#the kissing does actually serve a purpose. Hint: It's why Light feels better about going to the next location | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

breadoffoxy · 4 years

Text

Magic Hands

Summary: Two of your best friends come over for game night, but mother nature has other plans in mind. Being a woman sucks, but your friends offer you their talented hands to help you feel better.

Pairing: Jimin x f. Reader x Taehyung

Genre: Smut, NSFW

Warnings: Smut, NSFW, threesome, sexy sandwich, pre-period symptoms, sexy massage, language, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), kissing (fxm and mxm), overstimulation kink, begging kink, hinting at Taehyung having a foot kink but there is no actual foot action, I’m sorry Taehyung is just so kinky in this, Princess pet-name, lots of breast action, maybe something considered food play and cum play, dom Jimin and Taehyung (slightly switches towards each other).

Word Count: 4,242

A/N: This is completely self-indulgent and it wrecked me writing it. Thanks grammar god @rougebangtan so much for beta reading this! I appreciate your help so much. I’ve learned so much from your feedback, and you’ve really helped strengthen my writing. Thanks friends in the ghostie discord who helped inspire me and hype me up to write this. I appreciate all of yall!

-> next

It was almost that time of the month.

The one that you felt served no purpose except to biologically torture you.

Yes, that time of the month. You absolutely hated it.

Despite the extra pillows you added, the chair was doing no favors for your aching back. You groan as you shift in your desk chair, leaning forward to better massage the lower muscles causing you pain, and your breast brush against the table in front of you. The groan deepens as your oversensitive mounds press lightly against the hard surface.

You’d think you’d have your period down by now as an adult, but no, your body loved to keep throwing curve balls at you. For the last few months, the pre-period symptoms have been worse for you than the period itself. The week before your period, you would suffer from lower back pain, which at first had worried you, but you figured out, it was a normal part of PMS.

Your breasts also suffered more now than they used to, as well. They would easily become oversensitive, with your nipples always erect, and trying to poke through the clothing you wore over them. It doesn’t help that your breasts were stuffed into your tight-fitting bra. The mounds swelled in size, increasing in both firmness and tenderness, despite all logic. At this point, you worried you may have to go shopping for a new bra size exclusively because of those symptoms.

Oh god, all the extra hormones made you always horny too. Not that you weren’t normally, but now you were extra horny all the time. The sound of your phone vibrating angrily on your desk makes you stop your weak ministrations to check the message.

Jimin: y/n, we’re here!

Jimin: Why aren’t you answering the door!

Jimin: Let us in!

You see the three dots bouncing at the bottom of the screen, meaning Jimin is adding more messages to your chat. The man was always impatient and desiring attention.

You: I’m coming!

After standing up, you put your arms up above your head in order to give your back a good stretch before you make your way out of your room, and towards your door with quick steps. You swing the door open to see your two friends, who you had invited over for, which had now turned into, a poorly timed game night. You kind of wanted to ditch and just make a nest in your bed, but you’d feel bad canceling on your friends.

Jimin is leaning against the wall next to your door. Phone in his hands, he looks up excitedly when you open the door. He does his little habit of running his hand through his blonde hair, and his long earrings sway at the motion. Jimin is dressed smartly in his black shirt with a deep V-neck, with a necklace falling slightly below his exposed collarbones. Despite his shorter stature, compared to your other guy friends, his legs look endlessly long in those black jeans and a black belt wraps around his thin waist.

Taehyung, the other friend invited to game night, had his head tilted back to look at the sky as he waited for you to open the door, his Adam’s apple prominently displayed. He sported a peaceful expression as he glanced at you. His light caramel hair peeked out from his red snapback. His lithe form was hidden underneath a large cozy white shirt and dark pants while a combination of studs and rings lined the lower part of his ears. Two large plastic bags could also be seen hanging from his hands by his side.

“Finally.” Jimin huffs at you despite a smile being on his lips.

He pulls you into a hug which you gladly accept. You turn your head to make a face at Taehyung behind Jimin’s back, trying to distract yourself from the sensation of your chest smushed up into Jimin’s. The tall man laughs at the both of your antics. "I'm going to set this inside.” Taehyung holds up the bags when you try to peek in them, and you spot a variety of snack, chips, drinks, and box of strawberries.

“Thanks, Tae.” You coo fondly when you see your favorite snack. Just the distraction you needed. Taehyung nods, and walks past you and into your home comfortably, heading straight for the kitchen.

“Jimin.” You tap his back trying to signal the hug had been going on for a little too long. It wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward, at least. “Time to go inside.”

Instead of letting you go, the blonde man tightens his grip on you. He starts waddling you backwards and into your house.

“Jimin, let go.” You giggle happily.

“But what if I don’t want to?” He retorts and laughs as the two of you backtrack into your living area slowly.

“How are we going to beat Tae at videogames if one of us can’t see the tv?” You question after you finally come to a stop. You can hear the sound of crinkling plastic bags behind you as Taehyung placed the assorted snacks behind you, on the kitchen counter.

Jimin pulls a fake look of seriousness that makes you laugh. “You have a mirror somewhere we can use, right?”

“Do you know how hard that would be? No way.” You hit his chest as you lean back from his hold. He just grins at you.

“Well, you know I can’t let you go until you say the magic words.” He raises an eyebrow.

“I am not saying that.” You roll your eyes.

“Well, then.” His fingers flex against their hold on your sides in warning.

“No, don’t you-” Your retaliation turns into a shriek as the man tickles your sides.

“Say it.” Jimin continues.

You can barely say anything with how much you’re laughing and squirming. It’s unfair.

“Oh, sweet Jimin–” You get out somehow between laughs. “The cutest angel– ow, ow.” In the midst of your squirming, your back turns just the right way for spasms to rack across it.

Instantly, Jimin stops his tickling and unravels his arms around your form. He takes a tentative step back to give you room. “Are you ok, y/n?”

“Jimin, don’t kill her.” The sound of rustling plastic stops as Taehyung turns to look over at the two of you. He frowns as he sees you leaning slightly to the side, trying your best to ease the spasming muscles on your back.

“I’m fine.” You strain out. “My body’s just been hurting for a couple days now. It’ll go away soon.”

“y/n, I’m so sorry.” Jimin laments sadly. His hands are still frozen in the air, wanting to help inspect you as his eyes roam over your form instead.

“Did you get rid of that crappy chair yet?” Taehyung questions, the sound of bags crinkling once again, as he resumes his task.

Just how many snacks did he buy?

Jimin’s face turns serious as he goes to move around you and towards your room. “I told you to get rid of that piece of junk.”

“No, no, no.” You reach out and grabbing Jimin’s wrist quickly.

He stops immediately at your touch and glances back at you. Despite the chair being a piece of junk, you don’t want him to throw it out. You have other things to spend money on. Plus, it’s not really the problem this time. “It’s not the chair, Jimin, I swear. Don’t throw it out.”

Jimin eyes you critically. “So, if it’s not that, then what?”

“Errr…” You avoid eye contact as you quickly try to think of a lie and avoid Jimin’s skeptical face. “Wow, Taehyung sure bought a lot of snacks. We should help him out.”

You quickly let go of Jimin’s arm and, in order to seem nonchalant, you try to brush past him in the same manner he did earlier to you. But, of course, he won’t let you escape so easily and moves to secure you by the wrist.

It's your turn to look back at him now. The look he gives you makes your heart pound. It’s so caring, but there is a touch of sadness in his eyes. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“I know, Jimin.” You sigh as you look at the ground, suddenly so much more interested in your feet now. “It’s just… I’m… about to start my period.” You stumble through the words and just decide to get it over with. It may be awkward, but your friends are good at saving a good time.

“…Oh!” Jimin drops your arm, and runs his hand through his hair nervously. “I’m sorry I was pushing.”

“It’s just parts of my body aches right before my period.” You start speaking quickly. “It’s quite normal for the lower back to hurt before it starts.”

Oh god, why won’t the words stop now.

“It’s only started happening the last few months so I’m not quite used to it yet.”

Why are you telling them all of this unnecessary information?

“I would kill for a massage.” You finally end with a cringe.

“If you want…” You look back at Jimin who speaks up with slight hesitation. His hands are clasped together nervously, “…I could give you a massage?”

“He’s got quite the magical hands, you know.” Taehyung shouts from across the room. Jimin wiggles his fingers, gaining confidence at his friend’s words.

“…If you wouldn’t mind?” You tilt your head after pondering the idea, smiling sheepishly at your friend. “I’d appreciate it Jimin, thanks.”

“It’s not a problem.” Jimin twirls a finger, signaling for you to turn around. “I wish I could have helped you earlier.”

“If your hands really are magical, I’ll text you my period tracker.” You turn around, chuckling.

You feel the warmth of Jimin’s body move closely behind yours, and his breath tickles your neck giving you goosebumps. Warm hands are placed on your shoulders and start kneading, slowly working their way down. You hum appreciatively, his hands do feel nice.

Now facing the kitchen, you gasp as you notice the crazy number of snacks lined up on the counter. “Taehyung!”

“It’s not enough, isn’t it?” Mumbles Taehyung as he looks at the pile. An open box of strawberries is in his hand, a couple already devoured by the strawberry lover.

“It’s too– oh, Jimin, right there.” You practically moan as you become putty in his hands.

“This good?” He asks as his hands rest at the base of your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into the center of your lower back.

You nod your head up and down quickly to show your appreciation.

“Good.” He hums as he maneuvers your bodies so you can lean against him, and rest your head back on his shoulder. His hands fit between your bodies, pulling lightly at your shirt. “Is it ok if I reach under?”

“Yeah.” You jump slightly when his skin touches your own, making him chuckle.

You are suddenly all too aware of the position the two of you are in. His thighs grazing yours, feeling every inch of his hard chest against your back, his fingers circling pleasantly into your tired muscles, and his breath sweeping over the side of your face as he looks down at you in concentration. You close your eyes and hide your face into his neck, everything becoming just a little bit overwhelming for your over sensitive body.

“Want one?” You turn your head, and open your eyes to see Taehyung holding a strawberry in front of your face.

“Thanks, Tae.” You mumble. lifting your head from its resting place on Jimin, but before you could reach up to take the offered fruit, you feel it brushing softly against your lips.

Taehyung is eyeing your lips intensely before they move up to make eye contact with your own. He prods the strawberry against your lips a little harder, and you open your mouth in response. He smirks as he slides the strawberry into your mouth until it reaches the base. You close your mouth around it and bite the fruit, the sweet flavor filling your mouth.

Taehyung’s thumb swipes at your bottom lip, wiping off the strawberry juice, before he slides the digit into his mouth, sucking it clean. “Tasty, isn’t it?”

You whimper at the ache you feel between your legs. Thighs rubbing together unconsciously, you realize how wet you at that moment, from the slickness that coats your panties, smearing your upper thighs.

Taking a deep breath, you to try to clear your mind. “O-Ok guys, I think I’m good. Thanks for the special treatment. So, I’ll um, go set the games up now.”

Jimin grips onto your waist before you can bolt. “You’re still so stiff though. Are you sure?” His hands prod at a sensitive spot making you tense as he works the muscle out. It’s slightly painful, but pleasurable at the same time.

“I have magic hands too.” Taehyung mimics the hand wiggle Jimin preformed earlier. “You said ‘parts of your body ache’,” Taehyung air quotes, “Where else hurts? Are your feet sore?” He questions almost hopefully.

You turn your head to the side indignantly, “No, they’re fine. I’ve already embarrassed myself enough today, though. So, don’t worry about it.”

“You didn’t embarrass yourself.” Jimin reprimands, pinching you lightly.

“Ow.” You tilt your head back again to try to give him the best glare you can manage, but instead it looks more like an adorable pout which makes him laugh. “Don’t laugh, ok? I’m not going to ask you to massage my breasts.” You blurt out.

Jimin’s hands freeze and you feel his form stiffen behind you. The atmosphere around you changes. It feels just as heady as you feel when Jimin looks at you with dark eyes.

“If you want me to do that, I can.” Taehyung replies casually and confidentially.

You whip your head back towards Taehyung, your eyes wide with surprise. He’s rubbing his hands together before intertwining his fingers and stretching his arms out in front of him.

“But we– I– is this ok?” You squeak out, somehow. Your nerves are haywire as your brain runs through all the scenarios.

Will this make things awkward later? What does all of this mean?

