#but that's a multi and my excuse is i have too many muses to fit in one promo lol
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Fields of Wildflowers
Chapter 15
A Sihtric x OC story
AN: Well loves, this is the final chapter for this story. Depending on how season 5 of the show goes, I may do more and I may do one-shots for Cwen and Sihtric later too. I am honestly incredibly proud of myself for finishing my very first multi-chapter story. And I am beyond thankful for each and every one of you who thought it was worth your time to read. Thank you! From the bottom of my Dane loving heart. I have more stories planned featuring our favorite cinnamon role Dane and some new OCs so be on the lookout! The moodboards provided by the lovely @serasvictoria
Warnings: Smut. Smut with feelings. (So this also counts as my outdoors entry for @tlkfanficfest bingo axe card)
Word Count: 3877
Fields of Wildflowers Masterlist
My Full Masterlist
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Hild found Cwen some old novice robes that fit comfortably enough. The abbess then cleaned Cwen’s face and put a soothing poultice on some of the deeper scrapes and bruises before sending her off to bed.
The room was plain, holding only a bed and a small table. And there was a lingering aroma of some floral fragrance Cwen couldn’t place. She laid down and was asleep within a matter of minutes.
When she awoke, it was with a start to find an arm weightily draped across her waist.
Turning from her side to lay on her back, Cwen saw Sihtric dozing soundly next to her.
He had found a moment to clean the grime and gore from his face and body, she noticed as she took in his features. His armor and tunic lay discarded by the door to the room and Cwen took a moment to take in his resting form. The line of his jaw and the length of his neck. His shoulder, rounded and firm, with long muscles leading along the arm hooked around her waist. She felt the heat radiating off his bare chest.
In his sleep, the warrior’s face was relaxed and his breathing even and shallow. His mouth hung slightly open, a quiet snore escaping him every few breaths.
Cwen raised a hand to brush the hair from his forehead and trace the lines along his brow.
She smiled when she felt him stir under her touch. Without opening his eyes, he reached a hand up to grasp her own and bring her palm to his lips.
“I am glad you took my advice and rested,” he hummed against her palm before pulling her body closer into his embrace.
“Is there peace?” she questioned after nuzzling against his neck and trailing her fingers along his collarbone.
“For now, it seems.”
“Tell me.” Cwen asked, sleep still clouding her voice.
Sihtric rolled onto his back, sliding his arm to rest under Cwen’s neck as she nestled into his side.
“They’ve given Sigtryggr Eofiwich. And he promises to remain peaceful and in alliance with Wessex and Mercia.” Sihtric paused, running his fingers gently through Cwen’s long hair. Hild had also spent time using a brush and comb to work through the knots and tangles that had accumulated during the siege.
“That can’t be all though,” Cwen asked while turning her face up to meet his, “What about Stiorra?”
Cwen felt as a rumble passed through Sihtric’s chest as he laughed.
“And what about Stiorra?”
Cwen propped herself up on to her arm, her mirthful smile mirroring his.
“Is she part of the bargain?”
“Why would she be?” Sihtric’s eyes glittered mischievously.
“Because they have fallen for one another. Stiorra and Sigtryggr.” Cwen’s words were sure and matter of fact.
Sihtric moved to place a strand of hair that had fallen across Cwen’s face before he asked, “Now what would make you say that?”
Sighing, Cwen laid herself back down and nestled into his side. Her fingers absent-mindedly finding the hammer amulet draped across his chest. Tracing the intricate designs.
“Well I don’t know exactly. I have never even seen them in the same room together,” and her words were interrupted by a scoff from Sihtric. She hushed him playfully before continuing, “but it is in the way they speak about each other. As if he truly sees her. And she, him.”
Here she paused, her hand stopping it’s fidgeting with the hammer. She took a breath then continued, vulnerability lacing her words, “It is not much different from the way I believe you see me. From the way you have watched me and seen me since the fields of Saltwich. You see me and know me. The true me. And that is love. To have someone see through you to your soul. Or your spirit, your essence. Whatever term you wish to give it. When a person can see your rough edges, the parts that are broken, the fragile things…” her fingers began fiddling with the pendant once more, nervous as she continued, “a person who can see that in another and appreciate it, accept it. That is love. That is what will help someone to heal. Find peace. Happiness. I see who you are and you see me for who I am. I see that mirrored in the way Stiorra and Sigtryggr speak about one another.”
Cwen’s voice got quieter as she stopped her rambling. Her fingers continued to place their anxious energy into toying with the necklace until she felt his strong hand wrap around her own, stopping her movements. He moved to place his knuckles below her chin, tilting her head up so he could catch her eyes.
“What have I done in my life to deserve you, my lady?”
Now it was Cwen’s turn to scoff at his use of the term lady once more before he continued, interrupting her.
“It is true. I have been blessed by the gods and I do not know why. I am nothing but a bastard son who has killed more men than I can count. Many who were probably good men.”
Cwen stared into his face as he spoke. She watched as his brows stitched together and the line of his jaw flexed. His eyes growing distant and clouded.
“Then you do not see what I see, Sihtric.” Her hand rose from his chest to caress his neck, fingers smoothing themselves through the curls of his hair, coaxing his eyes back from whatever unfocused horrors he was imagining, back to her.
“You are a man, devoted and loyal. I see your heart. A heart that is fierce and passionate, but also kind and warm. It is gentle when time or place calls for it. I see that in how you are with the children and with me. You have shown me time and time over that the quality of your heart is pure. It is all those things that make who you are. A warrior. A heathen but not a barbarian as some Christians would paint you. These are the reasons you follow Lord Uhtred. These are the reasons you fight. And they are good qualities.”
Cwen watched while he listened to her words. The lines of his face eased and the whites of his eyes glistened more brightly. The lovers brought their lips together, the language of a whispered kiss speaking more deeply than either could with words.
A subtle cough from the doorway broke them apart.
Hild stood, a kind smirk on her face.
“I would remind you that you are still in a church, Sihtric. And even though you are heathen I will have you respect this home of my God.”
Cwen rolled over, burying her face in her hands and stifling anxious giggles while she heard Sihtric apologize and then the rustle of Hild’s robes as she moved away from the door.
But Hild called over her shoulder to them before she had made it out of earshot, “Uhtred is looking for you. King Edward has spoken with him.”
“Tell my lord I am on my way.”
They heard Hild laugh before she replied, “He wishes to speak with Cwen.”
The pair glanced at each other, confusion on both of their faces. Slowly, they moved to sit up and make ready themselves.
“But Sihtric, you haven’t answered me!” Cwen exclaimed.
When he looked askance at her as he did the laces up on his tunic, she continued, “Stiorra? Is she leaving for Eofowich?”
Sihtric smirks without raising his eyes again to meet hers, instead focusing on his lacing.
“Well?” Cwen moved to help him secure the armour and interrupt his avoidance.
“She will be going as a hostage,” he replied. But the mirth behind his eyes showed his agreement with her notion that it was not a hostage arrangement.
“Lord Uhtred must be furious,” Cwen mused.
“He was quite, yes.”
Sihtric turned to grab his bracers off the floor and Cwen took them from him, sliding them onto each of his forearms in turn.
“So what does he need with me, I wonder?”
Sihtric shrugged his shoulders and shook his head as they walked out of the door to find Uhtred.
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“The king has charged me with the care of Aethelstan.”
Uhtred and Cwen were standing underneath the arches leading to the inner courtyard of the church.
Hild was walking with Eadith to stretch and warm some of her muscles, while an anxious Finan looked on. He was clearly only half listening to whatever Osfeth and Sihtric were discussing. It made Cwen smile, before turning her attention back to Uhtred.
“With care for Aethelstan? But Lady Aelswith had been planning to do that?”
Uhtred sighed, “Plans have changed. Apparently Lady Aelswith is in poor health after the siege. And Edward wants Aethelstan removed from Winchester. It will be safer for the boy.”
“Aelswith offered me a place in her household caring for him before we left Mercia. I turned her down but not because I don’t want to help Aethelstan. Did you wish to speak with me to ask for my help?”
Uhtred chuckled dryly and looked down at his boots, scuffing the dusty dirt.
“It is no secret, I am…,” he trailed off before clearing his throat and starting again, “I will be able to teach him the shield wall and battle tactics. And other life lessons but I am lacking in many skills when it comes to raising a child. I would ask you for help, yes.”
“And you will have it.” Cwen smiled, her words sincere and happy.
It was at that moment that Sihtric approached, wrapping his arm around Cwen’s waist and drawing her close to him as she leaned back into his embrace.
“You have chosen a good woman, Sihtric.” Uhtred clapped his friend on his shoulder.
“I have, indeed,” Sihtric paused, pressing a kiss against Cwen’s hairline making her grin despite herself.
“But may I have a word alone, Lord?”
Cwen glanced between the two men before excusing herself to go check in on Eadith and Hild.
After joining the two women, Cwen continued to glance back to where Sihtric stood speaking with Uhtred. The two men stood close together while Sihtric spoke, but his words did not travel and Cwen did not know what they discussed.
After only a few moments, she saw Uhtred embrace Sihtric and the two clapped each other on the back before breaking apart and Sihtric turned to walk to Finan and Osferth, who were standing in the path that Hild was guiding them along. Sihtric beamed at her as they approached, his smile filled with adoration.
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After eating a light lunch with everyone, Sihtric excused himself and asked Cwen to join him. He led her to the edge of Winchester and outside the walls. The Saxon camp of King Edward was still scattered across the surrounding field, but the couple walked beyond the scattered tents and cookfires. Here and there, men were mulling about, collecting their things, preparing to return to their homes.
“Where are you taking me, Sihtric,” Cwen looped her arm through his and leaned herself against him as they strolled.
She smiled when she felt his breath on her ear as he leaned close, “Do you remember the last time you asked me that question?”
His voice was low, husky.
The implication sent shivers along Cwen’s spine. Just as it had while riding in the fields outside of Aegelesburg, she felt her body stir.
They stayed quiet as they walked, both feeling the rising thrill in their energy.
Cwen tried to keep her breathing steady while her heart began beating steadily faster and faster. The feel of Sihtric’s movements against her as they walked gave her shivers, every place where his skin brushed hers leaving trails of gooseflesh.
Eventually, they moved off of the main road and began to cross onto hunting trails, through woods and fields. It may have been along the route they had come to Winchester. That seemed ages ago and had been in such haste, Cwen thought she would have no idea if she had been through this way before. And there was no way she could focus clearly on her surroundings with the anticipation of being with Sihtric again.
Finally, he stopped walking and Cwen took in their surroundings.
They were at the edge of a low lying glen, leading up to a small hill crested with trees. The glen was carpeted with tiny white and violet-blue flowers, all migling together. Cwen breathed deep, enjoying the musty aroma of the woods to their backs, earthy and solid. She tried to slow her pounding heart.
“I told you I wished to cherish you, Cwen,” Sihtric pulled her body flush against his before cupping her face, “and I mean to do just that.”
His lips ghosted across hers before he moved to nip underneath her ear, his tongue languidly tasting her skin in between gentle kisses down her neck.
“Sihtric,” she moaned out his name, her hands grasping hungrily at his hips and pulling him even closer to her.
“I will never grow tired of hearing you moan my name,” he whispered against her collarbone.
His fingers found their way up from her waist to begin undoing the laces at her collar, before moving the fabric apart to reveal the skin of her chest.
Despite the heat of the late summer, his fingers left goosebumps dancing along the trails they made, slowly fanning their way over to caress one of her breasts.
Cwen sighed as his kisses continued along her neck and his fingers lightly pinched at her erect nipple.
She could feel the swell in his trousers bulging against her hips and longed for more.
Slowly, she reached her hand down from his hip to cup along his length.
The groan her movements brought forth from him flushed Cwen with a sense of pride that she could cause him to make such noises.
“Mmmm, woman,” he growled, “I planned to be making these noises come from you,” but Cwen interrupted him.
“And what if I wish to show you how I cherish you too?”
Sihtric leaned back on his heels to stare at Cwen. Her shy smile and mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
In an instant, his mouth was on hers. All sense of calm replaced by fire.
Both sets of fingers fought to undo the buckles and ties holding cloth against skin.
All the pain, all the terror over the past weeks. Separated by barriers and words. All of the emotions of the heart came crashing out against each other.
Swiftly, Cwen slid her dress down from her shoulders to pool at her feet, leaving her chest bare and only a thin underskirt draped off of her curving hips.
Sihtric, breathing heavily, stood back to admire her form, his fingers tracing the curve of her waist up to the slope of her breasts.
While his hands roamed her body, Cwen undid the lacing holding his bracers and leathers on, removing them deftly.
Smoothly, he lifted his arms and pulled his shirt over his head, discarding it in the grass by their feet, only to then drop to his knees, peppering kisses along her abdomen while his hands reached behind her to grasp and gently knead her bottom.
Cwen sucked in a breath as the feel of heat pooled deep in her core, mingled with a throbbing pull at her opening. She wanted to feel him touch her there.
She ran her fingers along his head, nails scratching along his scalp, before he tilted his face up to hers to see the passion burning in her eyes.
“Come here, Cwen.” His voice was deep and sensual, causing another thrill to ripple through her swollen womanhood.
She slid her body down to meet him, feeling his lips trailing up now, to find her nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue against the hard nub. His hands bunched at her skirt, pulling it up around her as she lowered herself.
Once she was on her knees, he brought his face to hers, kissing her lips once more while growling, “Lay back for me.”
Cwen lowered herself back, while Sihtric’s body, hard and strong, loomed over her, sheltering her, enveloping her.
Again, he brought his lips to her skin, licking and sucking gently at the dips and shallows of her neck and shoulders.
She shuddered when his hands left the skirt, now rumpled around her waist to trail down her hip. He had slowed their pace once more, gradually bringing his fingers to rub against her swollen center. Slow, short strokes followed by an even slower long stroke circling the moist opening of her slit.
She moaned and arched under his hands, yearning for more but relishing the feel of his hands on her.
Slowly, his kisses moved lower, back to her nipple, drawing circles around it before he continued even lower.
Cwen opened her eyes, when he sat up, removing his hand from her wetness.
Sihtric leaned back on his knees and shifted Cwen’s hips as she watched him eye her hungrily.
He began to lean down to her, his breath hot and heavy on her aching core.
“Sihtric, what are you,” but her words were replaced with a rasping moan as she felt his tongue on her. He trailed his tongue up from the dripping moisture of her slit to press and flick against the nub of her sex making her gasp outloud.
Sihtric looked up to meet her eye, now sucking at the nerves before he answered, “I am cherishing my woman, every part of her.” And he then moved back to lap at her with the flat of his tongue.
Licking her lips, Cwen felt as her hips unconsciously rose to meet his actions, continuing the slow rhythm his fingers had started. Slow and small strokes followed by a longer stroke, the pressure always building then pulling back as he pulled her to the edge.
When he brought his fingers to her opening and slowly pushed one then another inside, Cwen felt herself arch and moan his name.
Her fingers found themselves raking through his hair as he moved his fingers inside her, matching the rhythm of his tongue.
Cwen felt herself rising to the edge, “Sihtric,” she groaned while his actions became faster, matching the pumping of her hips rising to meet him.
And she came undone, her legs tensing and squeezing as he brought her to her high.
When she opened her eyes, he had moved his face to stare at her, but was continuing the motions of his fingers, still feeling her clench around him.
“You are the most beautiful woman,” he whispered, his voice deep with lust.
“Can you take me?”
Noiselessly, Cwen nodded, holding her arms out for him to come to her.
He moved, lithe as a cat, to bring his face to hers, kissing her passionately. She could taste herself on his lips and feel her own moisture in his beard.
Cwen slipped her fingers between his pants and his hips and slid them down with his help to release his bulge. He rolled off of her just long enough to slide his trousers off completely, before he was on her once more, his manhood hard and ready for her.
Guiding himself to her entrance, Cwen shifted her hips to better meet him.
As he pushed himself inside her, she met his eyes. He filled her completely, pushing into the hilt before he paused to kiss her. Then slowly again, their bodys began rocking together in a rhythm building steadily. Her small moans and noises driving him to push harder.
He built her up once more, feeling her body tensing beneath him ready to crash in ecstasy. Cwen cried out his name once more when he pushed her over the edge, feeling her walls clench him tight driving his own climax to follow.
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They lay in the grass, a tangle of limbs as their breathing returned to normal. Cwen found her hand in Sihtric’s as he toyed with her fingers, weaving them together with his. He brought her hand up to place a gentle kiss on her thumb.
“Be my wife, Cwen.”
Surprised, Cwen turned her face to watch him. He was focused on their fingers, still lacing them gently together.
He continued after a moment's pause, “I want you for my woman. My wife. From now until the end of days. I told you that all of my roads will lead me to you, Cwen. And I meant it. You are warm and kind. You are brave. And you make me happy. Happier than any warrior deserves to be.
His words were strong. Sure.
Cwen felt her eyes prickle as tears formed, blurring her vision. She blinked to clear them away as she saw Sihtric’s head turn to look at her.
“Will you be my wife, Cwen?”
Smiling, Cwen nodded her head furiously, “Yes, Sihtric, I will be your wife.”
Grinning, Sihtric rolled Cwen on top of him and kissed her, deeply before he pulled away.
Still smiling, he laughed, “Then I have something I need to give to you.”
Cwen moved herself off of him as he reached into his pants, reaching into a small pocket, hidden in the waist.
He pulled out a tiny pouch. He emptied the pouch into his palm. It contained a small golden ring. Simple and delicate, with just a few markings and designs along the band.
“This belonged to my mother. It is the only possession I have from her. Before my father,” he glanced at Cwen before he continued, “before he killed her, she gave this to me. She knew he would find out about what she had been doing to help the children of Dunhilm. And she wanted for me to have this. She has been the only woman to ever hold my heart. Until now. And I want you to have it.”
Cwen was speechless as he placed it in her palm, before closing her fingers over it and kissing her hand.
The tears she had been able to stem before, now ran freely along her cheeks. Gingerly, she opened her hand and picked up the ring. She slid it onto her finger and it fit perfectly.
“She would have loved you,” Sihtric added, wrapping his arms around Cwen and resting his forehead against hers.
“Thank you, Sihtric. I will treasure it and hope to honor her by wearing it.”
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As they were getting dressed and beginning their walk back towards Winchester, Cwen gasped.
“Wait, won’t we need Uhtred’s approval to marry? When will you ask him?”
Laughing, Sihtric took her hand, “I have already asked him, love. It is what I wished to speak with him about this morning.”
“Oh you planned all of this then?”
“I did”
“Oh you are quite the romantic, my soon-to-be husband.”
Sihtric chuckled once more along with Cwen, “I guess I am.”
As they continued walking, Cwen asked, “So what did Uhtred say when you asked him?”
“He said that I would be a fool not to marry you.”
Sihtric pulled her close, kissing her temple as they walked, “And he is right.”
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The Alienist and the Soprano
Chapter 13: The Holidays
A/N: This was inspired by Laszlo’s love of opera and my thought on what if he fell for an opera singer. Multi chapter. Canon divergence, there is no Mary Palmer here (I loved Mary and Laszlo, so I don’t feel like I could have her here and have him be with another woman). A mix of show and book canons. No Y/N, OC named Evelina Lind.
A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32029150
Pairing: Laszlo Kreizler x Fem OC!
Summary: The last thing Laszlo Kreizler ever expected while investigating the death of children was to fall in love, and with an opera singer no less!
Warnings: Age gap, Victorian Christmas, mentions of past abuse, but much fluff! I had done my research on what Christmas was like back then, as well as the Hanukah dates and it seems 1897 was a big year; “Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus” was published in September of 1897, electric Christmas lights were growing in popularity and the unification of the boroughs in New York was official on New Years. And there is your history lesson of the day.
The air grew colder as Laszlo and Evelina’s relationship grew warmer. Evelina was spending more time with the team, just as Laszlo was becoming more and more acquainted with Evelina’s opera friends. Compared, they were a more rambunctious group, and she knew that Laszlo had his limits, but admired him for trying so hard. Maria often helped Laszlo along when Evelina was not by his side and he felt immensely grateful to her for guiding him through the corral. At first, her opera friends hadn’t been sure of Laszlo, unsure of this man who makes a living in psychoanalyzing people, who didn’t seem to fit in anywhere, but they always caught the spark of joy in his eyes when Evelina came beside him, the way he tried so hard for her. Even if he couldn’t keep up with them, they still saw the utter devotion between the pair and that was enough for them to approve the relationship.
It was a time for the singers to rest themselves for The Nutcracker to be performed, and a real treat for them all. It had done so well last Christmas that the opera house had decided to do it again, and who knows, perhaps it will become a Christmas tradition.
As November closed in, Evelina had been helping Sara scout out locations for her new agency, hoping that she’ll find it before the weather turned too cold to be out scouting. As they looked around a space, Evelina asked Sara a few questions. “What will you require of your workers to do?”
“Just as any other detective agency will have, secretaries, detectives. Roosevelt has agreed to let the officers help us whenever we need it, which must mean he bears no ill will towards my leaving. Hmm, no, too small. I need at least four rooms; this will not do.” They stepped out into the cool air, leaving them both to shiver. “Winter certainly is coming, there is no doubt.”
“Yes, that shall mean Christmas!” Evelina replied excitedly. “It’s my favorite time of year. Everything looks so magical with the snow and the good cheer, and of course the music.”
“Well, then you might convince Laszlo to have a party this year. He doesn’t celebrate it, at least, from what I have known of him. I wonder if it comes from an unhappy memory,” Sara mused.
“Then I shall make it my duty to give him a Christmas full of happiness. The opera will be performing The Nutcracker, perhaps I will invite him to a performance then have a party. It’ll only be a small affair, you, John, and the Isaacson Brothers.”
Sara looked at her strangely then asked, “You are aware that they are Jewish, don’t you?”
“I am more than aware, in fact, I know that it starts on the nineteenth of December and ends on the twenty-seventh. And it doesn’t have to necessarily be a Christmas party, but a holiday party. A celebration of simply being together and friends. Surely, Laszlo couldn’t object to that.”
Wrapping her arm around Evelina’s, Sara couldn’t help but to smile. “Not when you put it that way, he wouldn’t.”
Laszlo visited just shortly after the ladies returned home, feeling too frozen to go any further. “And how has the property hunting been going for you?”
Sara groaned, “Don’t mention it. It feels as if I am never going to find the perfect place. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to get myself a good stiff drink,” she huffed as she went off to the kitchen, leaving Evelina and Laszlo alone in the den.”
Now was the perfect time for her to ask the question. “Laszlo, Christmas is coming soon, and I was wondering what it is that you do for the holidays?”
“Well, Christmas Eve, I spend it with the children who are left behind at the institute, watch them open their gifts in the morning then return home for a quiet day in.”
“Oh, Laszlo,” she said, “I love that you take care of your children, but what about yourself? Doesn’t it get to be a bit lonely?”
He pursed his lips in thought then said, “Well, yes, I suppose, but it was better than what I used to have when I was younger. Those were the better days. We hosted a fine Christmas party, my father was at his best and my mother wore her finest, and the house looked like a picture book. But” he said, with matter-of-fact tone, “When the party was over, it wasn’t so picturesque.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” she softly affirmed.
“No, I want to, and we promised, no secrets.” It was true, after the absolute confusion that came from not sharing their feelings and the disaster that followed, they had agreed that nothing would be held back. “Santa was not something told in my household, but rather the fear of God. He’d make me read the bible which involved the birth of Christ, but any little flaw, hesitation or stutter and he’d beat me while calling me a blasphemer for ruining the scripture.”
She wanted to ask how that was better than the usual days, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready for that. “My mum died just a week before Christmas, and to celebrate it without her was awful. Winston was not manageable during those times,” she paused after the mention of her brother, and Laszlo saw a flash of pain in her eyes. “When he was locked up, that first Christmas, my father broke down, he felt he had broken his promise to my mother in keeping the family together. Even though I told him that he was not to blame for Winston’s actions, every year after, I could see the echo of pain in his eyes. This will be my first Christmas without any of them.”
Laszlo lifted his hand, unsure if he ought to reach out and comfort her, and knowing that she’d not only appreciate it, but that he’d have to get used being open with another, he placed a hand on top of hers, which rested on her lap. It was the right move to do, as it had made her smile and lean in to rest her head against his shoulder. Laszlo felt a small surge of pride in himself, he was doing better in showing intimacy and he liked it.
