d had.

Along with my herbalist gear, there were fresh undergarments and stockings; and a few copper coins.

The fisherman giving me a hand; I stepped onto the boat; almost forgetting that this might be the last time my feet would be touching Skellige soil. The witchers horse brayed.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, Roach. But we’ll be in Attre before you know it.”, the witcher said to it. I looked on in wonder.

“He talks to his horse. You best get used to it”, Jaskier said, stepping onto the boat after me. He didn’t look like he’d forgiven me for making him a horse-thief just yet.

I walked up to the mare, standing on the other side of it than the witcher. “Her name is Roach?”, I asked. “Yes”, he said, not meeting my eyes.

I put my hands on the horse’s muzzle, and blew gently at it; the horse responding in kind. The witcher looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Hello, Roach”, I said, and scratched a spot behind its ear. “Thanks for the ride”.

I went to sit at the stern. “Wouldn’t the lady be more comfortable below deck?”, the fisherman asked. “She’ll be fine”, the witcher rumbled in response; and sat down to lean against a barrel.

We set off; the wind in our favor. It wasn’t long before my home islands became dots in the distance behind us.

I might not have a home there anymore, I thought. But no one is going to tell me where I will make a new one!

---

Thanks for reading. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.

- no lady

#the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher fic #jaskier

[weasleydream]

A story of love, pain and shitty parents - part 4

The fourth part is finally here, I’m sorry it’s been so long!

To be honest, I’m really disappointed with this chapter, I feel like I haven’t been able to write down what I really wanted to transmit. It was a really important part for me and no matter how bad I think it is, I won’t be able to do better, I’ve made it too personal for that sooo I still hope it’s okay!

As usual feel free to like, comment, reblog and enjoy!

Masterlist 

The first of September was near and it looked like all the students had begged their parents for one last trip at what had become their favourite place in the world. To be fair, Weasley Wizard Wheezes was a beautiful shop, and it looked even more alive now that most of the other shops in Diagon Alley had disappeared. 

“I don’t understand why your name isn’t on the storefront.” Mrs Hoggs, an old lady who couldn’t refuse her grandson any visit here, was looking for a few Sickles in her bag. “I mean, you’ve helped with this shop, right? You should have your part of recognition, that’s all I’m saying.” she added without letting me a second to reply. 

Her eyes fell on the picture that was hanging on the wall right behind me. It had been taken on the inauguration of the shop, and I was squeezed between Fred and George in front of the dream of a life. If Mrs Hoggs was particularly obsessed by the fact that I “didn’t have enough recognition”, she wasn’t the only one wondering why I seemed to be “left on the sidelines”. That was so annoying that even her grandson sighed. 

“Aren’t you bothered? If you want my opinion…” Mrs Hoggs kept babbling. She was so passionate by her one-sided debate that I exchanged an exasperated look with her grandson. “Oh, Mr Weasley!” she suddenly exclaimed at the very moment Fred’s arm wrapped around me. “I was talking about-”

“I know, Mrs Hoggs, I’ve heard that same speech a few times already.”

Fred smiled kindly, and I once more wondered how he would stay so calm in all circumstances. 

“And we don’t need to change the shop’s name for the very good reason that one day, Y/N will be a Weasley too.” 

Fred left with a broad smile on his lips, leaving me alone with a flabbergasted Mrs Hoggs and my shaky legs. Suddenly, my heart was beating harder than ever and I could have sworn my cheeks had never been that red. 

“Can I have my pygmy puff now?”

_ _ _ 

I found Fred lying on the couch, his eyes closed and an arm thrown on his face. Thinking he was sleeping, I silently grabbed the brush I had left on the table and detangled my hair, which were still wet from the hot shower I had just taken. I headed to Fred with the intention to wake him up, but his steady breath and his peaceful attitude made me stop. It was more and more rare that Fred was calm, and no matter how hard they tried to hide it, I knew that both he and his twin were worried sick. About the war, obviously, but I was willing to bet that they were also scared for me. Without realizing it, I had sat just in front of him and modeled my breathing after his. 

“Are you going to watch me like this for long?” Even though his voice was quiet, I jumped and looked away, slightly embarrassed. “Hey, love, come here.”

Fred opened his arms and I curled up against him like a cat. He embraced me and pulled me against his torso as hard as he could without hurting me, and at the moment I wanted nothing but being closer to him. But instead, I murmured in his ear, scared my voice would either show how overwhelmed I was or how desperate. 

“Did you mean it? What you said at the shop, did you really mean it?”

Fred shivered, and a part of my brain realized it was the effect of my voice. 

“Of course I meant it. I love you Y/N, and I think Y/N Weasley sounds more than good.”

I wanted to say so many things, that I loved him too, more than anything else in this world or every other world, that I wanted to be his for the rest of my life, I wanted to find a good joke to avoid expressing my deepest feelings, but I found myself unable to do that. Instead, I smiled, broadly, and I kissed him. 

“Fred, Y/N, are you- Merlin, not again!”

Fred groaned and let go of me, and I got up to face George’s amused look. 

“Don’t you think it’s time for you to find an apartment of your own? I mean, as much as I tolerate you, always walking in on you snogging is getting annoying.”

George was smirking, but in fact, the three of us knew what the situation was. The war was imminent, the terror had taken an important place in our lives and the only future we could see was uncertainty. No matter what he would say, George didn’t want to let us go, nor did Fred and I want to leave. That’s also why talking about a wedding was so strange for me. For all that we knew, we could be all dead within the next month. 

“Is there a reason why you interrupted us?” suddenly asked Fred to break the uncomfortable silence. 

“Actually, yes. Mum is going to kill us if we aren’t at the Burrow in an hour. You know how obsessed she’s been with Harry’s birthday.”

_ _ _ 

Once again, everything happened without me understanding anything. One second, Bill and Fleur’s guests were dancing and laughing, and for the first time in what felt like years I was genuinely smiling and enjoying a dance with Fred, and the second after everything was chaos and everyone was screaming. I didn’t know where George was, and I didn’t have any other choice than to assume he was alright. Fred jumped aside when a green flash of light flew toward him, grabbing my waist before falling on the ground. 

“Leave!” he screamed, gesturing toward the Burrow. 

I shook my head and pushed him out of another flash of light’s way. 

“Y/N, please, I need you to leave!”

To be honest, I didn’t know why I did it. Maybe it was something in Fred’s eyes; this pure terror that made them look almost black, or maybe it was because of the crack of his voice as he was begging me to leave. Maybe it was something else, an instinct that was murmuring that I had something else to do. I didn’t know, but I eventually nodded and gave my back to Fred. By now, a lot of guests had disappeared and I found a way to leave the tent quite easily - without paying attention to the Death Eaters trying to kill everyone, of course. 

And suddenly, I understood. I understood why something had made me leave Fred alone in the danger, I understood why my instinct prevented me from apparating away from the carnage. 

First, it took the form of a reflect, light and almost insignificant, a little golden spot in the darkness. I fixed it, and slowly, the shape of a person appeared. The silhouette was darker than black, and I knew the man’s soul was ten times worse. 

I had thought my hatred would get over my self control. I had spent so much time hating him, promising myself the most terrible of revenges, I had sworn he would die because of what he had done to Fred, and I had imagined this moment a thousand times. But I hadn’t imagined I would walk calmly toward him, toward the man who had tortured me and killed the first person who had ever loved me. I could have never imagined it, yet I was walking toward my father, almost a year and a half after the last time I had been in his presence. 

“I’m surprised.” he spoke up, and I shivered. Too many memories were flooding in my mind, things I had tried so hard to forget. “I thought you would have tried to kill me.”

The acid line I wanted to throw at his face stayed blocked in my throat, and all of sudden I found myself on the verge of crying. I didn’t know why, but I was feeling like I was a little girl again, trying to hold back her tears as her father was walking slowly toward her, a glass of whisky in one hand and a cane in the other. My eyes fell on what had produced the golden light, and I gasped when my necklace shone. Slowly, I lifted my hand, reproducing a gesture I had done a thousand times, except that this time my fingers found nothing.

“I wanted to talk to you.” he said, his voice calm as if he had never done anything to me. As if he had never tortured me. “I wanted to explain.”

He took a step forward and I took three backwards. My breathing was shaky, along with my legs and the rest of my body. For a few seconds, all I could see was the light hitting me, the chimney masked by a veil of tears, Mary bathed in a green light, and then my father’s figure, more terrifying than ever, and too close for my own good. 

“I want to explain why I will destroy everything you ever cared for.”

A hundred of Cruciatus curses would have been less painful than imagining him killing Fred, George, Molly, Arthur and all of those I had ever loved. My hands were shaking and only now did I notice I didn’t have my wand. 

He took a step, and I found myself unable to move. 

“I want you to know why I’ll make you suffer like I suffered.”

Everything else seemed to have disappeared. There was only him in front of me, and the weight of the promise he was making, a weight so heavy that I was suffocating and weakening more and more. 

“You killed the love of my life. I will kill you for that.”

He took another step, and my knees gave up on me. I fell on the ground and cowered, my eyes closed and the sound of my sobs hiding the other sounds. I didn’t see him, but I felt him kneeling in front of me. I desperately tried to regain control, I tried to remember Fred’s blood, Mary’s body, my own pain, but my brain was dizzy and I was unable to move. 

“But  won’t kill you now.” he whispered in my ear. “It would be too easy, don’t you think? I want you to be scared. I want you to wonder when I’ll come back for you. I want you to stop living, I want you to be scared of dying.” 

And, still unable to move, still paralyzed by his hold on me, I bit my lips to stop a scream when his fingers touched my skin, putting the necklace back around my neck. 

“You look like her.” he declared with a quiet voice, the one that had always scared me the most. “You look like your mother.”

“Don’t talk about her.”

It was the first thing I managed to say, the words escaping my mouth despite the lump in my throat. As soon as they echoed in the night, I looked down and tensed, subconsciously waiting for a punishment. It was an old habit, and I doubted I would ever be able to get rid of it. 

“You killed her.” I added, feeling barely braver when he said nothing. 

He laughed with a terrible laugh, maniacal and without an ounce of joy. Only pure insanity. 

“No, you killed her. The Dark Mark killed her. Mary killed her. But me? I just loved her. And you killed her. We were perfect together, and you came between us. You got rid of her, I get rid of you. This is a good deal.”

It felt like I was another person when I noticed I was shaking. I could imagine the way my lips were trembling, the way my hands were hidden in the folds of my dress, and the way my eyes were full of tears. 

“I don’t understand…” I cried out, unable to do anything else than to express how broken I was and to despise myself for being so pathetic. “Mary- Mary was her friend and- you were the one who forbade her… I don’t understand… Please leave me alone, I don’t want to-”

“Oh no! No no no no no!” my father gave his back to me, taking a few steps forwards before turning again and throwing his arms to the sky. “Mary never listened to me! She never listened! She hated your mother, she let her die!” and he laughed, a laughter without life or joy, only insanity. His mouth was twisted in a strange way as if he was going to cry at the same time. “Mary killed her, the Dark Mark killed her, and you killed her.” 

Suddenly, he was dead serious again, the only sign showing any disturbance being the compulsive clenching of his fists. I almost crawled backwards, my eyes never leaving the hand that was holding his wand. 

“Looks like the fun is over. See you soon, Y/N.”

And he disappeared, leaving me alone and shaking on the grass, his silhouette burned in my retina for what I believed was forever. Only now did I realize how hard my heart was beating. It was pounding against my ribcage like a desperate animal trying to escape. I would have done anything to escape too, because my whole body seemed to have become a jail which role was to keep me ready for whenever my father would show up. 

Around me, everything was silent. Too silent, like the calm after the storm. As my brain was getting less clouded, I remembered what had happened before the moment I had ended up in front of my father. For a second, I wondered why the Death Eaters were so silent, then I understood they were gone. I only reacted when voices screamed my name. 

“Y/N!”

“Y/N, where are you?”

I walked away, an unpleasant impression of being watched making me shiver. When I reached the first silhouette I had seen, the whole discussion with my father had begun to sink in me, and thousands of questions were invading my head. 

“Y/N?”

George took a few steps toward me, approaching slowly and talking with a small voice, as if he was in front of a wounded animal. Maybe he wasn’t wrong, maybe I was really a wounded animal, fragile and desperate to defend herself until her death which was obviously close. 

Thinking about my death made something crack in me; a wall I had struggled to build and that was supposed to protect me. When the wall completely broke, it stopped containing everything I had kept hidden for years. Every pain, every tear, every scream, it all came back to me with such a vigour that I fell back on my knees and I screamed. 

_ _ _ 

Without a word, Molly handed me a cup of tea in which she had added some firewhiskey. I was squeezed on the couch between Fred and George, still trembling even though sweat was covering my forehead. I didn’t even notice the few drops that fell on my dress when I lifted the cup, nor did I notice Fred’s arm around me. I didn’t see the concerned look exchanged between Arthur and Molly either, all of that because I was lost in my thoughts. My father had said so many things, but all of this couldn’t be true, right? 

“Your necklace,” murmured Fred. “Did he give it back to you?”

I promptly yanked it out with the very strong feeling that it had left a burn on my skin. My eyes fell on my closed fist in which I was clenching and something, an image, came back from the depths of my memory. Something that looked like a book under George’s arm as he was looking for the place where he had hidden Fred. A book I had never seen afterwards, because I had refused in the first place and then because I had forgotten it. A book that had to be pretty important for George to take him with him in the emergency. 

“The book.” I murmured. Fred shifted, Molly looked away. Something was wrong. “You still have it, right? I want to read it.”

“There’s nothing important in this book.” said George, his voice a bit too low for him to be honest. 

I looked at Fred, and he turned his head a bit too late. I had seen his eyes fixed on my fist.

“Fred, tell me.” 

He looked up, and his worried eyes met mine. He bit his lips before slowly taking my hands, looking quickly at George and Arthur before eventually sighing. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve hidden that to you, love. I thought- I thought you wouldn’t want to know it. The book was a sort of journal. It was written by your mother. She…”

My heart was pounding, it was the only thing I could hear besides Fred’s voice. 

“She was a Death Eater too. That’s why she was alone... That’s why she’s dead.”

The Dark Mark killed her. 

Tags: @pregnant-piggy​ @la3divine​

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you

[scandalousfemale]

Ch.1 End of the World As We Know It

Chinese!OC x Kelce

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Zombies were meant for apocalyptic movies and TV shows where one could binge watch for a day and return to their mundane life. But something happened, a lab test went wrong and suddenly the outbreak started. This story takes place exactly three weeks after zombies slowly started to take over the planet. 

Series master list

WC: 3,445

Warnings: this is a zombie apocalypse fic, mentions of zombies, mentions of death, slight mention of ripping of flesh but not much, mentions of weapons!!! Knives!, mention of sewing up a wound, someone got sliced with a knife and needs to be sutured, mentions of fear

A/N: To every single person who has shown interest in this, thank you so much. Whether it’s because you were excited for a Kelce fic or you were excited for (finally) an Asian oc/face claim, just know that your support kept me writing this. I loved every second of writing this first chapter, it’s one of the first, in a while, that came really easily to me and I am so in love with the characters already. Again, thank you so much for your support and your feedback. You all keep me going. Now, please, jump into this AU with caution. Some might not make it out.

It is widely believed that right before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. Kaili wondered, sitting in the empty and dark pharmacy by herself, if her cousin was granted that mercy. She can still hear the echoes of Wei’s piercing scream, forever haunted by the thought that maybe she could’ve done something to save her. But she couldn’t have. And there was no way that her death could’ve been peaceful enough to collect a couple of seconds to remind her of a life before this.