Taehyung looks over your shoulder to the man behind you. Nodding after their silent conversation, Taehyung steps forward until he’s directly in front of you, barely standing an arm’s length away.

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine.” Taehyung shrugs. “I’ll pull out the Mario Kart, and feed you more strawberries, but if you do-” Taehyung finishes his sentence, closing the distance, and effectively sandwiching you between him and Jimin.

Your breath hitches as Taehyung slides his hands up your side, stopping just before the curve of your breasts to purr, “I promise I’ll make you feel better.”

Those words break the dam of your lust, and causes warmth to spread all over your body. You whine pitifully, words lost to you. Your back arches automatically, chest desiring the sensation of touch.

“Use your words, y/n.” Jimin whispers huskily into your ear, making a shiver go down your spine. You feel the smirk on his lips as they skim your lobe.

Screw the fucking consequences.

“Please.” You beg quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “Touch me, make me feel good.”

Both men make noises of approval. You feel the sounds rumble from their chests on both of your sides. Large hands reach up and cup your breasts over your clothes. Taehyung’s fingers knead your breasts carefully as you whimper, both out of pain and pleasure.

“It’ll be ok, Princess.” Taehyung reassures, “Just have to work out the kinks.”

“Just relax.” Jimin leaves a light, feathery kiss behind your ear. His lips skim down to your neck, nose brushing at your jaw encouragingly. Your head tilts to the side automatically to give him more access. He continues pressing his thumbs into your lower back. “We got you.”

With weak legs, faint pants come from your parted lips. You lift your arms to wrap them around Taehyung’s neck. It’s all too much, but, at the same, you still need more. So, you brush your lips lightly against Taehyung’s who immediately reciprocates. It starts off slow, but turns hungry quickly.

You moan into his mouth, and Taehyung uses that moment to invade your mouth with his tongue, passionately exploring. Your hands reach into his hair, knocking his hat off in the process, and weave into his soft locks. His lips only leave yours after you tug his hair slightly, your breath heavy as you try to regain some oxygen.

“Can I take my shirt off?” You pant out, your voice coming off a little breathless. “Need to feel more.”

Taehyung’s hands leave your chest. “Raise your arms,” He commands.

You untangle your hands from his hair, now sticking up in different directions, and you raise your arms above your head, just as you are told. Grabbing the ends of your shirt, Taehyung slowly pulls it up, exposing your skin inch by inch. Once it is off, he throws it off to the side.

Jimin looks over your shoulder to ogle the sight of the cleavage spilling out of your bra. “You’re so much bigger now.” His hands slide up your back up to your bra strap. “Do you want this off, too?”

“Yes.” You croon, sighing contently as Jimin’s fingers nimbly undo the claps, chest now free from its constraints.

Taehyung slides the straps off your shoulders before tossing the garment to the side, as well. His hands return to your chest making the both of you moan. You do it out of sensitivity, but he cramps up at the sensation of his fingers kneading into the soft yet firm flesh. Cleavage spills around his large, splayed out hands, and he is fascinated at the sight.

Jimin’s hands rub lower down your back, more so than they were before. His fingers dip slightly under your pants and brush along the top of your ass. You moan wantonly and unashamedly when Taehyung brushes your erect nipples, and circles his thumb around them almost lazily.

“What else, Princess?” Asks Taehyung, licking his lips in anticipation.

“My ass.” You whimper and Jimin hums in response, eager for you to continue. Which is exactly what you do. “Want you to grope it, Jimin.”

Jimin’s hands slide as much as they can into your pants, but they hindered slightly by the clothing. “Tae...” He whines miserably.

“On it.” He grunts and the coldness his hands leave behind after they’re removed from your chest makes you whine.

Taehyung chuckles at how needy you are as he unbuttons your pants and slides the zipper down. Jimin’s hands now slide freely down to your ass in-between your pants and underwear. He starts groping your ass, just as you requested.

“I need your mouth on them, Tae.” You arch your back even more to better display your breasts.

Taehyung eyes your breast heaving up and down as you do your best to breathe. “On these?” He teases as one hand comes to pinch and pull a hard nipple, the other moves to your waist and rubs circles into your skin.

“Ah!” you keen and your hips rock unintentionally, making both men moan at the friction. “Yes, there Taehyung, fuck.”

Licking his lips hungrily, Tae quickly descends onto a nipple. Your moans become louder as he sucks and bites on it, while the other continues to get pinched and pulled between his deft fingers.

The fingers on your ass slide down between your legs and feel the slicking gathering on your thighs. “You’re so wet.” Jimin moans, hips swiveling into yours. The action causes yours to rot rut into Taehyung’s, who returns the action with a moan of his own.

“You’re so spoiled.” Jimin chuckles darkly as he feels more of your essence drip from your panties. “Do you want us to take care of this too, Princess?” He asks, adopting Taehyung’s pet name for you.

“Fuck.” The feeling of Jimin’s hands teasingly tracing your underwear is driving you mad. “I want-” You murmur shakily before you rethink your sentence, and inhale sharply. “I need you to.”

“Need me to what?” Jimin continues to tease, hand now sliding gently over the wet fabric and right over your core.

“Jimin.” You whine, hoping he would just push the soaked clothing aside and touch you where you desire it most, but he continues his feather touches.

“Please, touch my pussy.” You beg. “Rub my clit.”

“Your wish is my command.” Jimin moans with you as his fingers slip past your underwear finally, and feels how truly drenched you are. His finger swipes at your entrance, up your slit, and begins to rub your engorged clit.

“Ooohh yes, fuck yes, Jimin.” You chant over and over, hips rocking into his hand and thus also into Taehyung.

“Fuck.” Taehyung groans as his mouth leaves your breast. His blown-out eyes look down between your bodies to see your exposed panties peeking through your unzipped jeans. The thin material does nothing to hide how Jimin’s hand is caressing your cunt and clit.

Tugging on the top of your jeans, Taehyung kneels down in front of you, pulling your pants down with him. His eyes are now level with your core, and he watches Jimin’s hand work before he loops his fingers into the tops of your underwear. Slowly, he pulls the material down, a rope of slick coming down with it.

“No, don’t stop.” You whine as Jimin stops rubbing your clit.

His fingers find your lower lips and spread them open with both his hands, fully exposing you to Taehyung. Taehyung’s hands come to rest on your slick thighs, pushing on them to encourage to spread yourself more, which you comply to easily.

“Fuck, soon you’ll be begging me to stop.” Taehyung looks up at you as his breath ghosts your cunt. “Switch, Jimin.”

Jimin’s fingers let go of your lips and reach up to your breasts aching for attention. His wet hand gropes your swelling boobs, rolling your nipples under his slick palm.

You watch as Taehyung’s mouth closes the distance between him and your pussy, his hot, hard tongue following the same pattern of Jimin’s fingers. The muscle teases your entrance before sliding up and down your slit a few times until he reaches your clit. He gives the bundle kitten-licks as he savors the way your face fleetingly twists in pleasure, his eyes carefully catching each expression.

“Ooh, Tae,” You tangle your fingers into his hair once again, encouraging him to get closer, to go deeper. He envelops your clit in his hot mouth and sucks hard, making you scream. “Tae!”

Your moans never stop, instead, they only increase in volume; especially as Taehyung slides one hand further up your thigh, and gathers your fluid with it before sliding his fingers into your tight hole.

“You’re so fucking tight.” Taehyung groans between your legs and his voice sends vibrations through your very core. He moves his finger in and out of you, stretching you before he adds a second. His wrists flick rapidly as he fucks you with his fingers. “Such a needy girl.”

You cum quickly with a scream. Stars line up your vision at the powerful orgasm. Jimin holds your twitching body up as Taehyung continues to fuck your clenching hole with his fingers while licking the cum clean that drips from his fingers. Your orgasm ends, but Taehyung keeps going, now sucking and nibbling at your clit again. “Too much, too much.” You pull at Taehyung’s hair, trying to pull him away. He doesn’t relent, intent on keeping his word from earlier.

Strong arms from behind wrap around you, and pull you away from the kneeling man, whose face glistens from your cum. “Taehyung, you need to give her a break.”

Bless you Jimin, you beautiful angel.

“It’s my turn next.” His grip on you tightens, almost possessively like a child holding their favorite toy.

Wait, what?

“Fine, but I really want her to hear her beg more.” Taehyung stands up and stalks toward the both you.

“If she’s up for it,” Jimin shrugs, “it’s fine by me.” You’re not sure if he’s supporting you or signing your death warrant.

Once Taehyung reaches you, he grabs your chin between his fingers to hold you still as he kisses you deeply. His tongue easily slips into your mouth, and you taste yourself from his mouth.

He ends the kiss, wiping the back of his hand along his mouth. “Tasty, isn’t it?”

Jimin’s head suddenly reaches over your shoulder, pushing you in between him and Taehyung, as his lips reaches the other man’s. It’s a messy kiss, Jimin practically eating out Taehyung’s mouth. You stare at the scene, heat once again pooling between your legs.

“Divine.” Jimin says as he breaks the kiss and licks his lips. He starts waddling you backwards towards your room in the same fashion as he did earlier.

“Now, I’m going to fuck you so hard into that chair of yours. it’ll break. Then, you’ll have to buy a new one.”

Taehyung laughs as he follows along, eyeing your form now being practically dragged away by Jimin.

“Jimin, nooo.” You whine, not pleased at the prospect of buying another chair, which they seemed hell-bent on turning true. “The bed works perfectly fine.”

#btsghostie #bts fanfiction #bts smut #jimin x reader x taehyung #jimin fanfiction #taehyung fanfiction #v fanfiction #jimin smut #taehyung smut #v smut #bts reader #bts mxr #magic hands #my writing

901 notes · View notes

welllpthisishappening · 3 years

Text

Step Into the Light

In which Emma ponders the pros and cons of carpeted steps, how ugly that couch is, and how exactly to pay for a house in a town prone to fairy tales with a boyfriend who is still kind of dead, knows far too much about modern bathroom design, and has started wearing a sword with his jeans. That last thing’s making it a little difficult to focus on the rest, honestly.

Or: Emma and Killian talk about their house while sitting in an Underworld-version of it, and finally acknowledge how ridiculous the Storybrooke real estate market is. But, like, with feelings!

-----

Word Count: 3.4 and change

AN: In my never-ending quest to make characters actually talk about things, especially in an Underworld setting, here’s a quick story without much plot, some kissing, and some of those previously advertised feelings. Don’t bother telling me that cap is not in their house, I know. As always blame @shireness-says for me posting things. She’s very nice and is always, like, yeah, put that on the internet.

-----

Maybe they should put carpet on these stairs.

She’s got no idea how to do that. Or who would do it. One of the dwarves, maybe? They’ve got to have handy-man type skills. They built that cottage her mom stayed at in the Enchanted Forest one time. She thinks, at least. Emma’s not sure handy-man is the right word, either.

And she should probably apologize to the dwarves before requesting anything of them. Like, as a unit or a group, or whatever. For the freezing thing and the tree thing, and she genuinely has no idea if anyone did anything about Dopey, but she also figures after you get one guy out of a tree bound by ancient magic in a totally different realm, getting a dwarf back to his correct biological state is relatively easy.

So, the dwarves could probably do this.

Sitting on stairs without carpet isn’t particularly comfortable, after all. Maybe she should just magic carpet onto the stairs herself. Pick out a color, or a pattern and get to it. As it were.

No, not a pattern. No one wants patterned carpet, that’s tacky and she can’t imagine it’d be very easy to clean carpeted stairs, but that’s also something she could do with magic, if she were at all inclined to think about something as mundane as magic-based cleaning and—

The floorboards creak.

Emma wonders if they do that at home. In the right version of this house. This one is obviously messing with her mind. Which is how it’s supposed to work, she figures.

So, points to Hades.

It’s too big. Too many tiny, subtle differences from the space Emma only passably remembers and kind of explored, and she’s far more acquainted with the basement than any other room. Even the idea of going upstairs freaks her out.

Open floor plans with more hardwood, and bare walls that are almost desperate to be covered with frames, but part of that desperation might just be Emma, and she’s sure the master bedroom has en suite bathroom. It’s so goddamn fancy, she can’t quite come to terms with it. Or the questions she hasn’t given voice to yet, curiosity that burns at her from the moment she wakes up to the second she manages to close her eyes.