Having a party to plan helped to fill Evelina’s free time from the opera, but most importantly, it allowed her the chance to make a surprise for Laszlo. Thanks to her covert cleverness, she found out which children will be spending Christmas at the institute and with the permission of the staff, she managed to pull them together to work on a surprise for him. They nearly got caught once, Laszlo came back from a meeting a bit sooner than Evelina expected, but she managed to play it off well, saying that she had been bored and wanted to play the piano for the children.
Stevie proved to be rather helpful in preparing Christmas at Laszlo’s home and was more than happy to be commissioned by Evelina to help with the planning. He scoured out the best decorations and the best tree to have standing in Laszlo’s den, and when he was finished with it, even he could admit he did a rather fine job. There was one thing that Laszlo had a hand in the decorations, and it was the purchase of these new electric string lights, meant to replace candles, and it was a smart choice, and in Evelina’s words, magical. As Stevie was busy with the decorations, Evelina was off to work with the invites and the Isaacson Brothers were surprised to say the least but were still very pleased to be invited to such a party, knowing how much it meant to her. Sara had been the first unofficial guest invited and John most certainly was not one to pass up a party.
Christmas Eve arrived and Evelina dressed herself in her green and red velvet walking gown, truly getting into the spirit and went to the institute to see Laszlo. Many of the parents came to take their children home for the holidays and as much as it was a wonderful sight to see parents not forsake their little ones, it was doubly heartbreaking to see those few whose parents never came. It was Laszlo and Evelina’s special mission to make sure that they still received the experience that they would have had if they were home, even carrying on the duty of decorating the tree and great hall for the children to enjoy. Most of the staff could go home to spend it with their family, but there were a few who did not have a family of their own who stayed and happily joined in the festivities with the children.
Daylight had gone when was a surprise waiting at the front door, and who would have guessed that Santa would come and see the children of the Kreizler Institute? Watching John all dressed up as Santa was a delight, especially when the younger children climbed on his lap and gave “Santa” a hug and wished him a Merry Christmas. It didn’t take much convincing, for John thought it a wonderful idea and he could not say no to Evelina’s sweet intentions, even if it made him look a bit silly. Sara was the unofficial Mrs. Claus, dressed in her lovely green evening gown and many of the children loved going up to her and asking questions of the North Pole, truly convinced that she was indeed the wife of Santa. She watched John take in the children’s excitement with great stride and enjoyment and thought it the finest thing she had ever seen, and her heart swelled at the thought of him doing this for the children.
When John and Sara left, it was time to show off Evelina’s surprise. Gathering the children up, she sat at the piano and began to play. Laszlo watched with wonder and love as Evelina led the children in a most heavenly rendition of Ding Dong Merrily On High, the children looked so happy to be a part of something. He wasn’t even bothered by the religious overtones of the song; he just enjoyed the sweet voices that sang in perfect harmony and was touched to see that his love put so much effort into surprising him.
Soon, it got to be bedtime and the children were escorted back their rooms, eagerly awaiting Santa’s arrival and the staff to their rooms. Usually, Laszlo was the only one to take up the duty of stuffing the stockings and providing the children with gift, making sure each one got an equal amount from Santa. Evelina stayed with him and happily helped to stuff the stockings, despite her own sleepiness. It was an endearing sight, the pair of them on the floor, helping to stuff stockings and wrap presents.
“How long have you done this?”
“Ever since the institute was opened. It was quite sad to see those children left behind to have nothing, so I made sure to carry on the tradition of Santa. You may think that I do not agree with the idea of telling fantastical stories to children, but I think it is important in the development of a child. It stimulates their creativity as well as teaches them lessons.”
Evelina smiled and started with, “Don’t laugh, but I still believe in Santa. Oh, I don’t mean that there is an actual person who goes about in a flying sleigh and gives presents to all children around the world, but the idea of him. Do you remember back in September there was that article answering a little girl’s question of if there was a Santa? That article was a wonderful summation of how I feel about Santa. How there is someone who can be full of good cheer and selflessness and the possibility that we could be just like him. Like this, right now. The fact that you go out of your way to make sure these children have a merry Christmas, to never make them feel left out, it is very Kris Kringle of you. And I am sure you’d look dashing in red.” His deep blush only proved her right.
It was nearing midnight when they had finished and left the institute and despite the chill, they walked through the snowy streets, enjoying the calm and winter beauty. “I am sorry if this wasn’t what you had imagined you’d spend your Christmas Eve.”
“Indeed, it was far better than I could hope. To help give children a good time, to create magic and now walking home with you, it is wonderful.” The church bells tolled, and they stopped to listen to the lovely knells as it chimed Christmas day. “Merry Christmas, my darling.”
Laszlo smiled, knowing that she gave him at last an endearment. “Frohe Weihnachten, meine liebe.”
Laszlo came to pick up Evelina early on Christmas day so she could be at the institute before the children woke and watch with Laszlo as they opened their gifts from Santa as well as from Laszlo himself. She loved the glimmer in his eyes when looking at the children enjoying themselves, forgetting their woes and problems, glad to see that they would have a normal childhood that he never had. Once he was sure that the children were taken care of, the pair went off to enjoy Christmas themselves. It had been purely coincidental, but Laszlo wore his dashing green vest and tie while Evelina wore her lovely red satin dress, looking as if they had coordinated with the holiday and each other, anyone who didn’t know them would have been certain they were husband and wife.
The party was beginning at noon, giving time to everyone that was coming to enjoy their morning and get ready to spend it together. Sara had been the first to arrive, no surprise, the Isaacson Brothers came, Marcus brought along his dear Esther and her daughter, and then John. Laszlo had almost thought that all the guest had arrived, when Stevie entered and said, “We’ve got two more guests!”
Laszlo looked perplexed, for who else could come, and Evelina watched in amusement as his mouth fell agape as Cyrus walked in with his niece, Joanna, looking rather fine in their Sunday best. Laszlo jumped up from his seat and went to his old employee and friend. “Cyrus! How are you? I didn’t know you were coming.”
“No, but Miss Lind did. Stevie brought Miss Lind to my work and she had personally invited me to the party, as well as Joanna. It was wonderful of her to come to me personally.”
Evelina stood and warmly greeted Cyrus and Joanna. “I am so glad you came. Laszlo told me so much of you and I just had to properly get to know his dear friend.”
“And I am honored to know the woman who could convince him to throw such a party,” Cyrus laughed heartily.
Evelina had been a wonderful hostess, making sure everyone had been attended to, even making sure Stevie felt welcomed in the celebrations and had helped Lucius feel a bit more at ease with the help of Joanna, of which the pair seemed quite intrigued by each other. Laszlo watched in wonder of how she could manage to move around with grace, kindness and energy when he still had difficulty to be as open to those of whom he feels are his friends. He admired her and was honored to be the man of whom she loved above others.
The afternoon was spent playing games, Blind Man’s Bluff, Yes and No, and Charades. Laszlo had sat out of Blind Man’s Bluff, but allowed himself to be dragged into Charades and Yes and No. He was afraid of appearing to look ridiculous, but Evelina argued that everyone was doing the same, so they all looked the same amount of ridiculousness. The luncheon was informal, people made their own plates and sat around Laszlo’s den, like they all were old friends, and it was a kind of homey feeling that Laszlo had never felt before, it was warm, safe, good.
It would not be a good party without a mistletoe, at least according to John, who hung it over his friend’s head and teased that someone ought to kiss him or else he will. Evelina more than happily rose to the challenge, making it the second kiss that the pair had shared. She challenged John to hang it over his head and get a kiss, or else he’ll have to kiss the lizard at the institute, and just as she hoped, Sara decided to help him out by placing a chaste kiss to his cheek, but he turned on accident and the pair had kissed on the lips. The blush on their faces told so much and Evelina buried her face in Laszlo’s chest to try and stop her smile from being noticed, but she spotted something beyond him. Moving towards it, she couldn’t help but to admire the beautiful piano. Laszlo came up beside her and said, “You may play on it whenever you wish. It’ll be nice to see that old thing getting some use. I haven’t played in so long.”
“You played?” She had never known that Laszlo used to play, at least before the incident.
“Yes. I was quite good.”
“Better than good,” Sara interjected, coming in the conversation, hoping to escape her situation. “His name was in all the papers; he could have been a great pianist.”
“Why don’t we do gifts?” Evelina suggested, hoping to prevent Laszlo from falling into his darker thoughts, and she excitedly handed out her gifts. They weren’t expensive gifts, but they were heartfelt and personal to each, and that meant more than anything in the world, even Stevie, who hadn’t expected to get a gift and didn’t usually like to be sentimental, but even he couldn’t refuse the copy of An Anarchic Adventure by Jules Verne, his favorite author. Laszlo had received a copy of The Psychology of Emotions by Théodule-Armand Ribot, of whom Laszlo had been fascinated with.
Laszlo made himself go last, giving everyone incredible gifts; Stevie getting his very first shaving kit as he was now a young man, Esther and her daughter fine new dresses, to name a few, and lastly went to Evelina, giving her a box. When she opened it, it was a beautiful toiletry box, made of a dark wood and lined with pink velvet. Opening one of the drawers, she noticed two large and full bottles of her perfume, ‘Fantasia de Fleurs’. “Oh, Laszlo! This is too much! And on top of that, two bottles of my perfume?”
“It is not too much,” he countered, “And besides, it is for selfish reasons too, for I love your scent, perhaps a bit too much,” he admits with a blush across his cheeks. “No one else should buy this for you but myself.”
It was true; when she did first receive this, it was meant to be a bribe gift from one of the patrons at the opera, but she loved the scent too much to toss it away. To have Laszlo buy it for her not only was sweet, but intimate, and she liked that he felt way, wanting no other to buy her perfumes. Sara had been the one to inform which perfume it was and told Laszlo that she had mentioned about getting a box of her own, and he made sure to get the finest box with the two largest bottles so she wouldn’t have to.
The Isaacson Brothers had left with their guests and just before everyone was to go off on their own, Evelina made sure to have a few carols played and sung. John and Sara had quite nice voices which blended very well together, Cyrus deep and warm, and Joanna and Stevie wholeheartedly sang. Laszlo’s voice was not deep or powerful, but it was soft and comforting, and it sounded wonderful to hear him sing Silent Night in German, a request that Evelina had asked, and he did only for her. When he sang, all stopped and listened, and all Laszlo could see or know was Evelina, playing the piano, with a grace and power that reminded him of his youth. Instead of painful memories, it made him smile and happy.
Cyrus and his niece left to have dinner with their family, John to his grandmother’s, leaving Sara and Stevie to join Evelina and Laszlo to the opera for The Nutcracker. This had been Stevie’s first time to the opera and the wonder in his eyes was so enduring and how he watched as the story enfolded before his eyes. In the dark of the auditorium, Evelina had reached her hand over to Laszlo’s, and held it. He looked over at her and wordlessly, he thanked her for a wonderful Christmas.
The good cheer from Christmas continued to carry on for the next few days as New Year’s was approaching and for good reason. The New York government had made the decision to unite the five boroughs of the city to create what would be nicknamed “Greater New York” and it was a wonderful reason to celebrate.
It was a momentous occasion, one that Evelina wished to see and thanks to Laszlo’s influence, they managed to watch it all happen close by and safe away from the mad crowd and the pouring rain. As the New Year rang, everyone watched in wonder as fireworks blasted in the sky, cannons fired, steamboats blowing their horns and brass bands played their hearts out, for when the new year rang, the new flag had unfurled over city proclaiming it’s celebration, the birth of the City of New York.
“Oh, darling,” Evelina gasped, “Just think, we are lucky to have seen this happen. To see a city come together as one, it’s beautiful!”
Laszlo wrapped his arms around Evelina’s waist and placed his head in the crook of her neck as they watched the city celebrate outside, “1898 shall be a happy year. I am sure of it.” She turned her head and shared their third kiss but first kiss of their new year and turned back to watch the merriment.
It then struck him right then and there, something that he thought would never be possible, something he’d never have, and yet it was here in his arms, and he would not let it go so easily. Now, it was just the matter of asking the question.
Tagging: @monsieurbruhl @cazzyimagines, @scuttle-buttle, @violetmuses @flutterskies @sokoviandelights @rumblelibrary @fictionlandslanddreams @somethingthatsaysbubbles @alindeluce and @barnesxnobles
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2. What would cause you to leave a fandom? // 8. Has anyone hurt/betrayed you? // 12. Your opinion on people giving canon characters mental illnesses?
lets get some nacl-y on munday! - Lets get salty on Munday!
2. What would cause you to leave a fandom?
Well, I've technically left The Walking Dead fandom in general as I haven't gone back to my personal/fandom blog in like two years since becoming active in the roleplay community, but when I was over there doing my thang for many years, there was so much negativity in the tags (and several of the people that I followed/interacted with also brought it to their blogs). It was tiring, and I don't miss it. So negativity would cause me to leave the communal space behind, but not the fandom.
8. Has anyone hurt/betrayed you?
Yes. And it's extremely sad when you're accused of things that you do not and have never done all because you don't give them the ships and attention they want. Especially when they never asked for a certain interaction and then got mad because you're not a mind reader. Also, I'm not required to play with every character that a multi-muse has on their blog either. I can pick and choose just the same as they can pick and choose which of mine they play with. YET, it was somehow horrible of me for not wanting to interact with their child muses when I only ever interacted with ONE Judith in my entire time here. But then again, they also never asked. But that was my fault, too.
12. Your opinion on people giving canon characters mental illnesses?
If that's what they want to do with their portrayal, that is on them. Honestly, if it fits, it fits, but if you're using that mental illness to excuse behavior or to make that canon character an entirely different character, then I probably won't interact with that character.
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LONG Character Survey: Ranier Leveilleur
BASICS.
FULL NAME: Ranier Kyran Layarte Leveilleur
NICKNAME: Ran, Raven
AGE: 21-25 (depending on expac)
BIRTHDAY: 1st Sun of the 2nd astral moon
ETHNIC GROUP: Au ra (Xaela)
NATIONALITY: Eorzean – From Ul'dah
LANGUAGE(S): Eorzean,
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: No
ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Isn't this the same as the above?
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Married
CLASS: Weapon Master
• Proficient in almost all martial weapons.
• Tends to carry multiple weapons at all times.
• Prefers Axes out of all the bladed weaponry
HOMETOWN / AREA: Ul'dah
CURRENT HOMETOWN/ AREA: Shirogane Mansion
PROFESSION(S): WoL, Scion, Machinist, Businessman, Crafter
PHYSICAL: Extremely fit, exercises daily. Muscular build
HAIR: Black/Dark Blue
EYES: Crimson
NOSE: Average, straight, roman-esque
FACE: Straight essentially a greek nose. (At least if I had to try and describe it)
LIPS: A bit on the thinner side, very lightly pink.
COMPLEXION: A mix of Fair and Medium?
BLEMISHES: None
SCARS: Scar on left thigh from stab wound, Scar on left midsection, and upper right thigh.
TATTOOS: WoL tattoo on the palm of his right hand. (Working on giving him another)
HEIGHT: 7'4
WEIGHT: 330 LBS/ 150kg
BUILD: Tall, Muscular, Fit,
FEATURES: None
ALLERGIES: None, at least not yet.
USUAL HAIRSTYLE: Long hair parted in the middle framing the face. Pulled into a ponytail and held with a silver bead big enough for the tail.
USUAL FACE LOOK: Around 40% expressionless, 30% Scowling, 20% Reflective, 10% happy.
USUAL CLOTHING: Higher end clothing generally a mix of casual with formal preferring long pants and a short sleeved shirt. Boots of some kind and armor of some kind at all times. Either under or over the clothes having a preference for the bulkier armors.
PSYCHOLOGY.
FEAR(S): Dying and thereby becoming unable to prevent future deaths and incidents. A fear of the unknown. (Which is part of why he tries to prepare for so many things)
ASPIRATION(S): Being able to amass enough wealth to live comfortably and to continue making the lives of the less fortunate easier. Helping create a better society for all.
POSITIVE TRAITS: Empathetic, Compassionate, Humanitarian, Perseverance, Fairness, Courageous, Loving, Self discipline, Reliable, Thoughtful, Patient
NEGATIVE TRAITS: Bossy, Jealous, Secretive, Grumpy, Harsh, Aloof, Stubborn, Cruel (Only to enemies but that doesn't really matter to people does it?) Arrogant (In some things though less now)
ZODIAC: Pisces
TEMPERAMENT: Mix of choleric and melancholic.
SOUL TYPE(S): King, Warrior, Server (In that order)
ANIMALS: Raven, Bear
VICE HABIT(S): Training, Fixing machines, Drinking, Rubbing Chin,
FAITH: The Twelve (Loosely)
GHOSTS?: I mean if you've seen them you can't deny them.
AFTERLIFE?: With everything we see there has to be right?
REINCARNATION?: Yes, it's clear there is.
ALIENS?: Yes.
POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Leftist
ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: Prosperous, everyone has what they need. Along with the means to go beyond that if they are willing and able.
SOCIO POLITICAL POSITION: I think there’s enough to go on.
EDUCATION LEVEL: Higher end of the spectrum, attended sharlayan schooling for a few years of his life. (Around three) Was home taught and by other teachers. Extensive knowledge in numerous subjects such as Machinery, Technology, Gunsmithing, Gemology, Business. Holding the equivalent of a mixture of Graduate or Masters in the subjects.
FAMILY.
FATHER: Kyran Layarte
MOTHER: Sahar Layarte
SIBLINGS: Kyari Layarte
EXTENDED FAMILY:
NAME MEANING(S): Ranier (Rainier with out the first I Meaning Wise army apparently)Kyran (Beam of Light) Sahar (Early morning or Dawn) Kyari (???)
HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: My families connection to history? My connection? My father was one of the survivors of the hotgo tribe also. Does fighting in the Calamity among all the other events count?
FAVORITES.
BOOK: Whatever has his current interest, it can very.
MOVIE PLAY: Does this mean Movie or Play?
5 SONGS:
• “Shock me” Baroness
• “Up In The Air” Thirty Seconds To Mars
• “Rise” League of Legends, Glitch Mob, The Word Alive
• “Unbreakable” Of Mice and Men
• “Drown” Bring Me The Horizon
DEITY: Halone
HOLIDAY: Valentione's day
MONTH: March
SEASON: Fall
PLACE: Beside his wife or workshop.
WEATHER: Light rain
SOUND: The turning of pages, the sound of rain, metal moving against each other.
SCENT(S): Smoke, Metal, Old books, and sweat
TASTE(S): Dulcet, Spicy,
FEEL(S): Rocks, Silk, Smooth metals,
ANIMAL(S): This was listed before.
NUMBER: 1? I don't know.
COLORS: Black, Blue, Red, Gold, Silver
EXTRA.
TALENTS: Metalworking, Singing, Sewing, Gem Cutting, Technology, Smithing, Machinery, Dexterous.
BAD AT: Getting rest even now, Not over exerting himself, Not overthinking potential scenarios that may never happen. Dealing with almost all animals, Even now sometimes talking about what bothers him too well, but he’s gotten much better over the years/expansions.
TURN ONS: Caring, Helpful, Courageous, Educated, Aggressive. Listening, Reliable,
TURN OFFS: Selfishness, Boastful, Belligerent, Cruelty, Intolerant, Racism, Weak willed, Careless,
HOBBIES: Creating new things be it machines, armor, clothes, weapons, tools, etc. Working on the same as before. Reading, Exercising, Cooking. Shopping.
TROPES: Pragmatic Hero, Bad ass boast, Big Fancy House, Chekhov's Gun, Determinator, Don't You Dare Pity Me, Genius Bruiser, Heroic Build, It's All My Fault, No Challenge Equals No Satisfaction, Super toughness, Friend to All Children, The Chosen One, The Ace, Ain't Too Proud To Beg, Always Save The Girl, Berserk Button, Death glare, Excuse me while I multi task, Game face, Hypocrite, Lady and Knight, Not So Stoic, Not So Invincible After all, Red Eyes, Take Warning, Stern Teacher, Undying Loyalty, The Power of Love
AESTHETIC TAGS: Workshops, Tools, Kitchens, Weaponry, Guns, Armor, Fine Clothes, Rain, Feathers, Azure Skies, Romance.
VOICE CLAIM(S): Keith Silverstein, (Speaking voice) John Rzeznik (Singing) John Baizley (Singing)
FC INFO.
MAIN FC(S): Free company? Azure Talons.
ALT FC(S): What?
OLDER FC(S): What?
YOUNGER FC(S): What?
GENDERBENT FC(S): What the fuck?
MUN QUESTIONS.
Q1: IF YOU COULD WRITE YOUR CHARACTER YOUR WAY IN THEIR OWN MOVIE, WHAT WOULD IT BE CALLED, WHAT STYLE WOULD IT BE FILMED IN, AND WHAT WOULD IT BE ABOUT?:
• I genuinely don’t know. Something with the grandeur of lord of the rings maybe? But with the ability to add comedy and romance in the proper way. I'm all for serious movies but I enjoy the ability to add a well executed joke or sweet moment. It also would probably not just be a single film. Taking the general events and using my fics as material would probably be fine.
I’d have to think about it a lot more than I will right now
As for the name, well, I don't really have many options. But, probably something with Final Fantasy XIV as the main title. Give it a JRPG title I suppose as a sub title. Sort of like Warriors Dissonance or Uncovered Stories.
Q2: WHAT WOULD THEIR SOUNDTRACK / SCORE SOUND LIKE?:
• Ambient, switching to full of energy, able to convey emotion. Again mentioning LOTR, the score by Howard shore is really great and able to accompany many scenes in such a fantastic manner. As for the other bits perhaps the addition of artist tracks such as from favorite bands and those songs that have meaning to him. Like the ones listed above.
Q3: WHY DID YOU START WRITING THIS CHARACTER?:
• As a way to work on and show that, a character doesn't just have to be overly reliant on tropes and cliches. That those are good as part of them but not as defining traits of them. Along with breaking some of those. Like how all protagonists always have dead parents, what's up with that? I enjoy seeing characters that try to break their molds and be more than that.
Q4: WHAT FIRST ATTRACTED YOU TO THIS CHARACTER?:
• My general thing in any game where you can create your own character has always been. To make who you'd want to be in this universe. I did that and then worked on it and reworked things until I got what I have now. So also, yes, he was a self insert.
Q5: DESCRIBE THE BIGGEST THING YOU DISLIKE ABOUT YOUR MUSE:
• Hard one I suppose but. I'd say how he is capable of doing so much. Even though I work with it as it is a key part of him, it's still hard to make him feel right, feel human when he's got these clear incredible strengths. He's very proficient at so many things some would maybe say he's a mary sue type of character. I make an effort to work on how he became that way to offset it. So it's a lot of extra work than if I had him being a more archetypal hero of his type. I may dislike this the most but I also like it. Love hate relationship you know?
Q6: WHAT DO YOU HAVE IN COMMON WITH YOUR MUSE?:
• A good part of our attitudes and personality though on his end they are greater generally. Along with our want to be as best as we can at certain things.
Q7: HOW DOES YOUR MUSE FEEL ABOUT YOU?:
• Honestly, and in my current state. He would probably be very upset with me and to just know me or the hand I have in his creation and self.
Q8: WHAT CHARACTERS DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE INTERESTING INTERACTIONS WITH?
• Alisaie Leveilleur – She is the main one being his main love interest, girlfriend, and wife later. Though overall he sees her as an equal and a partner, which is part of the reason their relationship grows as much as it does. Along with giving someone who he can trust in and rely on, and vice versa.
• Finn Hogveart - Who harasses Ranier often enough especially with his pet and regarding moogles.
• Alphinaud Leveilleur - and him sometimes get along strangely due to Ranier's relationship with his sister. For a long time he tried to spy on Ranier and make sure he was good for his sister even though he knew he was a good person.
• Cid Garlond - Ranier sees him as a mentor of sorts, along with someone that he can bounce ideas off of and work with on projects leading to a solid relationship between the two. The two sometimes bicker regarding their work but it's always just them being passionate for the projects.