Hell, it was hard for Kaili to remember a life before this. The scattered news reports said that this outbreak had started about two or three weeks ago— she’s lost count, that there had been a mistake. The labs were trying to test out a new vaccine, one that could cure people of any potential virus that would have affected the human race and become the next pandemic, but something had gone wrong. Though she didn’t trust the reporters to tell the public much of the truth to begin with, the people have been saying that the virus had begun in New York, where scientists were trying to inject an gene editor into the bloodstream. It was supposed to make the recipient stronger and their immune system more durable for whatever that came their way. In a way, it did. When the first volunteer died, their body carried on living...lunging forward, biting, and passing on the mutant gene to anyone else who had gotten bit. 

That brings us to the problem at hand and why Kaili was trying to silently mourn the loss of her family as her backpack full of first aids and snacks were flushed against the wall behind her. She had seen the news of the outbreak on her campus TV and gotten in the car, headed straight for her family. She was just hoping that they wouldn’t have been freaking out, seeing as it would be easy to panic when all they saw were images of people ripping each other’s face off and they don’t understand the language very well

Kaili is first generation American, stemming from Chinese immigrant parents. They worked so hard to make sure that she never had a want for anything that she truly needed but in doing so, they’ve neglected a lot of their own necessities. When she was smaller, she’d ask them for seconds and they would make sure that she’d be full, even if that meant that she ate their food. Of course, once she caught on, she’d stopped asking, even sometimes putting more on her parents plate than her own. 

The feeling of her heart thumping fast in her chest when she saw her house lingered in her still. The anxiety never really rid itself from her. The images of her parents crouched on the front lawn, devouring her aunt and uncle in law still flashed in her head. She didn’t even have time to cry when her cousin, Wei, jumped into her car and told her that she heard it was safer if they started going down south. As long as they got away from the epicenter that is New York. Both girls didn’t have a chance to grieve their parents until they were out of Maryland and on the way to Florida. 

Of course, they never made it that far. They’d spent a week holed up in an underground parking lot, just processing the information. Looking up the news until their phones ran out of battery. Some days the girls barely spoke to each other, they’d just share a knowing look, a touch that would let the other know that the pain was acknowledged but they wouldn’t speak much of it.

Then, when they started to slowly come out of grief and into self preservation, they started on their trip again. Which wasn’t exactly easy. Of course, cars needed gas and people— the living, needed food and sleep. So, even on their journey, they were forced to stop. Sometimes they’d meet others along the way, especially those who swarmed the grocery stores and took everything that their arms could carry but most times it still felt like a normal day. There were people who believed that it was just an isolated incident in an isolated state.

When they reached South Carolina though, it felt like a ghost town. They’d decided to go to a grocery store and usually they were good at their surroundings but maybe the town just felt too safe. Too...empty. Wei walked in without being careful and the flesh eating monsters heard the bell of the door. They’d swarmed her before she even got the chance to pull out her weapon.

Kaili didn’t like sleeping anymore because of that. She doesn’t even remember screaming at the sight but she must’ve because the attention was suddenly drawn on her. And so she ran to the closest empty shop she could find and she’s been stuck here for the past two days.

She’d cried. A lot. She cried so hard that she became tired but she wouldn’t allow herself to sleep, pulling energy drinks from the fridge from the drug store, not like it helped. It’s funny how trauma has a way of taking care of you against your own wishes. Her body had shut down on her and she fell asleep on her pharmacy’s floor. Even if only for a little bit, she woke up only to sob again, knowing that she wouldn’t exactly get far on her own and even if she did, she wouldn’t really know where she’d end up. 

She had forced herself to stay hydrated and eat, even when she didn’t want to. Even when the look of some consistency of food made her vomit because it reminded her of the flesh that the monsters outside the doors would eat, she knew that she had to keep her energy up for when she was ready to make the move. Needless to say, she was scared. She’d never faced one of these creatures alone before but now, she figured it wouldn’t be as different as when Wei and her used to kill them together. She just doesn’t have anyone watching her back this time.

On the afternoon of the second day in hiding, the sound of glass shattering pulled her out of her self pity and planning. She had quickly crawled and hid behind a medicine cabinet, listening for who’d broken into her sanctuary.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think the entire Charleston has heard you, JJ, can you do that a bit louder?” An annoyed female voice hissed.

Great, Kaili thought to herself, I guess dying by the hands of humans might be better than being ripped to pieces. She’d run into other humans before, some nice and others not but in a deserted town like this where not even one car is in sight, she’d doubt that this group of people were all too friendly. 

“Can you two just shut up and fill the bags?” A gruff male voice spoke before sounds of bottles rattling on top of each other filled the space.

While trying to pay attention to the noise and the people in front of her, she had forgotten to check behind her, used to having Wei be there. A rookie mistake.

“What do we have here?” A blond man spoke from behind her. He couldn’t have been older than nineteen years old, yet his cold eyes told a story only that of someone who’d seen too much can tell. Then again, she supposed they’ve all seen too much at this point.

Before she could even register his words and answer them, she’d pull the knife from the band on her thigh, instinct took over. The boy jolted backwards, knocking over the medicine shelf behind him.

“Whoa, there little lady,” the startled boy shifted his eyes around the room, relaxing when his friends came to stand by him. She was outnumbered and though one to three wasn’t that bad of a fight, she didn’t want to take the risk, especially after seeing the man stood by the blond. He towered all three of them.

“Are you alone?” The female spoke, a softness in her tone that Kaili hasn’t heard since the outbreak had started.

Instinct told her to lie but what was the point? So, she nodded once.

“Do you speak English?” The tall boy asked, which earned him a scowl from Kaili and a scoff from the girl next to him.

“She literally just responded to me when I spoke to her, what kind of a dumb ass question is that, Rafe?”

Okay, so the tall one was called Rafe, that means the blond had to be JJ, Kaili inspected them, eyeing their clothes and their weapons— or lack thereof.

“She’s just staring and I don’t know whether to be turned on or creeped out,” JJ said, caught in the middle of the two glaring at each other. A comedic relief, of course.

“I can speak English,” Kaili said, her voice coming off tense and dry. After all, she hadn’t used it in two days except to sob, and even then, she tried to cry in silence.

“Sorry, we’re so rude,” the female shook her head before she stepped forward as Kaili stepped back, not expecting the sudden movement, but the girl in front of her acted like she didn’t notice. Her smile was warm, her age probably mirroring that of the blond.

“My name’s Kiara,” her hand still outstretched as Kaili switched her blade to her other hand and took it cautiously, “this here is JJ,” she pointed to the blond as he flashed his canine at her in a smile that had a deadly edge to it.

“And that’s Rafe,” she pointed at the tall man who seems to be a little older than the rest of them, maybe a little bit closer to Kaili’s twenty-three. 

“I’m Kaili.”

A beat passed, where no one moved or had said anything and Kaili strapped the blade back to the outside of her thigh, alongside the others.

It was as if the group had seen her for the first time and she wondered what that sight must’ve looked like to them because to her, it would seem like she’s a broken little girl playing dress up. 

“Wait, you know how to fight?” JJ asked, not hiding the shock in his voice had he eyed her weapons. 

“I know how to survive,” she shrugged. She had a small obsession with switchblades when she was younger, that had turned into a throwing knives obsession but when it came to shooting or fist fighting? She was at a loss. 

They eyed her clothes. Black pants with a weapons belt wrapped around her hips and down her thighs. Her black long sleeve shirt was tucked neatly into the waistband. She looked like a mercenary and it was all thanks to Wei. The day of the zombie attack was Wei’s birthday and so she was stuck in her birthday dress for days before the younger girl made it a mission to raid an abandoned store for some new clothes. Something about how it’s not practical fighting in a skirt, no matter what comic book says. She used to laugh at the thought but thinking about it now hurts her. 

“Do you know…” Kiara began to ask before Rafe put his hand on her shoulder and shook his head but she only gave him a desperate glance.

“No,” the boy pulled at her but JJ broke his grasp, standing in between them, as if he was protecting Kiara from a potential threat.

“Do you want him to die?” Kiara grit through her teeth from behind JJ. 

“We don’t know her, do you want to die?” Rafe hissed back. 

“We don’t exactly have a choice.”

And so they continued their whispered argument and Kaili pretended not to hang on to every word, when she'd heard enough, she had responded to the question that hadn’t been asked.

“I know first aid, well, a little more than first aid. My mom is a doctor,” a lump formed in her throat when she realized what she had said, “was a doctor,” she corrected herself.

“Then it’s settled,” Kiara spoke, “we will allow you to join our group if you can help our friend. He’s suffering from a knife wound to his abdomen, it’s deep. He’ll need stitches, maybe. I don’t know. We’ve been using cotton and tape for now but he’s losing blood and color and let's be honest, we don’t know anything about what kind of equipment or medicine we need. So, can you help us?” She said with a desperate tinge in her tone.

Kaili had never been so grateful in her life that she had suffered from wounds before from playing rough until her mother had gotten so upset that she’d learn to dress her own mistakes.

“Depending on how much blood he’s lost and if the wound is infected, I can help,” Kaili responded as she went around the pharmacy, getting everything that she thought she’d needed. After about five minutes, she’d met them at the front of the door with six plastic bags.

“In case someone else gets hurt,” was her explanation for the bags. JJ laughed, muttering something about liking her already as he took some bags off of her hands and they walked out of the shop.

Rafe stalked ahead of them, a gun in his hands, as Kiara fell in line with Kaili.

“Thank you, again for this. I know you don’t know us and you could have said no. So, even if that one,” she nodded at Rafe, “isn’t going to say it, just know that we are grateful.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I don’t even know if I can save your friend,” Kaili’s reply was short but not harsh, as she wasn’t trying to be rude. She just meant to be truthful. 

Rounding the corner, a van came into sight. No scratch that, it can’t even be considered that, it was more like a tour bus.

“Topper and his theatrics,” Kiara explained, as if Kaili would know what a Topper is, when she saw the girl’s eyes widen, “Gretchen Wilson was having a concert when everything had gone down. I guess they all died or something because her bus was left behind, with a full tank of gas and water, I might add.” 

Kaili just nodded, a loss for words as she followed them to the bus and then up the stairs to the inside of this luxury transportation. She couldn’t believe it. She took a quick glance around the space noting the kitchen, beds, tv, and bathroom but the most important thing she noted was that there were more people than the group who came and got her. She expected maybe one extra person, of course, the one who was hurt. Not six more people. Kiara had locked the door behind her and suddenly, Kaili was feeling a little bit less comfortable.

“I thought I told you not to pick up any strays,” a voice called from the driver’s seat. An older looking blond boy with blue eyes had faced her.

“Chill out, Top, she’s here to help,” Kiara defended her as JJ called out from somewhere in the bus, “and she can fight!”

That didn’t stop Topper from eyeing her once more before starting the car up again. Rafe had gone up front to Topper and another male, one who barely gave her a glance.

Finally, a boy appeared from the bathroom, looking disheveled and covered in sweat. Yes, she could see it now. He did lose a bit of blood.

Another boy, she later found out his name was Pope, had laid a towel on the floor for the injured boy, John B, to lay on top of. Introductions were rapid before JJ laid the bags on the floor next to her.

Kaili had put on gloves and when she lifted his shirt, she grimaced at the sight. Someone had decided to wrap duct tape on his wound and she prayed that there was a protective layer between the tape and the injury or else there was a risk that she’d open the wound and start the bleeding all over again if it hadn’t already stopped. Muttering a round of sorry’s she was able to breathe again when she saw that there was, in fact, a cloth in between and that his wound had already begun to clot. 

After advising him to eat some food and take pain relief medicine, she began cleaning out the wound, in which John B had let out a whole plethora of curse words at the girl anyway and even more so when she started suturing the cut. She hadn’t noticed the audience that she had attracted, nor that the bus had stopped again, until she had finally wrapped a flexible gauze around his middle and pulled the gloves from her hand.

Putting all of her used equipment into a plastic cup, she then handed it over to a beaming and smiling Kiara who’d thrown it away for her. Then John B was quickly taken back to the end of the bus, to a bigger bed, by a girl named Sarah who’d thanked her endlessly.

— 

After a nicer round of introductions, except for one, she found out that Rafe was actually related to Sarah and that they both had another sibling in this bus who’s name is Wheezie. She tried not to laugh at that. Sarah was dating John B, who were best friends with JJ, Kiara, and Pope. Pope knew a whole lot about dead bodies and he was always reading up on the news. Then there was Topper, who was the main driver, who was also friends with Rafe and the guy who liked to keep to himself mostly. Though Kiara did mention that the guy, Kelce, isn’t usually like this but that it was hard for him to see siblings who made it out together when he didn’t. Kaili didn’t ask for her to elaborate since it wasn’t Kiara’s pain to share.

She got all of that before they asked her if she wanted to use the shower, which she jumped at the chance to. She couldn’t help but feel a little sad though, that Wei wasn’t here to experience this with her. After a quick wash, rinse, cry, and repeat. She pulled her “I heart North Carolina” over sized T-shirt over the biker shorts she took from a store and willed herself out of the bathroom. Fighting the urge to crawl into her bunk and call it a night when a group of them asked her to join them for a movie night as Kiara fixed up dinner with Topper. 

She looked around this group of people, crammed into a stolen bus and she wondered who they really were, what their story was. They didn’t seem like they’d be friends outside of this situation but honestly she didn’t want to ask and they weren’t very keen in sharing, not that she’d mind because she wasn’t jumping at the chance to talk about her life before this mess either.

“Hey,” the boy who didn’t pay her a single speck of attention all day, sat across the way from her. She’d only nodded to him as a response, unable to turn her gaze back to the DVD now that his was on hers. “I’m Kelce,” he offered his hand to her and unlike earlier, she took it immediately.

“Kaili,” she'd said softly but she was sure he’d already known that, if not for Sarah saying it in between her thank you’s, then because of JJ insisting he was the one who had brought her back for his friend. Speaking of which, JJ had strutted out of the bathroom, shaking his wet hair at both of them, causing them to unlock their hands and gaze from the other. She couldn’t help but laugh at his childish antics. He had dropped to the spot next to her and extended his arm over the edge of the seat behind them as he settled in to watch the movie. Though she tried to get back into the actors on the screen, she couldn’t help but notice that Kelce’s eyes kept coming back to her, like hers did for him. It was as if he wanted to say something to her or maybe he wasn’t comfortable with her intruding into his space.

No, she definitely didn’t know what she was getting into.

tags: @rafecameron​ @millyelliot​ @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar​ @sortagaysortahigh​ @stfukie​ @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless​ @outerbankslut​ @thegreatestofheck​ @starlightstarkey​ @stargazingstarkey​ @anxietyandtacos​ @spideymyluv​ @pogue-writings​ @bedazzledbanks​ @pankowrudeth​ @bricksatanakinswindow​

#kelce outer banks #kelce fic #outer banks fic #outer banks au #LIAB

[hopelikethemoon]

Together (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Together Rating: PG-13 Length: 3600 Warnings: Mild Angst (Therapy) & Breastfeeding an Infant Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set in October 1997.  Summary: Reader makes progress with her daughter and they have a joint session.

Taglist:  @grapemama  @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow@hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501@fioccodineveautunnale  @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim@amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​@synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @exrebelshocktrooper@awesomefandomsunited​ @ah-callie​ @swhiskeys​ @lady-tano​ @beskar-droids​ @space-floozy@cable-kenobi​ @longitud-de-onda​ @cool-ultra-nerd​ @himbopoes​ @findhimfives​ @pedrosdoll​@seeking-a-greatt-perhaps​–perhaps @frietiemeloen​ @arrowswithwifi​ @random066​ (more tags in the replies)

You groaned quietly as you pulled yourself out of bed, wiping the sleep from your eyes as you glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside you. 

2:20. 