He’s staring at her.

Cautious energy that practically radiates off him now, both of them dancing around subjects and possibly each other and at some point Emma is certain she’ll have to make a list to all the people she needs to apologize to.

“You don’t look very comfortable,” Killian says, thumb hooked through one of his belt loops and that’s almost distracting, but he’s also started wearing a sword belt. Absolutely ridiculous. She hasn’t asked him where he found a sword, either.

Can’t be his. That’s—

A stair edge is digging into her spine.

“Is your sword on the Jolly, you think?”

One eyebrow arches perfectly, a return to something that almost feels like normal and can’t be that because Emma hasn’t made her list yet. If she makes the list, she’ll be in control. At least some semblance of.

It’s at least in the realm of a joke. Lips still twisted, Killian’s eyes almost brighten and that’s probably impossible in a place like this, but Emma’s slightly concerned she’s losing her already tenuous hold on sanity, so she’s willing to allow herself this one thing.

“Are you under the impression I don’t know where my own sword is?” Shrugging only serves to make it obvious how tight Emma’s muscles are, but Killian’s mouth twists ever so slightly and that’s a hint more normal she’s not sure she deserves. “Where else do you think it would be?”

“That’s why I asked.”

“Ah, so I have to answer the questions and you get to avoid them purposely?”

It’s a joke.

And yet, for as much as it’s a rather pitiful attempt at humor, the whole thing falls flat. Or down the stairs, as it were.

It’s entirely possible she’s the one who’s endeared.

“Tell me why you’re sitting here.”

Emma scrunches her nose. “How much do you think we’d have to pay the dwarves to carpet these stairs for us?”

“Conversion rates are admittedly still a little out of reach for me, but I’d imagine it would take a considerable amount to get them to consider crossing the threshold.”

“Huh.”

“Gepetto might do it, though. Probably owes you, don’t you think? Several times over.”

“How do you figure?”

His eyes are definitely getting brighter. Amused and endeared and several other adjectives that also do not belong in a place that’s basically hell-adjacent. Emma’s beleaguered mind does not care. Emma’s beleaguered mind does metaphorical cartwheels as soon as Killian drops next to her, hitching up the front of his jeans along the way like that’s something the fabric needs.

At, like, all times.

By him, and his sword belt. She can’t cope with the sword belt and the overall tightness of his jeans. It’s a whole goddamn look.

She can’t remember the last time she slept for more than a few hours.

“Well,” Killian starts, “it’s rather well known that the craftsman snuck his own son into your wardrobe ahead of the Dark Curse.”

“Is it just?”

“Very gossipy town this Storybrooke.”

“Who are you gossiping with?”

“I believe you’ve met the Widow Lucas, aye?” Laughter shouldn’t happen here. Sounds unnatural, even as it tumbles out of Emma, past upturned lips and slightly looser muscles, the second of which is undeniably disgusting. Her fingers curl around Killian’s hook. “Well, over the course of my stay in her lovely and well-informed establishment, I learned a few things. So, that’s Savior point number one.”

Emma’s cheeks ache. Most of her does these days, so she’s not surprised by the additional feeling, although there is something different about this one. More pleasant. Like stretching out after a good night’s sleep.

It’s ridiculously alive.

“Anything that happened with the cupboard was a little out of my control,” Emma argues, “being minutes old and all.”

“No, no, I’m counting it.”

“Pirate.”

He smirks. Straight up smirks, directly at her. Until it feels like she’s been struck by lightning and normalcy and three different knuckles on Emma’s right hand crack. When she tightens her fingers. “That’s been well-established, aye. And my sword is still on the Jolly, because I—” There goes the light. Dim eyes meet Emma, clouded with the kind of shame she understands far too well. “Didn’t think I’d need it when I had another blade, but uh—where was I, exactly?”

“Documenting all the reasons Gepetto owes me.”

“Of course, of course, Sticking his son in the cupboard, wardrobe, magical box, whatever, also led to the little bastard—”

“Killian!”

“Was he not? Would you like to come up with another adjective? I’m sure we could agree on something especially creative and rather scathing.”

Rolling her eyes isn’t the perfect response, but there are also several thousand things Emma would like to call August Booth or Pinocchio or whatever he’s going by now, and it’s nice to have someone in her corner. Metaphorical or otherwise. “Anyway,” Killian continues, “the cad did a handful of things that warrant the name, and then for good measure, he went and turned to wood a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, fuck that was really only a few weeks ago, wasn’t it?”

“I believe so.”

“Shit.”

“An appropriate sentiment,” Killian agrees, and Emma’s not sure if he’s moving closer to her or she’s moving closer to him. Specifics are unimportant. Particularly when he appears to be some sort of human heater.

Which is a very strange sentence, out of context.

He doesn’t say anything about it.

“So, you see, Swan, the old man certainly owes you several debts. Or the jackass—”

“—Bastard’s better, honestly.”

Kissing the top of her hair is an impossibility. There hasn’t been much kissing, really. Sitting almost on top of each other, sure. Neither one of them ever seems entirely willing to concede any personal space, as if standing too far apart will only lead to another, more permanent separation and Emma’s often wondered if he’s ever a little grossed out by how sweaty her hand gets. When she continues to hold his.

She hopes not.

So, kissing is off the table.

And yet, Emma’s so sure she feels him move. Certain shifts of his shoulders and a soft exhale that seems to help her heart settle back into a biologically correct rhythm. She’s spending far too much time thinking about science.

“There is, aye. With something Henry claimed was a waterfall shower and a bath with claw feet.”

“Maybe Gepetto would be willing to carpet our stairs, then,” Emma mumbles. “Although it does seem like a lot of work, and then upkeep. There are other things we could—” She doesn’t realize what she’s said at first. Not until Killian noticeably tenses, pulling his head away from her’s, which is another marker in the kissing column she can’t even begin to acknowledge.

“Why are you on the stairs, love?”

She sighs. Sags under the sudden pressure in the air and the tears that almost immediately well in her eyes, staring at the awkward angle of her knees. “I wanted to know if there was an en suite bathroom with the master.”

“I have no idea what those words mean.”

Whatever sound she makes isn’t so much a laugh as another huff of wholly emotional air, but Killian’s lips twitch when Emma finally turns her head and that’s got to count for at least several things. “Is there a bathroom connected to the largest room in this exceptionally enormous house?”

“You don’t know?”

“What was that about not answering questions?”

He catches her cheek that time, a quick press of his lips that sends a shiver down her spine and roots her to the spot. As if she were otherwise capable of moving. Her knees are at like, seventy-two degree angles. It’s because her feet aren’t flat on the step.

The banister could probably hold garland. For Christmas. Emma’s not sure she’s ever actually seen garland in real life.

“Why would Henry ever know what a waterfall shower is?”

“I haven’t the foggiest, but he was rather impressed by it. Less so by the claw feet.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“It was,” Killian says, voice dropping ever so slightly on the past tense that also manages to twist Emma’s barely-functioning heart. One internal organ shouldn’t go through so much in a single conversation. “Is still, I suppose. In the right place.”

“Which isn’t this.”

“Is that why you didn’t go upstairs?”

Emma shakes her head. “No, no, I didn’t really when I was—well, it was never really my house, was it?”

There it is. Laid out in metaphorical black and white and hanging in the minimal bit of air between them, not the only question, but maybe the biggest question and she doesn’t want to put carpet on these stairs.

“Can I just ask you something?”

It’s the other eyebrow that lifts this time. “You just did.”

“Bastard.”

“Not technically,” Killian objects, and the emotional whiplash of this is giving Emma legitimate whiplash. She might not let him up. She knows he won’t try to get up. “Several other rather insulting things, but I understand the confusion. What’s your question?”

“Were you going to buy this house?”

“I certainly would have liked to.”

“With dubloons and a questionable exchange rate?”

Killian tilts his head. Several strands of hair fall dangerously close to his eyes and that one arched brow. “We’ve already covered my tendency to err towards piracy, love. Occasionally that lead to—”

“—Booty?”

“A fabrication of your more modern and occasionally crass realm.”

“So you don’t have buried treasure.”

He gapes at her. As if the suggestion is insulting somehow. “Who would bury treasure? Seems like quite a lot of work only to guarantee more later. I have a passable assortment of coin from various realms—”

“—Do you know those conversion rates?”

“Swan.”

Emma squeezes her hand. Resists the real urge to swing her legs perpendicular over his, if only to help the overall state of her knees. Both of which may very well be frozen like this. “Are there jewels on your ship as well, Captain?”

“A variety, in fact.”

“Where are you hiding those? I was fairly certain we’d seen most of the ship.”

From that questionably large bay window in the sitting room.

Color dots his cheeks, a victory Emma is going to cling to for at least the next seventy-two hours in this hell hole. Killian kisses the bridge of her nose. “Nothing particularly nefarious, just hidden compartments. Boxes, crates and the like. Good to keep things like that hidden from suspecting royal eyes.”

“Am I the royal in this scenario?”

“Something we’d be all too willing to overlook if you help evade taxes, Your Highness.”

Letting out another laugh that’s far shakier than Emma would like, her head falls to the crook of Killian’s shoulder. He doesn’t smell the same. Not here. No hint of sea salt, or that bit of sunlight that always seemed to cling to the leather of his jacket, but there’s still a hint of warmth and life and it’ll be easy to see the Jolly anchored in the harbor.

This house has a sitting room.

Her mother never made her pay rent.

“Anyhow,” Killian continues, “there was ample choice as to how the house could be bought, and paid for. Nearly in full.”

“Shit, seriously?”

He hums. Like exchanging jewels for a house is simply part of the hum-drum of life, and not a total subversion of adulthood as Emma knew it. In theory, at least. With mortgages and interest rates, but she’s also fairly certain Storybrooke doesn’t have a bank and most of her sheriff duties just afforded her room and board at Granny’s.

So, really she’s got a stockpile of backlogged favors and work experience and—

“I could probably help, you know.”

“With?”

“The house,” Emma clarifies. “I just—I mean, I know I kind of freaked in Camelot, but then there was the flame and that was good, and a claw foot tub really does sound stupid fancy—”

“Say stupid fancy again, please.”

“You’re not helping.”

“But you’d like to be.”

Seriously, shrugging is so lame. “In theory, I guess. We’ve just...well, you and Henry looking for a house is—”

“—Overstepping.”

“Nah, that’s not it. It’s nice, really. But if we’re going to—” Emma has to swallow. Lick her lips, Pointedly ignore whatever it is her tongue is doing, because it feels suspiciously like her tongue is growing in her mouth, and she can’t rationalize the nerves. Fluttering around the pit of her stomach. “If we’re going to live here, then we should both live here, right?”

Chuckling lightly, Killian brings Emma with him when he leans back against a stair several stairs above them. It’s not particularly comfortable, but it’s not entirely bad either and that’s probably not a metaphor for the moment. “Both of us living here was my end goal, I’ll be honest.”

“Might need you to be more specific, love.”

“Give me some of those insults you came up with for August.”

“Who was selling it? It’s weird that people sell houses, right? I thought Gold owned just about everything in this town.”

“You’re a curse behind, love.”

“Oh, shit that’s right. So—do you think there were more people from the Enchanted Forest who came over with my parent’s version? I mean, there had to be, right? Although Robin and the Merry Men came with Zelena’s garbage. Then there was—”

“My curse?”

She grits her teeth. “I can’t believe Storybrooke is still publishing a newspaper without an editor. I wonder where Sidney went. I bet Regina knows.”

“Perhaps you should conduct a census, Sheriff. As far as Henry and I knew, the house was simply available. It’s possible when your parents enacted their version of the Dark Curse, it provided more housing. Simply tapped into all that goodwill.”

“Dark Curse and goodwill seems like a contradiction.”

“Well-placed intentions, at least.”

“Like my mom saying she could pull mayoral strings to make it all official?” Emma adds, rushing over her own words now. Killian’s smiling. She doesn’t bother looking. “I guess that is nice, but...I don’t know, getting our own house on our own terms seems kind of—”

“Important?”

“Something like that, yeah. Like it’s a...shit, if I use the phrase fresh start out loud will you make fun of me?”

“Only a little.”

He’s absolutely smiling.

“That’s fair,” Emma mutters. “I guess it feels like if it’s ours, then everything else will be. Maybe a new couch though. That one was kind of...stiff.”