• Gerolt Blackthorn – Similar to cid in some ways. Ranier looks up to Gerolt and his ability to continue making such amazing creations. Wanting to learn more regarding the processes means Ranier visits him when possible, bringing some drinks for him when he does. Almost having a relationship like bros. Ranier also sometimes has gone to try and sway Rowena on his behalf to lower his debt.
There are more but I don’t want to make this too much longer.
Q9: WHAT GIVES YOU INSPIRATION TO WRITE YOUR MUSE?
• I do not control the write, also Alisaie.
Q10: HOW LONG DID THIS TAKE YOU TO COMPLETE?:
Uhhhh maybe an hour all together. Over the course of three hours.
==========
Tagged by: @amandafullmetal @lyllyan-weiss
Tagging: @heyafinney @anikisbox and anyone who wants to do it that sees this.
#Ranier Leveilleur#Ranier Layarte#I did the best I could with it with the time i put into it.#I'm not the best at these either Hopefully someone finds new things or interesting#things from it
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A Piece of Home: New Year’s Eve Pt. 2/2
I know it’s almost a week late, but that’s just how I roll... Enjoy!!!
9:45 pm
She had 15 minutes--15 more minutes until Jamie Fraser himself was to show up at her door.
Shit.
It was strange; Claire wasn’t one that worried overmuch about her appearance. She knew, strictly speaking, that she was fairly attractive, despite the ever expanding width of her hips. But there she was, zhooshing her hair and plucking at her dress in the mirror. She had just enough time for a couple last minute preparations: one more swipe of mascara to top off her smokey eye makeup, a thin layer of neutral pink lipstick, small earrings for a little sparkle. There. It was as good as it was ever going to be.
But it definitely wasn’t bad at all.
A knock at her door almost caused her heart to jump out of her chest.
Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. Damn his punctuality.
Slipping on her black ankle boots (heeled for a little height boost) and throwing on a leather jacket (for extra warmth), she went to answer the door.
***
He was nervous. That was a damn understatement. Jamie could practically feel the sweat dripping down his spine. Gross. That wasn’t exactly the impression he wanted to make on Claire.
It was time, though. Breathing deeply, he raised a tentative fist to her door.
“Coming!” Claire’s muffled voice replied through the wood.
Ten seconds passed before she answered the door. It took all the effort Jamie could muster to stop his jaw from dropping.
Suddenly, he felt entirely underdressed in his simple olive oxford and dark denim.
She was stunning. Of course, Jamie always thought she was stunning, even as a disheveled college student at 8am classes. But that was understated; she liked to blend in.
There was no blending in this evening.
Her dress, the deep color of fine wine, clung to every curve and dip of her body. He wished to spin her around so he could see every curve.
Don’t be a dog. Her arse isn’t yours to fondle.
Her hair was as wild as ever—a dark storm cloud around her impeccably made up face.
Jamie realized then that he was staring. “Claire, ye look incredible.”
A pretty blush colored her cheeks. “Thanks. So do you.” Her small finger flicked his shirt collar. “That green looks great with your hair.”
He felt his cheeks pinken.
Damn it.
“Thank ye. Shall we?”
“We shall.”
***
Blurs of forest and evening skies flew past Jamie’s car window. He had been driving for 20 minutes; Claire wondered how much longer he would continue.
“Where does your friend live?”
“No much farther.”
The houses became sparser as they grew in size.
“This seems like a...uh...wealthy neighborhood.”
“Oh, aye. It definitely is. John’s an entrepreneur. His partner, Hector, is a doctor. They can more than afford to live here.”
“Oooh, I didn’t know you had such rich connections.”
“Mmhmm. It’s good to have friends in high places,” he chuckled. “Nay, John’s a good friend, though. We’ve known each other since we were lads.”
“Well, I will be happy to meet him, then.”
***
Whatever Claire was expecting, it wasn’t what stood before her.
Mansion. That was the word that immediately came to mind. Jamie’s friends lived in a mansion. The outside was completely constructed of stone--light in color and old-worldly. Floor-to-ceiling windows took up most of the facade, allowing for inner lights to spill onto the grass outside. Two small towers took residence on the front corners.
Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ… Did this used to be a castle?
An array of automobiles sat in the horseshoe driveway, with people milling about in between. Suddenly, Claire felt very nervous.
How many people are here?
“Are ye coming, Sassenach?” Jamie had already exited the car, waiting for his date.
No. “Just a second.”
Taking a deep breath and brushing off her dress, she went to join him.
“There ye are.” A grin spread across his face, pulling at the small dimple in his chin. Claire had the sudden urge to kiss that tiny indention. The urge was forgotten, though, when Jamie’s large hand slipped into her own, intertwining their fingers. She hoped he couldn’t hear her heart hammering. “Let’s go in, then.”
***
If the outside of the house was magnificent, the inside was resplendent--decorated in warm tones that set the entire home aglow. The golden lights lit Jamie’s hair as he walked beside Claire, a homing flame.
Beautifully dressed guests littered the floor, drinks in hand and smiles turned on. Claire could hear the faint, thumping beat of bass heavy music.
“John’s probably upstairs. That’s where the dancing is.”
“What, is there a dance floor upstairs?” Jamie’s lack of answer spoke loud enough. “Jesus. Does he have his own bowling alley in this house, as well?”
“Nay, but there is a hot tub in the back.” With an attempted wink (both eyes closed in an owlish blink), he grabbed her arm and led her to the center of the house where the staircase stood. It was wooden, reclaimed and stained dark. The steps curved upward in a confusing spiral shape.
“That must be hell if you’re drunk…” She mused.
“Aye. Tis.” Another owlish blink, and they began their ascent. Thankfully, the staircase was wide, allowing for them to walk side-by-side.
“You’re speaking from experience?”
“I dinna ken what yer talking about…”
“Jamie, answer the question: Have you, or have you not fallen down these stairs?”
“I dinna think--”
“It’s a yes or no question, James.”
“Yes! Alright? Twice!”
“What? You didn’t learn the first time?!”
The two fell into a fit of giggles as they entered the second floor landing. The music became increasingly louder as the lights dimmed.
“Excuse me,” a voice came from the shadows. “I hear fun!”
The voice appeared as a man, well-dressed and handsome, with slick blond hair and a drink in his hand.
“John!”
“Hullo, Jamie!”
They embraced as only men do, complete with pats on the back. Claire stood off to the side, not wanting to get in the middle of their friendship.
When they broke apart, Jamie spoke: “John, this is Claire.”
“Claire, huh?” Pale brows waggled suggestively. Claire wondered how drunk this man was. He stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Well, Claire. I’m John. Jamie’s best mate. Welcome to my home.”
Claire grasped his hand in her own. “It’s a pleasure, John. And your home is wonderful.”
“Thank you very much. We like it well enough. I’m not sure where Hector ran off to, though…”
“Maybe I’ll find him on my way to get a drink,” Jamie interjected. “Do ye want anything, Claire?”
“Whatever you’re having is fine.”
“John, ye need a refill?”
“No, no. I’m fine. Thank you.”
“I’ll be right back then.”
Jamie descended the stairs again, and John looped his arm through Claire’s.
“Come on, dear. Let’s dance.”
“Oh, I’m not a dancer…”
“Neither am I, but it is fun.”
Claire couldn’t resist the pull of the music, John’s infectious smile, or his arm grabbing hers. He led her to the room on the right where the music manifested. Opening the door, Claire was greeted by a plethora of bodies, writhing about in the multi-colored disco lights. The sound bursting through the speakers was unfamiliar, yet tantalizing; she couldn’t stop the slight sway of her hips.
“You’ve got it, love.” John wrapped an arm around her waist familiarly. Not usually one for unwarranted touches, Claire found a comfortability with her new friend; she didn’t mind his touches. “But, it’s more fun in the middle.”
The two weaved through the humidity of people, ducking beneath flying arms and dodging the pulse of bodies. They stopped at a clear space near the center of the room.
“Alright! Let’s go!” Releasing her, John began to move his hips in time with the music. He said he couldn’t dance; he was a liar. “Come on, Claire!”
She tried, shaking her body awkwardly. She knew she had a good sense of rhythm, but her limbs swung stiffly making her look very much like a puppet.
“Loosen up!” Easy for him to say—he was at least four drinks deep. Gripping her hands again, he shook her arms vigorously. “Loosen.” Shake. “Up.” Shake.
“I’m trying!”
But he did not let go. Instead, he began to lead their dance, showing her the ropes. She felt much more comfortable with his guidance.
“Am I missing all the fun?” A low burr murmured in her ear. Claire whirled around to find Jamie grinning, two drinks in hand. One was handed to her
“Jamie! Thanks! John was just trying to teach me to dance.”
“And how is that going?”
“Awful.”
“It is not!” John interjected. “You’re not as horrible a dancer as you think. Besides, we were having a good time. That’s what’s important!”
“Weel… Ye won’t mind if I cut in, then, will ye?”
“Not at all. I need to find Hector anyway. I’ll see you two around, alright?”
They waved goodbye as John ducked through the crowd.
“He’s a good one.”
“Aye. I like him weel enough. Now. It is my turn to dance with ye.”
“Oh, Jamie, I don’t—“
He wasn’t accepting excuses. Grasping her free hand like John had, he began to move—a frantic shaking of the hips and hopping that jostled his curls. His happiness was contagious, and Claire found herself mirroring his moves.
“Woohoo!”
And so they drank and danced. Claire could feel her hair growing from the heat and sweat. So much for the careful styling that took her an hour...
As if reading her mind, Jamie leaned in and whispered in her ear: “Ye look so beautiful, Claire.”
He had said it earlier, but the way his breath caressed her skin as he spoke so earnestly made her shiver. “Thank you.”
They began swaying closer, then—his fingertips gently dipped into her hips as her hands twisted into the curls at the nape of his neck.
“I’m glad ye came here with me.”
“Me too.”
The two continues to dance, the fronts of their bodies melding together and their hips rolling in time with the heavy beat. Claire could feel every inch of him against her. Overcome with arousal, she pressed her forehead against his.
“Jamie, I—“
“IT’S COUNTDOWN TIME, EVERYONE!” John’s voice boomed over the speakers. Jamie and Claire started at the interruption, but did not break apart.
“10! 9!”
Claire’s fingers wound deeply into Jamie’s hair, scratching his scalp. He moaned gently at the sensation.
“8! 7!”
Jamie pulled her tighter, flush against his own body.
“6! 5!”
His hands spanned her entire back, holding her close.
“4! 3!”
She licked her lips.
“2! 1!”
Lips pressed together.
“Happy New Year!”
It was an explosion of feeling, much more passionate and wild than the kiss they shared at Christmas. Mouths opened, and their breath mingled. Jamie’s tongue probed hesitantly, and Claire welcomed him enthusiastically. A small moan vibrated through her body, shaking them both.
And as other couples began to pull apart, Jamie and Claire remained stuck together, enjoying the feeling of the other’s lips.
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1--50 because I always like learning more bout you guys :PPPPP for xxx, maybe your favorite fic? Or Distance of the Falling Sun :D
Thanks for making me answer all the asks, I really enjoyed doing this, a jog down the memory lane is always beautiful. Also, this gives me a chance to make up for misunderstanding RuRu’s prior request (so sorry, babe).
1) How old were you when youfirst started writing fanfiction?
I started writing headcanonsin my native language when I was 12; I posted my first fic when I was 15.
2) What fandoms do you writefor and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one?
I’ve written for FinalFantasy VIII (Seinoa, Seifistis), Slam Dunk (SenRu), Lovely Complex (OtaRisa),Kimi no Todoke (Kazehaya/Kuronama) and Wallflower (SunaKyo). I’m currentlywriting for the love of AoKise (Kuroko no Basuke).
3) Do you prefer writing OC’sor reader inserts? Explain your answer.
I prefer OCs. I find readerinserts kinda weird.
4) What is your favouritegenre to write for?
Romantic comedies.
5) If you had to choose afavourite out of all of your multi chaptered stories, which would it be andwhy?
Love is a Scheme (forWallflower fandom) is my fave multi-chapter that I’ve written. One is becauseI’ve managed to finish writing it and two, it has all my favorite elements:denial of feelings, enemies to lovers, love confessions, meddling friends. Ihad so much fun writing that story and readers have loved it, too.
6) If you had to delete oneof your stories and never speak of it again, which would it be and why?
Perhaps that lame attempt ata songfic I wrote for Final Fantasy VIII fandom, ugh. No particular plot andinfused with bad grammar. But no matter how much I cringed at my earlierstories, I can’t bring myself to delete them because I still come back to thesefics sometimes if just to see how much I’ve grown as a writer over the years.
7) When is your preferredtime to write?
Daytime.
8) Where do you take yourinspiration from?
Poetry, quotes, metaphors,old songs. Also, from personal experience, sometimes.
9) Inyour [Distance of the Falling Sun] fic, what’s your favourite scene that youwrote?
Two.
The two of them are idiots in love, this, Kise is sure. He lifts hishead and meets Aomine’s face with a smile. Happiness sweeps across Aomine’sfeatures too, as he thumbs softly on the skin under Kise’s eyes, wiping awayhis tears.
“If only you told me sooner,” Aomine tells him with a smirk, theirfaces only inches away from each other.
“Excuse me, but you should’ve said something too.” Kise shoots back.
“Are we bickering again?”
“We’re not.”
(My fave scene because itfeels authentic AoKise, dorkos snapping at each other right after confession>.
10) Inyour [DotFS] fic, why did you decide to end it like that? Did you have analternative ending in mind?
There’s supposed to be a“Zero”, because the prompt is actually, “write a story with a countdown from 10to 0″. I tried to push for it but my sentences refuse to work out so I ended itat one.
11) Have you ever amended astory due to criticisms you’ve received after posting it?
I haven’t.
12) Who is your favouritecharacter to write for? Why?
Currently, it’s Aomine.Ironically, I don’t like him at first but now, I’m totally captivated by thischild, my heart is his. I think he has the best character development in KnB,with that gripping heart-wrenching backstory. I find it easy to write his tendencies and basicways. He’s flawless but at the same time, flawed in so many ways. If I peeloff his layers, I always find wonderful gems. I like going through the heads of flawed characters.
13) Who is your leastfavourite character to write for? Why?
Um, none.
14) Howdid you come up with the title for the [Distance of the Falling Sun]? - You canask about multiple stories.
I wanted to play with metaphors,heh. ‘Distance’ because Kise is chasing after Aomine, always yearning forAomine’s affections and he thinks Aomine is beyond his reach. ‘Falling Sun’because this is really about Kise, ‘burning’ with unrequited feelings.
15) If you write OC’s, how doyou decide on their names?
I take the names of myfavorite characters from other fandoms. For example, in my fic, Where YouBelong, Kise’s father is named ‘Takenaga’, he’s actually from the anime,Wallflower. Aomine’s mom will be named ‘Sayuri’, from Memoirs of a Geisha. Ialso employ the help of Google, to see if the meanings behind the names Ichoose will actually fit my OC.
16) Howdid you come up with the idea for [DotFS]?
I chanced on the prompt onTumblr and immediately, the angst muse overwhelmed me. Also, this doujin. Ijumped on the ‘unrequited love’ theme because it’s something that I personallyexperienced. With this fic, it’s structure first before the plot instead ofvice-versa and that came as a big challenge, I never thought I’d write it down.I only have the shaky idea for ten, three and one but how to fill in the rest,I don’t even know. Months after, the muse have shown mercy.
17) Post a line from a WIPthat you’re working on.
Waiting–he’s done enough of it to endure through its pain, a furnacerefining his patience like silver into flame.
(From ‘Worth the Wait’, anattempt at RinHaru, Idek.)
18) Do you have any abandonedWIP’s? What made you abandon them?
I’ve two. One is an AoKise. Ijust felt like there’s something lacking with the plot and I tried to think ofways to patch things up but sadly, nothing ever seemed to work. It upsets metoo, that I suddenly lost the interest to finish it because I’ve already hit6,000+ words.
19) Are there any storiesthat you’ve written that you’d really love to do a sequel to?
I want to do a sequel for IHear You through these Walls, the Kise side of the story, what he thinks of hiscute neighbor next door and what really happened between him and Haizaki.
Worst Birthday Ever – theAomine and friends part as they plan for Kise’s birthday. While WBE has lightangst, The Making of the Best Birthday Ever will be full of bickering idiots.And a little Aominecchi guiltrip (because of the phone call) will be explored in the sequel.
Rest is for the Weak – Aominecaught the flu because of the kiss. He puts the blame on Kise and demands for Kise to care for him, too. It’smostly Aho having the time of his life, supremely enjoying Kise’sattention.
20) Are there any storiesthat you wished you’d ended differently?
In that first fic I’vewritten, the MCs used to be lovers. They had a shot at being together again butin the end, they chose differently and still went their separate ways. I wishthey’ve been together.
21) Tell me about anotherwriter(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?
There are so many but I’ll gowith these writers whose stories I always come back to, again and again:
Ashbear (FFVIII, Squinoa) –Writes with superior plot and superior characterization. She’s my childhoodfanfic hero. A decade later, I still find myself re-reading her stories, and onsome occasions, I still leave a comment, a plea, hoping she’ll finish‘Somewhere in Between’.
Aki Midori (Slam Dunk, SenRu)– I always go back to her deathfics like a deranged masochist. Her storieseffin hurts like hell but so, so addictive.
For KnB, there are too manybut I’m all for these amazecakes authors:
Beautiful Thief (AoKise) – Iowe it to her fics which nurtured and nourished the AoKise monster in me duringits infancy.
DigimonDestined (AoKise) –she weaves beautiful imagery with her words, I’m weak for her rich descriptionsthat put me right into the heart of the situation and into the big mood.
dawnstruck (AoKise) – shewrites with short sentences but her writing style has this magical allure to itthat drives all the feels home.
Himi (KagaKise) – writes withlovely, complicated and realistic emotions that are eye-opening and gutwrenching.
22) Do you have a story thatyou look back on and cringe when you reread it?
The first two fics I’vewritten. It’s a wonder how readers have endured and managed to leave some nicewords.
23) Do you prefer listeningto music when you’re writing or do you need silence?
Hush, I need Silence.
24) How do you feel aboutwriting smutty scenes?
I haven’t tried, heh, andjust thinking about it makes me uncomfortable primarily because I can’t bringto words something that I have very little knowledge and experience of. I maytry to do some research but I don’t think it’ll come as authentic if my heart’snot really into it. I can insinuate love making but to go into the territories ofexplicit, I’ll have to pass ;D Even as a reader, I shy away from E-ratedstories. When I make rare exceptions, I skip the smut or I don’t dwell too longon these parts of the story. I’m pretty much contented with my ships being allkissy-kissy and touchy-feely when they get physical.
25) Have you ever criedwhilst writing a story?
Yes, because I can’t describea scene that’s just so vivid in my head. I see my words and shat, I want toshoot myself.
26) Which part of your [DotFS]fic was the hardest to write?
Eight, Seven, Four. At four,dammit, I’m almost done! Something has to be written, something has to work.Luckily, four walls of the empty room, heh.
27) Do you make a generaloutline for your stories or do you just go with the flow?
I make a general outline, Ineed to see the full picture before I get myself invested in a plot. I workwith tunnel vision, slowly from the ground up. There has to be a working title,too, before I get past 500 words.
28) What is something youwished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?
That consistency in verbtenses matter.
29) Do you have a story thatyou feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?
I would want all of mystories to get so much love heh, but setting aside my weaknesses as a writer, I’vealways been drawn to small, semi-active or defunct fandoms so my expectationsaren’t really that high…As long as I’m getting some, I’ve been happy with thelove I get.
30) In contrast to 29 isthere a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?
I’ve breached lewd levels withMy Favorite Costume but then, I’m glad it got nice loving from readers.
31) Send me a ficrecommendation and I’ll post it for my followers to see! (The asker is to sendthe rec not the answerer)
I’ve never been happier, thatyou enjoyed DotFS. You want angst and Teiko!Aokise, I’m stoked when the ideahit me, I can finally gift you a fic that you might actually like.
32) Are any of yourcharacters based on real people?
Some scenes are loosely basedon first hand experiences.
33) What’s the biggestcompliment you’ve gotten?
“Your storytelling is impeccablysubtle; you show but don’t tell. As I was reading, I could see everything in mymind as if I was there with the characters and living through them. The littleshock at the end was bloody brilliant.”
This comment is quite memorable andimportant to me because it’s for the first-ever angsty-fangsty story I’vewritten way back when (for Final Fantasy VIII fandom (my first love)), withonly 600 words. I was young, had just started writing and simply doing it because I deeply love the characters. This comment made me so happy years ago,and had sparked a bigger desire in my young-once heart to put my ideas intowords and throw ‘em all out there for people to see.
34) What’s the harshestcriticism you’ve gotten?
The reader said that she was terriblydisappointed with the ending I had. She said she followed the story with highhopes but the ending just, meh.
Well, I was young, it’s formy first fanfic and I’ve written all chapters of it before I posted so I’m notreally that open to changes and suggestions. But looking back, yes, reader wasdefinitely right, the ending sucked.
35) Do you share your storyideas with anyone else or do you keep them close to your chest?
Close to my chest. I’m notreally that confident with the things in my head, I mostly feel I’m getting judged when I share my ideas.
36) Can you give us a spoilerfor one of your WIP’s?
In Where You Belong, therewill be a scene where they celebrate Kise’s birthday and everyone but Aho gothim a gift.
37) What’s the funniest storyyou’ve written?
Maybe, Rest is for the Weak?You said Aomine was strangely acting like a mother hen in that one.
38) If you could collab withany other writer on here, who would it be? (Perhaps this question will inspiresome collabs!) If you’re shy, don’t tag the blog, just name it.
I’d love to work with any ofthe friendos in the AoKise~ discord.
39) Do you prefer first,second or third person?
Third person. I like tellingstories through the bird’s eye view, it gives me a lot of control.
40) Do people know you writefanfiction?
For sure, my mom will disownme if she finds out about the things I write. Only two people in real life knewthat I do fanfics. I told one friend during high school and a cousin who is somuch into anime accidentally found out.
41) What’s your favouriteminor character you’ve written?
Ranmaru (Wallflower) in Loveis a Scheme. With his charms, he successfully made his friend jealous out ofhis wits which resulted into an awkward confession.
42) Song fic - What made youdecide to use the song xxx for xxx.
I only wrote 1 songfic forthe heck of it. The song was very popular at that time
43) Has anyone ever guessedthe plot twist of one of your fics before you posted it?
I haven’t encountered suchcomments from my readers..
44) What is the last line youwrote?
Can’t you see how he looks atour Ryou-chan like he’s looking at fireworks?
45) What spurs you on duringthe writing process?
Thinking I’m getting closerto fluffy, lovey-dovey scenes gets me going. The fluff scenes are my ‘checkpoint’,my pit-stop for every leg of the writing journey.
46) Ireally loved your [Distance of the Falling Sun] fic. If you were ever to do asequel, what do you think might happen in it?
Hey, thank you for the love!If there will be a sequel, it will be a countdown beginning from 1 to 10, set10 years into the future, in Aomine’s POV as he recalls the ups and downs, thejoys and pains of his beautiful relationship with Kise.
47) Here’s afic title – [The man who never lied (or morelike, what would a story inspired by that song be about? :D)]. Whatwould this story be about? (from Ruru’s ask too)
Mmm. Ok, first, I love Maroon 5 and ADAM LEVINE! I’ll write an AoKiserunning along these lines: What Kise would give up for Aomine to achieve hisdreams… What Aomine would give up just to keep Kise’s love. Or, Aomine is tornbetween choosing to follow his dreams of becoming an NBA player or keeping thelove of his life. On the premise that he can’t have both because real life islike that… you can’t be thoroughly happy XD
(Because I’ve read a lot ofstories wherein Ao gets to be NBA star and gets Kise too. Not that I don’tthink he deserves all the joys of this life, but I want to explore this Ao whogets to give up his dreams for Kise. Ofc, I’ll make him choose love overdreams, heh.)
48) What’s your favouritetrope to write?
Enemies to lovers.
49) Can you remember thefirst fic you read? What was it about?
Yes, I do. Its title is Giftof Love (FFVIII fandom). It’s inspired by O’Henry’s The Gift of the Magi. Lotsof angst and fluff in the end.