Without fail, Sofía woke up between 2:00 and 2:30 every morning, regardless of how much she ate before bed. You had even attempted keeping her up later, but that didn’t help the situation. You were just exhausted and awake at two in the morning with a fussy baby.

“Get her and come back in here.” Javier murmured, his voice heavy with sleep as he rolled towards you. 

“Shit, did I wake you up?” You questioned, turning on the bedside lamp.

He shielded his eyes, “No, the screaming did. 

“She’s loud.” You agreed, stepping into your house shoes and shuffling across the hall to retrieve Sofía from the nursery. She quieted once you picked her up, but you knew it was only temporary. It never lasted very long

She was so fucking fussy. You were certain you would’ve lost your mind if Josie had been this fussy in Colombia. Her calm demeanor had been a godsend when everything else was chaotic in your life. 

You made your way back into the bedroom, smiling warmly at Javier as you took in his sleepy expression. “You should go back to sleep.” You urged quietly, cradling Sofía in one arm as you set your pillows up so you could lean back on them. 

“Nah, I’m good baby.” Javier assured you, raking his fingers through his messy hair.

You sank back against the pillows, drawing your knees up so you could recline her back against them while you got yourself situated. Nighttime feedings were the worst. Your mind was still your worst enemy and it always seemed worse when you were tired. Like your brain knew to strike while you were already down. 

“I should’ve pumped before bed.” You lamented, “I could just give her a bottle.” 

“You’ve got this.” Javier scooted closer to you, reaching out to brush a piece of hair behind your ear, his knuckles skimming over your cheek. 

You sighed heavily, leaning into his touch. “I’m just tired.” You offered as an excuse. There was a part of you that was convinced you should just stop bothering and get Sofía used to formula, but you didn’t want to admit defeat. You knew there was no shame in it, but it didn’t help you. It was something you had wanted so badly. Your body wanted it to. But Sofía was not as easily convinced. 

You picked her back up, settling her into the curve of your arm as you pulled your breast out of your shirt. You sighed quietly, preparing yourself for disappointment. At least Javier was up, he could try to get Sofía to settle while you pumped. 

No one was going to be getting any sleep tonight.

“Come on Sof,” You whispered, brushing your thumb over her lips, trying to encourage her to latch on. She started whimpering ⁠— clearly hungry, but she refused to pay any attention to your actual nipple. 

“Please don’t do this tonight.” You begged, feeling an ache deep inside of you as she refused to latch on. She would start, her little tongue moving like she wanted food, but then she’d pull back and rob you both of the experience. You just wanted to be able to help her. 

“Hey.” Javier curled his arm around your middle, his hand brushing along your waist. “It’s okay, baby.”

“I’m fine.” You insisted, even though you very much were not okay. Why couldn’t you do this one thing? Something so natural that every woman could do except for you. 

Javier pulled himself up leaning on his side against the pillows you were propped up on. “Are you sure you’re fine?” He questioned, his eyes drawn to the damp spot that had formed on your shirt over your covered breast. “Baby.” 

“Don’t.” You said shortly, shifting away from him despite yourself. “I’m fine, Javi. I don’t need your sympathy.”

“Easy,” He said, sounding far more awake now. “Baby, it’s not sympathy.”  

“I didn’t have any trouble with Josie. None.” You wiped at your eyes, sniffling quietly. “I just don’t understand.” 

“I remember.” Javier nodded his head as he leaned forward and kissed your shoulder. “But they’re different babies and things change. You can’t compare the two.” He brushed his fingers over your hair, trying to calm you. “Why don’t you pause for a second? Remember when we used to lay in bed while you fed Josie?”

You glanced up at him, giving him a small nod. “Yeah.” Admitting temporary defeat, you pulled your shirt back down and cradled Sofía to you as you readjusted yourself on the bed. You settled yourself between Javier’s legs, sinking back against his chest. 

“I hate how I feel like I’m failing her.” You whispered, staring down at her in your arms. She was staring right back at you, her dark eyelashes fluttering as she cooed for attention. “I know, sunshine. I know you’re hungry.” 

“Just relax.” Javier advised you, brushing his fingers over the back of your hand where you were cradling Sofía’s head. “You’ve got this, baby.” 

“Do I?” 

“You do.” 

You swallowed thickly around the lump in your throat. You hated how you felt. Like you were failing Sofía and yourself. Your mind trying to convince yourself that you had failed. That Javier was only pitying you… even though you knew that wasn’t true. Javi sure as hell didn’t do pity. 

He pressed his lips to your shoulder, his breath tickling your skin as he exhaled. “You’re not failing her.” Javier reassured you, running his hand down your side and giving your hip a squeeze. 

“I feel like I am.” You leaned your head back against his shoulder. “With everything I’ve done? I can take being shot ⁠— twice. I can handle taking down narcos, putting up with more bullshit than any one person should have to handle, but this? Not being able to feed my baby? That’s what has broken me.” 

“You’re not broken.” Javier shook his head, kissing a spot just behind your ear. “Let’s try again.” He urged quietly, rubbing his hand down your arm. “And if she still won’t latch on, I’ll get the pump for you.” 

You tried to stifle the ache you felt in your chest. Your heart breaking in the best of ways. Javier was so understanding and patient with you. What had you done to deserve him? A lesser man wouldn’t have put up with this for three months, thinking you were done with him. You knew it wasn’t easy for him. It wasn’t easy for either of you. 

“Alright.” You nodded slowly as you took a hold of his arm, guiding it around your middle. “Here.” You situated his arm beneath Sofía. “Just like that.” 

Javier cradled your daughter carefully, his lips still gently brushing against your shoulder. “You’ve got this, baby.” He whispered. 

You ignored the prickle of tears in your eyes as you pulled your shirt up again. Sofía was squirming, quiet little sobs escaping her as she waited to be fed. You both worked to readjust her, trying to find the right position for her. The second she latched on, that well of emotion inside overwhelmed you. 

“You did it baby.” Javier whispered, lifting his hand to smooth his fingers through your hair. “Fuck. Look at you both.” He pressed his cheek against yours. 

“Shh.” You laughed softly, turning your head to kiss his cheek.

“Baby, don’t cry.” 

“They’re happy tears.” You promised as you looked down at her, watching her as she drank from you. You were certain she was just as relieved as you were. 

“I’m proud of you.” 

“Stop, you’re going to make me cry more Javi.” You reached behind you, playing your fingers through his hair. 

“But I am proud of you, baby. Look at this little girl you made.” 

“We.” 

“She’s perfect.” Javier whispered, brushing his lips against the curve of your shoulder. “I know it’s been hard, baby. But you’re doing so incredible.” 

You smiled, leaning your head against his. “Maybe you’re the secret.” You teased. 

He shook his head, “I think you just need to be reminded to relax.” His hand kept wandering, reassuringly smoothing down your arm, squeezing your hip to emphasize something he’d said. “You’re so tense every time you have to feed her, baby. You both are.” 

“I just want this so badly.” You admitted. “It was this thing that Josie and I had, thirty minutes to ourselves. There was nothing beyond the apartment that mattered. She was so easy.” 

“I know.” He rubbed your side. “Our girls are different and that’s okay.” Javier reminded you. “Sofía’s too much like her old man. Complaining about shit all the time.” 

“Oh, are you not the father?” You laughed. “Because you are the easy one between us.” 

“I am?”

You rolled your eyes. “You are not a complainer, babe. You just bottle it up and then we have to talk about it in therapy.” 

He chuckled, brushing his nose against your neck. “You nervous about today’s joint session?”

“A little.” You admitted, smiling down at Sofía as she stopped sucking for a second. She opened and closed her lips, blinking slowly before she went back in for a second round, latching on all by herself. It really was a relief. A tiny victory.

“I guess it means we’re making progress.” Javier sighed softly, rubbing his hand over your side. “I’m proud of you, baby.” 

You tilted your head to smile back at him. “I’m proud of you too.” 

——

 “I want to remind you both that everything that is said today should be considered with understanding and compassion.” Nancy said with a cautious tone. “I would like to work through anything that comes up today within this safe space.”

You made a face, looking towards Javier then. “Should I be afraid?” You whispered.

He laughed quietly, reaching for your hand. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

You interlaced your fingers, squeezing three times. As far as you knew, there wasn’t anything between the two of you that would warrant that sort of disclaimer. 

Nancy opened her notebook, flipping through a few pages before she settled on one. “During our sessions, I made a note that both of you regarded that three month period of time between your daughter’s conception and the start of your relationship with some contempt.”

“Contempt?” You frowned. “I mean it was a difficult period of time.”

Javier rocked his jaw slowly. “I don’t know if I’d call my emotions contempt. It was a fucking nightmare, but I sure as held didn’t regard her with contempt.”

“But did you regard yourself with contempt?” She questioned leadingly. 

Your brows furrowed as you turned to stare at him. “Yeah.” He said quietly. “Did you really call a joint session because of what I said during the last time?” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What did you say?”

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth, giving a short shake of his head. “Nancy thought it would be a good idea to dissect that period of time. I had some baggage I wasn’t really looking to unpack.” 

Shit. 

“That’s my fault.” You squeezed his hand. 

“I figured.” 

“Javi, I’m sorry.” You shifted closer to him. “It was just… Fuck. I knew you were still holding on to all of that.”

“Yeah, I was.” Javier shrugged. “It’s fine, baby. Don’t get torn up about it.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand. “It was bound to come out sooner or later.” 

Nancy looked between the two of you, “You would be correct there, Javier. Regardless of what was recommended to me by your partner, we got to the heart of the matter naturally.” 

He raked his hand over his face, sighing heavily as he sank back against the sofa. “I don’t know what you want me to say.” Javier stared at Nancy. “None of this is news to her. She knows how I felt about that shit.” 

“Your arrangement with hookers?” Nancy questioned. 

His jaw set hard. “Yeah.” 

You frowned, looking between the two of them. “I thought I made it clear that there wasn’t an issue there…” You leaned forward, releasing your hold on Javier’s hand. “I mean, maybe I was a little jealous before we got together, but… It’s not an issue.” 

Javier turned to look at you, brows drawn together. “You sure it wasn’t an issue?”

“My only issue was that you were bragging about it to Tom in front of my desk, Javier.” You shot him a pointed look. “I have never wanted to crawl into a hole and die as badly as I did that day. And I already felt like shit that day.” 

“Did I know you were pregnant?”

“No.” You gritted out. “But you were doing it on purpose.” 

Javier dragged his fingers through his hair, resting his elbows against his knees as he leaned forward. “Because I wanted to get a reaction out of you.” He admitted, tilting his head just enough to catch your eye. “I felt like shit too, baby. Not for the same reason you did, but I did. I didn’t get any fucking information and there was no amount of water that could wash away how I felt afterwards. And I thought… Fuck. If you cared, it would all be worth it. If I got some hint out of you that you were jealous, that maybe there was a chance for us.” 

“Javi.” 

“Even after we got together you were just so ambivalent about everything. I felt like shit about it, but you just kept insisting it was work.” He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. “You acted like you didn’t care.” 

Your heart clenched as you stared at him, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your gut. “It was an act, Javier. I had to focus on our daughter and do what was right by her. We lived life on a tightrope. I couldn’t care about what you did for the DEA. But I cared deeply. I hated every second of it.” You pushed your fingers through your hair, chewing on your bottom lip. “I was so fucking happy when you turned up at the apartment that night. I hated thinking about you being with someone else… I always hated it.”

He turned to look at you then. “Really?”

You nodded slowly. “Every time Connie tried to set you up with someone, I just… I wanted to scream. I was right there.” You rolled your eyes and looked away, hugging your arms around your middle. “And we all know why you hated Lance.” 

Javier huffed. “Shots fired.” 

Your lips twitched upwards at the corners. “And who were your regulars? Freckles… Nessa…”

He widened his eyes, staring at you with an incredulous laugh. “You remember their names?”

You shrugged, pursing your lips. “Better than I remember the names of anyone I ever went home with.” You snorted. 

“And why do you think that is?” Nancy questioned. You had actually forgotten that she was sitting there listening to that entire exchange. 

You laughed awkwardly, “I remember everything Javier has ever brought up.” 

“Really?”

Javier nodded. “She really does. It’s slightly terrifying.” He reached over and gave your leg a squeeze. 

Nancy made a note in her journal, glancing between you. “Let’s circle back to Lance.” 

You groaned. 

“Javier, how did that situation make you feel?”

He scratched at his jaw. “Well, he’s CIA so… not great.” Javer clicked his tongue against his teeth and looked at you. “He was good to her, though. As her friend, I mean… I couldn’t complain about that.” 

“He was boring.” You pointed out, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa. “He was a great guy, though. I basically broke up with him because I wasn’t as into him as he was into me.” You looked at Javier then, “He wasn’t you.” 

“How would you compare your intimacy with Lance to your intimacy with Javier?” 

“Wow.” You rubbed at the back of your neck. “We’re just going to go straight in for the kill.” You kicked off your shoes and curled your legs beneath you on the sofa. “I mean, if we’re being honest here or whatever… There was nothing to complain about in regards to sex with Lance. We had decent chemistry…” You shrugged a shoulder, looking towards Javier then. “He wasn’t super adventurous.” 

“How did it compare to what you have now?”

You laughed, leaning back against the sofa. “There’s no comparison. I’m not just saying this because you’re sitting next to me,” You told Javier, before looking back at Nancy. “I have never had a partner like Javier.”

“I agree.” Javier remarked, reaching over to rest his hand on your thigh. “That’s an area we aren’t having issues in.” 

You rested your hand over his. “Even with communication, I think we’re getting better. I mean, last night Javier helped me get Sofia eating. He talked me through it and helped me keep from getting stuck in my head.” You watched Nancy as she took notes. “What was the purpose of today’s session?” 

“I wanted to see how you react to difficult topics about each other. I was struck by how conscientious you are in our independent sessions. You both try to rationalize for each other.” She tapped her pen against her chin thoughtfully. “Some of my clients are prone to make excuses for their partner, but that’s not what this is.” 

“What is it?” Javier questioned, narrowing his eyes. 

“I think, in part, it’s derived from how your relationship began. You had both already accepted the flaws in one another. Most couples don’t discover those flaws until years into a relationship. What I’m fascinated with is this dynamic.” She gestured between the two of you. “You don’t shield your own flaws from Javier, you shield him from his flaws. And the same can be said about you, Javier. I’ve said it before and I’ll gladly say it again… I have no doubt that the two of you love one another. That is not what I am concerned with.”

You stiffened. “But you are concerned with something?”

Nancy closed her notebook, leaning forward against her desk. “It’s quite clear that you both carry your emotions with you. Misunderstandings, hurt feelings, and communication issues. We can work through them as we move forward. You mentioned living life on a tightrope,” She looked at you then. “You’re still on that tightrope.”

Javier and you exchanged looks. 

“Javier, you spent three months ⁠— in silence ⁠— convinced that she was planning to leave you.” Nancy reminded him firmly, before she looked at you. “And you may have convinced yourself that you don’t believe he would ever stray, but deep down you do worry about that.”

You swallowed thickly, but the weight of Javi’s hand on your thigh, squeezing you reassuringly kept you from falling apart. “I don’t… That’s not…” You stared at a spot on the floor. How had she figured that out? You hadn’t even hinted at it… had you? Unintentionally? 

“I wouldn’t⁠—” 

“I know.” You cut him off, “Trust me I know. Just like I would never leave.” 

Nancy shook her head slowly. “That right there is what I’m talking about. Both of those fears are completely normal. You’re allowed to have insecurities in your relationship. It’s healthy.” 

You made a face. “I’d rather just repress those fears.” 

“Yep.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth. 

Nancy shook her head. “We’ll keep working on this.” 

“If we have to.” You offered begrudgingly, scooting back to the edge of the sofa and putting your shoes back on. “Is there anything you want us to work on together?” 