“Sounds suspiciously like a euphemism.”

She’s smiling too. And exhausted. And strangely, almost happy somehow. “You would think that.”

“Which also sounds suspiciously like an insult.”

“Nah, but I think I could be more enthusiastic about the tub than the showroom sofa.”

“Opens up a whole slew of bathing opportunities,” she says, tilting her head up to find the smile slowly turning to a smirk and that particular version of the glint in Killian’s eyes makes her pulse sputter. “Just saying.”

She gets it.

“That was the euphemism.”

Like, gets it. In surround sound and with flashing lights for good measure, and the prospect of more kids isn’t really something that’s ever crossed her mind. And yet this house. With its bare walls and, she’s sure, ridiculous square footage gives her several seconds of much-needed pause, letting thoughts take root and blossom in the center of her chest and all of those thoughts deserve to be said out loud, so naturally Emma mutters: “My parents think we should go back to their loft. For, uh the foreseeable planning future.”

Idiot.

Before.

One thing at a time.

She’ll fix that eventually too, she’s sure.

“I love you,” Emma whispers, not entirely expecting a return sentiment. That makes the words all the better, breathed against her jaw and that spot behind her ear, and she can’t imagine what these stairs are doing to Killian’s spleen.

He still doesn’t move.

Joy arrives in the middle of the Underworld on the burst of Emma’s answering laugh, magic fluttering at the back of her brain and buzzing at the tips of her fingers. The same ones somehow still curled around Killian’s hook.

“Ours, Swan. That’s how it’s supposed to work, right?”

Ours, ours, theirs.

“Where’d you get the sword?”

“Locksley and I stole them from a crypt we found on the other side of town.”

#cs fic #captain swan #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #i think the stairs are carpeted #it looked that way in some of the caps i found #i do not care #nothing has ever frustrated more about this show than the dream catcher sene #or scene as it were #but slightly under that #was emma asking killian to move into a house...he picked out #like c'mon #anyway somehow they're still fun to write about #these idiots

50 notes · View notes

eeveevie · 4 years

Text

indecent promposal

From this prompt list: basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss

Introducing: Rosemary “Rosie” Sheridan! She’s baby. Also has a super suppressed crush on Butch. It’s complicated. Thank you @dreamxng-forever for prompting and letting me write for her! I went overboard!

Butch Deloria x Rosie Sheridan (Lone Wanderer)

2473 words | [read on Ao3]

Rosie thrived on scavenging—she loved discovering new wasteland objects or pre-war oddities that reminded her of home—Vault 101. She supposed the real reason she enjoyed surrounding herself with so much junk was because she was still trying to figure out her place in the Capital Wasteland, still forging her own path now that she was on her own.

Well, mostly alone.

Butch—she could hear him rummaging though boxes in a different part of the store, shouting little exclamations over to her when he’d find something of interest. He was something else that reminded her of home—she liked to think that was the only reason why she had agreed to string him along after finding him in Rivet City. Weeks of bickering had turned into months of amicable companionship, bordering on friendship. Rosie slowly found she disliked him less but was unable to formulate rational explanations in her mind as to why. Her childhood bully deserved civility, sure, but niceties? A second chance? Preposterous. Anything more than that made her head spin.

The light of his Pip-Boy illuminated his face as he unearthed an intact box, letting out a low whistle as he inspected the contents. “Hey Stitches, get a load of this!”

Butch had been calling her that since adolescence, as soon as she was old enough to begin assisting her father in the Vault clinic. About that time, the youngest Deloria would find himself needing Doctor James Sheridan for a myriad of reason, including stitches. It wasn’t uncommon that Rosie would perform these duties, and after so many visits, the moniker stuck. She would’ve preferred her actual name, but anything was better than Doc, or Nosebleed—both of which he still called her.

In the stretch of silence, Butch had brought the box over to her to see for herself. It wasn’t full of the usual wasteland garbage but instead contained what appeared to be pristine articles of pre-war clothing. Hesitantly she reached inside, gently touching at the soft fabric of the pink dress before removing it completely. She was careful as she unfolded it, holding it fall against her vault suit as she imagined briefly what it would be like to wear such a delicate piece of clothing.

Butch peered inside the box, tugging out a dark suit blazer from beneath another dress. He chuckled, eyebrows quirked up as he waved the arms of the jacket sleeves around. “Kinda reminds you of the gettup we wore to prom, huh?”

Rosie remained silent, sucking up her bottom lip between her teeth. She didn’t have fond memories of their time leading up to graduation, including the small dance the Overseer and adults had organized to celebrate the teenagers’ successes. She clung to the dress for a moment longer, before allowing the fabric to fold over her arms.

Butch’s expression faltered, but instead of becoming annoyed like he would’ve in the past he awkwardly shifted. “What?”

She decided that maybe an explanation was owed. “I didn’t go to the vault prom.”

“Whadd’ya mean?” he asked in return, brows furrowed. “You were there! With Amata!”

Rosie had to give it up to Butch’s memory and wondered how much more of their childhood he remembered. Though, this was only a few years ago, and they had known each other their whole lives. She sighed, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact. “Fine. I was there for all of thirty minutes before you spilt punch on my dress, and I had to go home.”

She expected him to argue or to deny it even happened. What Rosie didn’t expect was the frown and glimmer of guilt that flashed through his expression when she glanced his way. She continued looking at the pink, satin dress in her hands, wondering why this civilized version of Butch unnerved her. Not that she wanted him to taunt and torment her, but at least that would be relatively normal—but after all this time, would it?

“It’s not like I had a date, anyways,” she added, resentfully. Not that she had very many boys her age to choose from anyways. “I’m sure you did.”

“Ya’ don’t have to guilt trip me, Stitches,” Butch finally spoke, his laughter indicating a teasing tone. “Let ol’ Butch make it up to you.”

Rosie groaned, detesting the third-person speak for two reasons—it was corny, and usually mean that ol’ Butch had an incredibly bad plan. She didn’t even want to ask, but he was already gesturing to the dress in her hands and waving the tailored coat he held around.

“We could get dressed up, the two of us—”

She cut him off immediately. “Absolutely not.”

He stumbled, not anticipating her strong refusal. “Whoa, whoa! Let a man finish! Some fancy clothes, some good drink from the bar, some music on your fancy jukebox?”

“What?” she questioned. “A prom do-over?”

Butch grinned. “Exactly!”

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard the best part yet!” he argued.

She didn’t have to—did she even want to?. “No.”

“Come on, Rosie. Give a guy a chance why don’t cha?”

Sure, he was pouting a little too much for her tastes, but he had also done something so incredibly rare in speaking her name that her interest was piqued. She wished it wasn’t that easy for him to get under her skin, but something told her he wasn’t completely aware of what he was doing. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought about what it would be like to be the center of attention for once—to be the center of his attention. Her skin crawled—and she couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing.

She relented. “Okay.”

Butch clenched his fist with a grin. “Alright! You won’t regret it.”

The mirror in Rosie’s bedroom was cracked and dusty but served its purpose as she examined her appearance. She had pinned back her long dark hair, applied what little makeup she owned and had left her glasses atop her nightstand—for the first time she looked more like the maturing woman she was supposed to be and not a scrawny teenager chasing her father’s shadow. An enduring thought reminded her that she was still young, she had time to grow into her womanhood.

When she took a step back, she felt a rush of anxiety flood her senses. The dusty pink dress was very flattering and fit her in all the right places—Rosie was materialistically a girl’s girl and loved the color and fabric—but overall, the very fact she was dressed up while the rest of her surroundings were in shambles seemed foolish. Why had she allowed Butch to talk her into this? They had countless of important matters to attend to—no time to be reliving the past just because he wanted to make amends. As she adjusted the tie around her waist, she reminded herself that maybe it was more than that—thoughts she didn’t want to dwell on.

Rosie could already hear the Ink Spots playing when she emerged from her room, glancing to the fuzzy outline that was the jukebox and determined that Wadsworth was floating nearby. With a steady breath she approached the stairs and gripped the railing tightly as she began her descent. Butch was leaning against the back of the downstairs sofa, arms crossed as he stared up at her. Or at least, that’s what she thought, suddenly wishing she had opted for practicality instead of vanity when forgoing her glasses.

Halfway down the stairs, he whistled at her and the cat-call made her flush in a foreign way. Butch chuckled, catching the way she nearly stumbled. “Where’re your frames?” he asked, gesturing to his face.

She didn’t dare to let go of the handrail until her heels were planted firmly on the first-floor ground. He was more reminiscent of a blob until she approached, features clearing up as she stood before him. He was wearing the black, styled suit he had found—sans the tie—with the first few buttons of his collared shirt left open. Rosie figured that had been on purpose—she could teach him how to fix a tie later. He pointed to her face, reminding her he had asked a question.

Still blushing from the way he had whistled at her, she brushed a few loose strands of hair away from her face. She wasn’t entirely comfortable indulging her childhood insecurities. “Pretty girls don’t wear glasses to prom.”

“You’re such a dork, Stitches,” Butch softly laughed, but there was no insult to his words. Instead, he nodded at her, a hint of red peeking at his ears. “Ya’ look good,” he added. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Rosie smiled, still feeling flustered by the entire situation. She wondered if it was too late to back out and suggest dinner at the Brass Lantern instead. As if Butch could see the excuses formulating in her mind, he jumped into action, raising his hand up between them in offering.

“Does my best gal want a dance?”

She desperately wanted a respite from how flushed her cheeks felt, wondering if they were as pink as her dress. She was mortified by her own embarrassment, confused by her own emotions—it would be so much easier if she had somebody else to talk to about all this. Like her father. A second thought made her realize her dad would be overly clinical, blaming it all on teenaged hormones. But she did want a dance—what else did she want?

“No dirty dancing!” she said, in her own way of acceptance. She grasped his hand, biting back the sensation of warmth that radiated up her arm. That hand was usually pushing her away—she hadn’t expected it to be so comforting. Butch smirked as he carefully placed his other hand along her waist, prompting her to rest her palm against his shoulder.

“Do we need a ruler?” he joked, eyeing the space between them. Rosie rolled her eyes, shifting a little closer as he led them in a little square-step, all the space her home allowed. Butch was surprisingly a natural and predictably, she was awful.

“I’m bad at this,” she mumbled, looking down at her feet as she very nearly stepped on his toe for the third time.

Butch paused, nudging his hand against her chin to catch her attention. The action was so bizarrely intimate that Rosie stared at him bewildered, her skin aflame—but he didn’t seem to notice that he had shocked her senseless, gripping her fingers to lead them back into another step. It had to be intentional—no way he was that clueless—the way he touched her. He had to know exactly what he was doing to her, and she wondered if it was all some kind of big joke.

“Better than most,” he assured, bringing her back to her senses. He winked. “So you’re a good date after all.”

Rosie wasn’t good at matching his wit or his teasing, but she wanted to try. She couldn’t just stand there and be undone by some nice words. She thought about asking about the full prom package—reminiscing about the day after in the vault when a few lucky girls walked around the halls wearing hickies like badges of pride. Forming the right way to ask such a thing didn’t sound right in her head—she wasn’t a natural flirt, didn’t have the experience and after so many pretend conversations floating in her mind she had to stop and ask herself why she was thinking about Butch Deloria kissing her neck.

Her heart was racing as she found herself staring at him, wondering when he had sprouted up and became so tall. Years ago, when they were fifteen. She had stayed tiny while he filled out, muscles more defined now that he was her companion out in the wasteland. Of course, he still cared about his hair—thick black strands quaffed to the front like the gangster-type he aspired to be—too bad he was the only Tunnel Snake left. When she met his baby-blue eyes, she was done for, cursing the day she found him in the Muddy Rudder. But maybe it was a forgone conclusion since their paths crossed that fateful evening—she’d forgive him, and eventually, gradually, perhaps begrudgingly fall in love with the boy.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, Rosie thought, as Butch gradually scooted her closer despite her earlier warning. Nat King Cole was crooning a slow song, and they had slowed in their movements. He squeezed her hand in his, raising an eyebrow. “More quiet than usual, Stitches.”

She didn’t want to admit how annoyed she was with herself, and certainly wasn’t about to divulge how in that moment with Unforgettable playing from the balcony she wanted him to kiss her. She didn’t want a calling card on her neck—no, that could come later—what she wanted was something sweet and demure and chaste. What she wanted was something she had missed out on in her youth—her first real kiss. Ridiculous didn’t even cut it, feeling incredibly absurd for thinking she could ever get it from Butch—that she even wanted it from Butch.