50)If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life,which would it be and why?
Angst. I love writing journeys that explorethe depths of human emotions and I think there’s no better way than angst tobring me there. But with happy endings. Always with happy endings. Because thatis the whole point of my shipping, to see my children struggle in the midst ofthe storm, turbulent waters raging all around, and see them dock safe and soundto happy couple-land.
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About Muse:
•Rules complying to her is hardly non-existent, she doesn’t have much picky choosings of who she interacts with and socializing, playing along. But will lose interest if they don’t amount up to her own, don’t take it personally. It’s just how she ticks, the closer bonds she has, the less she’ll be a wall blocker. It doesn’t excuse the bad traits of her own, Josiah is very capable of mean demeanours but not commonly. She can be quite sweet and a sincere person.
[Shes a very expansive character though, these details you see are hardly the justifying.]
•A free flowing character, easy to fit in certain worlds, and her story complies in certain ones. If you wish to abide her homelands ways and lore, please by all means ask. [Maybe if I’m feeling kind, ill share hers. uvu]
•Hold mind, Josiah originates from a very bloodborne styled world, or Gothic Victorian, London, etc, supernatural existence. Magic and mystery, last but not least - bloodshed. There will be grim mentions from her, wether it be about ocs that connect to her world(Muns own), stories, endeavours so don’t feel bad if you don’t understand or if your muse doesn’t. It’s very certain that she will be a stranger to your own.
•Josiah is a plague doctor, a knack in select gifts one would learn through interaction. She’s capable, but balanced as well. So don’t worry about any god-modding, not like she’d be jumping straight into a fight. Besides... if one were to commence, chances are she will lose interest and flee. Or flee because she’s getting her ass kicked, but we all know she’s a little too cocky sometimes so it’ll be the first mention. She’s more known to leave due to disinterest. Don’t underestimate her though, Josiah bares experience in physical fights, and harbours the skills such as a (bloodborne) hunter would, and wits. She knows how to use weapons and the signature visceral. [Since of course Mun doesnt necessarily kill Ocs anymore since it ruins the fun, duel days aren’t always here, but if it’s discussed then hey. We can figure something out?] Though she may know these things, Josiah is human after all, flawed in both her nature and techniques, so on abilities. She can take a hit, but like said. She is human after all, and will only withstand so much. A glass canon if you’d call it that? Powerful in a sense, but very capable of slipups. She’s not perfect even if her personality believes she is so don’t take this the wrong way. Josiah can’t win it all.
•Don’t expect to be treated fairly yet by her at all, it’s bound to happen due to her views that disrupt many clashing personalities. But as said above, she can be a sweet and sincere person, compassionate and more. Just treat her the way you’d want to be treated. Just more stuff to be learned in an interaction.
•You can attempt “romanticizing” her, though it’s difficult for that’s the area she’s picky in. Or due to certain issues Or she simply lacks interest... The doctor is quite hard to understand, but she has her own interests just like everyone. That who interests her or have had a long history with, but she can be a little oblivious so have fun. [uvu]
•She is fitted with a doppelgänger that not even she knows about, but if you so wish to interact with said being... Consult by asking about “Ezme”, but be prepared for a far more worse version of the doctor.
Her page is; @gallowsghost if one would be interested. Where Ezme is the more dominant persona.
About Mun:
•You don’t really need to worry about Me much. I’m quite a decent person, by all means do I like a good conversation.
•I’m not an extremely picky person when it comes to themes, so there will be triggering concepts or General dark ones. I’m still new to tagging bad concepts... but that doesn’t mean I will be tagging them either. I’ll only warn you since Josiah is locked in a dark theme of existence. Blood, cannibalism, abuse, occasional self-harm, mental impact, mental mentions, displeasing humour since she’s trash - various other things that comply with this list of “keywords”.
•I mean... Last but not least “Nsfw”? That of course complies to the about muse up there, second last bullet point. It’s possible to be present, but I don’t know how common. I doubt common but it’ll be somehere in there. 🤷♀️
•Mun isn’t a problem here, I don’t blame you if you make it down here. But congrats. uvu I’ll probably be adding more to this list to make up for more details, so this may pop up occasionally.
Rules:
•[Not much a rule but this is a “multi-ship” type deal- place thing]
•First off, the muse is over the “18+” ordeal, along with its sloppy mun.
•No free range murder. Obviously, but if you’re gonna slap my muse- then be my guest. Even stab her- I just won’t accept someone lethally harming her to unrecoverable demeanours. Such as slicing throats, gutting, lest something is discussed- god knows if that’s a thing. But that’s as soft as free contact goes.
•I don’t accept god-modding of course.
•I don’t accept janky OCs, if you brief them to me then maybe. I just want stuff to work with- and know about your muse and whatnot. It lowers the chance if I hardly know you. I’ll take chances though if it’s a detailed description. I’ll learn about canons though of course.
•Of course no rudeness on this plane of existence.
•I won’t smut out with just anyone, nor any character, no trouser diving here. Lest something is made of relations with the muses. I’m trusting to know the given ages of muns.
•Waaaay above in the other section as mentioned, I will only accept some AU’s. Such as:
[Such as Mafia/Modern supernatural/Victorian supernatural(London times etc)Fantasy Modern/General supernatural eras, Victorian/London etc, or general magic basis worlds and AU she’d be fine in.](Josiah does connect well with medieval, dark souls be it may so needn’t worry about such OCs.)
[But she’s pretty verse friendly anyhow and regardless, as long as you are as well. It shouldn’t be a problem.]
•I will lose interest in threads if they are prolonged or just bypassed purposely, lest I’m given occasional notice about the delay. I dislike writing out starters, etc, just to have them discarded. It’s a waste of my time to be disputing them like that out, this implies more to those who aren’t mutuals. But mutuals aren’t safe from it either. It’s likely that I won’t thread with you again. If you wish the same then message me if I’m delaying. It’s likely that I either hit a bit of block or am busy, though I’m likely to leave updates on my situations.
•That is all. If there is more then I’ll add. It’s not officially done, this thing.
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In The Bleak Midwinter [CH10]
Genre ;; Angst/Smut/Fluff/Romance
Pairing ;; Chanyeol x Reader x Seokjin
Word Count ;; 9.1k
Summary ;; “We’re all whores, we just sell different parts of ourselves.”
You own a multi-billion dollar company, servicing the biggest names in kpop, in more ways than one. Under the name “Starlight Catering”, you, your best friends, Damon and Maya, and your hundreds of workers provide stress relief for idols.
You have partially retired, not because you didn’t want to, but because Chanyeol was your muse. He was all that you had time for and all you needed. Until Jin came along.
So what happens when you mix fire and ice?
You get smoke and all the lines are blurred.
A/N ;; I feel like this chapter needs no introduction. Let’s get to it ;)
[PLAYLIST] [BACKSTORY] [PROLOGUE] [CH1] [CH2] [CH3] [CH4] [CH5] [CH6] [CH7] [CH8] [CH9] [CH10]
“Pleasure doing business with you again, Jihoon! I know Angie is going to be a perfect fit for you,” you doted at him as you put an arm around the giggling woman at your side. “I mean look at her! She’s gorgeous!”
“Oh, (Y/N), stop!” Angie blushed.
“She’s not wrong sweetheart,” Pyo Jihoon said as he ran his hand down her back. Smiling at the two cooing at each other, you called for an usher to come over.
“Take them to room 421 on the 4th floor,” you said to the man as he nodded.
“You got it, boss. Come with me,” the usher said as he motioned them to follow him. Angie was simply glowing and you shot her an encouraging look. Jihoon took her hand lightly as he motioned for them to follow the usher.
“Have fun, you two!”
“Oh we will,” Jihoon purred at Angie, causing her to blush before they walked away. You cocked your head to the side, declaring victory as you turned around and made your way over to Maya, Damon and Ronnie who were standing not too far away. As you approached them, you looked at the sight of your party.
The sound of lively conversations roared over the music playing in the hall. Hundreds of your workers were mingling with the many groups of idols, managers, record label CEOs and producers. Some were at the bar, working their charm, just as Damon coached them, while their prospective clients had a few drinks. Others were sitting at the many round tables that adorned the venue. There was a whole kitchen of chef’s in the back, working on a menu customized on whatever the guests wanted. Most of the time, it was the same dishes but Goyangi Catering, a company you worked close with for your parties, had the best chefs from all parts of the world. They never provided a menu as they prepared for whatever the guests pleased. The parties you planned were one of a kind. It was a paradise for adults. You can have anything you want. Food or Drinks while beautiful young women and men doted on you respectfully. With tact and sophistication. Until they trapped you in a spell, cursing you with the curves of their bodies. A slight touch of the arm or tender graze of their fingers on your cheek was propane on your skin, igniting a fire inside you that didn’t know was there.
If it was one thing you knew how to do was observe body language. A business tactic you picked up from your dear old father. You find a target, study the way they sit, where they put their hands, how they looked at others and you made a general assumption on what their personality was like. You preyed on their desires and reaped the benefits from it. They fell at the touch of a beautiful person who treated them like they were human. Damon and you worked hard on teaching these men and women the art of seduction. Of getting what they wanted by using nothing else but their body. Everyone wins. You get paid, they get their rocks off. That’s why you thrived. That’s why you never failed. Your father always said only one person can be on top. There’s always one winner. Shit like that wasn’t a winner’s mentality. A winner mentality is . sacrificing numbers to save people rather than sacrificing people to save numbers. You had a lot of low points before you succeeded but you remained close to the concept of helping others. Your father would have just killed the right people. Force your way to the top. You both exhausted yourselves to the bone but your work ethic is what set you apart. Working hard to make others happy, even if it’s a sick twisted way of happiness, was much better than working hard to make others miserable.
Looking around you smiled to yourself as you thought, this is going better than I imagined...but neither of them are here yet…
“I rewatched EXO’s performance for like the 5th time and my Sehunnie looked radiant!” Damon gushed at you three. Maya took a sip of her 5th drink of the night as she nodded.
“Sehun is EXO right?” Ronnie asked cluelessly. You shot him a disapproving glance and smacked his arm.
“Didn’t I tell you to read up on our clients before coming here?” You hissed at him. He shrugged and rubbed the arm you assaulted.
“I tried but there were too many!”
“Youuu are juh lazy! Hck, that’s just disrup...disra…hck...disrepectful,” Maya slurred through hiccups. The three of you looked at her weirdly.
“Had enough to drink there?” Ronnie retaliated.
“Fuck are you talking about?” she growled at him, taking another sip. “I’ll...hck...drink any of you over a table!”
“I think you mean under,” Damon corrected.
“I don’t wanna go under a table with you...no offense...”
“Wait what?”
It was hard to pay them any mind at this point. You pulled your phone out for what seemed like the millionth time and studied the screen. Still no texts from either of them, you thought. Maybe the presents were a little much.
“Don’t worry hck, (Y/N),” Maya hiccuped as she put a hand on your shoulder. “They’re probably just busy.”
“Yea, don’t stress it too much,” Damon added looking over at you sweetly. Ronnie scratched his head.
“Excuse me guys, someone at the bar is making a deal. I’m going to take care of it,” Ronnie said proudly. He turned to you and pointed. “Damon is right by the way, don’t stress it too much because tonight is a big night.”
You couldn’t help it though. You spent hours trying to come up with a reason as to why neither of them had called or texted you. Telling yourself that they were busy wasn’t good enough at this point. That was the impatient side of you though. You shook the thoughts off and tried to focus at the party at hand.
“YOONGI!” Maya squealed as she grabbed your arm. You looked over at the entrance and there they were. All 7 of them. And Jin looked just as mesmerizing as he did on your phone a few hours ago. It was difficult to resist studying his features. He looked a bit worn out, his hair was somewhat unkempt, parted in the middle as a few strands hung over his forehead. You noticed his eyes were darting around the room and the lit up when he saw the food being brought out to the guests. You couldn’t help but laugh as he tapped Hobi, eagerly telling him about his discovery. Hobi wasn’t paying him any mind. He and Yoongi were talking amongst themselves about finding the best place to sit. Jimin and Namjoon studied to room, examining the enviornment and everyone in it. Jungkook clung onto Tae’s arm, as they both were shocked at the scene playing before them.
“Let’s go!” you said as you grabbed Maya and started your way over to them.
“Woah! Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Damon called out. You stopped in your tracks and turned on your heel, Maya sloppily mirroring your action.
“I’m going to...uhh...meet with our guests.”
“No, no. You said before ‘I’m not going to have time to talk to him!’ and here you are running off like little bitches!” You glared at him as he spoke.
“Come onnnnn! I wanna see Yoongiiiiii!” Maya whined.
“It’d be rude not to greet our clients. Plus, a certain someone isn’t here yet so what’s the harm?” You said, putting your hand up at Maya to shut her up. Damon groaned and rolled his eyes.
“Fine. But make it quick!”
“I’ll be right back I promise!” You said gleefully as you made a beeline toward the 7 men.
“Yoongi!” Maya gushed as she walked up to him. “You were amazing!”
“You all were! Ugh, every performance of yours always surpasses the last,” you doted. As you looked at them, they reciprocated a look of timidness. Something you hadn’t seen since the first time you met them. They were uncomfortable, scratching the back of their heads, avoiding you gaze. Namjoon smiled awkwardly and looked immediately at Maya, as if he couldn’t look at you for long.
“Thank you so much, we really...appreciate that,” the leader said, almost robotically.
“O...kay,” Maya retorted, taken a back by their behavior. “You guys hungry or something because you’re acting a little...strange…”
“No we’re not!” Yoongi said confidently, turning to face the other men as he grilled them. They all came out of a slump suddenly. “We’re fine right.”
“Perfect! We’re awesome…” Jimin’s voice trailed off and that sweet smile fading.
“Right,” Maya continued. “Let me show you guys were you’re sitting…” Maya tried to hide her intoxication very well. You surprised at how convincing she was. It was like she didn’t even have a drop of liquor. Is this bitch insane or like...anyway. They all walked passed you, following Maya into the hall. You felt Jin’s eyes on you, stopping infront of you as the rest of the men walked around you.
“(Y/N), can I talk to you?”
Well fucking finally.
“Yes! Um…let’s step over here,” you motioned him into the coat room accross from you.
“In there?” He asked almost as if he was offended. You laughed and grabbed his wrist. “(Y/N), I don’t think that’s—“
“Hey boss,” you heard from behind you.
“Yes Ronnie?”
“I need your help translating...wait where are you going?” You rolled your head back in frustration and groaned.
“No where anymore, I’ll be right there…” he nodded slowly as he looked at Jin.
“Right...just um...hurry please,” he stuttered as he backed away slowly. You look at Jin with defeat and he just inhaled slowly as you let go of his wrist.
“These things are kinda crazy for me,” you said admittingly. “I kinda have to split myself into 4 people and it’s just a bit stressful. But I’m sure you probably had a stressful night too even though you did amazing and you looked brilliant and stunning and manly…” you couldn’t stop yourself from talking and with every compliment you gave him, his face softened. It left you breathless. “...and now I’m rambling I’m sorry.”
“No, (Y/N). You’re fine,” Jin smiled faintly at you as he grabbed your hand and squeezed it lightly. “You listened to me ramble for a whole week and a half. I can tell you’re nervous.” You raised your eyebrows at his statement. Scoffing and laughing you pushed your hair behind your ear and crossed your arms.
“Me? Nervous? No...just...okay I’m a wreck but I know what will make me feel better.”
“Tell me, jagi.”
“Did you like the present?” He looked down, that faint smile disappeared for a bit but returned almost immediately.
“I loved it.”
That’s it? You thought. All that searching for that half assed answer. You tried to hide the disappointment in your face but he noticed.
“(Y/N)...I’m gonna go wait with the rest of the guys. But I really do have to talk to you soon.”
“Yea, sure. You’re acting awfully weird. You and the rest of the boys. Is everything okay? It was the flowers. They were too much right?”
“No, jagi. It wasn’t the flow—“
“I should have gotten something for you all. Ugh, now I feel like an asshole!”
“It’s not that either.”
“Boss,” Ronnie interrupted as he put a hand on your shoulder. “I really need you.” You sighed and nodded.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can, okay tesoro?” Jin rubbed the back of his head as you assured him.
“Okay. Just...hurry please?”
“What’s the rush?” You giggled as you walked away.
“I think you know why…” he said faintly, barely able to catch what he said as you walked away with Ronnie.
After you finished assisting Ronnie with a transaction, you started back for BTS’ table but you were taken away by another transaction. Soon after another. And another. You needed to think of a plan to escape. If not, you weren’t going to be able to talk to Jin before Chanyeol showed up. Looking at Damon fixing one of your worker’s hair, it suddenly dawned on you.
“Damon!” You called out to him as you approached him. “I need a favor.” He raised a finger at you and quickly returned to the worker who’s rose bun was being adjusted.
“Okay Hunny, you’re good as new. Go get them!” He said to her in encouragingly. She sweetly thanked him and ran off. “Now what can I do for you?” He snapped as he turned to you.
“I need you to watch the floor. I need to step ou—“
“You’re really asking for a lot,” he said eyeing you up and down. “Look at this place. At this time. It’s only going to get busier and you want to leave. What for?” You bit your lip before you answered.
“Well I was trying to talk to Jin and Ronnie pulled me away. He was just about to tell me about the present and—“
“No offense, (Y/N), But you need to let the present thing go,” he snarked, scanning the room to see if everything was visually okay.
“No Damon. It’s not even that...they were acting weird.”
“Weird how?”
“I don’t know. Like they couldn’t look at me. And Jin just looked...upset.”
“Maybe they’re tired?” Damon shrugged.
“No something is up. I can feel it,” you shook your head and gave Damon pleading eyes. “I’ll let you and Sehun go in the closet for 15 mins when they get here! Please!”
“Make it 25 and you’ve got yourself a deal,” he said flatly as he tried to haggle with you.
“Ugh! Fine. Can I go now?”
“Get lost,” he retorted, walking away unbothered. You smiled as you put your phone out, opening up a new message.
You:
Get on the elevator and go up to the roof. I’ll meet you there in a few.
Your heart skipped a beat as you saw the ellipses that indicated he was typing. It wasn’t very long until he responded.
Seokjin:
Got it. On my way.
Fixing your gaze in his direction, you saw him say a few words to the other members at the table as he made his way to elevator.
“Hey! (Y/N)! I have a potential client, can you check them out?” You heard one of your hunnies say behind you. A sigh escaped your lips as you turned around to face him.
“Let’s go sweetheart.”
This was the last transaction you made before you snuck off into the elevator.
x-x-x
“Are you sure this was a good idea?” Minseok whispered behind Junmyeon as they walked into the venue. Junmyeon sighed as he scanned the hall, looking for their usual table.
“What sounds worse? Us coming here together or Chanyeol coming by himself?” Minseok shrugged and shook his head at the leader.
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I don’t always get chicken!” Jongin argued, playfully pushing Kyungsoo as they trailed behind their hyungs.
“Don’t kid yourself. You’ve been salivating the moment I asked you if you were getting fried chicken again,” Jongin pouted at his statement as they followed Minseok and Junmyeon to the table.
“Okay Chanyeol, remember what we talked about,” Jongdae gave him a few pats on the back as he grabbed his arm. “Stay calm and civil. And don’t forget the main points of discussion we went over. This is her job. You knew this is what she did.”
“You’re just feeling upset,” Baekhyun interjected. “Because you love her and it’s been such a long time since you’ve had to...share,” The blonde tilted his head as he finished his statement, looking at Chanyeol in bewilderment. “You sure know how to pick them, don’t you hyung?” Chanyeol let out an obvious fake laugh before cocking his arm back, motioning a punch at Baekhyun. The smaller man sheilded himself and scoffed.
“Alright alright. That’s the complete opposite of what we were aiming for,” Jongdae said as he brought Chaneyol’s arm down.
“Hyung, I don’t know why you don’t just do what I told you--”
“That’s actually the plan, Sehunnie,” Chanyeol put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m not playing around anymore.”
“Wait, what plan?” Jongdae asked.
“A plan to make (Y/N) finally settle down with him,” the maknae doted. The Baekhyun and Jongdae leaned back in shock. The blond putting a hand to his chest while Jongdae’s mouth hung open. Before they could ask him to elaborate, Sehun’s attention was drawn away as he laid eyes on the man he came tonight to see.
“Look it’s Damon. He looks so handsome, ahhhh,” Sehun grabbed at Minseok and shook him. “I want to go talk to him. Come with me guys. Maya’s there, hyung!”
“I-I don’t think that’s a bad idea…” Minseok stuttered, admiring Maya from afar.
“I don’t see (Y/N) with them,” Chanyeol claimed immediately. Baekhyun laughed nervously and squeezed his shoulders. The blonde shot a worried glance at Jongdae.
“She’s probably busy so we should just--”
“Go ask them.”
“No, Chanyeol that’s not what we agreed to do,” Baekhyun quipped, trying to reason with the tall man.
“I’ll be back. Sehun, you coming with me?”
“Sehun, you’re not going to enable this for some...dick?” Baekhyun pleaded with puppy eyes. Sehun bit his lip while looking over at Damon and Chanyeol who was looking rather impatient.
“It’s not some dick, Baekhyun…” Sehun declared as he eyed Damon from across the room. “It’s that dick. Let’s go Minseok.” The maknae dragged his hyung with him as the darted for the crowd of tables in front of them. Chanyeol shrugged and followed them gleefully.
“This isn’t going to end well, is it?” Baekhyun said admittingly watching the three walk away. Jongdae sighed and pat him on the back.
“Let’s at least try to have some food before he makes a mess of things.” Baekhyun sighed at his statement while they started walking over to their table to join the other members.
“I hope I get to at least finish my food.”
X-x-x
“Where’s (Y/N)?” Maya choked as she approached Damon. The man swiftly turned to her and grabbed her shoulders.
“She’s busy, look she got caught up with something and I know you’re drunk but focus because we have a problem and I need you to act right for a second,” Damon shook her causing her to hiccup and shake her head.
“I’m perfectly fine but I think we have another problem,” she giggled, swaying to the side.
“Well what is it?”
“3...2…”
“Damon!” Sehun’s voice caused the neck on Damon’s hair to stand. They’re here, he thought to himself. He mouthed to word ‘fuck’ to Maya before turning to face the maknae. Much to his dismay, he was also greeting by Minseok, who was helping Maya stand as she started for him but tripped and Chanyeol, who looked much more eager than usual.
“Sehun, baby, you were stunning,” Damon gushed as he put a hand on Sehun’s shoulder. Sehun blushed and smiled sweetly, bringing a hand up to his mouth.
“Stop, you’re exaggerating. Look at you though, you look good enough to eat,” Sehun bit his lip as he finished his statement leading Damon into a flirty giggle fit.
“Aw, that’s cute. You guys are adorable. Awww. Hey by any chance, do you know where (Y/N) is?” Chanyeol blurted as he got in between the two men. Sehun shot him a glare before Maya made her was over to them with Minseok at her side.
“Damon was about to tell me cuz, hck...I saw her go in the elevator and never come back,” She pouted, crossing her arms. All the color left Damon’s face as she uttered those slurred words. Chanyeol looked over at him slowly, cocking his eyebrow at him.
“So where did she go?”
“Chanyeol!” Minseok scolded.
“It’s fine, Minseok,” Damon chuckled nervously as he turned to Chanyeol. “I actually...don’t know. She said she had to step out because she wasn’t feeling good...she um...needed some air.”
“Is she alright?” Sehun asked innocently.
“Yea, she’s just nervous that’s all,” Damon admitted. “She’ll be right back, Chan--”
“Thanks anyway Damon. I guess I’m just going to have to go look for her. I’ve got something to fix. I’ll see you guys in a bit,” Chanyeol said quickly as he walked away.
“I...uh..I don’t think you should do that Chanyeol!” Damon stuttered as he followed behind him.
“And why not?” He was on a mission and he kept walking even if Damon trailed him.
“Because…” he struggled to find the right words to rebuttle with. “If she’s sick you might get sick too!” Chanyeol swatted a hand at him and shook his head.
“Well if she’s sick, I should be there to take care of her right? Besides I’ll be fine,” were the last words he said before he got in the elevator. “You coming with me?” Chanyeol asked, motioning for Damon to go inside. Damon groaned and shook his head.