Javier ran his hand down your back slowly. “Our current homework regimen seems to be working.” 

You snorted. “No complaints there.” 

“Just keep listening to each other. And don’t be afraid to explore with each other.” Nancy advised.

You raised a brow as you looked at Javier. “I don’t think she thinks we’re adventurous.” 

“If only she knew.” Javier quipped with a smirk. “Come on, baby. Let’s go get the girls.” 

“Thanks again, Nancy.” You offered, before you followed Javier out of the office. “Holy shit.” You whispered, once the door was shut behind you. 

“Seriously.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, shaking his head slowly. “Sometimes I come out of there feeling like she wants there to be issues between us. Asking about Lance.” He shot you a look, his dark gaze looking particularly stormy. 

“At least that’s an easy answer.” You tugged at his hand, stopping just before the stairwell that led down to the parking lot. “And for the record, I am sorry about how things panned out in Colombia. I was scared... and.” You took both of his hands into yours. “That morning I had planned to tell you that I thought I was pregnant. I didn’t know yet, but I was convinced. 

“Baby…” “I didn’t realize that you were trying to make me jealous. I legitimately thought that you were trying to drive home just how unremarkable our night was.” 

“Shit.” 

“Yeah.” You squeezed his hands. “We are really bad at assuming the worst in each other.” 

“For the record,” Javier released one of your hands so he could cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the rise of your cheekbone. “I love you.” 

You rose up on your toes and kissed him, “I love you too, Javi.” 

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

[theprincesslibrary]

#4: Baleful - Close your eyes

Warning: violence, past trauma, mention of abuse, mention of rape, domestic abuse, blood, torture 

He’s waking up. 

He doesn’t remember much. He was coming home after a night out, drunk and alone, the girls weren’t receptive to his charms. And then nothing. Just darkness and a violent pain at the back of his skull. He’s fully awake now, though his reality looks like a nightmare. His reflection is staring at him from the ceiling, eyes wide from fear. He is strapped to an operating table, naked, unable to move. He doesn't understand why he's here. 

I’d feel bad for him if I didn’t know any better. But I do.

I know what he did to his wife, to his previous girlfriends. I know what type of monster he is. But I’m worse. The saw in my hand is itching to cut, but I can’t start yet. Everything must be done to perfection. So I step out of the shadows and move closer, tape his eyelids open, so he can't close his eyes. Putting that mirror on the ceiling was a real pain in the ass, it’d be a shame if all that work went to waste. I wouldn’t want him to miss the show.

*****

When Thancred reaches the scene everything looks like it did for the previous murders: they still don't have the crime scene, just the dumping area. A godforsaken place where nobody cares what you do or say: welcome to Ul'dah's low town, where the jewel city doesn't shine so brightly. Here only the rule of the three wise monkeys applies: see nothing, hear nothing, and above all shut the fuck up. The perfect place to get rid of a body.

These corpses are not your typical murder victim though: no crime of passion, no hit-and-run. Everything is clean. It’s the third case of the type to end up on his desk, and it's a fucking nightmare. Let’s be clear, the modus operandi is dirty as fuck: shallow cuts all over the body, severed limbs, head cut off… all of that ante mortem, a fucking slaughter. But the scene is fucking spotless, perfectly ordered like a freaking Mog Station warehouse. They don't really have a corpse, more of a human puzzle: the organs and the head sit in separate jars, the limbs are all wrapped up mummy style, personal belongings in a cardboard box... And the cherry on top: not a single witness.  

That’s when Thacred's expertise comes to play. See, a regular cop would harass the lab, call them every 5 minutes, pressure them day and night… be a pain in the as. But not detective Thancred Waters. Nah. He has his way of doing things. He lets the lab rats alone, especially with a scene like that which is as much of a nightmare for them as it is for him. If puzzle number 3 is like its friends, CSI can’t do much for him right now, they need to unpack all that shit, literally. So he leaves them the fuck alone, they’re happy, and when they have something conclusive they call their favorite detective: how far one can go by not being an asshole is astonishing.  

Instead, Thancred likes to interrogate people. Relatives, of course, that’s police work 101, but he pays extra attention to the little monkeys on the streets: the guy no one notices sitting in the corner, the drug dealer in his vintage car, the homeless lady who sleeps here at night. He just knows how to make them talk. It must be his lucky day because he saw his favorite monkey when he arrived at the scene. It would be rude not to check on his old friend, although “friend” might be a bit of a stretch. He met Theodric in Limsa Lominsa, back when he was still a street urchin, stealing purses from unsuspecting passersby. They were in the same band of petty thieves, followed the same path, except one day Thancred targeted Louisoix Leveilleur. Instead of turning him in, the man saw his potential, and took him under his wing. His life changed that day. Theodric wasn’t so lucky. He got involved with the wrong crowd, took the wrong drug, and ended up here, in one of Ul’dah’s worst neighborhoods where not even the refugees dare to come. 

Yeah, not really friends, and considering what he's about to do to him, it's better that way.

 *****

Thancred’s fists hurt from punching Theodric’s ugly face, he needs a break from all that “friendly catching up”. He reaches for a cig and lights it up. Gods, how he loves the taste of tar… finally some stale air to help him breathe. He spares a look to the little monkey slouched against the tainted wall of a shabby restaurant. His face is covered in blood, but he’s not talking. He hates when they stay quiet, he’ll just have to be more explicit. 

“You know Theo, I can call you Theo, right? You know… it’s the weekend for me too. As you can imagine that I have other things to do besides fucking up your hideous face. I'm not asking you to share every tiny detail of your sad existence, I’m not your therapist. I’m not even asking for the name of your dealer. Just tell me who the fuck threw away the mummy. That would make me incredibly happy, I’d be able to go home, have a nice bath, you know, normal people shit.”

Thancred takes another puff from his cigarette and looks down at the man who was once his partner in crime. It’s almost like staring at a twisted version of himself, at the man he would have become without Louisoix. Six months ago, he might have gone easy on Theodric, might have tried to help him out. Six months ago, he would have been the man Louisoix wanted him to be, but that guy died in Lahabrea’s basement. All those months of sequestration and torture did a number on him, fucked him up so bad, his soul died back there. Now he's just this empty shell, pretending to be alive out of spite. Just to say “look at me now, I’m still there”. But he's not, not really.

He draws the last puff from his cigarette and crouches next to Theodric, his face on the same level as the junkie's. The little monkey has one open eye, just one, the other is too fucked up. There’s fear in that one eye, but he’s still not talking. Thancred gets his cig close to Theodric’s good eye, so he can understand what’s going to happen next. He likes to let people understand the rest on their own, it stimulates communication. 

“You might think I hate you Theo, but I don’t. I don’t give two flying fucks about you. But you see, my shrink told me I had to externalize my rage. When you don't talk to me, it pisses me off, so I have to externalize. On your face. You’re not a bad guy, a little drug here, a little dealing there, it’s not that bad. I’m a whiskey guy myself so really who am I to judge? Just tell me who threw this corpse, so I can calm the fuck down. I don’t need to externalize as much and we both go on our merry ways.” 

Thancred punctuates his question by crushing his cigarette's butt on Theo’s arm. His screams echo in the empty street so loudly dogs start to howl, not that anyone cares. Noone would come to his aid, not in this part of town, not when a cop is the one making him scream like a pig. The wise monkey rule reigns supreme. But now he’s in enough pain for Thancred to believe whatever he’s gonna say next. 

“Fuck Waters, I swear I don't know anything. You know me, I'm not that brave, if I knew anything I’d be singing like a fucking canary right now. Please let me go, I promise if I hear something I'll tell you. I swear Waters.”

*****

Theodric looks sincere.

It pisses him off, cause now he’s gonna have to resort to a more classic approach and act like a regular cop: talk to the wife and relatives. He hates to act like a regular cop, hates to talk to the wives. He doesn’t know how to deal with crying people. He used to be good at people skills, he’s not anymore.

He needs a drink. 

He ends up at the Quicksand like always. It’s a second house for all sorts of human trash: bikers, dealers, pimps, him...  

Thancred likes the atmosphere, and the barmaid, Lya. Lya is good. It sounds dumb, but she is. She smiles all the time and listens to everyone’s bullshit without judging. She’s pretty too, beautiful even. When she smiles it's a bit like a breeze blowing over a field of poppy, it shakes him to the core. It shakes up any guy. They all want to throw themselves in her arms and let her lull them to sleep as a mother would. She could turn the most vicious wolf into an obedient little lamb with just one smile. All the guys here come for her: the alcohol tastes like piss, the food is barely decent when it’s not expired, and the walls grow mold. But she's here. They all want her, but no one touches her. She’s broken, they all know that. They might be a bunch of heartless assholes, but they have principles. And Lya is off-limits. Her last boyfriend used to beat her up to a pulp, she still has a scar running down the side of her face. It doesn't take away from her beauty, but it drives him mad with rage.  

One night he was taking a piss behind the bar – mind you the alley’s hygiene is better than the loo inside – he saw the guy slap her, and felt the irrepressible urge to externalize his rage on the asshole’s face, so he did. Repeatedly, until he was the one lying on the ground, pissing himself. They’ve been friends ever since. She listens to his stupid jokes, gives him the best food, stops pouring drinks when she thinks he’s too drunk and smiles at him. She smiles so brightly he feels like a little boy in a candy store, hopeful and fearless.  

She looks out of place in this dirty joint full of heartless assholes, like a porcelain doll forgotten in a construction site, but she’s one of them: damaged. They don’t want to break her, they can all see the cracks in her porcelain skin, so no one touches her. They just pretend, pretend they have a chance, pretend they’re good enough for her. They even play this game where the last guy standing can ask her out. They drink until they either pass out or leave, and only one guy is left. The winner never asks her out, but still, they come every night to drink and dream. 

***** 

I always start with small incisions, quick and superficial. It stings just a little, but not too much. The most important thing is not the pain or the screaming, it’s the fear, the anticipation. It’s a wholesome experience: he gets to feel, see, and smell all of it. People often forget to mention the smell, iron and urea, blood and piss. The mix elicits a primal reaction: run, it says, run. But he can’t. 

*****

It’s Monday and Thancred has an appointment with the third victim’s wife. She looks vaguely familiar, must be from the file or the guy’s belongings. The murderer never bothered to hide his victim's identity. Hell, they even leave a special box for passports and other personal stuff. So yeah, she looks familiar, but he’s been in Ul’dah for a while, so it’s not a surprise. What he can’t stand is the way she's fidgeting on her chair. 

Thancred doesn’t like when the witness fidgets because a regular cop would think ‘hum, that’s suspicious'. Thancred tried being a regular cop once, wasn’t for him, so he stopped, started being an asshole instead with some instinct sprinkled on top, it was a wholesale price. Still, the fidgeting is annoying. And she still looks familiar, more than she should from just a file picture. Thancred can’t put his finger on it. Maybe he fucked her once. He was kind of a womanizer before his life went to shit, before Lahabrea. It doesn’t explain why she’s so nervous, or why she keeps nervously rubbing her arms. Nor does it explain the five layers of clothes. It’s at least 35° out, and she’s out in the sun with a freaking turtleneck. The outrageous makeup has to be the icing on the cake. 

And that’s when it hits him. He knows her, but not from the file, or a one-night stand. She’s from Lya’s support group for battered women. That’s why she’s nervous. Not because he’s her former lover, not even because he’s a cop, but because he’s a man. That’s why number 3’s dead: he was trash like the rest.

"Excuse me for a few minutes."

Thancred gets up and exits the room, leaving the widow alone. He spots Minfilia across the room and strides towards her.

"Hey Min, I'm gonna need you to take this one."

"Why?", she teases, "finally found a widow impervious to your charms?"

"Pretty sure our so-called victim wasn't the loving husband he owed to be."

Understanding flashes on her face, she drops the file she was reading on her desk and follows him to the interrogation room. Relief washes over the widow’s face when she sees Minfilia.

“This is my colleague, Detective Warde. She’s going to take it from here.”

Then he’s out again, leaving the two women alone. He goes to his desk while Min does her thing, and looks for the victim’s name in the database. He doesn’t need to watch Min do her work, he trusts her to get the answers they need. The petite blonde has great people skills, and she’s one of the good ones. She's so good, it's hard not to hate her. He doesn't though, never did, never will. 

She’s one of the few friends he has left, one of the few people to put up with his bullshit after Lahabrea's "incident". He loves her like the little sister he never had, and more than anything he respects her. She's a good friend and a good cop, something this city sorely lacks. Rhabdan runs a tight ship as chief of police, but there's always a few bad apples in the bunch, not Min though. She's one of the good ones, not some disillusioned asshole like him. It's hard to be hopeful in a city like Ul'dah where being rich means one can escape any form of responsibility. Like number 3 here. His wife's medical record is a testament to his behavior: bruised face, broken ribs, even lacerations. It's a miracle the woman is still alive. But her in-laws are rich, and influential: Lolorito's people. That's why Thancred is not so sure he wants to catch the killer, not when they're doing what he's not free to do himself.

When Minfilia is done with the interrogation, she motions for him to join her in the break room. She confirms what Thancred already knows: the guy was an asshole.

He needs a fucking drink. 

*****

First I remove his dick, not like he’s gonna need it anymore. I do this slowly, very slowly. I want him to suffer. This is also what the mirror on the ceiling is for, and the tape on the eyelids, no escape. He must see everything and especially hear everything, the slightest tear of his flesh, the sound of his blood dripping on the sanitized tiles, the scalpel cutting his flesh, my slow breathing. The shock of emasculation makes him pass out. It’s okay, we have all the time. I cauterize his wound, I don't want him to bleed out and die. Not yet.  

*****

Another corpse: emasculated, dismembered, and wrapped up like his buddies. 

Thancred lights another cigarette and crouches down in front of the jar containing the head. He knows this face, he broke that nose: Lya's ex. Suddenly the crime scene doesn't seem ugly anymore, it shines with glitter and shit. It makes him happy to see that stupid face in a jar, means he won't be a problem for Lya anymore. He's also the second "victim" who likes to take out his anger on women, there has to be something there. Thancred needs to take another look at the first three victims, they can't be all that clean.  

He ponders whether he should tell Lya about this. Would that make her happy? It might make her feel better, safer. "By the way, the asshole who used to beat you up is dead, a serial killer took care of it." 

Yeah. Maybe he needed to work on his speech. 

It’s just him and the old Bernie now, playing that secret game of theirs. The old man sends him a dirty look before finally getting up. Thancred wins tonight, and he plans on taking her out for real, not just in his head. It's a lucky day after all, maybe she'll say yes.   

The bar is empty that time around. ‘Good’ he thinks, 'Her smiles will all be mine.'

She’s smiling more than usual, she looks happy even, so he decides not to say anything. She smiles, but she’s seldom happy, no point in ruining the mood. The asshole will be just as dead tomorrow. So he sits at the bar to be closer to her, and drinks while he tells her stupid nonsense. One drink, then a second, and finally a whole bottle.

*****

He waking up again, and we’re back in business. Killing a man isn’t easy work, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. My mom used to tell me: “When things get hard, just put them in different boxes and deal with them one at a time.” So I do just that: I cut him into small pieces, wrap them up, put them in nice little jars.

First his right arm, the one he used to slap his women. I cut just below the elbow, he screams like a piglet being bled out. Then his left arm, all the way up to the shoulder, his legs, and finally his head. 

*****

He wakes up to an empty room. Of course, she’s not here, why would she? She’s in his fantasy, not in his reality. It was such a vivid dream, it left him hard and wanting. He buries his face in the sheets, and he can almost smell her. As if dreams could leave a scent behind. Fucking morning wood. He needs release and a shower, but first, he wants a smoke.

He dreams of Lya that night.