“Um,” she hesitated, thinking he must’ve been able to feel her pulse racing along her wrist. She tried not to stare at his mouth, darting back up to his eyes—but that was worse. The heat radiating off her face could cook a brahmin steak.

He smirked, lips quirking up to the side. At first she assumed he was all too entertained by the sight of her aflutter but when she studied him carefully, she realized it was an endearing look and beneath the surface, he was perhaps just as nervous as she.

“Come’ere,” he tugged her right into his chest, and before she could protest he had wrapped his arms around her waist and back, one hand resting against the back of her head. “Dance like this for a lil’ bit.”

Not a question, but a statement. After a few sways, Rosie adjusted, tucking her arms around his middle and resting her cheek against his shirt.

The longer she stayed there, swaying to the songs that continued to play, the more she understood that they both needed this distraction that evening. Butch wanted to apologize, make up for the past in his own way, sure, but what they really needed was one night where the wasteland wasn’t demanding their attention. She was just as confused as ever, heart and mind filled with endless questions about life and love and everything in between, but for the first time in months, Rosie felt calm. Kissing Butch could wait, if only it meant she could dance with him for a little while longer.

#fallout 3 #butch deloria #butch deloria x f!lone wanderer #rosie sheridan #otp: it's just a flesh wound #because ya know she's a medic lol #I have no idea what I'm doing with this ship oh god #also I wanted to write sweet baby rosie here she is #young stupid teenaged love #these two are dorks and I am in love with them

36 notes · View notes

idaisa · 4 years

Text

Major spoilers for everything, but I have a point...

What is with everything having to have a bitter sweet ending all of a sudden. From Game of Thrones turning Dany into a maniac, because, why the fuck not even though there was like 0.5 of a lead up to it, to End Game literally killing off the guy who, if he had survived would’ve had the greatest story arc in the history of cinema (Ironman) and now, The Rise of Skywalker. I know not a lot of people have not seen it, and I’m sorry, MOVE ON from this post cause now I’m gonna get super spoilery. To have these three new movies come out, like I get it the technology is there, why not make new Star Wars movies. And the first one was great, it had nostalgia, it had tragedy, it set things off really well because it brought people in and created a foundation on what we were comfortable with. The second one had so much potential because it had so many places to go, but instead we go this fanboy esk movie, made by someone who clearly doesn’t understand the fans, but whatever that’s for a different rant, and now we have the Rise of Skywalker. A movie that was supposed to fix the problems of the last and also finish off a 9 movie saga. What I got felt like it was doing damage control for the last, and thus didn’t have time/space to do what it was originally meant to do. It shoved a out of fucking nowhere villain (they could’ve made JarJar the bad guy and I’d feel like it came from about the same place) but there was a ray of hope, there was one character who if they did him justice, I would’ve been fine with every other mishap. And that is Kylo Ren/Ben Solo. A character who again could’ve had a very impressive story arc. Starting of a sith, murdering his own father, haunting a young woman who slowly motivates him to question his path in life. This third movie could’ve been his redemption and reward for being good, but you know what happens? He dies. After a brilliant scene between him and his father he goes to save Rey, YES redemption moment offered. Then he fights off his Knights of Ren and faces Palpatine by her side, YES redemption asked for. But then when Rey dies, and he is left with a future without her he uses what is left of his power to bring her back to life, they kiss (yay for those Reylo fans because this movie gets flirty between them REAL quick) and then he dies. She is left alone in the world and he doesn’t even get a force ghost moment with his mother and Uncle. He gets nothing. He saves the girl, he rejects the darkness within himself and he gets nothing.

And yes it could be argued that he saved the person he loved the most, and got a kiss, but even his very soul doesn’t find afterlife happiness because we see NOTHING.

Side point, the relationship between Padme and Anakin was more satisfying to watch end. OMG FUCKING SHOCKER, but seriously, they fell in love it was forbidden, she gets pregnant and with is decent into the darkness, you watch the purest of things, love, withstand that. Who does Padme ask for? Anakin, who does Vader ask about? Padme. And yes she dies, but it served a purpose, to set the twins off, and to add to Vaders mixed emotions about everything. Sure she died stupidly, but still I felt it gave more to the plot than Ben’s death. Ben’s death felt like, a hero of this series (and yes by the end of this he is a goddamn hero) didn’t win. How amazing would it have been to see the contrast, Anakin turns dark, looses the person he loves the most, Ben turns light and gets to be with the person he loves the most, I AM JUST SAYING THERE WAS AN OPPORTUNITY HERE! And they missed it. Keep in mind I’m not a reylo fan-girl, but if you’re going to give us that relationship, then actually do it.

So my problem with this is, what are we trying to say here? that you can do terrible things but still redeem yourself, sure, but will you see any kind of happy ending here? no, you don’t even get to go to the equivalent of Jedi heaven. And when you’ve invested years of your life watching and following a potentially great moral story here, it’s unsatisfying. Now I am not one of those people who will trash a movie, set fire to all my merch and call it a day. But like how I felt with Endgame, what was the point of all that? why do I feel so deflated and unfulfilled by this story? Because I grew up with films that gave you trials and tragedy but they (for the most part) let the good guy win, and live happily ever after. Rey doesn’t even seem that well off, she finishes the movie, again in a fucking desert. I’m just being hit with these movies and tv series that I invest large chunks of my life into and I’m feeling like in the end I get punched in the gut for my loyalty and it kind of sucks. My favourite trilogy is still the original three. And in some ways I guess this new one beats out the prequels as well. But I just feel like fans, who invest their money, time and emotions into your stories, deserve better. It doesn’t have to be roses, sure he could die and it would say that sacrificing yourself for the one you love is important. BUT HE DIDN’T EVEN GET A FORCE GHOST, he didn’t get that in soul redemption and WHY, what would it have done to the plot to show him as redeemed as Vadar. I just... I feel like there are happy endings and there are endings that make a point, there are endings that teach us lessons and there are endings that satisfy us. Not everyone is going to be happy, you can’t impress millions, but don’t leave me feeling like I could do better. Don’t leave me feeling like some of the good guys don’t win. The thing I loved about the origional trilogy is that it gave you a villain, a real villain who kills potentially billions through out his life (planets and all) turn around and say no to that darkness. And you know what he got? fucking peace, he got to move on to the afterlife redeemed and at peace. And I just think if you are going to kill off Ben fucking solo, an actual skywalker, call the movie the RISE OF SKYWALKER (hinting at some kind of ascendance for him), then maybe you want to give the last SKYWALKER who sacrifices himself for the greater good of lets face it EVERYONE, afterlife peace.

Maybe they’ll do an extended version, change the ending, who the fuck knows, but for now, like with those other franchises, I feel like my persistent loyalty was not rewarded and that kinda stings.

#tros spoilers #got spoilers #enggame spoilers #reylo #star wars #star wars the rise of skywalker #rant #Disney

45 notes · View notes

supremeuppityone · 4 years

Photo

Written for Klaroline Valentine's Day Bingo 2020 @kcvalentinesbingo

Prompt: “A dare is a dare.”

Author’s note: This is the much-requested sequel to Chapter 63: Drowning Secrets in the Sea, found in my Klaroline series, A Beautiful Symmetry.

Warning: Casual references to drugs

Please review here.

“This is your idea of an adventure?”

Caroline whipped her head around, mouth curving up into a pleased grin as she took in Klaus’ rumpled appearance. “Your university’s still skimping on the travel budget, huh? You know, just because they pay for coach doesn’t mean you have to fly it.”

“Not all of us can afford first class, sweetheart,” Klaus replied, pulling Caroline to her feet and playfully spinning her around the cramped basement.

She kissed one of his dimpled cheeks, suddenly giddy and hopeful. He was here. She honestly hadn’t known what to expect when she sent him the artifacts and GPS coordinates. “Seriously? Just because I fly first class, doesn’t mean I actually pay for it.” At his amused chuckle, she allowed herself to press into him, his warmth and familiar scent washing over her. She’d missed him more than she’d cared to admit. It only had been a couple of weeks since he’d let her walk away, angry and hurt by what she’d done.

“Are you still mad at me,” she asked tentatively, stepping away to give herself a bit of space for this conversation.

He hesitated, running his fingers through his disheveled curls a few times before he finally spoke. “You pretended to be an archeologist to gain access to priceless artifacts that my father commissioned you to steal. You could’ve ruined my academic career — everything I’ve ever worked for.”

She bowed her head, her heart sinking in her chest. Did he come all this way just to tell her off?

“But then you also didn’t go through with it and came back to save my life,” he continued, his tone a bit shaky. “I’ve missed you every moment since you left,” he confessed, standing in front of her once more, his touch tender as he caressed her cheek. “And I’m tired of missing you, love.”

Their kiss was nothing like their first one — while that night in the bar had been hesitant, now their kiss was frantic; fueled by the past deception and a tentative promise of forgiveness. He tasted like her future. And Caroline had no intention of walking away from it twice. “I missed you too,” she admitted, placing kisses along his jawline.

It was when he started to untie the silken knot at her waist that she snapped back to reality. With a sigh of regret, she gently pushed away, telling him, “We’ll need to pick this up later — a business associate is meeting me here in a minute.”

Klaus looked skeptically around the dusty room, asking, “What sort of business meeting could you have down here?”

“The private kind.” She considered him carefully, bending down to scoop up a few dusty books and folders to shove into his arms. “So, I don’t want you to freak out, but we’re meeting a kind of go-between for a gunrunnermobbossguy — but don’t worry! He’s totally safe and I’ve worked with him before.” She winced as she saw his gray eyes grow wide with alarm despite the fact that she’d hoped her rapid-fire words wouldn’t really register.

“Did you just say we’re meeting with a ‘gunrunner mob boss’? Bloody hell, Caroline!”

She rolled her eyes, checking her watch as she corrected him. “He’s a go-between. He’s not actually a gunrunner mob boss. He just works for one.”

“How is that any better? And how are you going to explain me? What’s my cover?”

Caroline snorted. Klaus was adorable when he panicked. “Calm down, James Bond. You’re playing the role of a nervous archaeologist completely out of his depth. Something tells me you’ll pull that off beautifully.” At his grumpy expression, she impulsively poked one of his dimples, telling, him, “Where’s your adventurous spirit? You know you want to embrace it — otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

“I’d thought we’d start with dinner,” he mumbled, a hint of a smile starting to appear the longer he looked at her.

“Perhaps you can postpone your plans a bit, mate? We’re on a bit of a deadline,” interrupted a cocky voice as heavy footsteps finished descending the stairs into the basement.

Caroline instantly went into her work persona, adapting her stance and demeanor to best put Galen at ease. “Galen Vaughn, you slimy bastard, the next time you let me borrow a grappling hook, make sure you didn’t break off one of the ends on Kangchenjunga Peak.”

His blue eyes crinkled with mirth, cuffing her on the shoulder as he said jovially, “You managed a’right, didn’t you, lass? If memory serves, you repaid me in kind when you sold me out to the Germans.”

“Looks like it worked out alright for you — considering you’re now their go-between.” Sharpening her tone slightly, she decided to move the meeting along. “Tell me the specs and deadline.”

“Two spear points about 12 centimeters each. Day after next.” He nodded toward Klaus. “Who’s this?”

Caroline kept her tone light as she explained, “This is Klaus, my expert. He’ll authenticate on-site.”

As though to make up for her non-committal introduction, Klaus sprang forward, shaking Galen’s hand a bit too enthusiastically. “I’m an archaeologist. I can identify artifacts from 3000 BC to AD 500. While my main expertise in in classical antiquity, I have completed extensive fieldwork in Bronze and Iron Age dig sites. In fact, I lectured extensively on the evolution of the battle ax and advanced smelting techniques. It actually was quite fascinating how groundbreaking their metalsmiths were...” he trailed off, somewhat self-conscious when he noted Caroline’s indulgent smile. “Anyway...I uh, like...old things.”

Did Klaus purposely make his accent deeper because Galen has a Scottish accent? “Right. As you can see, we’ve got this,” she told Galen dryly.

“I’m impressed you’d take such an eager partner,” Galen replied skeptically, “he seems quite green, lass.”