“No!”
“I’ll see you in a bit then,” Chanyeol said sweetly as the door closed in Damon’s face. He threw his hands up in the air and walked back to the venue, making his way toward Sehun once again.
“What is Chanyeol going to fix?” Damon demanded as he grabbed Sehun’s arm. He looked over at Minseok petrifyingly.
“What’s going on?” Maya broke the silence as she leaned up against the older man.
“So...something beyond (Y/N)’s control put her in a very shitty position,” Minseok started nervously, trying to be as tactful as possible. “And I’m not sure if the other party is here but if he is, things are basically going to end very badly tonight and--”
“Chanyeol knows about Jin. The present’s got mixed up and they confronted each other. I’m kinda mad I wasn’t there but Jongdae said they almost fought and--”
“WHAT?!” Maya and Damon cried in unison as they stood next to each other.
“Yea! It was crazy. (Y/N) fucked herself over,” Sehun scratched the back of his head and looked over to Minseok who was glaring at him.
“You didn’t have to say it like that. Have some class, there’s a lady here,” he said motioning toward Maya.
“Please, look at how trashed she is.”
“Hey!”
“Alright! So basically what you’re telling me is that the worst possible thing that could have happened today…”
“I’m afraid so, babe,” Sehun sighed and shifted in his place.
“Are they even here?” Minseok asked, his eyes darting around.
“Who? BTS?” Damon asked as the older man nodded.
“Yea, they’re allll the way over there!” Maya pointed out to the other side of the venue where they could barely be seen.
“(Y/N)’s not that dumb after all,” Minseok commented. “I would have never know they were here.”
“Is Jin sitting with them?” Sehun asked nervously, turning his head. Damon frantically grabbed his attention away, hoping they wouldn’t notice the other man’s absence.
“Why don’t you guys order your food and I’ll find out? That way you don’t have to worry too much tonight. I know you guys must be tired and hungry,” Damon looked over at Maya with leading eyes.
“Oh...OH! Yea...yea...you guys should go eat and...rest. We’ll take care of it. I’m pretty sure I saw him there before,” she scoffed out a laugh, trying her hardest to go along with the plan. “Chanyeol’s gonna be back soon and no food? You guys should probably order him something.”
“Good idea, Maya. You should get wasted more often.”
“You know what Damon--”
“You guys are right,” Sehun sighed and looked over at Damon. “We’ll talk later, cutie.” He winked at him before he walked away with his hyung at his side.
“She’s fucked isn’t she?” Maya whispered watching them make their way back to their table.
“So royally fucked.”
X-x-x
The minute you heard the elevator ding, you ran out of it with anticipation. Millions of different dialogue echoed in your mind and you mentally wanted to rehearse them all before you got to Jin. It was killing you not understanding why they were acting so strange. All this time you were hoping to see Jin with the utmost glee, smiling uncontrollably because of his new figurine but…he was cold and unmoving. Taking a deep breath in, you pushed the door open.
“Jin,” you said breathlessly as you stepped out to the roof. He turned around and gazed at you, that half smiled returned. But you ignored it as you walked over to him, taking him into an embrace. “I miss you.” You felt his body against yours. It was stiff and tense for a second. He brought his hands to your back and barely squeezed you against him.
“I missed you too,” he whispered. It was cold outside in the Mid December weather but you couldn’t help but feel colder in his embrace. This wasn’t like Jin. By now, he’d be showering you with kisses, running his hands up your sides so he could hear you giggle into his neck. You pulled away and furrowed your eyes at him.
“What did you need to talk to me about? Can I know why you’re being so distant with me?” you confronted him. He sighed and took your hand in his.
“(Y/N), before I start. I just want to say I knew deep down inside me that you were seeing other men...I just didn’t want to believe it,” his words pierced through you like a thousand icicles darting through your body. Even if you knew what you wanted to say there the lump at your throat weighed down on you vocally.
“What are you talking about?” you managed to croak out. Jin’s eyes darkened as he narrowed them to you. Looking down solemnly, he licked his lips before meeting your gaze.
“There has been a mix up. I recieved Chanyeol’s present tonight. And he recieved mine.”
“What?” There was a ringing in your ears, like the one after a gun fires. You heard exactly what he said but you were hoping and praying that you were wrong. This wasn’t happening. You tried to pull way from him and remove your hands from his grasped but he grabbed on your fingers tightly and brought you close to him, the look of melancholy never leaving his face.
“You love him, don’t you?” He hesitated, not wishing for you to answer. You felt that stinging in your eyes. Tears were threatening to form. You didn’t want to look away because you knew for certain they stain your cheeks. Instead you stared at him, torturing yourself as you saw the gloomy look in his eyes.
“Jin…” was all you could utter out. He sighed as his nostrils flared.
“(Y/N), I have no right to be angry with you. And I’m not,” he said reassuringly. It didn’t work. You knew he wasn’t mad. He was hurt, and you were the reason. All you wanted to do was disappear. But he continued. “It’s just...if you love him, you should be with him. Stop what you’re doing and...don’t play games with people’s hearts…”
“You think I’m playing with your heart?” you asked defensively, taken aback by your response, he let your hands go and crossed his arms.
“So what would you call it? Hm?” he leaned in as if expecting you to answer but before you could say anything, he carried on. “You led me to believe that the connection I felt with you was being returned. Like you actually cared about me. The reality is your heart belongs to someone else...and I’m just…” he paused as he looked you in the eyes. “I’m just a client.”
“You’re wrong,” you snapped as you walked closer to him. Trying to put a hand up to his cheek, he stopped you by grabbing your wrist and shaking his head. “Jin, listen…” the sadness heavily coated your words as you began to explain. “I do love Chanyeol. He...he helped me leave my ex. Gave me a chance to be myself, truly. It was the new beginning I truly needed. Not the one the ex promised me...But you,” you cocked your head and sighed deeply. “You gave me tenderness. A softness I’ve never felt before. I’m just confused...because yes, I do love him but…” you looked at him with adoration and sincerity. He parted his lips as he listened to you intently. “When I’m with you, my whole world is at peace. You give me serenity…and I...I love that.” You notice his shoulders drop as they eased up at your words. He brought a hand up to his forehead, pushing some stray strands of hair out of his face.
“If that’s true...maybe...you don’t love him,” he confessed, biting his lip while rubbing his arm. “How can you love someone and have feelings for another? It doesn’t make sense to me, (Y/N) because…” he grabbed your hands again and brought them up to his lips, kissing them as he looked at you with pain in his eyes. “I can’t think of anyone else I would want to be with...because I lo--because I have you.” You didn’t know if he fumbled with his words because he was nervous or if he was overwhelmed with emotion, either way you didn’t know how to answer his question. It didn’t make sense to you either. There were days you wanted to lay with both of them in your arms. You thought you were going crazy, clinically even. Biting your lip, you ran a thumb over the back of his hands as he gripped your fingers tightly.
“I’m sorry, Jin...I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry I’m not perfect--”
“But you are perfect,” he cut you off, knowing that tears were soon to fall if you continued. That was the last thing he wanted to do. “You’re perfect for me. You have some flaws, that’s all. But we all do. That doesn’t change anything.” You felt him let a hand go and his palm cupping your cheek. His thumb ran over your lips, as if to catch every breath that tickled against his touch. You leaned against his hand and closed your eyes for a second.
“My flaws are rather…” you looked away with shame. “...repulsive.” His hands made their way to your chin, grabbing it and turning you to face him as he shook his head.
“I wouldn’t call them repulsive…” Jin’s eyes changed instantly and you wanted to melt into them. They were soft again, the purest adoration glossed his irises as he put them on you while he studied your face. “Nonetheless...they are fixable. I know they are.”
“You’re always to sure of yourself. Why, Jin? Why do you still bother with me? You could have a decent normal girl. But you chose me...just…”
“Shhh,” he ran his thumb against your lips again. Shuddering at his touch you couldn’t help but yearn for his lips brushing up against yours. “That brings me to the next thing I need to tell you…”
“Get your hands off of her,” the familiar voice caused your heart to drop to your stomach.
“Not you again,” Jin rolled his head back as Chanyeol started to inch close to you.
What the fuck is happening? Your stomach felt uneasy and a strange dizziness overtook you. They were both in front of you, Chanyeol glaring Jin as he walked over to you both. Jin let you go as he turned to him, folding his arms on his chest.
“You know you’re really fucking dumb for coming to this party,” he spat as he stopped in front Jin, towering over him.
“Chanyeol, stop--” you pleaded as he brought a hand up to silence you. He turned his head at you slightly before speaking.
“I’ll deal with you later,” He put all his attention on Jin now, who was rolling his eyes at him.
“If she’s even with you later,” he retorted. Chanyeol growled as he got in Jin’s face. Nothing prepared you for the moment he started to yell.
“Listen you little fuck!” Jin put his arm out, stopping Chanyeol in his tracks. The taller man shoved Jin’s are to the side as he continued. “You’ll never be anything to her! You just make her money!”
“That’s enough!” you bellowed as you tried to get between them, both of them ignoring you as you followed them. Chanyeol was backing Jin up against a shed behind you.
“I’m the one she loves! You should know since you read my letter. You enjoyed that right?” Chanyeol sneered at Jin. Jin scoffed at him and started to push his chest into Chanyeol. You didn’t know what to do except plead for them to stop again, to which they ignored you.
“You think that’s love?” Jin cocked his head and looked at Chanyeol with disgust. “The way you fuck her?”
“You don’t know anything about us!” Chanyeol growled, grabbing at Jin’s collar. Jin forcibly removed Chanyeol’s hand and smirked at him in sarcastic amusement.
“I know you fuck her like an animal,” Jin remarked, looking at Chanyeol with disdain. Chanyeol just laughed, throwing his head back.
“You’re fucking right,” he inched close to Jin’s face so that he could feel his breath on his cheek while he spoke. “And I’m proud of that.”
“Wow,” Jin marveled sarcastically as he clapped. “That’s something to be proud of isn’t it, jagi,” Jin looked over at your horrified expression.
“Will the both of you please just stop?”
“You know you can stand there and be proud of being a fucking barbarian. Because me and her don’t fuck. We make love. Tell me Chanyeol,” he put his hand up onto Chanyeol’s shoulder as he continued. “Have you ever made love to her?”
Chanyeol furiously pushed his hand away from his shoulder. He furrowed his eyebrows at him and nodded at him slowly. “Make love?” he said mocklingly. “Has she even told you she loves you?” You saw Jin’s facial expression change. The confident cocky asshole gimmick he was playing to toy with Chanyeol’s hot headed remarks, that was gone. His nostrils flared and the color of his neck deepened into a dark red shade.
“You know what Chanyeol? She hasn’t told me yet, but she will,” with that statement, he brought his hands up to Chanyeol’s chest and pushed him backwards. Chanyeol mirrored the same anger as he almost fell back. He made his way over to Jin with fury in his eyes.
“Why the fuck,” he puffed his chest at Jin, sending him back a few steps before he continued. “...would she fall for you when she has me?” Chanyeol pushed him again, but Jin collected himself fairly quickly before looking at Chanyeol with a devious smile.
“I guess it would be for the same reason she crawls into my bed even though she already has you.”
It happened quicker than you could process it. Chanyeol brought his fist up and you screamed in panic as you saw it collide with Jin’s jaw. As Jin fell to the floor, you rushed to him.
“THIS IS OVER!” You screamed at Chanyeol as you helped Jin up even though he ignored your help. Jin scrambled to his feet, looking at you with a sense of eager approval to lunge at Chanyeol. “Stop it now! This is fucki--Jin...you’re bleeding…” you choked out as you saw his red stained teeth. He frantically brought a hand up to his mouth and studied his fingers. His eyes widened as he saw the blood coat his fingertips.
“I…” he stuttered as he looked at both of you. His whole face was crimson red now...he looked as if he was going to ignore any of your protests and just start throwing fists at Chanyeol, but instead, he turned and darted to the door to go back inside, leaving you and Chanyeol out in the cold.
No...I need to fix this.
“Jin, wait--” you called out to him as he disappeared behind the door. You heard Chanyeol’s footsteps behind you as he growled.
“You’re really going to go after him, (Y/N),” he snarled at you. You turned to him and shot him a terrifying gaze that took him aback.
“You wait here, I’m not done with you,” you turned on your heels and letting Jin’s name escape your lips again as you followed him back inside.
“Jin!….Jin!” You called out to him as you ran, he was nearing the elevator. Trying with all your might, you sped up to him and grabbed his arm. “JIN!”
“How could you love a psycho like him?!” he barked at you, spinning around to face you as you stopped him. You looked at his lips, the blood was pooling around the edge of his mouth.
“You need to get this checked out. Are you in pain?” The concern in your voice didn’t phase Jin. He just grunted in frustration as he used his sleeve to wipe the blood from his mouth.
“Fuck! I don’t care about that right now! I just wanna go back and--”
“No! Please don’t,” you pleaded desperately, holding him back as he tried to push past you so he could go back. “I’m going to deal with him. I’m begging you just go downstairs and get yourself checked out.” He sighed and stood in front of you, disappointment emanating off him.
“Jagi, I--”
“I know, tesoro. I know,” you comforted him, as you put a hand on his arm. “But I have to clean this up...I created this mess.”
“No, I’m not leaving you alone with this lunatic,” he shook his head and grabbed your wrist as he dragged you toward the elevator. “Let’s go,” he commanded as he pressed the button.
“Jin! No, stop!” wriggling your arm free from his grasp, he turned to you puzzled at your protest.
“You mean to tell me you’re going to stay here?! With him!? Didn’t you see what he did to me?!” He yelled pointing to his mouth. All you could do was hang your head low and sigh. He scoffed at you and laughed mockingly as the elevator dinged. He put two fingers under you chin, bringing your gaze up to him as he looked at you with discontent. “You know what? You can sit here and abuse yourself. Lower your standards because you don’t think you’re good enough. But you’re only cheating yourself out of happiness. You’re miserable and I don’t surround myself with miserable people. Goodbye, (Y/N).”
The pang in your heart almost caused you to double over. What you wanted to do was agree with him, follow him into the elevator and leave this problem behind. But you knew the instant guilt and regret you would feel leaving Chanyeol behind. Plus, you needed to set him straight. It was about time you did something about his recklessness.
“Jin, please,” you begged as he started to go into the elevator. You grabbed his arm again as you did before. “Don’t do this, just hear me out--”
“Don’t touch me,” he spat at you, moving away from you with force before stepping in the elevator. Your heart broke into pieces as the door closed before you, watching Jin throw daggers at you with his gaze.
There was no time to cry, you told yourself. That’s all you wanted to do at this point. Fall to the floor and drown yourself in self pity. Tell yourself how stupid you were for doing this to yourself. For doing this to them. What were you thinking? How could you put yourself in this position? Is this business really worth it?
But there was no time.
You turned on your heels and headed back for the door that lead you outside. With a vendetta on your agenda, it was imperative that you confront Chanyeol about his impulsive actions once and for all.
When you got outside, you saw the tall man pacing back and forth, rubbing the knuckles on the fist he assaulted Jin with.
“Aw baby does that hurt?” you said tantalizing him. He looked up and you and nodded.
“Yea actually it does.”
“Good! What the fuck were you thinking?!” His face contorted as you yelled at him.
“Me?!” he leaned in and his eyes widened. “Did you hear what he fucking said to me?!” You narrowed you eyes at him and shook your head violently.
“So?! That doesn’t give you permission to hit anyone! What gives you the right?!”
“The minute he came between us--”
“What US?” you screamed frantically as you cut him off. He took a step back, surprised at the tone of your voice. “What us, Chanyeol? I can’t be yours. I can’t be his. Hell, I can’t even be me!” At this point, your voice was shaky and you couldn’t control your emotions. Starting for the other man, you pointed at him and wagged your finger. “I told you,” you brought your finger down and ran your other hand through your hair. “I told you not to fall for me and you didn’t listen.”
“So you’re really going to stand there and pretend you aren’t practically mine,” he sneered. “ After everything (Y/N),” he squinted his eyes as his lips curled in anger. “Everything I did, Everything we said to each other. Why do I constantly have to fight for you? First with Jiyoung, now with him!” he screamed in disgust as he neared toward you pointing in the direction of the door you had previously walked in from. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“I didn’t ask for any of it!” you fumed at him, meeting his anger with your own. “I’m not telling your to fight for me! And I’m not doing anything to you! At this point you’re doing it to yourself!”
“You’re just selfish,” Chanyeol roared as he brought his face close to yours just as he did to Jin. “You don’t care about him or me. You just want your fucking money. That’s all it’s ever been, right?!” That was it. He pushed you over the edge. The fire in your eyes exploded as you pushed him. His eyes widened at you as you started for him again.
“That was the fucking plan! Literally that was all I ever wanted, Chanyeol. From the minute I met you. Falling for you? I NEVER wanted that. I never wanted this. You seem to fucking forget!” You brought your fists up to his chest and started banging them against them as you spoke. “I’m...a...fucking….hooker…” He simply looked down at you in bewilderment and anguish. Soon enough, you felt him bring his hand behind your neck, squeezing your with force as he dragged you.
“Oh yea?” he growled in your ear as you started approaching the edge of the building. You brought your hand up to his arm as you felt him unwillingly guide you.
“What are you doi--Ah!” you yelped as he bent you over the side, your hands scraping against the concrete ledge of the building. His hand traveled up your leg, you shivered under his touch as he pushed your dress back, revealing yourself to him.
“This is the last time…” he brought his hand to your panties and pulled them down. The sound of his belt jingling followed after. “The last time I’ll be fucking you like this.”
“What?”
He ignored you as you felt his length invade you suddenly. A loud moan fell from your lips and you arched your back as he let his cock rest inside you, stretching you out before he started to pound you. His thrusts were nothing you’ve ever felt before from him. They were faster than normal, sloppier than what you were used to. You clutched tightly to the edge of the building, your arms scraping against the concrete. The sound of his body slapping up against you, your yelps of ecstasy and his husky grunts echoed down below, the noise filling your ears as it bounced of the buildings surrounding you.
When you felt his head crashing into your spot, your eyes rolled to the back of your head, causing you to back your hips into him. His hands gripped at your hips as his pace got stronger. Your whole body was a quivering mess as you felt yourself coming to your climax. His name spilling from your lips repeatedly as you began to melt against him, cum dripping down your legs.
“Stop,” you whimpered as he continued to unmercilessly thrash into you. His hands snaked up your spine and stopped in between your shoulders. Suddenly, you felt your hair being twisted into his hand. Another whimper escaped your lips as he pulled you close to him by your hair. Leaning his body half way, he rested his forehead onto your temple.
“Do you really want me to stop?” he groaned into you ear as his free hand spanked your bottom. You cried out in pain and bit your lip.
“N-...no.”
“That’s what I thought.”
That free hand now snaked around you and grabbed at your breast that was bouncing to the rhythm of his thrusts. You wanted to squeeze your walls against his throbbing cock as it moved inside you ferociously but today his cock swelled inside you so much, you could barely concentrate. His organ started to pulsate violently, indicating he was close to finishing. He let go of your hair, causing you to fall foward as he grabbed at your waist again, guiding you up and down his cock as his thrust became more frantic.
“Fuck, (Y/N)...I’m going to cum...uhhhh…” he husked lowly as you felt him explode inside you. The feeling of his load melting against your spot sent a chilling sensation of euphoria throughout every nerve of your body. You came against him, both of your juices cocktailing inside you together. As he pulled out, your body collapsed to the ground, not being able to feel any sensation in your lower body. Half expecting him to help you up, you looked up at his as he buckled his pants. His eyes told the story of sorrow and you could have sworn tears started to well up in them.
“Chan..Chanyeol…” you stuttered as you sat there breathlessly. “This is the last time?” He crouched down to your level and brought a hand up to your face.
“Yes baby...this is the last time I fuck you like this…” He saw the plethora of emotions run through your face. You were certain he was going to let those tears free from his eyes but he chuckled. “Baby don’t cry. You know I don’t like seeing you like this.” Even though he was talking to you, deep down you know he was telling himself this. Not that he was wrong for saying it to you anyway.
“So then what do you mean by last time?” you whispered as you sat there still, unable to move. He smirked and got up, looking down at your defeated form before speaking.
“I’m not going to pay you anymore, (Y/N).”
You couldn’t believe what you had just heard. Did he really just say that? That’s not how you worked. That’s not how business with Starlight Catering played out. How dare he even think that’s an option? What is he trying to do? You were so lost in your thought you didn’t noticed that Chanyeol had started to back away. Before you knew it, he was by the door, leaving you alone on the roof.
As you sat there, looking at your panties that were around your ankles, you just wanted to sob uncontrollably. The type of cry that left you hyperventilating, where after a while you had no more tears left in you. It was all over. Jin hated you. Chanyeol didn’t want you anymore or so it seemed. You couldn’t handle the consequences. Maybe if you would have prepared for this like Maya and Damon warned you, this wouldn’t have happened.
Damon.
When it finally dawned on you that you had left him to fend for the party, you quickly got on your feet, pulling up your panties and flattening your dress as you ran toward the door. Just like other instances where you wanted to break down, you didn’t. Your business was always there to keep you away from doing so. In many way, you thought, Starlight Catering was your real lover. The strongest one out of all of them. He conquered over you, never letting you love anyone. Yes, let’s blame it on the business instead of yourself…because that always worked out.
X-x-x
When you walked out of the elevator, you sighed in relief as everything was the way you left it. Everyone looked just as entertained as they looked before. You scanned the hall, looking for any sight of Maya or Damon.
“Hey Carla!” you called out to one of you workers. She smiled sweetly as she walked over to you. “Have you seen Maya or Damon, hunny?” Carla brought a finger up to her chin and tapped against it pensively.
“Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen Maya in a while. But Damon was just here. He was escorting EXO out.”
“They left?!”
“Yea…” Carla bit her lip. “Is everything okay? They usually stay till the end.” You inhaled and put an hand on her shoulder.
“Everything is fine,” you lied. “How are you doing tonight though? Everything okay with you?” She nodded delightfully.
“Incredible actually. I got 3 clients so far! And I think one of them I can persuade into becoming a regular.” You smiled dotingly at her.
“That’s great, sweetie. Keep up the good work! Let me let you get back to it actually,” Your worker beamed at your words as she hugged you. Walking off with an extra pep in her step shortly after. As you watched her walk away, you saw Damon trailing behind another worker, fixing his bow before sending him off.
“Damon!” you called out to him. He turned to you with a horrified expression, an expression you were tired of seeing tonight, quite frankly. “What the fuck happened?! They left?! And where’s Maya?!”
“Girl…” he started as he put his hands on his hips. “Shit really--”
“Yes! Shit hit the fan! I know! Can y’all stop saying that? Tell me what happened!”
“Alright alright,” Damon replied, putting his hand on his chest as he cleared his throat. “So this is what happened in order. Jin came downstairs right? Walked over to BTS and said something to Namjoon. They got up and started to leave. Let me for one say that Maya was a MESS and Yoongi offered to sober her up at their dorm and make sure she gets home. She fucked up a few transactions and I didn’t think she could do anything without looking like a drunken mess so I figured, just kill two birds with one stone. I charged him for tonight because I know a guy like that is going to take her to bed,” he looked at you slyly before you raised your eyebrow and motioned for him to continue. “So that’s where Maya went...and that’s how they left.”
“What about EXO?!”
“I’m getting to that!” He reprimanded, shooting you a defensive look. “Anyway, Chanyeol came down stairs and I swear to everything, he was crying. The guys saw him and they just kinda...left. Sehun came up to me and said they had to go. It kind of happened all at once and me and Ronnie were trying our best to keep up with all the girls so I just walked them out and came back…” his voice trailed off as he examined you. “But what the fuck happened to you? EXO told me about the presents. I almost threw up out of fucking anxiety and shit (Y/N), you look like hell…” You glared at him quickly but the glare faded as you brought your hand up to your head.
“Where do I even begin?” You started explaining what had happened previously. From when you spoke to Jin, to when Chanyeol walked in, to the confrontation they had, to Chanyeol punching him. Your eyes started to feel like they were swelling again as you continued to explain what Jin had said to you, then the fight you had with Chanyeol. How he said that he wasn’t going to pay you for sex. You couldn’t stop talking.