She's riding him like a fierce amazon, her breasts moving to the rhythm of their bodies. Everything about her is erotic, her hungry gaze, her mischievous smile. That smile excites him as much as it soothes him. Fuck, he doesn't want to get out of this dream, but his alarm rings, and the dream is gone.

He walks to the kitchen naked, he lives alone and doesn’t give a fuck about flashing his neighbors. She’s standing in his kitchen, a coffee mug in hand. She’s wearing one of his shirts; it’s a bit too big for her, but too short to be decent. She’s so fucking beautiful wearing his clothes, if he wasn’t hard before, he certainly is now. And then he remembers everything.

She kissed him outside the restaurant, he wouldn’t have dared, but she kissed him. They ended up at his place. They made love on his couch, in the shower, in his bed. He didn’t fuck her, no, he worshiped her: kissed every inch of her skin, licked every freckle. He prayed to her body like a mad man, as much as he could, as much as she let him.

She said yes.

All the alcohol made his brain soft and mushy, but he remembers now. He helped her close the bar, and they went to that new place near his precinct. The one that stays open until 3 am. They talked, he told her he was a cop, she said she knew. It was written in the way he moved, in the way others moved around him. They talked all night long, and she smiled. Gods, that freaking smile got him good. They talked so much, they got kicked out. 

He must look like a fucking idiot now, with that surprised look on his face and his hard cock because she bursts out laughing. A laugh that explodes like fireworks and ricochets against the walls of his apartment, leaving notes of bright colors everywhere. It's crazy how beautiful she is when she laughs. He wants her, needs her.

He strides towards her, lifts her off the floor, and drops her off her gently on the kitchen table. He doesn’t want to break her, doesn’t want to worsen the cracks in her porcelain skin. Then he makes love to her, in the middle of his kitchen, with the blinds open for the world to see. Because he can, because she wants him as much as he wants her. 

***** 

His instinct about the victims being trash was right. 

After some heavy digging in the first two victims’ past, he finds what he needs. Victim number one’s a serial rapist: used to slip roofies in women’s drink, raped them, and filmed the whole thing, threatening to release the tapes if they tried to report him. Not that they would, the guy was filthy rich, another one of Ul’dah’s “cream of the crop”, these women knew they didn’t have a chance to see justice. If it wasn’t for his “barely legal” deep dive in the guy’s personal belongings - he might have stolen his computer after breaking into his parents’ house - Thancred wouldn’t even know about it.

Victim number 2 was no better, he had a long history of domestic violence and child abuse, but no open case, not even a complaint. Now adding number 3 and Lya’s ex to the list… these guys all deserved to die like pigs. He should say it, should even think like that, but he does. He doesn’t even want to catch the culprit, for all he cares they should be free to rid the city of these predators. Should even get paid for doing public service.

Looking at the so-called victim’s file drives him mad with rage. He wants to drink, but more than anything he needs to see Lya; He can even pretend to do police work while he’s at it. She knows at least one of the women, she’s a victim herself, maybe she knows more. 

The Quicksand is packed. He has to share her smile and his time, it annoys him, but it's okay. Tonight she will be his, and his alone. He sits at the bar, she smiles at him, and he’s not mad anymore. He orders whiskey, then another, and another. After the third glass, the rush finally dies down, and they can talk. He tells her about his investigation, and tells her about her ex. She's a little shaken up, but it's okay, she is strong. 

He shows her pictures of the victims, not the one from the autopsy, he’s not that stupid, pretty pictures with happy smiles and perfect lives. Moments of happiness he knows to be fake. He asks her if she knows the victims or their wives, through her support group, or by word of mouth. She nods. She knows the wives of 2 and 3, she talks to them often. She recognizes the last victim, of course, he was her monster. 

Thancred’s curious to know what she thinks about all this, that’s the cop in him, but he’s also worried about how it’ll affect her.

“I don't know… well I do. I know I shouldn't be happy, but I am,” she admits. “I'm a little less afraid.”

He hates that she feels guilty.

“I’m glad he’s dead,” he states, hoping she’ll feel relieved that those words are coming from him. “Now, I know he won’t  prowl you around anymore.”

She smiles softly, and he has the urge to make love to her on the bar, in front of everyone. But he won’t, Lya is a goddess, not a girl who gets fucked in a bar. He’s going to buy her flowers, and maybe a nice bottle of wine. He might even light some candles to set the mood, then he’s gonna make love to her, again and again until they both pass out in blissful exhaustion.

*****

I dispose of his body in one of the city’s garbage dumps. It’s the perfect place to get rid of a body. And this open sky trash dump is perfect for me: exactly what this trash deserves. The people who live here all look dead, the only thing that sets them apart from my guy is the steady movement of their hearts. That, and the fact that they’re all in one piece, for the most part.

*****

Reports come back on Lya’s ex.

Toxicology’s clean, no head trauma either, he wasn’t drugged or incapacitated like the others. He might have known his assailant. The rest of the report looks similar at first glance, cuts all over the body, severed limbs, emasculation, beheading. It’s the same MO but somehow it feels messier: the body shows hesitation marks, the cuts are deeper, meant to hurt... it feels more personal, like an act of revenge. 

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

*****

He opens up his flat’s door and practically runs towards the kitchen. He needs a drink before seeing Lya. It can’t be her, when she smiles the ground shakes, she turns wolves into lambs. She’s so small, with soft porcelain skin, tiny hands… It can’t be her, yet his guts tell him otherwise.

He’s halfway in the kitchen when he spots her. She’s waiting for him, his backup gun in those tiny hands of hers. When he dreamt of coming home to her that’s not what he had in mind.

 She’s smiling at him, a sad little smile because she doesn’t want to kill him, not really. He might be an asshole but he doesn’t hurt women. Maybe she likes him too. She’s crying now, tears rolling down her beautiful face. It’s stupid but he still wants to throw himself in her arms. It’s stupid because she’s going to kill him. 

She’s gonna try anyway. 

*****

Gunshots echo in the room, followed by the loud thud of a lifeless body hitting the ground.

#FFxivWrite2021 #FFxivWrite #ffxiv fanfiction #FFxiv #my writing #Thancred Waters #wolcred #wolnpc

[belligerently]

walk with me 'neath the rising sky, we will make a choice for love and joy

pairing: bernie/serena rating: pg-13/light m summary: written for Jess Appreciation Day, this is for @ktlsyrtis because she deserves all the good things, and because there’s literally only one person i would have written this for, and it’s her.

s(he) was a stableboy, she was a girl, can i make it anymore obvious?

noble/commoner au (what time period is it in? how old are they? these are questions you don’t need to ask)

read the fic below the cut or via google doc

Horses are the thing Berenice loves most, in all the world. She makes any excuse to take her mother’s old mare out to the pasture, to the town center. She sits in the blacksmith shop while he shoes the horses that come in, keeps the horses calm, holds their faces with her hands, nuzzles against them.

“A shame yer a lass,” the blacksmith says one day, when she’s helping with a beautiful black yearling a calming hand against his neck, dark eyes staring into dark eyes. “Them up there at the manor are looking for a stableboy.” 

“I’m not trained,” she says, her heart speeding up at just the mention of the position, at just the idea that she could work with horses. 

“Not much trainin’ needed to shovel shit,” he says, holding the horse’s foot in one hand, hammer in the other. “All right, just hold ‘im.” Berenice presses her face to the horse’s cheek, breathing deeply the smell of hair and hay, lets herself live in the world where that’s all she has to think of. 

She feels restless after the conversation, not ready to go home, feels like everything is jangling inside her, a plan half-forming in her mind as she walks. Without realizing, she finds her way to the edge of the manor property, right to the edge of their fields. She can see three horses grazing, one shaking its mane, a soft whinny carrying across the grass. Then a colt runs in front of the older horses, all gangly legs, whickering and circling, then stopping next to its mother. 

Berenice could stare at them for hours. But the sun is setting, getting low in the sky, and her mother will be expecting her. Bread and stew for dinner, no doubt, Meager portions from her father’s salary, a few coins sent every month for guarding the borders. But it’s enough, and her work with the blacksmith, the occasional odd job around town, pay enough to supplement, to occasionally get sugar for cooking, or a new book to read aloud by the fire late at night. Her mother makes sweet rolls on Sundays, almost the same as the bread, in the end, but made all the sweeter by their rareness. 

She fidgets in her chair at the table, an idea taken shape. There’s a bit of sadness tugging at her, the idea that this might be her last meal with her mother for some time, But there’s also a potential for her mother to live better, for Berenice to help, to do more. So she eats slowly, carefully, takes in her mother’s face, the wrinkles at her eyes, and she puts the bowls in the bucket, takes them out to the pump with her for rinsing, a scrub brush to get the flecks of stew off the sanded wood. 

She also takes her mother’s shears from where they sit in the kitchen, used to cut vegetables, to do any number of household tasks that Berenice has never bothered to learn. She fills a pail with water, cold and crisp, and bends over to see her reflection, a long plait of hair spilling over her shoulder. Before she can change her mind, before she can think it all through, she takes the scissors to the nape of her neck, the braid falling to the ground, wisps of hair around her chin. 

Her head feels lighter at once, almost bobbing up as the weight of her hair is lost. She doesn’t know if she looks like a boy anymore than she did before. With the scissors, heavy and indelicate, she tries to chop away at it, short enough there’s no way to tie it back. Good enough that someone not paying very much attention could think she was a member of the opposite sex.  

-

It turns out to be surprisingly easy to get the position, once she turns up to the estate stables. The fact that she’s able to calm a horse with a quick pet to the nose, a soft whickering sound from her lips, that’s enough to impress the stablemaster.

“You look awful puny, but you’ve got a way about you, I’ll admit,” he grunts, and Berenice bites back a smile. She tells him her name is Bernard, and he just huffs. “Bernie’s good enough for the stables. You’re not a lord up there in the manor.”

Her first nickname, really.

The routine is simple. She wakes early and opens the stable doors, lets the horses out to the pasture. She mucks the stables for what feels like hours, her back sore, her arms getting stronger. New hay to lay out, bales to roll down from the loft. The same loft where she sleeps, a blanket and a pillow handed to her on her first evening. It’s warmer than she thought, the sounds of horses breathing telling her it’s safe, they’re all safe.

The stablemaster watches her push a bale out to the fields, sun high in the sky, and she knows she’s sweating through her thin shirt, that her breeches must smell foul. But he doesn’t say anything except, “There's more muscle to you than I thought.”

It’s as much of a commendation for her work as she can expect.

Occasionally members of the manor family come down for horses, and then Bernie is shooed away, told to bring the horses in from the pasture and then hide in the loft, or go back out to the field. She only sees the lord and lady from afar, their daughter joining them on a rare occasion. Sometimes she’s called in to help prepare horses for visiting guests, brushes them until their coats shine, saddles them up and then disappears. 

The first time she meets one of the family is when the daughter comes to the stables unexpectedly, in the middle of the morning, when Bernie is still working with the rake, pulling mud and feces out of the stalls. She hears a delicate cough, straightens up, very aware of the streaks of mud on her face, of the odor that must be emanating from her. 

When she meets the daughter’s eyes, she sees the slight wrinkle of the nose, the only sign that she’s not entirely comfortable in her current environment. Her skirts drag against the ground, and Bernie can see the hay stuck to the fabric, the mud encroaching on her clean shoes. 

She almost curtsies, but catches herself in time to turn it into a low, awkward sort of bow. “Milady,” she says, gruffly, pitching her voice low. She almost hits her head on the wall of the stall, uses it to push herself back up, to hold onto as she feels nerves course through her body. She hasn’t had to talk to anyone, really, beyond another stableboy and the stablemaster. It feels like a test.

And the daughter is so pretty. 

“No need for that, when it’s just you and me,” she says warmly, with a smile. “Serena is my name and it’s hardly ever used.” Her eyes are bright, dancing around. “Who are you? I haven’t seen you before.”

“Bernard. Ah, Bernie, ‘round here.” She props the rake against the stall door, stuffs her hands in her pockets, scuffs her foot against the floor. “Can I get your horse for you?” She feels like her whole face is on fire, like the scrutiny of this beautiful noble might make her explode. Serena nods, her lips still tipped up in an impish sort of grin, and Bernie runs a hand through her hair, aware of the ragged ends, the disarray. She never would have made a good impression, not even when she was dressed as a girl, well-washed and hair flowing over her shoulders. 

At a half-trot, she makes her way out to the field, Serena’s horse in the far distance. She puts her fingers to her mouth, whistles, and every horse looks up, ambles towards her. Serena’s horse is beautiful, a pinto mare with a long brown mane and dark eyes that look human in their understanding. “There’s a girl,” Bernie says, when she’s close enough to touch. “Come on then, Elinor.” She wraps a few strands of mane around her fingers and leads her towards the stables. 

Most of the stalls are clean, and that’s where she puts Elinor, brushing her out while Serena watches quietly from the other side of the door. Her head is tilted, her long brown hair touched by the occasional breeze, and Bernie steals glances whenever she can, notices new things every time. The cleft in her chin, the silver necklace at her throat, the sparkle in her eyes, the deft fingers plucking at a splinter in the wood next to her. Every little thing makes her heart clench, and Bernie doesn’t know what to do with it, has never felt it before. 

When the blanket and saddle are on, everything buckled into place, Bernie hands Serena the reins, their hands grazing. 

“Would you help me up?” Serena asks delicately, but Bernie can’t help but feel as if she’s being teased. She kneels down, makes a cradle from her hands and allows Serena to step on them, lifting her until she’s comfortably seated sidesaddle. 

Bernie doesn’t miss that, enjoys the freedom the breeches give her, straddling a horse. She can go faster, longer, feels closer to the horse beneath her. She doesn’t know if she’ll ever go back. If she’ll ever want to. She doesn’t even know what’s next, after this. Will she stay in these stables forever? Will she be discovered? Punished in some unseemly way? There’s so much she doesn’t know, she just tries to think of the horses, of the present, of the life she has now. 

Serena’s looking at her a little oddly, and maybe she’s been away with the fairies for too long. Bernie forces a smile to her thin lips, knows from her mother that she’s far from beautiful, and feels even less so in the presence of Serena, but her smile gets one in return, and that’s not nothing, as far as she’s concerned. 

“Have a good ride, mil-Serena,” Bernie says, correcting herself at the mock-glare on the other woman’s face. With a gentle pat to Elinor’s rump, she helps guide Serena and her horse toward the open stable doors. 

She hides when she sees Serena coming back, doesn’t know if she can take another encounter with the beautiful daughter of the lord of the estate. There are so many differences between them, a vast chasm that divides them. And it feels dangerous to let someone in, to be close.

She can hear Serena moving about in the stables below the loft, but doesn’t come down. Then she hears Serena’s soft sigh and a few moments later, sees her walking back up towards the manor, brown hair practically glowing in the sun, a halo shining against her tresses.

It becomes a bit of a pattern. Somehow Serena seems to know when Bernie is alone in the stables, always appears when the stablemaster is otherwise occupied, when Bernie’s alone with her work. There’s always a little edge to their conversations, like Serena has a joke she’s not telling Bernie, a laugh behind her eyes, a sparkle.

It makes a jolt run along under Bernie’s skin, like a bolt of lightning crackling down her spine. She looks forward to and fears the interactions in equal measure, feeling like she’s teetering on a knife’s edge and doesn’t know which way she’ll fall.

Serena tricks her, in a way, and they become friends without Bernie even realizing. Serena leaves books at the base of the loft ladder, when she learns Bernie can read. She asks how Bernie is doing, how she’s feeling, and seems to really care about the answer. Her fingers trail along Bernie’s arm when she’s moving past her in the stable. They are friends and they are something else, and Serena doesn’t know who Bernie really is.

That’s what worries her, underneath it all, that she’s lying to Serena, in a way. What Serena will think if she learns. And the only way Bernie knows to solve this problem is to shut off communication, to put distance between them. She spends an evening saying goodbye to all the things about Serena that she appreciates.