Since it looked like Klaus was squaring off to punch a friend of one of the most dangerous mobs in Eastern Europe, Caroline hastily shook Galen’s hand, sealing their deal. “Day after next,” she told him solemnly. He left with little more than a curt nod, his jovial demeanor instantly replaced by a more disquieting nature. Such was the way of this business.

“Bollocks. Between the dodgy codes and the wanker with the pretentious facial hair, I’m a bit lost as to our mission, sweetheart.”

She cheerfully answered, “It’s no big deal — we just need to infiltrate a party tonight and steal some Bronze Age artifacts so we can sell them to this gunrunner mob boss I know.” At his incredulous expression, she winked and added, “And you have stubble too.”

“Clearly mine’s better.”

Caroline softened her tone, noting the wariness in Klaus’ gray eyes. “If you want out, I get it. No hard feelings, ok?”

“It’s not that; I’d just like to know what I’m getting into.” His gaze was penetrating, as though searching for something. “Why put yourself in danger? There’s a larger gain than just riches, isn’t there?”

She crossed her arms, not comfortable giving so much of herself away. But she needed to learn. “Mikael took my mother off the donor’s list so that I’d work for him. When I killed him, I lost my one chance to get her name restored. My only option is a black-market kidney and this job will get me the cash I need to make that happen.”

The kiss he gave her was electric; it burned her all the way to her toes and she arched into him, a tiny little moan escaping. “Does this mean you’re in?”

That devilish smirk of his was all the answer she needed.

_________________________________

The estate was stubbornly built on the marshes along the coast of the Baltic Sea, proving that even the immensely wealthy could be ignorant dipshits. Caroline critically eyed the tall rooftops of the main house and its surrounding buildings, the crooked lines wordlessly demonstrating that everything was slowly sinking, eventually to be reclaimed by the sea. She could feel Klaus tensing beside her, and she patted his arm affectionately. “Relax — the doorman is barely coherent after his wild night at the Hunter’s Mark. He’s barely going to glance at our invitation, and even if he did, it’s been expertly forged.” She gave him a sly wink, adding, “By me.”

“How do you know what he was up to last night,” he whispered back, eyes darting around the ornate courtyard of marble statues.

“Because I paid off his dealer to ensure he never ran out,” she answered matter-of-factly, favoring the pale, sweaty doorman with a sunny smile as she handed over the ivory parchment invitation she’d painstakingly threaded with gold along the borders to match the genuine ones. As she suspected, they were waived inside with barely a glance, and she smugly handed Klaus a champagne flute.

“Impressive,” he murmured, casting curious glances around the immense ballroom with its 10-piece orchestra quietly playing chamber music.

“Yeah, they’re pretty impressive. The Martins have been running drugs out of Kiel for decades; their territory is perfectly situated to take advantage of the port. They launder much of their profits with a string of online boutiques set up by the younger siblings, Greta and Luka,” she murmured, snatching a smoked salmon canape from a silver serving tray.

Klaus seemed to slowly relax as he acclimated to his surroundings, a bemused look on his face as he eyed the cascading fountain of champagne flowing from a beautifully crafted ice sculpture in the center of the room. “I meant you were impressive, sweetheart. You’re brilliant, remarkably talented, and adventurous — enviable qualities the rest of the world only dreams of possessing.” He leaned in, his accented voice low and sexy as he added, “Not to mention your ethereal, utterly enchanting beauty.”

There went her heart doing that fluttery thing again. He already was wearing the hell out of that Tom Ford tuxedo, but then to have him whisper those things — things that maybe she’d heard before but no one ever really meant — made her want to shove him into that gold leaf and pearl-tiered cake and lick the buttercream off.

As though pleased she was rendered momentarily speechless, Klaus suddenly gripped her waist, spinning her onto the polished marble floor. His touch was commanding, but not forceful, which she appreciated. Almost as much as his smooth muscles underneath her touch. The red satin of her dress wound its way between them as Klaus performed surprisingly intricate footwork.

At her small gasp of surprise, Klaus flashed her a dimpled smirk. “I may have a few moves.”

“Nice moves,” she said, a bit breathless as he led her through a reverse spin that had her momentarily crowded against his chest. She couldn’t help but rest her palm against his chest. Firm, but it was more than that — he felt like a steady person. Someone she could trust. “Mystic Falls, Virginia.” At his questioning brow, she explained, “It’s where I’m from. Well, we bounced around a lot of big cities when I was a kid, but that’s where we finally stayed.” She hesitated, unsure of how he’d react. It was a big step — and one she’d never taken before. “My mom still lives there...maybe, um, you’d like to meet her?”

At Klaus’ stunned silence, she hurriedly backtracked, telling him, “No, I get it — it’s probably way too soon for that. I’vejustneverbeenlikethiswithanyone and I’m not sure what the steps are. But I can figure it out. Seriously, I can be good at steps. All the steps. Probably. It’s just that I need to head back there for a bit once we get our business here settled and her kidney secured and I know it’s a lot to ask —”

“I’d be honored,” he quickly answered, kissing her soundly. “And it’s certainly not a chore to get to know you better, love,” he admonished when he broke the kiss, dipping her until she giggled with relief.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a slight commotion as the aerial silk acrobats had arrived and were starting to set up in the main courtyard. Perfect. “Follow me,” she whispered in his ear, casually leading him down a narrow corridor full of priceless artwork resplendent with inlaid lapis lazuli and hammered silver frames. “While most of the guests are distracted, we need to get what we came for — two Bronze Age spear points.”

They stopped in front of a tall glass case, admiring the artifacts perched on a carved ebony pedestal. “They were unearthed in the muddy riverbed of the Tollense Valley. It’s a unique find for the region, marking a significant battle around 3200 years ago. Archaeometallurgical studies have pinpointed the geological origin of the metals’ composition, which means you can trace the route these spear points took to get to the valley.”

“Except determining the geological origin of the metals isn’t infallible when you take into consideration the various ore ingots used along trade routes as currency. So, your premise, while admirable, is flawed.”

“My premise is flawed?! Are you seriously discounting all of the cutting-edge work Drs. Maxfield and Branson published in the American Journal of Archaeology? Or the Nordic Bronze Age metallurgy expertise of Dr. Hildegard,” Caroline hissed, feeling her temper rise. She’d just started to recite the latest research statistics on copper-based metals across Bronze Age Europe when she noticed the tips of his ears growing red. Suddenly, she burst into giggles at the ridiculousness of the situation.

Klaus’ confusion gave way to amusement as he too started chuckling. “We’re never going to agree, are we?”

“Nope. But where’s the fun in that,” she asked, leaning over to kiss him soundly on the lips. She broke off the kiss with a twinkle in her eye, sticking out her leg to take advantage of the deep slit in her dress in order to access her lock pick kit. She deftly worked at the enormous mechanism lock behind the glass case, rolling her eyes at the Martins’ foolish assumption that bigger was better when it came to security.

The interlocking tumblers easily gave way, and as she carefully opened the glass door, Klaus murmured, “You make burglary sexier than it has any right to be, sweetheart.”

“Sweet talker,” Caroline replied fondly, delicately sliding the spear points into the leather strap across her thigh. “If you’re lucky, I might let you help me remove these later. Artifacts require such a gentle touch, you know.”

From that lustful gleam, it seemed he was ready to take her up on her offer sooner rather than later, but unfortunately, they had company. From the heavy black eyeliner and holdover grunge ensembles, she knew exactly who had found them. “Shit. It’s the Travelers.” She quickly pulled Klaus up a narrow staircase, explaining, “So, maybethere’s also this cult of crazy fanatics who are interested in the spear points. They’re convinced some ancient ancestor was a powerful witch who disturbed the natural balance and was cast out of her community.”

With a troubled sigh that turned into a choked laugh, he pulled loose his bowtie as they hid out on a balcony, staring down at the courtyard very far below. “And what does that nonsense have to do with our artifacts?”

He said ‘our’. It inexplicably filled her with warmth and she again had to tamp down those lusty thoughts. Action now — then some real action later. “It’s kind of hard to follow and has more embarrassing plot holes than a CW show, but supposedly there was a curse that had something to do with doppelgangers, massive earthquakes and possibly a boat anchor and they think these artifacts will somehow break the curse.”

He scoffed, but whatever skeptical diatribe he was about to begin was stopped short when there was a loud banging on the double doors to the room where they’d been hiding. Glancing over the balcony once more, he wryly asked, “Does your skillset include flying?”

Following his line of sight, she spied some of the aerial silks the acrobats had hung for their performance. As the edges of the jewel-toned fabrics fluttered near the balcony, she asked, “Are you daring me to jump out this window and slide down a curtain?”

Wincing a bit at the sound of wood starting to splinter from the psycho cult just outside, he told her, “Perhaps I found my adventurous spirit.”

“Fine. But we’re jumping together.”

Klaus smirked, grabbing her by the waist as they each clutched the sturdy fabric. “I suppose a dare is a dare.”

#kcvalentinesbingo #klaroline fanfic #uppity bitch fanfic #klaroline #grifter caroline is so much fun to write #klaroline aesthetic #aesthetic

21 notes · View notes

arthurjdrake · 4 years

Photo

A chance bonding experience over pie, tea and haunted tape recorders with @damn-fine-cup-of-tea

“February twenty-ninth, it is 9.30am. The air still reeks of fish although I could swear that it has gotten better since I first got here. I still haven’t managed to get the name for those beautiful pine trees they have here. I was told they had moose. I must see a moose before I leave this town. I’m going to the bakery. Carol, if you ever get up this way, the apple pie at the diner is to die for. I must find out if they make it themselves, or if it is the same as the one from the baker. They don’t have proper tea here, and I had to go to Bangor to get my hands on tea leaves. Remind me to tell you how much that was. The people here are quite lovely, although I will have to notify the ATF and possibly the NSA about some of the inhabitants.” The agent stood still in the office they had given him at the police station. A tape recorder in his hand, Javier glanced and nodded politely at a police officer passing by the door before he went on : “I had the strangest dream last night. One of the deceased, a woman called Catherine Brissaud visited me in my dreams and kissed me. She looked beautiful but there was something off about her voice, she spoke gibberish. Then, she opened her mouth and a man’s voice came out of it telling me that it would kill again. There was this music in the back I cannot get out of my head, Carol. This is all very upsetting. I still have no clue on who could possibly have done it, why, or how? None of the victims showed wounds, and still, their entrails are all missing. All of it. I might need to stay here a bit longer than we imagined.” Grabbing his coat from the back of his chair, the man decided to head to the bakery by foot, his thermos of tea in his hand. At last, a good proper cup of tea. Pushing the door to the bakery, he waited in line, glancing around the shop, searching for something, anything that would possibly catch his eye. That man in the corner with a cockatiel pattern on his tie surely seemed interesting.

With the recent keying of his car, Arthur had taken to walking places. Better that than risk further damages to his property from Freyja’s vague and self-serving ire. The very thought of everything that had happened online was enough to send him stir crazy if he stayed inside any longer. No, he needed a trip out to one of the few places he found some peace in this mad place. There was also the current issue of sorting out Nadia’s identity and Adam’s current curse from that blasted chalice. Jobs and side-tasks were stacking up faster than he could keep up with but in a way he was thankful for the distractions. Explaining how he ended up joining the queue tapping out a couple of quick replies to several of the emails in his inbox. With those sent he tucked his phone away and he could turn his attention to a few of the other patrons of the quiet bakery and associated coffee shop. He looked at the display case and hummed in thought unsure what to get - he never had been very good at making decisions. “Sorry,” he said to the man in front of him hoping it wasn’t a real bother “excuse me, I’m rather stuck on what to go for… Do you think the apple or the passionfruit one is better?”

“No harm done,” Javier turned around and gave the man a thorough look, his eyes travelling all across him before he gave him a pat on the arm. “I think, and this is only my opinion, that there is nothing better than a good, old fashioned, properly made, apple pie,” he released the man’s arm to point his finger at the pie behind the glass. “And this, looks exactly like a good, old fashioned, properly made, apple pie.” The crust/filling ratio appeared to be nearing perfection, as did the cooking of the apple, or the color of the dough that covered it all. And, this was really the cherry on top of it all : the pie was decorated very tastefully. Maybe this would help him forget about the town’s apparent aversion for a proper cup of tea. “You are British, aren’t you?” Javier was sure of that, but it never hurt to ask. “What do you think of the tea situation in this town?”