“I lost them both, Damon. I really fucked up. I don’t know what to do. All I want to do is hide. And I want to start crying but I can’t--fuck,” your voice started to crack, feeling the sob sitting in the back of your throat. Damon looked at you sadly as he put his hands to your biceps.
“Sweetie, hunny, no. Not now anyway,” he pleaded sympathetically. He knew your world was collapsing at your feet. It took him all the effort in his body to show you all the empathy he could muster. “Everything is going to be fine.”
“I know you said you didn’t want clean the mess when this all happened,” you choked as you held back tears. “But I really need you right now and--”
“Bitch you know I was mad when I said that,” he spat playfully. “No, dumbass. I’m not gonna let you deal with this on your own. BUT we still have a party to tend to so...,” he pointed at the hall and raised his brow.
“I know...I know.” He sighed and handed you your invoice book and business cell phone.
“Let’s just wrap this up so we can go home and heal,” his voice was gentle and soothing. You put an arm around him and squeezed him.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” you sighed.
“I’m thinking we should get into our PJ’s when we get home, put on The Office and eat ice cream til we get fat and you can cry for hours about how you fucked up. And I can tell you it’s going to be fine for how every many hours you decide to spend crying.” You looked up at him gratefully.
“Bless you.”
He shrugged and patted your bum.
“Let’s kill it now. Make some coin so we can go home.”
A/N ;; The story is going to take a different turn now. Are you prepared for what happens next? Cuz I don’t even think I am idjsojfsdiojfijds As always thank you for reading and leave me a comment letting me know what you think <3
#bts#bts fanfic#bts fanfction#kim seokjin#seokjin#jin#bts jin#bts jimin#park jimin#bts suga#min yoongi#bts v#taehyung#bts jungkook#jeon jungkook#bts jhope#jung hoseok#bts fluff#bts angst#bts smut#bts and exo#exo and bts#exo#exo fanfic#exo fan fiction#chanyeol#park chanyeol#xiumin#kim minseok#chen
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A Lucky Night- Chapter 2
Here is my multi-chapter pic featuring characters I do not own from Criminal Minds, Alvez x Garcia, in a story of my own creation. It picks up at the end of 13.5.
Warning: Some chapters contain smut. While many do not, the ones that do are definitely 18+, NSFW.
Please feel free to re-blog and review! Please ask for permission before posting on any other platform.
Chapter 2
Luke chuckled, shaking his head as he closed her door and rounded the truck. It never failed to cause his heart rate to speed up a bit when she got her fiery side up. The Chica might have some hot Latina blood in her after all, Swedish blonde looks aside. And what he wouldn’t give to have her call him Daddy, or Papi rather, in another context.
Luke leveraged the heavy steel door, and pulled himself up into the cab next to her. “So, it’s back to Newbie, is it Chica? I thought we were past that, Penelope?” Luke asked, half teasing, half serious. He turned the key in the ignition, and the truck rumbled to life. His gaze slid back over to her as he fastened his own seatbelt. The sound of her name on his lips sent a shiver down her spine. She secretly loved when he called her Chica, but there was something intrinsically sensual- some hidden erotic promise- in the way her first name sounded on the rare occasion he used it. Perhaps it was partially because he seemed to only ever call her Penelope when they were alone. With the rest of the team it was usually Garcia, or Chica when he was being playful.
Turning towards him, she rolled her eyes and retorted, “Yeah, well, that was when you had earned your way into my good graces, mister! However, your charming chivalry just crossed a line into condescending. Even my natural generosity and magnanimity has limits,” Penelope said with a flick of her head that sent her blonde curls bouncing.
Penelope defiantly bit her lip and saw to her own seatbelt, unaware that Luke watched intently as she pulled on it, drawing it across her body and slid the fastener into the buckle. She sighed in frustration when she slid it into the slot, but it wouldn’t catch. She stiffened as his long, tan fingers curled around her slender ones, helping her tilt the fastener to the proper angle and setting it into the buckle so it caught this time.
Luke watched Penelope’s cheeks turn red again. He wondered: had he made her angry? Or was she perhaps blushing, affected by the brush of their hands as he was?
Luke flicked the radio on, as he turned the wheel and pulled the truck out of the parking garage and onto the road, headed towards his house, and her apartment beyond that. He responded to the statement she’d just made. “Well, hermosa, if taking care of you keeps me out of your good graces I suppose I’ll just have to get used to hearing Newbie,” he said with a heavy sigh. Even though he loved the way “Luke” sounded on her lips, he grumbled to himself. He wouldn’t take chances with her life, and he couldn’t seem to reign in his natural inclination to be protective and care for this woman.
The urge had only grown over time, not subsided, especially after their time in the field, and after hearing about what she’d gone through ten years ago. Just thinking again of her being shot… of the way just the reminder of the incident had sent her fleeing from the room and caused any trace of her normal brilliant smile to vanish… caused his hands to tighten on the steering well until his knuckles went entirely white. Some part of his brain registered that the radio was now playing a fairly suggestive song.. “Sweat dripping down our dirty laundry… No, no chance that I'm leaving here without you on me..I, I know, yeah, I already know that there ain't no stopping your plans and those slow hands…” He realized the suggestiveness of the lyrics just at the moment that he realized that he was unconsciously singing along in his low, gravelly baritone. He fell silent abruptly, his head snapping to look at Garcia’s face in time to see her biting on her full, lower lip… her cheeks flushing to match her crimson lipstick as she peered at him from under her eyelashes out of the corner of her eyes.
Penelope couldn’t believe that she was sitting next to Luke “Living Breathing Sex God” Alvez, and he was literally singing some of the most arousing lyrics currently gracing the Billboard charts. And not only was he singing, but his voice literally made her ovaries hurt. He was an excellent singer, and the low voice mixed with that touch of raspy texture could bring any woman age 18 to 80 to their needs to thank God for making such a man and ask His forgiveness for the lusty things they wanted to do to him.
Luke drove in awkward silence, feeling the heat rise up the back of his neck. Before he could think of some way to divert her attention from the awkwardness of the moment, he realized he was about to drive right past the turn for his house. Slamming on the brakes and throwing out a hand in front of her chest to keep her from being thrown forward, he turned the steering wheel hard right, sending the truck around the corner… still going 10 or so miles an hour too fast. He heard Penelope gasp as he felt her breasts press firmly against his outstretched hand. He drew his arm back to his side of the truck as he slowed and pulled into his driveway, once again forcing both the vehicle and his wandering thoughts back under control.
Garcia drew in a sharp breath, shocked that her sinful thoughts had literally been interrupted by the man inadvertently groping her as he tried to keep her from flying forward into the dash. “What in the Sam Hill newbie??! This isn’t the Fast and the Furious, Toretto,” she barked at him, her hand belatedly flying up to grip the dash even though she was entirely secure in her seat.
Luke mumbled, “I’m sorry about that, I almost forgot we were stopping. I didn’t mean to get so distracted…. It was… a long case, that’s it,“ Luke said, hoping she would accept his excuse, and let it drop there. And praying, for Christ’s sake, that she wouldn’t mention his baby-making music serenade…
The truck now firmly parked in the driveway, Luke jumped out and skirted around to the passenger side just in time to help Penelope out. Letting go of her hand quickly, afraid she might read the longing on his face, he closed her door behind her and led the way to his front door.
Penelope stood behind Luke, watching as he pulled his house key from the back pockets of his tight jeans that gave her a rather perfect view of his derriere…. “Focus Garcia! Snap out of it!” she thought to herself. Returning her attention to Luke’s movements as he unlocked his front door and stepped inside, flicking on the porch light as he held the door open, she followed him into his home for the first time.
Luke headed towards the bedroom. “Just let me grab a few things for Roxy and change into something more comfortable, and we can be on our way to your house before any of the other’s show up or the food is delivered,” Luke said over his shoulder. “Make yourself at home. Mi casa is yours, Chica.”
Roxy bounded in, and Penelope crouched down to pet her and give her kisses. Glancing up, she watched Luke disappear into his room, pushing the door behind him. It didn’t close quite all the way, and in the two-inch opening that remained, Penelope caught a glimpse of smooth, tan muscles rippling across Alvez’s back as he pulled off his shirt. “Now THAT is a sight that would give a corpse a heartbeat,” she thought to herself. Realizing she was staring, and practically drooling, Garcia straightened to her feet and strode quickly into the next room. Looking around the living room she found herself in, Penelope took advantage of her first glimpse at where Luke lived.
Reaching out, she flicked the light on and glanced around the room. It was a large room, and in one glance she could tell it suited him. It was spacious, not too cluttered. A large brown leather sofa dominated the wall across from the flat screen TV that hung above the mantle of the brick fireplace. The walls were a muted shade of the brick red color he favored. In the corner, between the fireplace and the French double doors that led to the backyard, lay a humongous denim dog bed, covered and surrounded by a variety of rope chews and dog toys. “He sure does know how to spoil that sweet dog,” she mused to herself.
Penelope strode over to the mantle above the fireplace, her platform heels echoing as she crossed the gorgeous hardware floor. Picking up a frame, she looked down at the lovely, smiling face of the elderly Hispanic woman she assumed to be his mother. She noticed the other woman was lovely, with such kind eyes. She glanced at the other photos arranged in frames: Luke holding Roxy as a puppy, Luke in his dress Army uniform, standing next to his mother at what was either his boot-camp graduation or some recognition ceremony, and lastly a pretty Hispanic woman next to a dashing blonde man, with two brunette girls in matching dresses- his nieces? Penelope set the frame down and spun away from the mantle quickly as she heard footsteps approach, lest he think she was snooping.
Luke stepped into the room, still wearing the dark jeans he’d sported at work but now wearing a tight-fitting cotton v-neck in the same reddish, brick color as the wall. “Hey Chica, I’ve got some stuff for Roxy. If you don’t mind I will feed her dinner at your place so we aren’t further delayed. Anything we need before we head over to your apartment?” Luke asked, pausing just inside the room.
Penelope walked towards him. “Of course! You can bring whatever Roxy needs for a night at my place. I think I have everything we might need before morning- there’s plenty of food on its way, I’ve got a well-stocked liquor cabinet, plenty of comfy seating. All that’s missing is us… I mean, all of us… the team.” Blushing at the intimate wording she’d accidentally slipped into, she continued, “Shall we go now, or are you not done primping yet pretty boy?” Garcia winced as she heard the harsh tone in her own voice. It wasn’t fair that she took out her frustration on Luke. It wasn’t his fault she got flustered, but after that slip of the tongue she needed to distance herself. She watched Luke shake his head, grinning, and sighed in relief. He didn’t seem offended at her sarcastic teasing.
Luke grinned, shaking his head at how easy it was to read her sometimes. Didn’t even take a trained profiler to see she was embarrassed. Taking advantage of her shameful inability to understand Spanish for one whose last name was Garcia, he dared to say what he wished were true. “Allright Chica, vámanos a su casa por nuestro primero noche a juntos.”
Luke shrugged into his leather jacket, grabbed the bag of items for Roxy and led the way to the front door, whistling for Roxy to follow. At the last second, he impulsively grabbed his go bag. He probably wouldn’t need it -not much chance of him making a move, especially with the whole team around. “Who knows if the blonde vixen would even go for me. But maybe with us all drinking I can use that as an excuse to crash on the couch and take Penelope to breakfast in the morning. In the off chance I get an opening, I might appreciate the extra change of clothes, toothbrush and cologne,” he reasoned internally. Following Garcia out the front door, Roxy on her heels, het set the alarm and locked the deadbolt. Reaching the truck, he set the bags in the bed of the truck. He turned to Penelope and asked, “Shall I put Roxy in the back? I don’t want her getting hair all over your pretty dress…” He watched as her eyes widened in surprise a little at the compliment.
Penelope could hardly believe he was flirting with her, or at least complimenting her fashion sense. “Oh no, I don’t mind Roxy riding up with us. I mean, I’m sure that’s what she’s used to and a little dog hair won’t matter anyway. This dress isn’t all that nice. I mean, I was going to change into something more comfortable when we get home. I mean, when we get to my place,” she rambled. Luke couldn’t help but smirk at her awkward, nervous babbling. “What had gotten into her? Could she maybe be interested in him, as he is in her?” he dared to wonder.
Luke opened the truck door and patted the seat. Roxy jumped in, and then Luke once again helped Penelope into the car. Leaning down he placed his mouth close to her ear and half spoke, half growled, “I’d love to see you in something more comfortable when we get to your place.” Having revealed as much of his true desires as he dared, he closed the door and made his way back around to the driver’s side.
Garcia intentionally ignored him as he started the Toyota and backed out of the driveway and turned back onto the road towards her apartment. His words tumbled around inside her head, igniting desires and hopes she’d tried to suppress ever since the man had told her about “his girl Roxy who adored him” in the elevator on his first day in Quantico. She occupied herself petting and talking to Roxy, telling her what a good dog she was and nuzzling her neck. Luke watched her out of the corner of his ere as he drove, thinking wistfully that he’d like to trade places with his dog –that he was the recipient of her affectionate praises, the object of her gaze… that his neck was the one she nuzzled into contentedly. Luke rubbed his hand across his jaw, trying to regain his focus.
End Note: Spanish Translations.
Hermosa- Beautiful.
Vámanos a su casa por nuestro primero noche a juntos- Let’s go to your place for our first night together.
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Hunting Ground I
I decided I wanted to do a multi-chapter Halamshiral fic and boy did I pick a lot of fucking work. I wanted to go more in depth over how my particular inquisitor (Adahla Lavellan) felt at the Winter Palace. Later chapters will probably have Solavellan fluff but this one’s mostly just about Adahla learning the rules of a new hunting ground.
After the introductions Adahla felt exceedingly flustered, her hands were sweating under the thin gray gloves, only softly diffusing the harsh, green glow from her left hand. She had never felt quite so obviously marked by it until now, predatory eyes glancing surreptitiously at her from behind gilt masks. She took great care to hold herself firmly, with a straight spine and her shoulders back, taking slow breaths through her chest.
She was careful in the way that she walked, trying to project the easy grace of a confident woman. Dimly, she heard whispers, ‘Dalish barbarian’ ‘knife-ear’ ‘pretender’, each one slowly mounting in her chest, like the pressure of an ever rising firestorm.
She took a soft breath and hardened that hot rage. As she walked back out to the vestibule she gathered the strength of it around her like armor, out of the corner of her eye she caught the tiniest nod of approval from Josephine. She allowed herself a soft smile, let the expression tug at her lips with the slyness of a fox.
“Inquisitor, a word?” Leliana approached her, gently taking her arm and leading her towards the top of the stairs, “May I say first that you did very well, Inquisitor.”
“Thank you, Sister,” She replied, gently patting Leliana’s hand.
“You are most welcome,” Leliana paused, leaning to take a glass from a passing server, “I should tell you that in the absence of Madame de Fer the empress has seen fit to employ a new court enchanter. We knew each other some time ago, she is ruthless and has seemingly charmed the entire court, as if by magic,”
“I will keep that in mind,” She answered smoothly, trying very hard not to show how much the idea shook her, “could you excuse me, Sister?”
“Of course, my lady Inquisitor,” Leliana let go of her arm, seeming to disappear almost immediately.
“Right,” She whispered to herself and sauntered through the next hall, the Hall of Heroes, she thought they called it.
As she passed she caught the smallest whispers, her ears flicked and she stopped, just out of sight behind a statue.
“-commotion in the upper levels.”
“The one off the garden? Statuette?”
They stopped speaking. She heard the sound of hurried footsteps retreating down the stairs. Adahla sighed and closed her eyes.
“Andruil, blood and force, I pray to you. Ma lasa ghilan, ma las Vir Tanadhal: Vir Assan, Vir Bor’assan, Vir Adahlen. Ma lasa ghilan, ar dar’misu.” She did not say the words aloud, only mouthed them.
She knew the gods no longer heard her but the muttered prayer, one she had whispered before every hunt not so long ago, settled some of the wild, nervous fluttering in her chest. She may be bound and trussed tightly in layers upon layers of shemlen clothing but she was still a hunter. This was not the forest, yet it was not so different from it. Instead of trees, there were gaudy pillars and statues, her prey did not hide in the brush or the grass, but rather behind glittering masks and lacy fans.
She was not a hunter who came back empty handed.
Adahla set off with a greater purpose than she had felt in months. To anyone watching she wouldn’t even look like quite the same woman that came into the palace. She suddenly stalked the ornate halls like she owned them, more akin to a red lion than an out-of-place dalish.
“Inquisitor,” Solas greeted her as she strode into the next room, “you have adjusted well.”
“Thank you, Solas,” She paused, tilting her head, “How do you find Halamshiral?”
“I adore the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events,” He admitted, leaning on the statue next to him, “the nobles don’t know what to make of me, though the servants are happy enough to refill my glass.”
“Seems you’ve drunk enough already,” She teased, glancing down at his half-full glass, “how many will that make when you finish it?”
“I don’t know, I haven’t been counting. Besides,” He gave her a wolfish grin, “I am entirely too sober for this.”
She chuckled, “Will you save me a dance?”
“I can only imagine the scandal of the Inquisitor dancing with an elven servant,”
“Before the night is done I intend to shock them with greater concerns than my choice of dance partners,” She felt a fox’s grin slip onto her face, Solas slightly lifted his glass.
“Good hunting,”
She sauntered further down the hall, she caught snatches of useful conversation. Things she would relay to Leliana at a later date, assuming her illustrious spymaster hadn’t already heard. She turned, nearly running into an agitated Orelesian man.
“Where is Phillipe? Leaving me to deal with Gaspard’s vitriol!”
“That’s awfully rude of him to leave you here with all the work,” She managed to hide their near collision with a gentle, reassuring touch on the shoulder.
“Exactly! Leaving me to relay Gaspard’s death threats to the Council while he rolls some elven maid!” He huffed, then patted her hand, “My sincerest apologies, Inquisitor, I did not mean to shout.”
“You’re quite alright, Ser,” She smiled gently, “It sounds like you have a busy night, especially being down on help.”
“Thank you, Inquisitor, you are too kind. I really must be going,”
“Of course,” She demurred, allowing him to pass her before she made her way to the balcony.
The greenery was lovely, in a well-groomed Orelesian sort of way. She very much preferred the wilder growths of the forest to well-trimmed lawns and hedges. Abandoned in the lawn, something glinted in the moonlight. She chanced a quick look around, satisfied that she was alone, she hopped over the banister and snatched it up.
Clara — kitchen staff — entered servants' wing by main stair 1:30
Vernon — undergardener — entered servants' wing from hall 2:45
Sophie — chamber maid — entered servants' wing from hall 3:22
Marius — footman — entered servants' wing by main stair 3:45
Briala, we need immediate support down there. Something's gone wrong.
How curious. She tucked it into the pockets of her silver cloak and quickly slid back over the banister, smoothing her dress before re-entering the room. She picked a small cake from a tray, nibbling on it at she pressed through the door to the guest gardens. People milled around, chatting, drinking, eating. At least, if you didn’t look any closer that’s what they were doing.
A few clandestine letters exchanged hands, rumors were placed and exchanged, sabotages planned, deaths requested. These people weren’t the prey she was seeking, though the interesting pieces of gossip she heard were hoarded and saved for later. She tried not to flick her ears too much, as much as she wanted to hear everything. After a little searching, she found a door up to the next level.
She hurried up, upon arriving finding it deserted save a few smears of blood on the marble. She kneeled, careful not to get any stains on the silvered embroidery on the hem of her dress. At the end of a long hour of arguments, Leliana and Vivienne had decided on black, white, and silver, not unlike the clothes she wore to greet ‘important’ guests at Skyhold.
She shook her head, removing one of her gloves to touch the blood with her fingertips, wet, but cold. Recent. Adahla licked it from her fingertips. Elven.
Something akin to a thrill ran up her spine and she smiled a hunter’s smile. She stood, gathering her skirts to lift them above her ankles as she stepped over the smeared blood. It led to the library but she wanted to check outside first.
She did not want to walk out of the library only to be ambushed by another hunter. Along the opposite side, laying on the banister were two things, a tiny halla statuette, and a love letter.
She pocketed both and stood there for a time, listening.
The soft din of the people on the lower levels, the steady hum of the Anchor she rarely noticed anymore. Glasses clinked and people laughed. The silver sound of a coin being flipped through the air.
Unsuspecting jackals below her. Scavengers more than predators, scrabbling with each other for scraps of power and reputation. They were not hunters the way she was.
She retreated back the way she came, spying a door. Other halla statues were placed in little alcoves around the doorframe. One such alcove was empty. Adahla smiled and pressed the little statue she had into the empty space.
Silver-blue circles of light sprang from the door. Her ears flicked at she detected the sound of stone grinding on stone as the door swung open.
A tiny room, cluttered with books and papers and chests, lit by one solitary veilfire candle. She shut the door behind her, flipping through the papers on the desk, her eyes reflecting the pale blue-green light.
She found nothing on the desk and started going through the papers that seemed to have been thrown to the floor. Someone didn’t like these letters. She grinned when she found the one she was looking for.
Celene,
We can discuss this like adults, can't we? We both know the weapon at Briala's disposal could not only turn the tide of our war but every war. The empire must control it; I do not believe you disagree. She is now a greater threat to Orlais than anything else. If you and I work together, we can wrest control away from her. Do not deceive yourself that she will be open to negotiation or diplomacy. You know her better than anyone—you know that's impossible.
Gaspard
“A weapon to turn the tide of every war?” She mused, pocketing the letter, “You might just be after my own heart, Briala.”
She stood and pressed her ear to the door. She heard nothing and pulled it open.
The upper balcony was deserted, as it had been when she left it. She stalked to the large double doors leading to the library, being sure that the heels of her shoes didn’t click on the marble. The doors swung open silently and she swept inside. Adahla was suddenly assaulted with the scent of parchment, ink, and old leather with the gentle mustiness of dust.
She ran her hands along the books on the shelves, gently pressing her fingers between them to see if she could find any hidden letters or documents. She pressed one particular book, its title faded beyond recognition and heard a soft click. Her ears perked up, then flicked backward at the sound of doors opening. Pride swelled in her chest as she slid into the secret room. A veilfire torch lit the room, illuminating the one letter left out on the desk.
Lady M,
I need you at my side tonight. The unpleasantness in the royal wing has convinced me there is no safety within the palace. I do not expect my cousin to employ magic, but I would hardly be surprised if he provoked another infestation; since my court enchanter is not here to assist me, I must rely entirely upon you. There is no one else I can trust.
Celene
“Lady M’s on good terms with her majesty,” She said aloud, ears pricking at the sudden whoosh of wind.
“She is confident and sure. She knows more than Vivienne ever did.”
“Good evening, Cole,” She smiled, turning to look at him, the veilfire lit his pale face eerily like he was a ghost.
“This place has no good evenings. Just blood.”
“Co-” Her ears flicked when she heard the tolling of a bell, “Fenedhis!”
“They will like you better if you wait until the second bell. Making an entrance, clad in black and white and silver. Starry nights on snow-covered mountains.”
She smiled and gently clasped his hands, “Try not to get overwhelmed here, Cole. I do not know if you can help them.”
“I tried but they kept getting angry with me. They’ve forgotten now.”
Adahla gave his hands a reassuring squeeze before she breezed past him. Her heels clicked unabashedly on the marble as she closed the doors behind her and slunk down the stairs. As she passed through the gardens no one seemed to note her long absence. She smiled to herself as she swept back into the palace, greeted by the warmth of a fire and the scent of alcohol and sweets.
She detected a few whispers, ‘A dalish?’ ‘One of those barefoot vagabonds?’, Adahla let herself shrug them off. She was Dalish and she was proud. She was proud of the pale vallaslin over her left eye, her ears that flicked and turned to hear better, her eyes that saw more in the dark than any shem’s would. She sauntered back through the vestibule, her head stretched to open the door when she heard the soft sound of human shoes trying to be quiet on the marble.
“Well, well, what have we here?” Adahla turned to face the voice, coming down the stairs, “The leader of the new Inquisition, fabled herald of the faith.” A pale woman, dark hair piled on her head wearing an extravagant red gown, “Delivered from the grasp of the fade by the hand of Blessed Andraste herself.” The woman said it like it was a joke, yellow eyes glinting at her, “What could bring such an exalted creature here to the Imperial Court, I wonder? Do you even know?”