She says goodbye to Serena’s cleft chin, to those shimmering eyes, to the gently curling tresses. She says goodbye to the fluttering eyelashes. She says goodbye to her soft chuckle, to the way her lips quirk when she speaks with a double meaning. She bids farewell to Serena and hopes her thoughts may carry up to the manor, because she could never say goodbye to Serena’s face.

When Serena appears one afternoon, Bernie anxiously wipes her sweaty palms against her stained breeches. Serena makes a joke, and Bernie forces herself not to laugh.

“Mud in your ears?” Serena asks, craning around Elinor’s neck to see Bernie’s face but she just sucks her head away, gets the tack ready in silence. “Is everything all right?” she asks, moving closer to Bernie, and Bernie takes a step back, drapes the reins across Elinor’s saddle.

“Just fine, milady,” she says, and doesn’t meet Serena’s eyes. But she doesn’t miss the hurt look on the woman’s face, the way she hooks the stool with her foot rather than asking Bernie for help with mounting the mare. And then she rides off in silence, doesn’t even look back once.

It hurts, but it’s what’s right, and that’s what makes her heart ache all the more.

-

Serena doesn’t come back to the stables. Bernie doesn’t see her, even from afar. Weeks go by, and her life goes back to what it was when she came to the manor, a mundane routine of rote tasks, the same for one day as the next, little conversation to pass the time, no surprises at all. 

On a warm day in the spring, Serena and her parents arrive at the stables, and, as is always the case, Bernie is shooed outside, away, too grimy to be seen by people in fancy clothing, too uncouth for the people who live in the manor. These moments are nice, though, for as few and far between as they are, moments where Bernie can enjoy the horses, enjoy the nature around her, unclouded by tasks and to-dos. 

She nuzzles her nose against Dom’s forelock, breathes in the scent of him, and he exhales softly, her hair fluttering in the breeze. She hears a whinny, a little in the distance, and looks down towards the stables, sees Serena standing there, looking at Bernie, a gloved hand shading the sun from her eyes. She hasn’t seen her in so long, and the time apart has not made her any less lovely. 

She half-wonders if Serena will call out to her, but there’s nothing, and Bernie can only think of how much she misses the sound of Serena’s voice. Someone must say something inside the stable, because Serena turns, goes into the dark interior, and doesn’t look back. Dom nudges Bernie with his nose, a push against her shoulder, velvety soft and gentle. 

“Yes, yes, I didn’t forget about you,” she murmurs to him, pressing her lips to his face. She pulls an apple from her pocket and holds it out, fresh-picked that morning, and his lips and teeth are wet as he takes it from her hand. 

She only leaves the field and Dom when the family have left on their ride, sauntering down the manor path, to the forest, and Bernie tries not to think of Serena’s sun-dappled hair, of the way she sits so tall and proper, never wavering in the knowledge that she is everything she should be. 

It’s later that day, when the sun is setting, and Bernie is closing stall doors, lining them with fresh hay for the night, that she hears the footsteps she has come to know instinctively as Serena’s. She turns at the sound, and sees her there, a lantern in hand, hair loose about her shoulders, her nightgown and shawl pale and stark in the darkened barn. 

She’s about to bow, to curtsy, something, because of the shock of seeing Serena has overtaken her senses, the word “milady” already forming on her lips, when Serena speaks first.

“You saw me.” It’s the first time she’s heard that voice in ages, and she tries not to feel staggered with relief. It’s still so husky and lovely, the way the blacksmith’s wine feels slipping down her throat. Serena says the words without a question, they both know what happened.

 “You were the one watching,” Bernie answers gruffly, patting Raf’s head, brushing back his mane, hears Fletch whickering to him from the next stall over. Serena’s hand on Bernie’s shoulder makes her movements halt, makes her freeze in place. It’s the first deliberate touch, real and true, without the guise of reins or tight space, or whatever they were fooling themselves by thinking. 

Serena’s hand tips Bernie’s face towards her own, her fingers so delicate. She seems all the more lovely for the flickering candlelight on her face, her skin warm, alight in the dark, her eyes all the more sparkling. She doesn’t say anything else, just looks at Bernie with those brown eyes for a long moment, something Bernie can’t quite fathom dancing behind them. 

And then she leans forward and presses a kiss to Bernie’s lips. It’s chaste and short, but for all that, it still sets Bernie on fire, blazing on down through to her fingertips. “Oh,” Serena says, seemingly as poleaxed as Bernie feels. It seems she’s about to lean in again, but Bernie steps back, her heel hitting a water pail, a clanging noise halting the quiet horse murmurs.

“I, uh, there’s something I have to take care of,” she says, the words sounding unconvincing to her own ears, her cheeks bright red, and she knows they’d be warm to the touch, forces herself not to think about Serena touching her face again, those delicate hands, free from callus and wear, gentle against Bernie’s sun-soaked skin.

She climbs the ladder, fumbling in the dark because she doesn’t have her wits about her enough to take a lantern of her own, just Serena’s bobbling light from below to guide her. Bernie leans against a hay bale, head tilting back, straw poking against her neck. Trying to slow her heart, slow her breath, she closes her eyes and tells herself to be calm. Tells herself not to be afraid of this, even though it’s the very thing she feared most. 

She doesn’t move again until she hears a soft, “Good night, Bernie,” from below, and the sound of Serena’s retreating feet, the barn left in darkness once again.

-

Only a week passes before Serena appears again, this time in the afternoon, when Bernie is alone in the stable. Apparently still in possession of the gift for finding the time when no one else is about. She acts as if they never lost time, leaning against the door of an empty stable and watching Bernie. She tells her a story of her tutor trying to woo the newest maid, of how he tripped and nearly got the tap from the water pump outside the kitchen stuck in his rear. 

She makes Bernie laugh so easily, and that sound is so foreign, even to her own ears, except in the company of this woman. She thinks of Serena’s bravery, of the way she leaned forward, and it’s enough to spur her into asking:

“Why’d you kiss me?” 

Serena’s smile deepens the brackets around her mouth, and her eyes look like they’re lit from a light source of their own. She stands, moves toward Bernie again, and it’s all so familiar and still heart-wrenchingly new and Bernie feels as if she’s been rolled from a turnip cart, ass over tea kettle, not knowing which way is up. Serena is close enough that Bernie can feel her breath, those soft exhalations. 

“Because you’re handsome,” she says, her fingers ghosting against Bernie’s hair, shaggy and unkempt, “because you make me smile. Because my horse likes you. Why’d you run away?” She presses forward, some unimagined rid of steel at her back and Bernie would never want to argue with her, knows she would lose in an instant.

She swallows, tries to find the words to say, and all that comes out is an ech of Serena. “Because you’re beautiful. Because you make me nervous. Because I like your horse.” Her smile is small, and there’s the unspoken tenor of her worry about employment, about the coins she’s given once a month, the coins she sends to her mother. “I don’t want to have to leave,” she adds quietly, ducking her face down, wondering if a true man would ever voice these hidden fears, if perhaps her mask is already slipping.

“You won’t,” Serena promises, and she sounds so sure. Bernie envies the conviction in her voice, threaded through with the same steel that runs down her spine. When she steps forward this time, Bernie knows what to expect, and this time, when she kisses Bernie, Bernie kisses back.

She’s been kissed by boys in the village, alternatingly gruff and teasing, but never real, and that’s what is different, the wanting that makes Bernie slide her tongue between Serena’s lips, that makes her push Serena back up against the stable door, that makes her hands tangle into Serena’s hair. 

It’s just as silky and soft as Bernie might have imagined, slipping through her fingers. She feels as if she’s gasping for breath and Serena is the air she needs. It’s like the time she fell through a hole in the ice on the lake near town and her fingers scrabbled and clawed at anything, trying to get a firm hold on something that would help her. 

That’s how kissing Serena feels, like the only thing that will save her.

When they part, Serena’s cheeks are flushed, pretty and pink, and her tongue darts out to lick her lips, her eyes dark and full of want, and maybe even need, and Bernie feels a monster uncurl in her stomach, desire rearing its head.

“Lady and a commoner. Doesn’t seem like a good match,” she says, casting her eyes downward, because if there were ever a time to protect herself, it should have started months ago, but now is as good as ever.

“It’s the only match I’m interested in,” Serena says, reaching for Bernie, those slender fingers touching the sleeve of Bernie’s tunic, but she steps away from her grasp, backwards toward the center of the barn.

“We can’t,” she says, and Serena tilts her head, looks as if she’s considering something, making a decision and Bernie isn’t even sure what the options are.

“Don’t shut me out,” is what she finally says. “I’ll live like a nun in your presence, chaste and pure, only let me still be your friend.” The words are a plea, and Bernie can hear the quiet desperation, thinks for the first time that while she has the horses and the whole of the outdoors as her home, Serena has none of that, a lonely existence inside a stately home.

“Friends,” Bernie says, offering her hand to shake, resisting the impulse to spit on her palm, the way she did years ago with the boys she grew up with, trading buttons for shiny stones.

Serena’s hand slides along Bernie’s, and her touch is deliberate, her face serious, and she clasps Bernie’s hand tightly. Bernie thinks she’ll remember Serena’s expression for as long as she lives.

And they’re both true to their word. Serena still visits, as often as she ever did, maybe more. She says she’s still almost running out of excuses to disappear from the house in the afternoons, that when the weather turns cold, it will be even harder to escape. “Imagine, I tell them I want to do my sewing outside and I can see my own breath. I’d come back an icicle.”

Bernie is tempted to offer to keep Serena warm, but she thinks that’s against their agreement, against what’s good for them both. So she just smiles and says, “I’m sure we’ll think of something.”

Serena starts bringing Bernie books again, and then starts reading aloud while Bernie curries the horses. Her voice carries through the barn, and Bernie even notices one of the boys that’s in charge of fetching and carrying for them lingering to listen to the stories. It makes the day go by, makes the world seem larger and more wonderful.

When Serena can only escape in evenings, when dinner is eaten and the sun is disappearing, she comes with a lantern and climbs the ladder to the loft, skirts gathered in her hand. Bernie’s there to help her up the last few inches, to hold the light as a guide. She drapes her blanket over a bale of hay to keep Serena’s skirt clean, and thinks that she looks a pretty as a painting, perched upon the hay.

It smells sweet and clean in the loft, and Bernie boasts that she can tell which horse is which, just from their snores, their exhalations of breath, and Serena laughs at that, says she’s going to test Bernie some time.

Her face is relaxed and open, carefree, and when her laugh mingles with Bernie’s soft chuckle, the small smile that’s become wider, more brave, over the last few months stretches across her face. And because she wants to, because she can’t help herself, she leans in and kisses Serena, kisses her smile like she might capture that joy for her own.

Relief washes over her when Serena kisses back.

It’s a novel experience, to do this while seated next to each other. She has more leverage, she has more to hold herself up when her limbs feel weak from pleasure.

Serena, too, seems to feel a certain freedom here too, her hands traveling along Bernie’s neck, her shoulders, into her golden hair. Bernie feels a pang when she thinks of a world where Serena could have braided her hair, run her fingers through the long blonde strands. She hasn’t seen herself in anything but the reflection of water in the horse trough, knows how shaggy her hair is, how unkempt, and she’s been using a bit of leather to tie it back, thinks perhaps she needs to find some scissors in the storeroom.

All thoughts fly from her head when Serena’s teeth bite gently against Bernie’s lower lip, when her tongue slips into Bernie’s mouth. It’s heavenly, like the softest velvet, and she wants to bury herself in feeling. She’s lost in sensation, in action, logic and reason gone from her mind. Serena’s hands slide underneath Bernie’s tunic, her fingertips warm, but leaving goosebumps in their wake.

And then she freezes, stops, pulls away, and Bernie flushes beet red, can’t believe her carelessness. Serena’s hands found the binding around Bernie’s breasts, the strip of cloth she took from her mother’s house and has worn every day since. 

“Were you injured?” Serena asks, tentative, unsure, like she wasn’t being gentle enough, like perhaps she thinks she’s made an injury worse. Bernie shakes her head automatically, before she can even think of a lie. This evening that began so innocuously now feels of paramount importance. 

The friendship they’ve built, the companionship, this bond. Bernie can’t lie any longer, can’t go a moment more without telling the truth. Her face still pink, from exertion, from nervousness, from embarrassment, she pulls the tunic up over her head, lays it aside on the floor of the loft, baring herself in the candlelight.

Serena looks at her questioningly, her fingers twitching like she wants to touch, from curiosity or desire, Bernie isn’t sure, has to quell the feeling that rises up at the thought of their bare bodies pressed together. Slowly, Bernie begins to undo the wrapping, shame fading away in the face of the gravity of the moment. She’s never shown herself to anyone, only her mother and any horses that happened to be watching while she swam naked in a pond in the forest.

“You’re. You’re not a man,” Serena says, her voice not tinged with disgust, as Bernie feared, but wonder, a tentative excitement. And butterflies begin to take roost in Bernie’s heart, a feeling like hopefulness. And then Serena reaches for Bernie’s pale skin, still untouched by the sun, even for all the days spent in the field. Serena’s delicate, gentle fingers touch just below her breasts, touch the space in the center of her rib cage.

“I’m not,” she says, her hand coming up to hold Serena’s hand against her skin. The air feels warmer, like it’s holding more weight for them in this moment.

Serena doesn’t say anything, just looks at Bernie with that considering look that Bernie’s come to know so well in the last year. 

“You’re not,” she says again, finally,, and this time, she leans forward to kiss Bernie, her hands purposeful and sure as they travel along Bernie’s bare skin. And she is sure as she lets Bernie pull at the ties of her dressing gown, and she is sure as Bernie lays her out against the hard floor of the loft.

Neither of them are sure about what they’re doing, neither of them experienced with a man, much less a woman, beyond what they know of their own bodies. But Bernie discovers the warm wetness between Serena’s legs, and sees the way her head tilts back, her eyes glassing over in pleasure. It’s a sight Bernie will never forget, as long as she lives.

The late night visits become commonplace, and they learn what is good, what stokes the fire best between them. When Serena decides to try placing her mouth on Bernie, right there, beside her thigh, Bernie feels as if her head might burst from the sheer magnificence of it. Her tongue is wonderful in Bernie’s mouth, and Bernie will never tire of it. But her tongue between her lower lips is another sensation entirely, and Bernie thinks a new galaxy will be born from the feeling that exploded inside her.

Serena finds other ways to help, appearing one afternoon with scissors from her dressmaker, and stands behind Bernie, her breasts grazing Bernie’s shoulders, and trims her hair, wisps of blonde catching in the breeze and floating away. She whispers to Bernie that she’s going to cut a lock of her hair to put in a necklace, to keep her always close.

Along with the scissors, Serena brings more fabric for Bernie to tie around herself, softer material, lighter, even helps her wrap it on occasion, when she’s spent too much time in the loft.

She also tries to think about what’s next, coming up with solutions, endless ideas of how they might be able to live out their lives together. Perhaps Bernie could disappear for a month, come back as a prospective lady in waiting. But they both know that’s not the life for her. She just wants to work with horses and to be with Serena, the only two things in the world that matter to her. She tries to reassure Serena that they can meet in the stables, that this is enough, that it can be enough. She thinks she’s trying to reassure herself, too.

“We could just...ride away,” Serena says one night, the flame from the candle casting shadows about her face. She reaches out and tucks a short strand of blonde hair behind Bernie’s ear. She never seems to get her fill of touching Bernie. “We take Elinor and we go.” 

It’s tempting, so tempting. Her words are lined with hope, and Bernie can imagine the press of Serena’s back as they ride together, their bodies moving with the horse. “You couldn’t leave your family,” she says, because for all that Serena escapes to the stables, Bernie hears the love for her mother, for her sister, threaded through her words and in her stories.