Arthur was quite accustomed by now to being inspected by strangers, and in a town like this his accent tended to make him stick out like a sore thumb. He didn’t mind, so he waited and smiled politely taking in the other man’s appearance in kind, at a guess he seemed of an age to himself - at least physically. The greeting was friendly in kind, which settled any initial concerns that he might have bothered this stranger with his question. It was a nice change considering it seemed a majority of those he’d met significantly younger. At least beyond Carrington but that was another dynamic entirely and gave merit to the fact that you could hardly tell people’s actual ages from initial observation. “I think you might be right,” Arthur found himself agreeing tapping his bottom lip thoughtfully “especially with this wintery weather.” The cold hardly bothered him but it hardly meant a warm treat every now and then wouldn’t go amiss. “I feel like I haven’t had a good apple pie in ages,” baking hadn’t been the highest of priorities on his list lately but it was something he was keen to get back into. His smile grew a tad wry at the stranger’s next question, “damn, what gave it away?” he asked in light jest. “Definitely not the accent, was it my fondness for weather discussions and freshly baked goods?” His grin turned to a mournful look though the humour remained in his tone, “oh gods it’s atrocious. Don’t even get me started. I turned up for my first day and asked where the kettle was - they didn’t even have one. They microwave it.” He shook his head in mild disbelief over this “have to get people from back home to send me yorkshire brew or else I’d lose my mind.” He glanced at the thermos, “I’m guessing you feel the same?”

“The weather is quite something,” Javier commented, idly tapping his finger on top of his thermos, in tune with that song he had heard in his dreams. God, that thing was stuck in his head. “Talking of which,” it may have not smelled like fish in the shop, and in fact, the whole place smelled very nice, but the agent had to ask about that damn smell. “Does it always smell like fish in this town?” It seemed odd to him that people would ever decide to settle and live in such a place. He kept a stern look on his face, although there was always a hint of playfulness in his eyes as he spoke. “Then you must have a slice of apple pie. Maybe you can sit with me. I’ll share the tea,” he offered. It would be a great opportunity to discuss with the locals, who, even if they were not connected with his case, helped him draw a better picture of the town and what could possibly be insidiously corroding, gnawing it. “I will say, that the accent sold you out, and the talk of weather and pastries confirmed my doubts,” he politely replied, glancing over the man’s shoulder to have a look at someone who had just walked in. Their socks did not match. He wondered if this had been done on purpose or not. “Funny.” He said, turning his attention back on the British man. “Of course they would. I have had people tell me that tea in bags was not so bad. It’s atrocious !” He shook his head, clearly disapproving of that kind of affirmation. “You are the third person who tells me they have to order tea from across the sea. I’m sure there’s a lot more of upset tea lovers in town.” Something had to be done about this. As it was his turn to order, the agent turned toward the saleswoman with a bright smile. “I will have a slice of pie, please,” he glanced at the man. “And the man after me, will have another one of those.”

Arthur had become relatively accustomed to the smell, but at least it had stopped raining fish. Small mercies. Yet, as the other man asked after it he shrugged. “I have no idea honestly… There was some weird meteorological event… Raining fish. Whole town was covered. But it’s definitely been getting a damn lot better since that stopped.” He didn’t mention the chest, or the fact that since he’d heard through the grapevine that it’d been opened that the weirdness had stopped. “How can I deny an offer like that?” he smiled, genuinely grateful for the offer this stranger extended out. “Then at least let me buy you some of the apple pie to say thank you for the kindness of sharing the tea,” it was the least he could do. The laugh that was drawn from him was light, “ahhh, guilty as charged.” It wasn’t entirely true, but true enough for this lifetime that he’d subscribed to the general notion. “Heathens, the lot of them. I’m telling you.” The disapproving look the stranger got was rather amusing overall. “Oh, most definitely. We should start a club.” They moved up and Arthur let the other man order for them both, taking his card out to cover the payment “I’m Arthur by the way, I didn’t catch your name mister-?”

Raining fish. It must have been a local expression, a derivative of it’s raining cats and dogs. Although, Javier could imagine that a storm could cause fish to end up in the atmosphere and rain down on a coastal town such as White Crest. There was nothing too weird here. “That’s funny,” he let a thin smile tug the corner of his lips upward. The town seemed to be rather normal, but the people here were a bit odd. The man he was talking to seemed quite normal, compared to the rest of them, although it was a bit early to be certain about that. “That is a very kind offer,” he nodded politely and moved aside to let his new tea friend pay for the pie. Javier wondered whether he should be introducing himself as an agent or as a citizen. It was unlikely that this person would have anything to do with his case, or he was truly the luckiest investigator this town had ever seen. “Javier, I’m Javier Sterling,” he had made his choice. Little did he know that he would not be able to be just a citizen for long, or that his tape recorder had developed a mind of its own and decided to record his conversation with Arthur. Sitting at a table by the windows, Javier walked back to the counter to ask for cups. If he clearly disapproved of paper cups, he did not comment on it as the saleswoman handed him those, and he walked back to the table to pour them each a cup of tea. This one had been advised by one of the people he spoke to online, and he had high hopes and expectations about it.

“You think I’m joking?” he glanced at the man, and the look on his expression earned a momentary thought of ah, of course you do. A majority of the cod and salmon had been cleared away from the streets, but Arthur still noticed the occasional one dotted around down. One had even been on the spear of a statue in down, talk about being skewered. “Least I can do,” Arthur said pleasantly as Javier stepped aside and he could pay for the two slices of pie. With the introduction Arthur offered an extremely warm hand out for a polite greeting “Arthur Drake if you’re going for full formality.” Once they were cut and served on plates with a couple of forks, Arthur picked them up and carried them over to the table. “So, what brings you to White Crest?” he queried as he slid into one of the seats at the table pulling one of the two plates over as Javier sorted out the tea “I mean, beyond the picturesque scenery and excellent apple pie? Somehow you don’t strike me as the small town kinda guy.”

Javier looked at the man with a perplexed look on his face, trying to figure out if this was some sort of elaborate joke. The puzzled look on his face did not really fade away until Arthur held out his hand and Javier shook it firmly, hoping that this conversation about the falling fish would stop now. “Drake. El dragón,” he commented, before he turned his back on the man. Sitting at the table, he took some time looking outside, although there was nothing special that caught his eye this time. Getting his coat off of his shoulders, the agent unbuttoned his suit’s jacket to get more comfortable. Besides, nothing looked worse than a man sitting with a closed jacket. “What brings you to White Crest?” The question was repeated, with echo, the chatter of the bakery amplified. Javier had just opened his mouth to reply, but the sound did not come from his mouth, but rather from his coat. The agent frowned, glancing at the piece of clothing. Could he have both pushed the record and play buttons by accident? There was a sound of rewinding tape for a couple seconds before the tape recorder started saying : “ get out of my head, Carol. This is all very upsetting. I still have no clue on who could possibly have done it, why, or how? None of the victims showed wounds, and still, their entrails are all missing. All of it.” When Javier got his hands on the tape recorder, he realized that none of the buttons were pushed, and still the tape played. Great, the damn thing was broken. “Excuse me,” he said, ejecting the tape and putting it away in a case. “I’m here with the FBI,” he sighed.

Ah well, he would learn soon enough. Arthur was hardly here to blow the man’s mind, so left him to his ignorance for the time being. “Indeed,” the translation that Javier picked up on was just part of the irony of each name he picked. Though most tended to overlook the fact. Pulling the cup towards him he first took a sip and hummed quietly in appreciation. Just the right strength. He waited on Javier’s response to his question, but what happened next had Arthur furrowing his brows in confusion. Victims, wounds, entrails missing? He looked to the coat in question suspiciously and then at Javier frantically fiddling with it once he’d pulled out the apparent recorder. “Uh…” he blinked a little caught off guard while Javier dealt with his screwy technology “sure…” Though he couldn’t help but frown a little with the clarification that Javier was with the FBI, “I see…” he caught himself and sat up a little straighter already having a suspicion this man was here for more than just the apple pie “well, seems like something important brought you to town.” He tilted his head in mild curiosity, “a case?”

Javier pursed his lips. Putting the tape recorder next to his cup of tea, he grabbed the latter and took a sip of it before he answered Arthur's question. Judging by the look on the man’s face, it was necessary for Javier to explain himself. He idly snapped his fingers, staring at them as he focused on what he would tell him. “A case.” He repeated, grabbing his fork to take a bite of the apple pie. His eyes shut closed as a pleased expression erased any trace of worry the tape recorder had given him. Groaning happily, the agent snapped out of it after a few long seconds. Right, the case. “We have five people with their insides missing,” he added, having swallowed his bite. “That apple pie is, excuse me, fucking amazing,” he stared at his place with the most delighted look on his face. “What about you? Where do you work?”

Arthur couldn’t entirely help how his eyes flickered to the tape recorder, a paranoid part of his mind wondering whether their conversation had been recorded. Were there others in town like him? Did that mean that other people might’ve been recording and documenting things? It was a slight worry inducing thought and he couldn’t help the slight tap of his foot. He’d forgotten about the apple pie in his minor moment of paranoia, but as Javier began to explain why he was here he felt some of the knotted tension ease. Well, at least they weren’t here for other reasons… At least not yet. “Sounds rather suspicious…” he remarked as he thought on the roster of things that might be capable of such violence or potential feeding habits, though admittedly he didn’t know them off by rote “but… the recording said there were um-- no wounds did it say?” It was only at Javier’s remark that Arthur remembered that he too had some, picking up his fork he cut through the pie and had a bite pleasantly surprised at the explosion of cinnamon and sugary apple that hit his palate. “Damn… You’re right.” He took another bite, but at Javier’s question Arthur swallowed and took a sip of tea to clear his mouth. “Ah, just up at the college... I lecture in the history and mythology department.”

Javier pointed at his face, his round cheeks suggesting that he was in the middle of eating another bit of that superb pie. Chewing slowly, he took his time to finish his bite as it took more than a discussion about missing guts for the agent to lose his appetite. “No wounds, nothing in common between the victims, no traces of effraction. It’s as if a ghost murdered them all,” picking up the paper napkin to wipe at the corner of his mouth, he glanced again at the tape recorder. He could have sworn that he had seen it move. He did not recall pushing any of the buttons, and yet the pause button was pressed in. And now the stop button, without him touching it. “Well that is odd,” he took the machine in his hand, inspecting it closely. “I’ll have to order a new one,” he thought aloud, putting it away in his coat. "That sounds fantastic,” he gave the man a thumb up, picking up his cup to take a sip of tea. “I find both of those subjects to be absolutely fascinating,” he explained. Javier was delighted that he had had the chance to run into a teacher as he believed that this was one of the most generous professions one could have.

He didn’t particularly wish to rush the pie as it was exceptionally good, so he took to sipping on his tea mulling over the tidbits of the case this agent was working on. This was hardly the first time he’d discussed weird and gruesome things over food so he wasn’t particularly put off by it. “Strange, is there any sort of similarity between the victims? Gender, ethnicity, age?” Most killers had some sort of profile that they worked to, Arthur might not have been in the service in this lifetime but he knew the protocol. Had stuck to it himself in recent lifetimes. As Javier picked up the tape recorder that had seemingly pressed its own buttons, Arthur narrowed his eyes a little suspicious of the little device that seemed to have developed a mind of its own. “Can I have a look at that?” Javier had taken the tape out so Arthur hardly saw any harm in asking to have a closer look. The thumbs up earned a humbled smile, “ah, they certainly are that. Though the FBI seems like a fascinating job. Serving your country and keeping people safe, I’m sure there’s nothing else quite like it.”

Javier rubbed at his chin for a moment as he thought about the different victims. They had nothing, truly nothing in common, aside from being found dead, with nothing left inside their abdomen. Thinking about this reminded him of his dream and that woman he saw. Catherine Brissaud. Shaking her out of his mind, he sipped silently on his tea. “Nothing, absolutely nothing. Ethnicity, age, gender, hair color, fragrance, occupation, hobbies. I have been looking at their whole lives and nothing is similar so far,” he explained. He had not expected that Arthur would find his tape recorder to be so interesting, and now that there was no tape in it, what wrong could it do. He handed over the device, not sure what the man could probably do to fix it, although maybe Arthur had a few other skills up his sleeve. “It is an amazing job. I do not think I could really make a change any other way.” Javier had considered working as a police detective a long long time ago, but travelling and working on cases like this one was a lot more gratifying to him.