Adahla settled back on her feet, giving the woman a coy smile, “We may never know, My Lady. Courtly intrigues and all that.”
“Such intrigues obscure much, but not all,” The woman paused and briefly bowed her head, “I am Morrigan. Some call me advisor to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane.”
Morrigan walked by her, not waiting for Adahla to follow but seeming to expect her to. She did, after a moment, as though she wasn’t sure about her just yet.
“You... Have been very busy this evening, hunting in every dark corner of the palace,”
“I am a hunter, Lady Morrigan. This is not the forest but it is a forest,” She replied, smiling at the other woman’s chuckle.
“So it is. Perhaps the two of us hunt the same prey, Inquisitor?”
“I hope so, M’lady,” Adahla bowed her head a little, “I would be honored to share my hunt with you.”
“Vir Adahlen, Inquisitor,”
She carefully schooled her face to not show any surprise, “Together we are stronger than the one,”
“Indeed,” Morrigan began walking again, seeming to lead her around the stairwell, “Recently I found, and killed, an unwelcome guest within these halls. An agent of Tevinter.” She stopped and turned to Adahla, pulling something from her sleeve, “So I offer you this, Inquisitor: A key, found on the Tevinter’s body. Where it leads, I cannot say. Yet if Celene is in danger, I cannot leave her side long enough to search. You can.”
“I may find the time to try a door or two,” She smiled and bowed her head, “Ma serannas,”
Morrigan chuckled, taking her arm and leading her back towards the door the ballroom, the second bell sounded, “Proceed with caution, Inquisitor. Enemies abound, and not all of them allied with Tevinter,” She paused her hand on the door and gave Adahla a sidelong glance, “What happens next, will be most exciting.”
#Ma lasa ghilan#Give me guidance#Ma las#Guide me#Vir Tanadhal#Way of Three Trees#Vir Assan#Way of the arrow#Vir Bor'assan#Way of the Bow#Vir Adahlen#Way of the Forest#Ar dar'misu#I am the blade which acts alone#Adahla lavellan#DAI#Wicked Eyes and Wicked hearts#patheticnugbaby writes#patheticnugbaby's inquisitors#Nine pages for the first snippet#What the fuck
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professor oak’s rp plotting cheat-sheet!
Want new-and-exciting plots for your character? Long to reach out to more of your followers, but don’t know where to start? Fear not! Fill out this form and give your RP partners both present and future all the of juicy jumping off points they need to help you get your characters acquainted.
Be sure to tag the players whose characters YOU want more cues to interact with, and repost, don’t reblog! Feel free to add or remove sections as you see fit. Template here.
Mod name: :v
OOC Contact: Tumblr IM; but if we’re mutuals I’ll give you my discord! I have Skype too, but I don’t really use it much.
WHO IS HE:
Professor Oak is a renowned Pokémon Professor most notably known for his invention of the Pokédex, his Welcome To The World of Pokémon! lecture / documentary and his extensive research surrounding the relationships between pokémon and people. He’s a very recognizable icon in the pokéworld; it would be impossible not to know who he is.
Alternatively, while he’s mostly known for being a scientist, he has wide recognition for his Pokémon poetry. He also does regular recordings with DJ Mary at Goldenrod Radio Tower.
The Professor resides in Pallet Town, Kanto, in one of the world’s most impressive laboratory reserve - stretching across acres upon acres of land, built entirely to replicate all types of pokémon’s natural habitats and terrains.
As a former pokémon trainer ( as well as Kanto Champion ), he has one grandson, Gary Oak, who is also former pokémon trainer, but is now currently on the path to becoming a Scientist himself, specializing in fossil revival.
Points of interest:
My portrayal of Professor Oak is mostly anime-based. This means I do not consider game function as canon or as character trait (ex. Professor Oak forgetting his grandson’s name. I have heard this joke enough to last me a lifetime, please Don’t™.) However, I include some elements of the manga/game, I guess, but usually only to fill in the many gaps untouched in the anime. With that being said, Green / Blue / Red and even Daisy do not exist. I have exceptions of interactions with some people, but it does not fall under my Main Canon and is more of some weird, blended AU, lol.
Professor Oak is a 50+ year old man. On top of that, a parent and a grandparent. Because of this, most of the time ( not always ) he will naturally be more intuitive and perceptive to situations than a younger muse might be. He has had many, many life experiences to draw from that he applies to current context; empathizing and offering advice comes easy. With that being said, please communicate with me if I’ve crossed a line with this; I won’t take offense!
Professor Oak has interacted with legendary Pokémon. See: Celebi, ft. Suicune. Professor Oak is not immune to... strange occurrences. He’s interacted with the legendary pokémon Celebi ( and Suicune ) when he was a young boy. However, I portray this muse as someone that has seen much more ( of the unexplainable, not necessarily legendaries ), yet appreciates them within the comfort of his own privacy.
Professor Oak has very high public status! While the man certainly lives his life as a regular person, his life is anything but. Hailing from Kanto and living peacefully in Pallet Town, Samuel’s demeanor is very humble, but his Net Worth is one of the highest, given his important influence, multi-faceted popularity and on-going relevancy among the citizens of the poké-universe. It goes without saying that he has made some of the most important contributions to the field of science and world of pokémon, but he is also sort of a pop culture “idol”. His name is attached to hundreds of awards, recognitions, lifetime achievements, entertainment achievements. Whatever there is to do, Professor Oak does it all: Scientist, Writer, Artist, Humanitarian, Pokémon Professor, TV Host, Radio Host, University Lecturer, Motivational Speaker, Activist, League Advisor, Parent. There is nothing he won’t dive into if it’s for the greater good.
List of Awards: here.
What they’ve been up to recently:
*POST-CANON. Same ol’, same ol’. Professor Oak has many years left in him yet! You can still find him on his happy little hill in Pallet Town doing what he does best: giving trainers their starters, and babysitting those same 9482536 kids under his care. Including, but not limited to all the 3948357927682294 pokémon he and - everyone’s favorite personal assistant son - Tracey Sketchit share responsibility for. His life will pretty much be the same, as it has been; the perks of being old and well-adjusted.
*I use ‘post canon’ loosely. My default timeline is ongoing with the show itself, but since time never seems to progress, I’ve taken it upon myself to lazily assume some years have passed since S1E1 ( hence why I say Oak is 50+ rather than actually 50 ).
MULTI-VERSE. If you are a non-pokémon muse, Professor Oak will happily accept that you’re simply not someone from his universe. As mentioned above, stranger things have happened to him. Because of his own experiences, he’s very open-minded about the possibilities the universe has up it’s sleeve. I like to think of his corral and his lab are portal spots for the unknown to materialize. Maybe a point deep in the mountain and forest terrain. Or perhaps from the forest ( between Kanto and Johto ) where Celebi dwells. This concept isn’t necessary to follow for the multi-verse, just a suggestion!
TL;DR Let Professor Oak be your away-from-home grandpa, he has lots of Experience™.
Where to find them:
DEFAULT VERSE. There are a lot of places to find the ever-active Professor Oak. However, the top three most common places are: his research lab ( corral included ) in Pallet Town, Kanto, Goldenrod Radio Tower, and Celadon University. Because he is so famous, he can be anywhere, though. Whether it’s doing charity work, raising awareness, doing lectures, being a guest at internships, working with media across regions, visiting other pokémon professors, being on a much needed vacation, traveling for work. Pretty much, wherever your muse is, I can find a reason for Professor Oak to be there.
POST-COLLEGE. I don’t actually have a ‘verse’ for this but it takes place shortly after Samuel finishes grad school and takes position as Kanto’s Pokémon Professor. He’s the first one to reside in Pallet Town. The lab itself is still under renovation; he’s moved back home after being away for years at school, and still trying to mourn the loss of his fiancé. He’s a single father, struggling to balance work and parenthood, but he gets by. ( Further down this timeline, about thirteen years later, he suffers the loss of his children, and becomes the guardian of his grandson, Gary Oak. )
To find Professor Oak is the other ‘verses’ from the Offered / Desired sections, just ask.
Current plans:
Keeping busy. Professor Oak is a very goal-oriented person and although he finds relaxation necessary, he also prefers to be active. His hands are always full running the biggest pokémon lab, but he’s always throwing himself into new projects of all kinds of varieties.
Travel and meet new people. Ever the social butterfly, the Professor is always welcoming new faces to his growing list of companions. Although his reasons for traveling are no longer for becoming a Pokémon Champion, he finds that there are plenty of things he hadn’t quite noticed or appreciated before. It’s interesting to see how some things have changed, and for others, how they’ve stayed the same. It’s all for business purposes of course ( mostly ), but coming full circle provides closure for memories he’d only reminisced about for years after he graduated from college.
Supporting Gary. As his grandson begins his journey in the field of science, Professor Oak prioritizes helping him adjust and giving him the support he needs.
Otherwise, the plans depend on what your muse brings. :O
Desired interactions:
Retired Oak! Literally everything is the same except he’s wearing tropical shirts and jorts. B^) Alola cruise, anyone?
Alzheimer’s Oak! LISTEN, I KNOW.. ... .. Game-mechanic jokes aside, lmao - I have no real excuse. It just hurts so good. ;^(
Grandpa Oak. I’m sure raising Gary and Ash was nothing but and Experience™.
TRACEY. MY PURE ASSISTANT SON -
College. What goes on in college, stays in college. College timeline: here.
Celebi, Again! Starring... Professor Oak! B^) Swapped into the body of his younger self. How does he fix this? Calamity ensues.
Dr. Fuji, Who? No, Professor Oak isn’t part of Team Rocket but he did get roped into helping them create MewTwo with the desperate attempt to also bring his family back to life. Did I rip that from Dr. Fuji? Yes I did, and I don’t care, let me live -
Team Rocket? Or, alternatively, he does work for Team Rocket with this ridiculous concept that he was blackmailed into working for them post-grad because of his unremarkable intelligence and promise. While his public face is the friendly Professor Oak everyone knows and loves, his lab holds darker secrets, the darkest being that he could no loner resist their persistence in making him comply, after they staged his children’s death as an innocent car accident. : ) ... Anyway,
Persistent Press. Be annoying and invasive. Start scandals. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Unrequited. Get rejected by the notorious man himself. He will be gentle.
Agatha. How dare you,
CROSSOVERS!!!
Offered interactions:
Are you a Pokémon Trainer™ or some other kind of pokémon-specializing person ( pokémon watcher, photographer, breeder, ranger, etc. )? Ring up your Professor when Officer Jenny arrests you for something he told you not to do in the first place so he can judge you with a proper scolding. For the others, show him your talents and skills! If you’re not a Kanto Trainer, I’m sure one of the other Professors can send you his way, either to drop something off / pick something up / for general help, etc. and he’s always excited to meet his colleagues’ kiddos. Also excited to see others contribute to the world of pokémon in some way! He loves pokémon and humans interacting!
Are you a Pokémon Professor? Doctor, Nurse? Let’s gather ‘round and be stressed about Ash our reckless trainers. But also drinking and karaoke! Pokémon Discourse™. Camping retreats. Boring, obligatory conferences. Peer Review. Or maybe you just need a little advice from one of the pokéworlds more experienced Professors! Unless you’re Professor Rowan - in that case you’re BFFs that get into shenanigans nobody would ever believe.
Are you a Science Major? Limited internships available for college students.
Do you live in Pallet Town? Hi, neighbor! B^) Professor Oak ( and Tracey ) most likely talk to you in passing, should it occur. ( Please message me about pre-established relationships first. ) Common places include, the mart, post office, movie theaters, etc.
Summer Camp? Boom, Professor Oak has summer camp for the kiddos at his corral.
Are you a big idolizer of Professor Oak? Lucky for you, there’s more than one way to be a fan! You can reach him via fanmail, @’ing him on social media, finding his personal phone number from some sketchy fan forum, hogging up the radio show hotline, stalking his schedule to make each appearance panel, hovering outside around his lab, stealing candid photos, bombarding him in public with intrusive questions, shoving your notepad out for an autograph... You can even be one of those weird people who try to proclaim your love to ‘celebrities’ too old for you that you know little about. Who knows what this poor man will do?
Are you into Traditional Kanto / Johto? You may share the same passions if you’re into calligraphy, ikebana, haiku, tea ceremonies, etc.
Are you a Celadon University Student? Feel free to talk to your Intro To Pokémon ( or Pokémon Sociology 101, etc. ) Professor about anything unclear about assignments, to offer questions or concerns... or try to make excuses for not turning in homework and being late, you lazy student. :T Doubles as an Unofficial Guidance Counselor to said students even though that’s not his job - but he can’t help it, he’s a parent before he’s a Professor.
Are you a child associated with Make-A-Wish Foundation? Professor Oak offers terminally-ill children the opportunity to choose their starters, and spend time with their favorite idol. : (
Are you affiliated with the media? All press can inquire about guest speakings, giveaways, promotions, advertisement deals, interviews, volunteer work, hosting/co-hosting, etc. and Professor Oak will get back to you at his earliest convenience. This INCLUDES those working at Goldenrod Radio Tower!
Are you a business person? Politician? High-Profile Celebrity / Figure? Meet Professor Oak at a Gala! Or any other formal event. Feel free to offer business negotiations, inquire about his residence, or other sketchy things. :v
Are you affiliated with Kanto’s Pokémon League? Albeit not as recently involved as per usual, he’s an advisor, so he and your muse are at least associates, if not more.
Are you one of the developers that helped with the Pokédex? Nerds will be nerds.
Do you know Samuel from his days prior to being Professor Oak? Whether it be from childhood, training days, or college, they all matter. ( I’m aware this is highly unlikely because nobody RP’s old pokémon muses, but with that being said, I’m open to interacting with kids / grandkids of the aforementioned. )
Are you Team Rocket a villain? Have you reached your Kidnap-A-Scientist quota today?
Current open post/s:
I had very few, but I’m too lazy to look for them. Plotting is probably better. /gestures to this post
Anything else?:
Threading is not limited to this list. I’m always open to more ideas!
I’m not sure what the huge difference is between the Desired / Offered interactions -
You don’t need a pokémon verse to interact with me!
Your muse does not need to idolize Professor Oak to interact with him.
CROSSOVERS.
Tagged by: i stole this from @undinaes
Tagging: Whoever sees this!
#this is way longer than i thought it could possibly be#please read it theres something for everyone i swear!!!#do your research ▸ [ PSA. ]#through the years ▸ [ hc. ]
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Saving Part of the World - Part One - Chapter Twelve
Summary: Set after G-Rev, the World Championships have come to Belfast, Northern Ireland in the hopes of spreading the interest and drawing in tourists. In between all the teen angst and the team drama, something powerful and hungry lurks on the horizon and with the help of the beybladers, it may just destroy part of the world.
Rated: T for cursing and mild violence
Ships: Hints of Mariah/Rei, Hilary/Tyson, Enrique/Julia
Previous Chapters: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven
Chapter Twelve
“Hey, Hilary and Amber must have made up,” Tyson said to Max as the two of them sat in the arena watching the battle below them. The preliminary matches for the Singles weren’t gaining much of an audience, certainly not as much as Ming-Ming or the BBA had expected, so the two boys had decided to be the best cheer squad any new blader could need. Tyson believed that the most inspirational thing was knowing you had support and that you entertained people.
“Oh? Hey, that was a nice dodge.”
“He could go far,” Tyson agreed, before continuing with the pervious conversation. “They’re going to the park. At least she’s not dragging us with her, heh.”
He grinned, swiping his thumb over his upper lip. It would be nice for Hilary to have a friend, especially since Mariah was still spending time with Rei – even if they were just helping Kenny improve his blade.
“That Ukrainian is good,” Max mused, resting his hands on his knees as he leaned closer.
“He’d definitely be on a team if the BBA had an office there.” But Boris gave the whole system such a devastating blow that many Bladers were going unnoticed unless they could move closer to a BBA registered office. However, this tournament was giving everyone a chance to get noticed and receive potential sponsorship. That was something that really inspired Tyson. He was even thinking of talking to Dickinson about being a Beyblade talent scout once he gave up blading for good, and recently that idea was becoming more and more appealing. Not that he didn’t love the sport, he just wanted a change of pace.
A camera popped up to zoom in on them and both boys did their duty as world champs by smiling and waving to the audience at home – if there was one. As the camera glided off, Tyson turned his attention back to the dish, fixing the collar on his jacket emblazoned with the Bladebreaker insignia.
“So are you planning to talk to Hilary about Kai?”
Tyson’s lips thinned. He didn’t even need Max to expand on that question. What she and Kai did in the privacy of their rooms was their business, just as long as it didn’t impact the team. “Nope.”
“I really think you should. You do know there’s nothing going on between them, right? They’re just friends.”
Tyson’s stomach flipped but he squashed down the quick swirl of hope. “Sure.”
They were friends. He and Hilary were friends, but she didn’t spend the night in his room, in fact, she barely spoke to him anymore, and when he did see her she acted awkward around him as if he was bothered her. Of course, she’d prefer Kai; all girls liked the guy who brooded.
He flinched at his malicious thoughts. Kai was his friend. Hilary was his… friend. He could accept them as a couple, just as long as he never had to see them be a couple.
The blade shot out of the dish and almost wedged in the floor. Tyson’s tension eased and he grinned at his friend. “Did you see that hit? Man, I love this sport. You just never know what’s going to happen next.”
Max chuckled and patted his shoulder. “Too right, buddy.”
“Hello,” Enrique greeted, taking a seat beside them.
Both boys greeted the Italian who looked like he’d seen better days.
Tyson passed him one of the energy drinks they’d picked up on route to the arena. “You look beat, is everything okay?”
Enrique made a face. “We have a token match tomorrow and one of our three-man-team refuses to blade.”
Refused to blade? What kind of participant did that? Tyson frowned and twisted in his seat. “The Irish guy?” Because he knew Julia would never refuse, she thrived on the sport and the adoration of the crowd.
“Si, good old Eoin,” he pronounced it ‘Own’, “doesn’t want to blade, so he’s leaving it up to me and Julia and we need him because there’s no sign of our fourth teammate.”
Tyson nodded. He’d heard about Europe’s team trouble, which was to be expected. Not one year had gone by where their preliminaries hadn’t caused chaos of some sort. There were the Dark Bladers during the year of the Majestics and then the Barthez Battalion year. But it had all come good in the end.
“So tell him he has to play.” Tyson shrugged, exchanging a bewildered look with Max. Neither of them could imagine not wanting to play. In fact, they had more arguments about who would sit on the bench during a battle.
“Exactly,” Max agreed. “Maybe he’s shy or doesn’t feel he fits in. You and Julia have met before, perhaps you just need to make him feel more included. Talk to him, get to know him.”
Just like Max had done with Rick, Tyson thought with a smile. Goosebumps rose on his tanned arms as the aircon kicked up a notch and he rolled the sleeves of his jacket down.
“I would. I am very sociable, but I can’t get in contact with him and he hasn’t met with us. He doesn’t show up for practice and if it wasn’t for the fact that he lives here and the local media constantly talks about him, I wouldn’t even know that he’s on the team. It’s got to the point where I’m tempted to tell Dickinson that we have to pull out. Julia and I can’t hold the team together by ourselves.”
Tyson closed his mouth audibly. “Man, that does suck.”
“We won’t do it.” Enrique sulked, dropping his chin to his arms, which he’d folded over the back of the chair in front of him, his messy blonde curls turning blue in the strobe lights flashing over them as new bladers were announced.
“Why aren’t the others here?”
Enrique muffled a yawn and sipped at the drink. “After the situation with Barthez and how none of the top dogs could see how he’d cheated or cared to hear about it, Robert felt he couldn’t in good faith take part again. It was something about ethics and betrayal. And Johnny said he’s studying for his degree so he couldn’t just up and leave for a tournament during the middle of his exams, but that’s probably half the reason. He wasn’t too happy about Barthez either. Meanwhile, Oliver’s opening another restaurant in the South of France and can’t leave it mid-project — which is a shame; out of everyone, I miss hanging with Oliver the most. So it was just left to me to represent the Majestics, though we were never really a conventional team.”
“I was hoping to see those guys again, maybe get another turn at Robert, see how we stack up now.”
Enrique smiled but then it flattened and died. “This is my last tournament before I’m forced to take over the Family Business and give up my ‘Lothario’ ways. This was my only excuse to justify leaving the country.”
Max snorted in disbelief. “I can’t imagine being forced into doing anything.”
“Does your family own a multi-billion Euro company?” Enrique shot back; then grimaced. “I apologise. Quite frankly, I don’t know why they want me involved. My father’s deathbed will be the desk he sits at. Sorry, that was unfair. You’re lucky, Max. Your dad seems great. My family is strict and business orientated. Kind of like Robert, but without the beyblading to release some of the stress.”
Tyson flinched. That could not be easy to live with, especially for free spirited and flirtatious Enrique. He had probably tried so hard to gain his father’s respect but to no avail.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Tyson frowned. “I can’t really understand your dad’s attitude. My dad spends a lot of his time digging in the dirt, so I rarely see him but when he does get in contact, he always encourages me to follow my dreams.”
“Same with mine,” Max murmured.
Enrique made a face. “So it’s just my dad then. Wonderful.”
Max and Tyson looked at each other. “No, Kai would understand.”
“Well his dad is dead and his grandfather is in jail,” Max hurried to explain, “but the whole taking over a company thing, he would get that.”
Enrique jerked a shoulder then slumped. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t even get economics. It’s all foreign to me. This” – he gestured to the arena – “this I understand. And girls.”
Tyson breathed in deeply. “Yeah, this I understand.”
For a country known for its rain, the sun could certainly reach hot temperatures. On the rooftop where Brooklyn had sought some privacy, the concrete burned, heat radiated off it in waves that distorted the view below. With his white shirt beginning to dampen with sweat, Brooklyn inched further into the diminishing shade offered by a low wall and stretched out his leg to ease a gathering cramp in his muscles. With a soft sigh, he turned his beyblade over in his hand and studied it. Without the bitchip — which burned in his shirt pocket — it looked naked, harmless. And wrong.
Pressing his lips together, he slipped his fingers between the fabrics and retrieved it. It was so innocuous, this piece of plastic that slotted so perfectly into the top of the beyblade but which contained so much power. Only the fierce depiction of the beast upon it lent any credence to the danger it could unleash. A flash of movement caught his attention and his teal eyes flicked to his silent companion, sitting crossed legged on the ledge overlooking the city of Belfast. If the height distracted Mystel, he didn’t show it. Brooklyn admired that. It made being with the younger boy soothing, easy.
As Brooklyn flipped the bitchip over in his fingers, Mystel smiled faintly and turned his face to the sunlight. Brooklyn’s mouth tightened further. He didn’t want Mystel to fear him, but sometimes he wondered if his companion really understood what could happen. Brooklyn hadn’t dealt with the bitbeast since his battle with Tyson. That jaunt into madness had been more than terrifying and proved a greater deterrent than any words of warning ever could have.
Despite Tyson bashing through the madness, Brooklyn couldn’t help but fear another breakdown. It had come upon him so easily, how could it not happen again? On the surface, he told everyone that he was better; it was true, he now understood the value of friends and that he wasn’t alone. However, that didn’t mean he felt comfortable with his bitbeast. Zeus forced him to confront his inner demons. Zeus took the form of them.
And now he was going to connect with his bitbeast once more.
“Are you certain this will work?”
Mystel hummed and popped open one eye. “Certain? No. Hopeful? Yes.”
Brooklyn scowled. “That doesn’t make me feel good.”
Mystel shrugged and pulled a knee to his chest. “The visions come from Zeus, right? And they’re stronger now you’re here in Ireland, but they’re not clearer. So perhaps connecting with Zeus himself and gaining some control over him will help with that. This is just practice, you won’t be in a battle Brooklyn and I’m right here to knock you out of a psychotic episode if you need it.”
That wasn’t the most reassuring statement he’d ever heard. But it would do.