“I would, for you,” Serena says earnestly, pressing her lips to the hollow in Bernie’s collarbone. 

“We have this,” Bernie says softly, “and it’s good.” And she thinks, perhaps, that they have a someday. When Serena takes over the estate, when she can live the life she chooses. There’s a future for them, in this world. She can feel Serena’s eyelashes flutter closed against her chest and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

She’ll wake Serena before morning, and they can watch the sun rise before she leaves. They have this.

#ktlsyrtis #jess appreciation day #save a horse ride a campbell

[kewltie]

The day before Izuku leave for the Empire, he walks out into the open grassland and kneels before his gods — the land where he stands, the air in which he breathes, and the sky that hangs above him — praying for a safe journey and for courage, so that he would not look back when he depart.

Izuku is not the first, nor will he be the last, Eien princeling to be offer to the gaping jaw of the Empire. His Second Sister had her ship capsized, his Fourteen Brother and his caravan got swallowed up by a sandstorm, and his Twenty-Nine Brother lost his life to an intended blade going for his head.

Izuku had watched with numb silence as countless Eien princes and princesses had either come back home alive but broken in some way or don't come back at all.

The Krol of the Great Grassland has numerous wives to lie with and even more numerous children to give up. Izuku is the Ninety-nine Prince of Eien and the nineteen sacrificial lamb overall to the Empire. His prospect does not look good, but Izuku didn't survive this long to adulthood to die on foreign soil.

So he prays to his gods, but arms himself with a smile on his face and a dagger in his boot.

Sent off with twelve trunks of clothes, a treasure trove of jewelries from his father, a troop of guards to protect him, and ten handmaidens to tend to his needs, but none of it matter except for his vial of his mother’s ashes and an old journal that hopefully will keep him occupied in the month’s long journey.

Not to be outdone, and face with the prospect of losing another Eien prince to some ridiculous rumor of a curse spread about their crown prince being impossible to wed, they'd sent a retinue of the Empire's best knights to ensure Izuku will arrive at their doorstep alive and whole.

It's a long and arduous journey ahead for Izuku and only a few of his siblings had made it through, but he didn't survive this long in his father's harem and countless assassination attempts and sabotages from the other wives for him to lose his life here and now.

Izuku is soft, prone to tears and delicate in the ways that often make his father frown, and therefore wasn't Father's first, second, nor third choice to be wed out to the Empire, but with his mother gone and while Father is kind and loves him deeply, he has a hundred of other children to dote on – Izuku chose to venture across the sea to start anew.

Izuku is not skill in military arts, stately affairs, or is he talented in the ways of spycraft and saboteur; he lives in the library with his head stuck in the books, combing through pages and pages of ancient tomes of long forgotten empires and riveting legacies of conquerors. If he has his way, he'll die a quiet and easily forgettable death among his father’s people, being the Nine-nine Eien Prince is good enough fate for someone as simple as him with no ambition or duty to be had, but his mother's last words to him still ring in his ears before the sickness took her from his arms.

"Before I was your Father’s wife, I was born across the Grand Abyss and within the Empire’s grip, there exist kingdom that no longer exist, its people scattered to the winds, and its history and culture ravaged by raiders. It was my home. It was your home,” she had said to him on her deathbed. “I wish for you to go there one day and laid me to rest among the ashes of my mother and father and all that I had lost.”  

Izuku is not beautiful, strong, or particularly interesting at all, but he’s a dutiful son and he has a promise to fulfill.

So he leaves the land of his birth and all the good and miseries of it behind him with the full knowledge that if he's to ever to return it'll be either in casket or as a consort to the Empire; one where ends up as a corpse and the other is bloody path to the crown.

Neither prospect looks good from his end, but he had sworn to his dear mother and he’s so tired of seeing his siblings marched to their deaths, let him bear the burden and dealt his hand at this game of throne; after all he is his mother’s son. 

Lady Inko had come to this land with nothing but the clothes on her back, her quick wits and a keen smile had easily charmed all those around her. She eventually laid claimed to his father’s favor, gave him a child, and kept Izuku alive through various nefarious harem’s plot with no family, power, or wealth to support her. His mother, his gentle mother, had fought hard to make a place for herself and her son in this foreign land; she fought so Izuku can live because one does not leave their name in the history book by being quiet and still. This is the first lesson his mother had taught him after he had nearly died by a poisoning and she had the plotter dragged out and hang for it. His mother is kind but she’s fierce and resilience, she didn’t just survive in this brutal land by the skin of her teeth but thrive.  

And so Izuku had volunteered himself as the next betrothed to the Dragon Prince of the Empire, because this is how stories begin. One step at a time.

He’ll be like his lady mother, a force to be reckoned with. He just prays and prays that he'll be the last and only princeling to be sent to the Empire.

The path he now walks, take him on a month long journey through rough mountain pass, hazardous sand dunes, and dangerous waters. Longer still if they're met by raiders and slavers, unruly weather, and assassination attempts by various ongoing fraction conflicts that had killed more than one of Izuku's siblings.

The captain of his personal guard, Ishidora, is quick to assure him of any lingering fears of the ill-fate of last prince and princesses before him, but Izuku doesn't relax fully not even in the grim presence of the grey cloaked soldiers of the Empire, the Knights of Winter Moon.

Ruling over a third of the western realm, the Empire is a military juggernaut that had long advanced into a blend alchemy and machine — they ride on metal dragons and fly on steel wings — while Izuku's people still weaved magic by blood, sweat, tears, and long forgotten gods of old.

Blessing from gods are powerful, but rare and unpredictable as the whims of all gods are, but the Empire tamed and brutalized magic, made it their own and brutalized it into a weapon to fight wars. It feels wrong to use something holy in such a way, because the gods may not always be fair but they watch and judge over them.

Wild ancient magic have always rule his people, seeping into the foundation of their land where the gods still whisper words to their ears if they listen hard enough and keeps the Empire at bay, where not even their mighty metal dragons can touch this untamed grassland.

Like the divine land that gave birth to Izuku and his people, he too, will not be conquer by the godless Empire. His gods are always with him, even when Izuku leaves for far, far away soil where their touch feels light and small against the shadow the Empire casts overhead.

This morning like many others, Izuku walks out of his tent, ventures into a clearing where he faces north and kneels on wet ground with clasped hands. He offers up oath and loyalties to his gods. He can't see or can't hear them, but he knows they're there all the same.

"Why beg for scraps from some bodiless spirit when you can just seize everything yourself?

Izuku's head snap to the new voice and he rises unsteadily to his feet to glare at the hooded cloak figure, lingering in the back of him. The hood doesn't go down and the face remains obscure by the shadow of it, but he knows that voice. Hates that voice. "Sir Zero, please don't speak of such offense,” he rebukes.

His wedding procession is made up mostly of his people that are sent with him, but the Knights of Winter Moon are always close at hand, watching and guarding. Izuku may be quiet and easily unremarkable but he's attentive, paying close attention to the strange grey cloak soldiers who will one day be his.

The sun shines upon the Empire just as their Rex does, while the moon support and guide them and the Regina sits high as their emblem. The Knights of Winter Moon serves at the behest of the Regina and if Izuku is to survive he must gain their trust and loyalty.

Since the first time he'd met them, he made effort to reach out and understand them, but they're only coolly receptive if ever careful of the strange prince from a stranger land. It's fine, fidelity are after all hard fought and no battle that are worth fighting for are easy to win.

He knows this. He had watched his mother fought for the allies around her, but it doesn't change the fact that when they were first introduced one knight in particular had made such a sloppy attempt at a respectable bow, a slight nod of his head, as though he was unused to lowering himself that he doesn’t know how to do it; it had irked Izuku.

Such careless disrespectful display.

And he spoke to Izuku with a dismissive tone that made had made him feel ever so small and helpless: "The Ninety-nine Prince, eh?" Sir Zero sneers. "Must be hard for the Krol to remember all those extra kids he got. Does he forget often forget your name too?"

Elbowing Zero to be quiet, the Captain of the Winter Knights was quick to apologize to him for his subordinate’s ill-manners and even as Izuku smiled and smiled in acceptance, anger and hurt easily gave away afterward. They don't care much for him, he knows, probably thinking he too will be cut down before he step a single foot on their land. But he is a prince and Zero is but a lowly knight, so he should not look at Izuku like an overly large cat playing with their food. It's—it's humiliating and dangerous.

"You're so dedicated to your gods that you would fall to your knees on muddy ground to prove yourself," Zero says with a cock of his head. "I wonder if you will show that same kind of devotion to our prince later?"

Izuku flushes. "The manner in which I show devotion to your prince is none of your concern," he says, stumbling forward a little on the uneasy ground that had been a washed by the early morning rain.

They had set up camp the evening before, not knowing it would pour by the time night came round and rain pounded hard against the tents. By morning, the grounds are drenched and muddy, Captain Ishidora had warned Izuku to be careful but Izuku didn’t want to miss his prayer. Not even for rain.

The prayers are led by the rise and fall of the sun and their face turned toward the sky. For the devout the prayers are most sacred and profound in the light of day and with the open sky above up to them, so Izuku had an area cleared out so he can be with his gods alone.

But he is never truly alone, is he? "And stop stalking me!" Izuku continues, annoyed at having his prayer session disrupted by Zero of all people.

"I'm not, it's my duty and don't fucking move," Zero scolds at him, watching Izuku moves uneasily toward him as his boots sink to the ground with every step. The entire ground is wet and muddy and Izuku had barely found a safe patch enough to kneel. "You're going to face plant into the mud and have no one to blame but yourself." 

Izuku huffs indignantly, approaching him with trepidation. Hands swaying in the air as anger makes him blind to the choked hold the mud had on his next step. "I am not going to—!" And he falls, face first.

The grip of the mud is like quick sand that drags him down and down like fallen timber. The next thing he knows he has a face full of it. He coughs out all the dirt clogging his throat and pulls himself up, sitting on his knees. Trying to wipe his face clean, which doesn't help at all because it only smear it around, he glares at the figure before him.

Zero's shoulders are hunched over and he's quivering so hard that his hood fall, but not of fear for himself that he had truly anger a prince, but the shaking of his body is only follow by a loud laughter that rings in Izuku's ears.

It's light and young and so carefree.

Izuku didn't think Zero was capable of making such sound when all he had heard from him were belligerent jabs and annoyed scoffs followed by scowling face as though that was all he's able to do.

It's almost lovely to the ears. Almost.

Zero's grin is mirthful as he moves through the sludge with unfair ease. "Do you need help, Your Highness?" It’s the first respectable thing that come out of his mouth and that makes it even more infuriating.

Izuku's glare deepens even as he feels heat rises to his cheek and has to bite down a scream of embarrassment because looking up at Zero's cocky face, blond hair and red eyes that can cut even glass, he looks so, so beautiful against the light of day when he's victorious and it's a damn shame Izuku hates him for it.

#bakudeku #fic snippet #or where you meet your future husband and hates him thinking he's some dumbass errant knight #bodyguard secret identity au

[werewolves-are-real]

Do you have temeraire fics to recommend?

I have... 82 Temeraire fics bookmarked on A03, I would recommend any of those. (and it’s always worth checking the author accounts... sometimes I only bookmark 1 or 2 of an author’s fics, rather than all of them, and many of these authors have a lot of good fics)

But here are a few:

To Timbukto and Back Again, by novermbersmith

In which Arkady manages to be a great nuisance, despite never appearing in the story, and Tharkay is thoroughly unsettled.

As Blood Gleams Off an Errant Talon by half_sleeping

SPOILERS for Crucible of Gold. IMMENSE SPOILERS. Iskierka is challenged to possibly the most difficult thing she shall ever face.

When the Wing is a Sail, by gritkitty

Catherine, Lily, and Tom Riley come to an understanding.

Wait for it (wait for it) by lorata

Little and Granby met again years later, and they’d fallen back together with an easy familiarity except for when it wasn’t. An old, well-loved pair of boots that sometimes pinched the toes, or walking down the stairs in one’s childhood home at night only to fall against a table that had not been there before.

Maintaining a clandestine relationship with Granby is hard enough for Little without the war, a plague, multiple trips around the world and gossipy dragons in the mix, never mind Granby's ambiguously close friendship with William Laurence. Little does his best not to be jealous or uncertain as the years and continents separate him from his lover, but when Laurence returns from a shipwreck with his memories missing and old prejudices intact, Little finds he has something new to worry about.

The Bicentennial, by the_glow_worm

In which Temeraire finds that the present is a foreign country. Set two hundred years after the events of the novels

Choices at Short Notice, by RosiePaw

(No summary?)

Gemology, by Arsenic

Emily has some questions.

No Great Men, by Temeritous

A historical account of the end of the Napoleonic wars: by someone who wasn't there and a very old dragon who was.

Napoleon won the war. Only one person is asking what happened to William Laurence.

Captains, by StrangeWithMyFace

Perscitia encounters two men at the London covert, and one of them is her captain.

A Most Distinguished Guest Speaker, by ShinobiCyrus

They still had an hour before the doors officially opened, but it was hard not to feel rushed when a dragon was impatiently waiting outside your dorm. Okay, he had his phone, keys, wallet, a hoody for chilly high-altitude winds, and...wait, where were those tickets, again?

“Come on, Cef!” Samaritan said, practically vibrating with excitement. “I wanna see Temeraire!”

Faithful in the Performance, by lorata

On board the Allegiance, Laurence has a lot of time to think. Granby and Tharkay try to talk him out of it.

Exit, Pursued by Dragon, by malfaisant

In which Lady Kiyomizu is a big fan of Shakespeare, and also, alcohol.

If There’s a Prize for Rotten Judgment, by RobinLorin

Sometimes Granby despaired of Laurence ever noticing that Granby sometimes stared at him like he was the sun and Granby was a thrill-seeker with wax wings. But then the moment ended, usually because it was time for Granby to intervene and persuade Laurence to act upon the lesser of two harebrained schemes.

Sketch the Stars Until They Align, by slightlytookish

Little hesitated a moment before asking, with feigned nonchalance, "You don't have a sweetheart at home, then, to whom you write?" Granby nearly howled with laughter.

Iskierka’s Great Idea, by slightlytookish

Iskierka is just planning for the future. There is no need for anyone to be alarmed.

Spoilers for Blood of Tyrants.

Affections, by ladyhoneydarlinglove

In which Granby teaches Little to be a little more open, only for it to backfire on him horribly.

Aviator Gossip, by Caria

Laurence makes an unwelcome discovery.

a dead carapace of memory, by consumptive_sphinx

There’s something that Laurence isn’t being told.

It isn't obvious. Most of the aviators in the group are more than friendly with him, if somewhat awkward, and Temeraire is nearly guileless. But Laurence has been paying attention, and he can see how conversations abruptly change when he enters a room, how people pause before they speak to him, how both Tharkay and Captain Granby look profoundly uncomfortable whenever they are near him but refuse to leave his side.

...Going to stop there because that’s already a lot, ha. Most of these are straight from my bookmarks list. It’s a small fandom, but there’s a lot of great writers!

[satonthelotuspier]

This is for Day 6 of Xichengclipse and there is a disclaimer or two. Firstly, this is angst, with Major Character Death (but eventual happy ending).

Secondly, this is a little different to anything I've written for MDZS before. In this story I've gone with calling the character name of the legend they're associated with for the fic.

Wen Qing is Chang'e the moon goddess,

Lan Xichen is Yu Tu (the moon/jade rabbit - more below)

Jiang Cheng is Jiu Wei Hu (the nine-tailed fox - more below)

I did a little reading for this prompt and ended up cherrypicking some parts of various legends and mythology surrounding the nine tailed foxes, and Chang'e, and Yue Tu, her rabbit companion, and mashing them all up together with a big dose of my headcanon.

I read that Yue Tu 月兔 (Moon Rabbit) is also referred to as 玉兔 Yu Tu (Jade Rabbit) so of course our first jade LXC became Yu Tu for this fic.

The nine tailed foxes, 九尾狐, Jiu Wei Hu became JC's name as a fox demon. The legend of them achieving immortality at 1000 years old, being able to cure poison by eating their flesh, and their location, are all lifted from various writings on these little scamps, but the flowers Chang'e sends Yu Tu after are pure headcanon.

Nine Petals On A Flower Signify Pearls

A city suffers plague, and Chang'e sends her trusted companion Yu Tu to find a fabled flower of legend that can cure the incurable.

Yu Tu leaves the moon to search for the cure, but stumbles upon a nine-tailed fox, wounded by mortals after an attempt to capture him. Might the fox know the answer to where the flowers are located?

For day 6 of Xichengclipse, featuring LXC as the fabled moon rabbit and JC as a nine-tailed fox.

Chang’e came to see him that morning, bringing with her a sense of purpose, and her ever present sadness. She was known better on the earth below them as the moon goddess who had stolen the potion of immortality from Hou Yi, the hero archer.

In reality she had seen what a burden immortality was, and rescued her brother from having to live an eternity of struggling on alone, at the cost of her own suffering.

Yu Tu, the jade rabbit who had ascended to the moon with her, known as her ever-present companion, was aware she would have a definite reason for visiting, so he shifted to human form and made tea.

They sat in companionable silence for a little while, before Chang’e brought up the reason for her visit.

“I worry about a city below, Yu Tu, it appears they are undergoing pestilence. The healers do not seem to have any medicines that counteract the poisons brought by the plague.”

Her tone suggested she knew of a cure, so he kept his counsel, allowing her to continue at her own pace.

“When I was mortal, I heard tell of a legend, that many li north of Tianwu, there was a land of verdant hills. There was one where nine-petalled flowers grew amidst scattered jade and cinnabar, and bore pearls of whitest sheen, instead of seeds. These pearls could cure what could not be cured.”

Yu Tu understood her intent immediately.

“I will prepare to depart immediately, My Lady.” he rose, and bowed low to her.

“You are willing to chase a rumour and a legend, brought up from my imperfect memory of a time long ago, when I was a human?”

“My Lady seeks to heal, as ever. I will not fail you.”

“Thank you”

***

Within a short time Yu Tu had descended and was searching for the land of legend, where the pearl Chang’e had referred to was to be discovered.

He travelled north of Tianwu, and discovered a land of many hills. It was verdant, with the soft feel of early spring, where the world was waking up from its winter sleep again. He searched the hills, but found none where jade and cinnabar were scattered far and wide, in beds of white flowers. He wandered even further north, until he eventually came across a mountainside that was wreathed in mist. Making his way into the misted foothills he began to pass strewn jade, and red staining cinnabar and his excitement grew. There were no white flowers to be seen, however.

Yu Tu continued to walk up the hillside, hoping that the flowers were merely higher up, hidden in the mist-covering.

He was surprised at the sudden report of an animal in pain, it cried out, intermingled with rage and a feral warning. He drew Shuoyue, the sword Chang’e had gifted him with for his quests on earth, and approached the direction the noise had come from cautiously.

He soon found the source. A group of mortal humans held ropes that jerked and pulled about this way and that, and Yu Tu followed the length of them, to identify that they were attached to a Nine-tailed fox, they cut into his flesh, and he howled and hissed and spat at the men as they tried to subdue him, but he refused to give in.

“Try not to damage him, we should get good coin for him alive.”

Yu Tu didn’t need to hear anything further, he shot forward and sliced at the ropes with Shuoyue.

He had the element of surprise, and an armed opponent seemed to send a quiver of fear through the humans, who scattered before his sword, running without putting up much of a battle.

When he was sure they had fled, he turned to the fox, who had ripped the bindings free of his body, and rose to his full height, now in human form, violet eyes blazing with his anger and pain.

His tails, snow-white except where they were limned with violet at their very tips, swirled around him in an understandable mixture of fear and excitement. He was confronted with what was essentially a rabbit with a sword, and the predator in him reacted almost as strongly as the reasoning side that saw the danger, and understood that Yu Tu had saved him.

Yu Tu didn’t pay it too much attention, or it might have had a stronger hold on him, but there was a part of himself that panicked at the sight of a fox, all sharp, vulpine features and sharper teeth.

Whatever might have happened, didn’t, however, as the fox fell into a dead faint at his feet.

Yu Tu moved over, tentatively at first, in case it was merely a ploy to take him off guard, but he soon realised it was genuine. He quickly rolled the fox onto his back, and began to check his wounds. There were several deep cuts, and he had lost quite a lot of blood. He bandaged up the worst, with pieces torn from his robes, then lifted the other into his arms. He had to take them to somewhere enclosed, safer for the fox.

Some searching further up the mountainside revealed a cave which seemed to be where the fox made his den.

He lay him out on the nest that had been built in one corner of the cave, away from the drafts, and went to collect water from the stream nearby.

He spent a little time cleaning and bandaging up the rest of the fox’s wounds, then tenderly cleaning his sharply handsome face.

Handsome? Yu Tu examined that thought. Objectively yes, he was. Should a rabbit find a fox handsome? Perhaps not.

He ran a thumb gently over the other’s finely arched eyebrow, then over the sharp jut of his cheekbone.

He pulled his hand away, then rose to his feet.

Yu Tu considered his next move. He had done what he could for the fox, and he should get on with looking for what he had come for. Although, he had kept look out on his way to the den, and had seen no white flowers with pearls instead of seed pods.

He went to stand by the cave mouth.

He really should move on. Even if the cure wasn’t here, there had to be other hillsides where the flowers could be found.

He trusted Chang’e hadn’t been wrong about this, and he would find the cure. People’s lives were depending on it.

But he still couldn’t bring himself to step foot out of the fox’s den just yet.

He moved back to sit next to his nest. He couldn’t keep calling him just the fox, so he decided he would be Jiu Wei Hu as a name, and not just a creature.

***

It was the next day before Jiu Wei Hu awoke from his sleep. He immediately scented the rabbit in his territory, and tried to sit up.

Yu Tu made a soothing noise, and pinned him down with a gentle hand at his shoulder.

“Be still, or you will pull open your wounds,” he advised calmly, and those violet, fox-eyes found his amber coloured ones.

“You saved me,” his voice was low, deep, and rough, as if it wasn’t used often.

“I did, and helped heal you, you still need to aid it with rest, though.”

The muscles beneath his hand relaxed.

“Why?”

“Why not? If I see humans planning to sell a creature for profit, should I not help? And I am a healer, how could I not heal your injuries?”

Jiu Wei Hu considered his words, and seemed to find them sensible; he nodded.

“Thank you.”

Silence.

Then; “What brings you here, immortal moon rabbit?”

Yu Tu watched him carefully. How had he known? Was he in danger?

“I am nearly a thousand years old, yet I know of only one rabbit healer who can become human and move around in the world of mortals.”

At his words Yu Tu tensed. He was nearly a thousand years old? Were the legends of what happened to a nine-tailed fox in his thousandth year true?

There was an amused laugh rumble in Jiu Wei Hu’s chest.

“You are quite easy to read, Yu Tu. To answer your question, I am the only nine tailed fox left here, so I cannot know for sure. But I shall soon find out, thanks to you. I shall enter my thousandth year in three days. Perhaps I will ascend and become a celestial fox. Perhaps I will stay here and be a very old fox demon.” There was a burning excitement in his eyes. Despite he words he genuinely did believe his destiny was to ascend the heavens as a celestial.

“Before I do, if I do, how would you have me help you, in return for saving my life?” Jiu Wei Hu asked.

Yu Tu should perhaps be cautious, a nine-tailed fox demon was a likely to bamboozle as help, their nature was cunning and sly and mercurial.

He wanted to believe the other was genuine, however.

“Chang’e talked of a white flower, with nine petals, that bloomed and bore pearls instead of seed pods. These gems are meant to cure the incurable. I came in search of them, to stop a plague. So far I’ve seen no sign of anything of the kind. Perhaps you know of what she speaks, living in this place?”

There was a sudden, barking laugh come from the other, and though it seems to aggravate his wounds he laughed for quite a while, as if unable to stop. Then he sat up, despite Yu Tu’s warnings, and changed back into his fox form.

He was pure white, and sleek, with nine fine, bushy tails weaving in the air behind him.

Yu Tu was a little confused at first, but realisation dawned, and his heart sank.

Jiu Wei Hu returned to his human form, with a rueful look on his face.

“I am the flower you are looking for, Yu Tu. A taste of my flesh is said to cure poison,” Jiu Wei Hu watched Yu Tu carefully then, consideringly. “Are you still willing to help and heal me knowing this?”

Although he was bitterly disappointed in his failure, of course he was. Jiu Wei Hu was a living thing, deserving of his healing skills too.

“Of course,” he answered, instantly and firmly.

Jiu Wei Hu watched him for a while longer, before seeming to accept his words. He settled back into his nest.

His patient woke frequently throughout the night, and Yu Tu stayed by his side. They talked when he did. The fox was quite thorny and kept much close to his chest, but listened carefully when Yu Tu spoke of his duties as a healer, his life with Chang’e, and the same before he had ascended to the moon with her.

He did speak briefly on his past, but never in detail; he was a proud, haughty fox, who had a wicked sense of humour, and a lightning fast temper, as Yu Tu discovered.

As the night progressed, Yu Tu began to think more and more on the subject of the other becoming a celestial fox, and secretly he began to hope the legend was true. Should the other ascend, there would be opportunity to spend time together, to get to know each other.

Even if the legend wasn’t true, he could prostrate himself and beg some of her elixir of immortality from Chang’e. Having the other as a companion to spend eternity with; well it wouldn’t be dull.

He would tell the other tomorrow, and they could return to Chang’e and let her know the pearls didn’t exist, and try to work on another cure.

He was drifting on the edge of sleep just before dawn, when the sudden sound at the mouth of the cave made him jerk awake. He reached for Shuoyue, but it was too late, and he felt the demon binding ropes the humans had used on Jiu Wei Hu tighten around his neck and wrists. Why had he not expected them not to track him to the fox’s den? He was likely about to pay for his stupidity with his freedom.

There was a sudden, explosive growl from the nest, as Jiu Wei Hu awoke, and slipped out of the ropes beginning to close around him. He leaped forward, claws and fangs flashing in the meagre light filtering in from outside.

“You will not touch him,” he snarled, and tore through the group of slavers. He was deadly and beautiful, vicious and unforgiving, and soon the cave was strewn with bodies and blood.

He turned to look at Yu Tu, “Are you hurt?” his chest heaved, and he started forward, then checked himself as he realised he was covered in gore and blood.

Yu Tu saw the movement too late to warn, and the sudden appearance of the end of a sword through the front of Jiu Wei Hu’s chest made him cry out in horror. Yu Tu ragged himself free of the ropes, and shot forward, beheading the leader, who had kept himself hidden, in a single sweep of Shuoyue.

He dropped his sword, then caught Jiu Wei Hu as he fell forward.

Yu Tu wrapped his arms around his shoulders, holding him in his lap.

He hated that he was a healer and he knew there was nothing he could do to save him against that wound.

Jiu Wei Hu looked up at him, a rueful expression in his violet eyes again, “I suppose we won’t find out if the legends of the nine-tailed foxes were true.”

“Please…” he didn’t know what he begged for, the other not to make light of it? Not to die? Not to leave him when he had only just found him? He cupped that sharply angled face in a hand, “I wanted you to stay with me. Why did you sacrifice yourself for me?”

A soft expression passed across the fox’s face. “Because Chang’e needs you, you told me so yourself. Maybe you’ll meet me again in my next life.” He coughed, and it was full of blood, “Use my essence to cure the city of plague, you may as well accomplish what you came here for.”

The words broke the dam and he felt a tear escape the corner of his eye and roll down his face. It dropped onto the other’s lashes and held there as they drifted close. They didn’t open again.

He wasn’t sure for how long he sat on the cave floor, numb, holding on to Jiu Wei Hu’s body, but he knew eventually he had to offer some form of funerary rites. No matter what the fox had offered, he couldn’t bear the thought of using his flesh for any reason.

He lowered Jiu Wei Hu’s head carefully to the cave floor, and went in search of something he might dig a grave with. When he returned, there was no sign of the fox’s body. There was half a minute when he was prepared to scream and rage his agony at someone daring to steal it, when he noticed the small, white pearl nestled on the ground.

The legend Chang’e had heard hadn’t been entirely wrong, after all, the nine-petalled flower had just been of a particularly thorny genus.

He lifted the pearl up, gently, reverently. He wasn’t sure whether he could bear to allow the use of this pearl anymore than he could have Jiu Wei Hu’s body. But perhaps he might reconcile himself to the fact as he made his way back to Chang’e’s side.

***

Present Day

Chang’e came to see him that morning. She carried a small vial of elixir and placed it on the table next to the tea cups.

“You felt his soul stirring, then?”

Yu Tu nodded. He intended to descend and search for his Jiu Wei Hu. He wasn’t entirely sure how he would find one mortal in a sea of them, but he would search forever, if he had to. He had already waited this long.

“Thank you, Chang’e,” he said as he picked the elixir up and tucked it into his sleeve.

“It’s the least I can offer as thanks for what your Jiu Wei Hu sacrificed,” she said simply, and they finished their tea in companionable silence.

***

Yu Tu didn’t expect to stumble upon Jiu Wei Hu instantly, not in a city of millions. He wasn’t too discouraged, therefore, after several hours of searching turned up nothing. He had a strong impression the fox’s soul was in the general area, so he would concentrate himself here. In the meantime he needed to take a break and study the map for large gathering areas where he might find the other.

He stopped at a tea house, and ordered tea and his favoured mooncakes, spreading his map on the table as he waited for his order, to study.

There was a museum nearby, and a university campus. They were good places to start, where people came and went.

He looked up as the waiter brought over a tray with his order, and jerked out a hand automatically, his heart stopping dead in his chest. His movement had accidentally knocked the tray out of the waiters hands, and everything went smashing to the floor, drawing the attention of the entire patronage of the teahouse.

“I’m so incredibly sorry.” Yu Tu said carefully, and the young man looked at him with his fiery brown eyes, a flash of irritation crossing his sharply fox-like face. He quickly tamped it down though and settled it into something closer to a rueful smile. Yu Tu’s stomach dropped in reaction. He had seen that expression on that face so many times that night in the cave.

“It’s fine. Please be careful while I clear this up, sir, or you might cut yourself.” The young man, Jiang Cheng according to the tag on his uniform shirt, said, and he bent to begin picking up the shards of pottery and smashed mooncakes, and placing them on the tray. Yu Tu got up and bent to help.

“You don’t need to, sir, leave it to me.” There was a slight touch of exasperation in his voice, and Yu Tu smiled widely, this reincarnation of Jiu Wei Hu’s soul kept all the other’s irritability.

Jiang Cheng looked at him like he was a lunatic, which, considering he had virtually knocked the tray out of his hands, and now grinned like a fool, wasn’t unexpected.

“Are you feeling alright, sir?” Jiang Cheng asked, doubt in his voice.

“I’m feeling wonderful, thank you.”

Honestly so-so about the execution. The idea probably deserved more words than I wrote it as.

#xichengclipse2020 #xicheng #lan xichen #jiang cheng #wen qing #mdzs fanfic #mdzs #the untamed fanfic #the untamed #alternative AU #Mythology #Chinese folklore & legends #major character death #angst #eventual happy ending #mo dao zu shi #mo dao zu shi fanfic #Shay's stuff #blood