Grimacing, Brooklyn snapped the bit chip into place and felt the pulse of power as his bitbeast began to awaken - no, he was always awake, now it was as if Zeus was stretching his limbs and getting ready to rise. There was a giddy eagerness rushing through the bond that clicked into place between them. It was like having a puppy bouncing at the door to the kennel. Brooklyn would have smiled if he wasn’t afraid the bitbeast would take complete control of him in an attempt to ‘save him’.
“So I launch him, and then focus?”
“Yes. It’s like basic practice for endurance. You just need to connect with Zeus again, exercise your bond with him, that psychic link we all forge with our bitbeasts in order to make our blades do what we want them to do in the dish. You need to listen to him so that he’ll learn to listen to you. He’s giving you visions for a reason; let’s find out what they are, especially if you want to save the girl.”
Brooklyn ignored the last comment. He didn’t want to think about the girl just yet.
“He’s not giving them,” he said. At least he hoped Zeus wasn’t because that suggested something that Brooklyn was too terrified to face. A sentient being that was constantly linked to him, beyblade or no beyblade. “He’s amplifying them.” His tone was forceful, refusing to be denied.
Mystel rolled his shoulders and leaned his head back to bask in the sunshine. Brooklyn’s fingertips buzzed at the urge to pull his friend back. Not that he need worry, Mystel was so agile that he would land on his feet, even from the fifth storey.
Getting to his feet, Brooklyn threaded the ragged chord through the basic launcher - another thing he hoped would remind Zeus that this was not an actual battle. Zeus’s pulse became more pronounced, greedy little growls escaped, the creature desperate to be released. Steadying his arm, even as beads of sweat rose on the nape of his neck, he concentrated on the spot he wanted to launch the blade and ripped the chord out, sending the black beyblade spinning to the ground. It landed, bounced and abruptly locked into position, swirling with an intensity that made it blur. The bitchip began to glow.
“Suppress him,” Mystel ordered.
Brooklyn nodded and pressed against the bitbeast’s desire to rise. He focused on the shining spot because his will alone would be the plug upon the well that was Zeus. The shining became more intense, splitting as it tried to rise, the aura flickering and spreading over the beyblade. It continued to spin until with a jerk, it veered and hit a stone. It wobbled, circled twice more before coming to a halt.
Brooklyn sighed. “Like dealing with an irate child,” he murmured, picking up the now hot blade. The attack ring burned as if it had been out in the sun for hours, rather than a few seconds.
“There’s no balance,” Mystel said. He rose to his feet with the grace of a panther, before dropping off the ledge onto the roof. Were it water, he wouldn’t have made a ripple.
“And how do I gain balance?”
“You wish to be master of Zeus, but Zeus wishes to be master of you. You never worked together; it was always a dominance issue.”
“Mystel,” he growled. “Tell me how to do this.” He didn’t need the mumbo-jumbo. He needed the know-how.
With a soft laugh, Mystel bent backwards and flipped over with a perfect stance. “Meditate.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“You and Zeus must become partners otherwise there’s no cohesion; no balance, no success.”
“I don’t know how to meditate. I tried it before. I got bored.” Once he’d even fallen asleep.
“You also nearly died by toothbrush. I’m guessing you really want to get this sorted.”
Well, when Mystel was right, he was right. Death by toothbrush was so unfitting. Brooklyn looked at his beyblade. The sunlight caught the etching of the beast and created a refraction of light, almost as if Zeus were winking at him. Snorting, Brooklyn dropped back down to the ground. “So how do I do this?”
“Lie down and close your eyes. You’ll need to clear your mind, try to sense Zeus; I’ll act as your guide.”
Some days, Mariam loved her job. Not every girl could spend the day, soaking up the sunshine under a cloudless, blue sky, while loitering on a windowsill high up on a towering building, watching boys work out in a gym across the street. It was a nice life, and she didn’t feel one bit sorry for her quarry. Poor Blitz-boys, they probably thought they were quite safe from prying eyes four storeys up from the ground, but Mariam was flexible; Mariam was very good at her job. After all, there had to be some minor perks to being a female in a male-dominated village and sport.
Below her, a car jerked to a halt and blared a horn at a jay-walker who responded in kind with a desultory finger. She was pleased that the windows to the gym faced onto a rather quiet road, which meant her chances of being seen had lessened significantly. Really, gathering a crowd torn between wanting her to save herself and to see the drama of someone jumping had no appeal for her. She was just here to do a little spying on the Blitzkrieg Boys for Ozuma and if she happened to enjoy the sight of glistening muscles, then all the better.
The boys, almost men she supposed, had been working out for the past two hours. And since Kai had arrived, half an hour ago, a tension had settled over them, which intrigued her. Why would Kai play on a team that didn’t quite trust him when he could be back on his old team who adored him? That was a question she couldn’t find a satisfying answer to. Perhaps Kai was simply perverse.
Sucking on her ice pop, Mariam draped an arm around her knee,and swung her other leg. She definitely had the easier gig. The B-boys were encamped for the day it seemed; all she had to do was sit with her treasure trove of sweets and other delights, and watch them sweat and flex.
That was no hardship at all.
Red was gorgeous, no doubt about it. A startlingly beautiful man with such vivid blue eyes, the kind she would find herself staring at if she saw him walking down the street, and had he the perfect personality, she’d probably lose her senses. Luckily for her, he didn’t.
Kai was… well, Kai. He definitely had stoic and brooding down to an art, though his mood swings probably cost him more admirers than he actually gained. Then again, his voice could probably bring them back. She had to admit, he had a nice voice. Big Blond looked like he’d had a run-in with a bus and she wasn’t sure which came off worse. His nose had obviously been broken and was flattened out of shape, his mouth thin and wide above a square-cut jaw. His straw coloured hair was shorn into a buzz cut that was held off his face with a headband. He wasn’t ugly, but in comparison to Red and Kai, well he wasn’t winning any beauty competitions.
Then there was the pale one. He was striking. Not stunning, not conventionally handsome but… striking. She couldn’t even pinpoint what it was about him that stood out because by rights his features seemed average and yet he was attractive. Short, cropped, pale hair — not quite grey, not quite purple — pale skin, pale eyes. He was stocky and muscled, but not the tallest, not the shortest, just average. But she couldn’t seem to ignore him. And God, the man had arms to die for; even the t-shirt he wore had split the seams of his sleeves.
A drop of juice hit her bare leg and she scooped it up. Well, at least she wasn’t drooling quite yet, but why didn’t her village breed men like this? Ozuma was okay, but she knew too many of his bad habits and the one time they’d kissed had been disturbingly bland. Besides, she was fairly certain she could beat him in an arm wrestle. And Dunga… well yeah, that was never going to happen. Not even if she was blind drunk again.
She needed to leave her village, she decided, crossing her legs at her ankles and swinging them gently. Her grandmother was making noises about her settling down and starting a family. The elders were muttering about her settling down and starting a family. Heck, even Ozuma and Dunga were doing it, though each for different reasons. And hadn’t that just put an awkward spin on the team dynamic. Dunga fancied her. Oh, the gods were laughing at her. She’d thought they’d genuinely had a dislike/hate relationship, but it turned out that that was his method of courting. How did he honestly think that his sexist comments would be a turn on for her?
The whole episode had been alarming. Having a crush on Max once upon a time did not mean she was attracted to any blond within standing distance.
So yes, leaving the village was her best option. Except, Mariam wasn’t sure on how to do that. She had planned to talk to Dickinson, but when Ozuma’s plan went into motion, she didn’t think the old man would be willing to help. What would she say: ‘Oh hey guys, your friends and the sport you loved is gone, but can I hang with you?’ Yeah, that was going to be a Big Fat No!
Wow, now those were the kind of thighs she’d like to climb, Mariam mused, as Pale Boy squatted. They were as big as tree trunks and those arms would have no trouble holding her up. Why wasn’t he shirtless?
Mariam!
“Yes, oh almighty leader?” Popping a handful of jellied goodness into her mouth, she chewed slowly and wondered what it’d be like to sink her teeth into those muscles.
What are the Russian team doing?
“Uh…” Melting brain cells was not the answer that Ozuma wanted. “They’re just hanging around the gym.” Kai was literally hanging from a pole as he did chin-ups. Holy Spirits, she’d only ever seen that on TV during her missions. Damn sure Ozuma and Dunga never did that and they were ‘the strongest in the village’.
Keep an eye on them.
“Oh, I’m keeping two.”
And hands off. Don’t let them catch you if you can.
“Aw Zu-Zu, you ruin all my fun.” She wouldn’t mind getting her hands or her teeth on them. Particularly pale boys thighs. She bet she could leave a nice set of indents on his skin, the pallor of it would mark wonderfully.
She sighed and sucked on the wooden stick. “So what is the plan? Divide and conquer?”
Not at the moment, we need to see how dangerous everything is. Keep in contact.
Resting her head back against the wall, she fanned her face. Gods, it was getting hot.
When she looked back, she froze. Pale Boy was staring in her direction. A frown played over his face and he stepped forward to get a better look. Wonderful. Was he…? Oh yeah, he’d seen her. Time to go.
Mariam blew out a breath and grabbing her bag of sweets, she quickly tied it over her shoulder. Casting a look at him, she saluted and then threw herself off the building, catching a pole on the way down, she flipped herself around. Shifting her weight and anticipating the landing, she dropped to the ground with effortless grace.
When she glanced back up, he was still standing there, a hand pressed against the glass. Grinning brightly, she blew him a kiss and trotted down an alleyway. He wouldn’t recognise her, but she couldn’t let Kai spot her, that would end all their fun and she wasn’t finished watching the B-Boys yet.
#beyblade#beyblade fanfiction#saving fanfic#saving part of the world#chapter twelve#fanfiction#season four fanfic
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Rules.
I. I am Private & Selective, which means I will RP with mutuals only. Of course you may ask me if you would like to RP and we’ll take it from there. My reasons for being private & selective stem from terrible days of Twitter roleplaying.
II. This is a sideblog– I follow back from illusionofretention. You don’t have to follow my personal to be mutuals with me, just be following this account and I follow you from my personal.
III. This blog will be NSFW and will include violence, blood, gore, and so on and so forth. Everything will be tagged. Smut will be under a read more. Excessive blood and gore (such as dismemberment, torture, for example) will also be under a read more. Please notify/IM me before hand if there’s a point in time where our threads reach that point so we can discuss what is and what isn’t too much.
IV. Two different threads per mun [for now]. I get very annoyed if someone will disregard this request of mine. New threads will be archived in RP Thread Tracker.
V. Don’t reblog IC posts that are not tagged as ‘Starter Call’.
VI. I’m not a meme source nor a musing source. You can reblog memes from me if and only if the OP is deactivated or it isn’t showing up, and I do not require a meme be sent to me, just please don’t reblog memes from me.
VII. I am VERY Pro-OC’s, fan characters, self-inserts, whatever you call it. I will not rp with you if you say that you don’t want to interact with OC’s or if you shun or insult them regardless of whatever reason. Throughout the years I have been a roleplayer, I have seen so much hate for OC’s and the like all for stupid, childish reasons and it comes a time where you just have to say “I’m sick of it” and just not interact with people who want to be that way.
If you are an OC blog, all I need to see is an about page so I can know who they are and their style.
VIII. Regarding threads, I don’t care about grammar or anything like that so long as it’s legible. Also, I do prefer multi-para replies but not adverse to one-liners so long as it fits the thread. I will be happy to explain words or sentences in my reply that you don’t understand.
IX. Smut is always to be under a read more. No exceptions. If I reblog under a read more and you do not reblog with a read more as well, I will automatically drop the thread. Mobile isn’t an excuse. Notify me if you want a timeskip (I have done many before) or you want detailed smut.
If we are roleplaying smut, I must know your age. No exceptions. I will not roleplay anything having to do with self harm or unconsentual sex.
X. Please read the headcanon page for my muse so you’ll get to understand him better! Since Game of Dice only has like… one sticky note per character on who they are, I’ll be mostly using headcanons for Kai and following the canon as well.
XI. I adhere to gore/guro/horror tags and will always tag as such, as well as any other triggers. If I have not tagged something that bothers you, please IM/private ask me what I did not tag correctly and I will do so. I will not rp anything relating to suicide, self harm, or unconsensual sex.
XII. No godmodding, infomodding (stuff like knowing about Anthony’s bounty, that she’s a pirate, etc is okay). Please.
XIII. I always encourage interaction outside of our roleplay blogs. If I say something wrong, if you don’t like something I’m doing, I won’t know if it is offensive unless you tell me. I’m not going to argue like a child on it. I dislike roleplayers who would cut off a person because they didn’t like something they were doing and didn’t say anything about it. I know that this can only worsen a person’s anxiety and make them feel like they did something unjust, which is why I dislike roleplayers that do this. This is the rule I stress the most. If you have a concern, talk to me. That’s all. {Mun: illusionofretention}
XIV. For personal reasons, I no longer rp with genderbend muses. Nothing against the muns that do have those muses, though.
[Now, about Kai...]
There will be more excessive depiction of blood, gore and violence than anything else, especially since Kai isn’t exactly just a magician in my eyes.
Here, I will also portray him as a Navy captain ( since it is as close to canon as can be ) and as a witch, who practices the dark arts, and baneful magick.
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5 Surprising Ways Creative Minds Use Evernote
What’s your biggest goal for 2018? Finally writing that book you’ve had inside you for years? Launching a podcast? Performing stand-up comedy in front of an adoring crowd? Whatever your aspiration, this can be the year you take positive steps toward making it a reality.
As scary as it might be to think about what lies ahead, big goals don’t always demand big actions. Often, all you need to achieve your dreams is a series of small, incremental steps, a firm belief that you can do it—and the right tool to capture moments of inspiration.
Henry Ford famously said, “Whether you think you can or whether you think you can’t, you’re right.” One way to ‘fail-proof’ your dreams is by identifying and removing some of the familiar excuses that have held you back for so long. Self-defeating words like “I’m too busy,” or “I can never remember my good ideas” do nothing but rob you of your power and place obstacles in your path. Making Evernote your place to stay on track and keep yourself accountable can help.
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To inspire you to make your 2018 happen, here are some unexpected ways that creative minds use Evernote Premium to help them capture brilliant ideas, no matter where they are in the world.
Superfeel finds inspiration in the everyday
Musicians Androu Boudreau and Jordan Bradley, the two halves of up-and-coming New York-based pop/R&B duo Superfeel, use Evernote as an integral part of their creative process. As Androu says, “Evernote is critical to our creative brainstorming process. It helps us capture ideas at all times, no matter where we are. We capture ideas through voice recordings, notes, pictures, and more, and can come back and bring them all together to make music.”
The magic of Superfeel is the way they can find inspiration in the most unlikely of places. An image, a sound, a thought—any snippet of an idea can later form the basis of a work of art, so being able to capture it all in Evernote is vital to the duo. “Every song we have ever recorded, Evernote has had a hand in the process,” Androu explains. “This app has literally changed the way we make music.”
Pro Tip: Record audio interviews ‘on the street’ for your podcast.
Nisha Harish conquered the desert and captured her journey in Evernote
Author Nisha Harish
In 2015, Nisha Harish completed the grueling six-day, 156-mile (251 km) annual race across the Moroccan desert known as the Marathon des Sables. Competitors must carry everything they need with them, so there’s no room for luxuries. Despite this, Nisha made sure to pack her iPhone so that she could take notes in Evernote at the end of each day. Upon completing the race, she turned those notes into a successful book, Big Steps, Long Strides, about her experience.
Nisha explains, “I wanted to write a book, but it needed to fit into my lifestyle. Evernote gave me that flexibility.” And considering that she had to carry her note-taking device across the burning desert with her, it’s fair to say that, without Evernote in her pack, Nisha might not have realized her goal. “It would be too simplistic to say that Evernote allows people to make notes because it has allowed me to achieve a major life ambition.”
Pro Tip: Jot down story ideas for your novel while you’re commuting to and from work.
Chris Hardwick connects ideas while on the road
Photo Credit: Joe Pugliese/AMC
Chris Hardwick is everywhere at the moment. He has a media empire (The Nerdist), a TV show on AMC (Talking Dead), and a festival-headlining stand-up act. He clearly doesn’t stay in one place for very long.
As a busy, successful performer, one of Chris’s biggest challenges is not coming up with new material, but keeping the inevitable flood of ideas organized. Joan Rivers, the legendary comedian, and mentor to Chris, had a multitude of note cards which she organized in little drawers. “Some people use notebooks; other people use cocktail napkins,” Chris says. “I will mostly write big ideas and work my stuff out in Evernote.”
Chris organizes his ideas into notebooks, adding tags as he goes. This allows him to spot connections between different thoughts that were not apparent before. “I realize there’s a through-line that I didn’t consciously intend, but my subconscious brain was trying to express. All these ideas are actually weirdly connected, as disparate as they might seem.” Sometimes Chris even uses Evernote when he’s performing: “I have gone on stage when I’m trying new stuff, and I just have Evernote open in presentation mode and I have the phone down on the stool.”
As Chris readily admits, though, the key to making it all work is capturing your ideas in the first place. “In the same way that you would organize a closet,” he says, “it allows you to do that emotionally with your life in all the intangible things that you can’t see, but you experience. But you can’t do that unless you really start tracking all that stuff.”
Pro Tip: Scan the business card of a contact you meet at an open-mic night or writing seminar.
Aaron Mahnke turns research into creative inspiration
Lore author and star Aaron Mahnke
Aaron Mahnke is a best-selling author and the host and producer of Lore, the critically-acclaimed series which began as a podcast and has now expanded into television, a book series, and a national live tour. Aaron’s many creative projects take up an enormous amount of his time; that’s why the ability to capture ideas in Evernote is vital to his success.
“Writing is creative, yes, but it’s also work. It’s just a task,” Aaron says. And to complete any task, you need the right tools. For a long time, Evernote was the place where Aaron stored links, images, notes, scraps, and ideas in clearly-labeled notebooks. It was what he called a “someday box.” Now, however, it fuels his ongoing creative process.
To produce Lore, Aaron uses a gamut of Evernote features, from Web Clipper, marking up PDFs, and tagging, to multi-layered, interconnected notebook stacks that tie together all the elements of his research and writing.
“It’s a process that sounds simple on paper,” Aaron says. “I pick a topic I find interesting, and then research every aspect of it that I can. I read for hours, taking notes and highlighting pieces of story or information. And when I’ve filled my head with everything, I find a quiet place and think through the outline. A lot of that happens in Evernote.”
Pro Tip: Save a PDF or doc in Evernote, annotate it, and search the text inside it later.
Forrest Dylan Bryant is always ready to write with Evernote
Forrest Dylan Bryant
Full disclosure: Forrest is more than just an Evernote Premium customer, he’s also our Director of Marketing Content. So, if anyone understands the true creative potential of Evernote, it’s Forrest.
In his spare time (what little of it he has), Forrest is an accomplished author and an avid participant in the National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo, held every November. NaNoWriMo challenges participants to write a 50,000-word novel in 30 days—a difficult goal, certainly, but not an impossible one, although it demands a disciplined and highly organized creative approach from writers.
Forrest muses that over the years he has experimented with many different writing tools. “Word, Scrivener, Google Docs, Ulysses…I’ve used them all. Each has its strengths, but I couldn’t find a system that suited me.” So, when he was preparing for NaNoWriMo in 2015 (and again in 2016), Forrest made the decision to create his novel entirely in Evernote.
While you may not want to make it your sole writing tool, you can still take advantage of Evernote’s many templates and shortcuts to make the planning process considerably easier.
The work of preparing to write, including creating character histories and story timelines, can stymie even the most seasoned writer. Templates simplify this process by giving you a convenient home for all the material you collect while researching your story. Then, when the time comes to create your ‘magnum opus’—using whatever tool you choose—you’ll find it easier to stay on track when you refer back to the research you’ve stored handily in Evernote.
If writing a novel is one of your 2018 goals, NaNoWriMo could be the perfect place to start—to ‘dip your toe in the water’ and see if the writer’s life is really for you.
Pro Tip: See Forrest’s advice for using templates to write your novel here.
So, what will you achieve this year? As you can see, there’s no stopping a great idea—at least not when you have the right tools to help you.
Special offer: 40% off Evernote Premium* »
*Evernote Premium offer good only with Evernote Premium purchase. New or Evernote Basic users only; offer expires January 31st, 2018 at 11:59 PM PST. This offer has no cash value and cannot be combined with any other offer. This offer can only be redeemed with Evernote direct payments. Offer not able to be applied to third-party payment services such as iTunes, Google Play, and Amazon or to extend current subscriptions.
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Rules.
[Basic]
I. I am Private & Selective, which means I will RP with mutuals only. Of course you may ask me if you would like to RP and we’ll take it from there. My reasons for being private & selective stem from terrible days of Twitter roleplaying.
II. This is a sideblog-- I follow back from illusionofretention. You don’t have to follow my personal to be mutuals with me, just be following this account and I follow you from my personal.
III. This blog will be NSFW and will include violence, blood, gore, and so on and so forth. Everything will be tagged. Smut will be under a read more. Excessive blood and gore (such as dismemberment, torture, for example) will also be under a read more. Please notify/IM me before hand if there’s a point in time where our threads reach that point so we can discuss what is and what isn’t too much.
IV. Two different threads per mun [for now]. I get very annoyed if someone will disregard this request of mine. New threads will be archived in RP Thread Tracker.
V. Don’t reblog IC posts that are not tagged as ‘Starter Call’.
VI. I’m not a meme source nor a musing source. You can reblog memes from me if and only if the OP is deactivated or it isn’t showing up, and I do not require a meme be sent to me, just please don’t reblog memes from me.
VII. I am VERY Pro-OC’s, fan characters, self-inserts, whatever you call it. I will not rp with you if you say that you don’t want to interact with OC’s or if you shun or insult them regardless of whatever reason. Throughout the years I have been a roleplayer, I have seen so much hate for OC’s and the like all for stupid, childish reasons and it comes a time where you just have to say “I’m sick of it” and just not interact with people who want to be that way.
If you are an OC blog, all I need to see is an about page so I can know who they are and their style.
VIII. Regarding threads, I don’t care about grammar or anything like that so long as it’s legible. Also, I do prefer multi-para replies but not adverse to one-liners so long as it fits the thread. I will be happy to explain words or sentences in my reply that you don’t understand.
IX. Smut is always to be under a read more. No exceptions. If I reblog under a read more and you do not reblog with a read more as well, I will automatically drop the thread. Mobile isn’t an excuse. Notify me if you want a timeskip (I have done many before) or you want detailed smut.
If we are roleplaying smut, I must know your age. No exceptions. I will not roleplay anything having to do with self harm or unconsentual sex.
X. Please read the headcanon page for my muse so you’ll get to understand her better! Since Game of Dice only has like... one sticky note per character on who they are, I’ll be mostly using headcanons for Anthony and following the canon as well.
XI. I adhere to gore/guro/horror tags and will always tag as such, as well as any other triggers. If I have not tagged something that bothers you, please IM/private ask me what I did not tag correctly and I will do so. I will not rp anything relating to suicide, self harm, or unconsensual sex.
XII. No godmodding, infomodding (stuff like knowing about Anthony’s bounty, that she’s a pirate, etc is okay). Please.
XIII. I always encourage interaction outside of our roleplay blogs. If I say something wrong, if you don’t like something I’m doing, I won’t know if it is offensive unless you tell me. I’m not going to argue like a child on it. I dislike roleplayers who would cut off a person because they didn’t like something they were doing and didn’t say anything about it. I know that this can only worsen a person’s anxiety and make them feel like they did something unjust, which is why I dislike roleplayers that do this. This is the rule I stress the most. If you have a concern, talk to me. That’s all. {Mun: illusionofretention}
XIV. For personal reasons, I no longer rp with genderbend muses. Nothing against the muns that do have those muses, though.
[Now, about Anthony...]
I will not, under any circumstances, tone down Anthony for anyone, not even mutuals I’ve known for a while. I love portraying Anthony as the badass she is. She takes no one’s shit, will pick a fight if she feels threatened and she is not at all sweet or nice to anyone except for those who she deems worthy of calling a friend. She is also incredibly violent given the situation and her first incentive is to attack. Anthony also tends to curse a lot so that will be evident in threads.
[If you’ve read all of this, feel free to give Anthony a Jar of Dirt in the askbox. She may open it and throw the contents down your shirt, but always fun, yes?]
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