“Well… That sounds both horrifying and utterly perplexing,” Arthur couldn’t help but be equally fascinated and terrified by the thought of something like that. “And you’re certain it’s the same…” he caught himself from saying thing “person… doing this? What about location? No apparent circle theory?” Arthur knew a little about psychological models of criminal behaviour, having studied history of different eras it was pertinent to have some understanding of how criminals behaved and acted in their attempts to avoid capture. As Javier retrieved the tape recorder, Arthur slid it over and turned it over thoughtfully inspecting the buttons. Pressing one to let it play though no sound came out (as he expected) considering there was no tape. He tested each button individually, finding nothing out of the ordinary about it. Interesting. “I suppose most people think of the police or the army when they think about serving their country, but the FBI is pretty darn impressive.” As he spoke, Arthur ensured all buttons weren’t pressed or locked and set it back down on the table in front of him mostly to keep an eye on it. “How’d you come into that field? Not something you just walk into surely? If you don’t mind me asking that is.”

“The way of killing is too specific to be done by several people, unless we’re looking at a cult, of course.” Javier rubbed his fingers against his jawline for a moment. “Considering the murders have been taking place in the same town, there is not a lot we can do to establish a possible location for the culprit’s home.” Obviously whoever was doing this must have been from White Crest, but drawing a profile for them was nearly impossible. “I expect that they’ll make a mistake. They always do,” serial killers were not very original, but how long it took them to start being reckless, to start playing with the press, or law enforcement, was never a set number of days. If only it had been so simple. Javier watched Arthur inspect his tape recorder. He remained quiet, although he still wondered what it was the man was trying to achieve, pushing buttons and staring at them. There was no judgement in his eyes, and he looked at him with marvel in his eyes. “People tend to forget that we also serve our country and not just the Bureau. We have to thank television for this,” looking out the window, his eyebrows raised as he saw a familiar silhouette standing on the other side of the road. Once again, they disappeared the moment something blocked his view. “I’ve always wanted to work in law enforcement. Back when I was a child, we used to hear about the FBI a lot on television. I started sending letters to the FBI director that summer.”

“Not something you could rule out I suppose,” Arthur remarked as he mulled over the few bits and pieces that Javier had provided regarding his reasoning for being here. “I mean if it’s in the same town then surely the culprit has to be living within the vicinity of the town? So, it narrows it down at least in that regard…” He looked out the window towards the street, watching as a couple of people walked by unassuming. How many people could this case put at risk? Too many. Perhaps it was a good idea to offer assistance and simply observe this agent’s progress. Putting such a creature away would likely benefit everyone, but there was a small concern in the back of his mind that innocents could equally incriminate themselves considering the… special population variation that White Crest possessed. “Perhaps, but how long do you wait until that happens?” Arthur completed his inspection and frowned, turning his attention to Javier with his remark. “Yes, television provides a great many unhelpful stereotypes. Perhaps success will make some think differently at least?” He could understand the draw of law enforcement. It was a noble profession. “That’s quite a direct approach, I guess you made quite an impression if that’s how you got into the business,” Arthur grinned wryly at the thought of a young boy writing to the FBI asking to join them one day. It was rather endearing in a sense. “And you’ve been with them ever since? That’s rather impressive.”

“It has not been ruled out.” Javier had, over the years, specialized in working on crime related to those sort of organizations. All these grotesque deaths, however… Those didn’t happen all too often. Usually with them, it was rituals that ended up in an accident, or, a human sacrifice. This seemed different. There seemed to be nothing that indicated a freak accident or a sacrifice. There were no signs, sigils, drawings, books. He took out his notebook and wrote himself a memo to have a look at all the books in the victims’ homes. A chore, but one that he would do anyway. “Maybe they’ve already done it,” he looked up from his notebook as he closed it, putting it away. He probably had missed something, a detail, when he went to those crime scenes. He would have to be more thorough. “Well, I only joined when I finished training at the academy,” he scoffed. The thought of 11 years old him running around with a cardboard badge after his older brother came back to his mind and he laughed some more, shaking his head. Boy, did he bore his brother to death with his stories back then.

“How long has all this been going on for?” he asked curiously “no symmetry with calendar dates or lunar cycles?” There was always some sort of pattern that came with things like this, or at least there tended to be. It was simply a matter of finding it that was the issue. Arthur lightly drummed his fingers on the table in thought. “Are all the crime scenes in town? Perhaps there is something that might have been overlooked?” While he had no particular investment in assisting, a part of him couldn’t help but be curious as to what might be responsible for these murders. “Perhaps you need another set of eyes aiding you with the case?” In a past life this had been the exact same sort of work he’d been employed to do. To locate and track moving targets and attempt to pinpoint their location, admittedly on a larger scale than a single murderer or cult potentially responsible for such things. “Was there any sign of forced entry at the properties?” Of course, he knew Javier had no particular reason to divulge any information regarding the case at all but it never hurt to ask. Did it?

“There is some sort of regularity to this,” it had nothing to do with the moon, or with a day of the month in particular, but there was indeed a pattern. More or less every three weeks, a person died. This comforted him in his idea that he was dealing with a cult. They killed when they needed to, no more, no less, taking only what was necessary. The agent finished his slice of pie and wiped his mouth with a lot of attention before he replied. “There is no doubt that we missed something. Either that, or we are dealing with a ghost,” he shook his head and sighed. Rubbing at his face, Javier looked at Arthur through his fingers for a moment, entirely still and silent. “We’ll see. We don’t usually ask our consultants to inspect crime scenes. But if you find something interesting, I might have to make you tag along,” his hands dropped down onto his lap. He shook his head at Arthur’s next question, a thin smile appearing on his face. He could tell that the man was interested, but Javier wondered if his interest would falter as he found out that there was, so far, no way to identify the killer, or even start drawing a loose portrait of them.

“Oh? And what’s that?” considering they were already discussing this at length he didn’t see any harm in asking. It was only in the interim of discussion that Arthur chose to look down at the tape recorder and frowned a little at how a couple of the buttons he’d unpressed earlier were now pressed and the little cogs turning inside of the machine. Interesting. “You know, in this town I wouldn’t say that too loudly… Some people might really believe you if you said you were dealing with a ghost… Lots of folks believe in that around here, maybe it’s why your killer is getting away with things so freely hm?” he smiled a touch wryly at the agent, more in good humour the man sat opposite him was painfully human in his limited mindset. It was unfortunate really, he wouldn’t catch anything with that sort of mindframe. Arthur reached for a napkin which he unfolded and set on the table on top of which the recorder was placed. Next, he took one of the salt shakers and carefully unscrewed the lid and made a ring of salt around the device. A rite was spoken under his breath, and a grey cloud of something intangible shot out of the little speaker of the device. With this done, he picked up the recorder and inspected it once more. “I know you don’t,” Arthur said in simple understanding, he knew the protocols perhaps not the modern day ones but things hadn’t changed all that much in a century. The objective was still the same, gather the relevant evidence and hunt down the killer in question. “But, and correct me if I’m overstating - but I’m not sure the typical means of case operation will solve this mystery and I think you might’ve already begun to realise that… Plus, if I find something - it gives you a lead. If not…” he tilted his shoulder a little “no harm done. So, what do you say detective?” The question was posed with the offering of his tape recorder back - likely in fully functioning condition now if what Arthur suspected had been inhabiting it was right.

“I think it will happen again. In a week or so,” Javier replied, picking up his cup of tea and frowning at it. Lukewarm. Wrinkling his nose, he looked away from Arthur as he emptied a salt shaker on the table, too busy pouring himself a new cup of tea. If could see what he was doing from the corner of his eyes, it was not until he had put his thermos away that Javier looked at the state of the table then up at Arthur’s face. If he remained completely silent, you could tell from the look on his face that he disapproved of this. Picking up the napkin carefully, he wrinkled it in his hand so as not to make a mess, and put it in his plate, making sure that not one bit of salt would fall to the floor or on the table. “There was no need to pour out the salt shaker. I better not start mentioning folklore monsters that require being stabbed to you,” not that they had cutlery that could cause a problem, but Javier had already been stabbed with a fork in the past, and knew that this was far from pleasant. “So, people think ghosts are real then. What else?” Vampires, fairies, Big Foot, el Cuco? Having spent quite some time near New Orleans, Javier was used to people believing in weird stories, or telling them to their children to traumatize them (which was a custom Javier did not understand). Having taken care of this salty mess, the agent took his tea cup and listened to the professor’s explanation. It was not an unexpected offer, and on other occasions, he had been given the same one by other men and women before. All he needed to know was whether or not Arthur would pose a problem in the future. He did not seem like someone who would get in his way, or do dangerous things for the sake of helping him. First taking the recorder back from Arthur’s hand, he nodded quietly before explicitly replying : “Alright. I suppose we have an agreement here.”

His point made and task completed, Arthur looked slightly amused at the disapproving look Javier fixed him with. “Just trying to make a point at the strange thing people will do if you mention stuff like that around here.” The act was both meticulous in its layout and answered certainly enough what he’d suspected about Javier having no clue about the truth of this town. “Actually, most folklore indicates that beheading is usually the best course of action against most of those tall-tale beasties.” But he tipped a shoulder as Javier mentioned about ghosts, “I’ve actually found the people here believe in a lot more than just ghosts…. You’ll see soon enough.” He clasped his hands in front of him on the table waiting quite patiently, Javier didn’t have to take him up on the offer but it was there regardless and his interest was quite plain to see. “Very well,” he took out his wallet and fished out a simple black card embossed with his details in calligraphic silver script which he slid across the table with his index and middle finger. “Contact me a time that suits, I’ll be happy to come and offer any assistance I can that might be of any pertinent use.” He stacked the plates and cutlery, picking up the spare cup. “Thank you again - for the tea and the company. I look forward to hearing from you,” with a polite dip of his head Arthur delivered the plates to the counter to save the waitress from collecting them, collected his bag and made for the door.

#chatzy #p: javier

12 notes · View notes

eyecicles · 4 years

Note

Can I shyly ask for everything for L? Thanks in advance! :*

Oh boy. I’m glad I love L enough to want to do this. (Please don’t attempt this with any other character)

☺️ - what's their smile like?

Small, almost never showing teeth, quite childlike. Can easily look a bit unsettling, but also pretty motivating to see if you’re on his side. Looks probably way cuter to us than it looks in-universe, for the other characters.

😳 - how do they act when they're nervous?

Well, nervousness makes L’s oral fixation more apparent than anything else. Finger/finger nail biting, lip tugging, pressing fingers or objects to the mouth are all things he does when he’s anxious or excited.

He also likes to recoil, to physically withdraw himself from the outer world, he’s not at all in-tune with, as much as possible. Seeing him clutching his legs after Misa killed Ukita, is a nice touch and I always thought it said a lot about him and how ingrained his mannerisms are.

🤫 - if confronted by a dangerous situation where quiet was important, would they be able to keep silent?

Absolutely. Despite his occasional awkwardness, he can also be completely in control of himself. It’s interesting that we see him meditating at the beginning of the manga, so I like to think that keeping his calm in dangerous situations is something he actively worked for.

There are many scenes where he’s basically completely unmoving and intensely focused on just his thoughts. I think he can be as quiet and motionless as a potted plant if he wants to be, haha.

🤯 - what's a fact or bit of knowledge they don't know but which would absolutely blow their minds if they found out?

As we know, he reacted quite strongly to the real possibility of the existence of Shinigami. But not unlike Light, he’s adaptable. He’s not at all afraid to adjust his world views, despite his rigid stubbornness. And excuse me for repeating myself here, but I still believe that he also did not at all saw his death coming. I mean, he ironically was aware that he could die at any moment, but his own death was never something he dwelled on.

And the way he died was not at all something he could have foreseen. Speaking of it, I’m sure it would surprise him more than a bit that Rem actively sacrificed herself, haha.

💞 - what (if any) is their preferred way to receive affection?

L seems almost completely uninterested in receiving affection. I, for example, always thought he was deeply uncomfortable with getting kissed on the cheek by Misa (and that’s why he made her uncomfortable in turn).

I think his preferred way would be to simply get taking care of. Even though he doesn’t seem all that appreciative of what Watari does to him, bringing him food and stuff is at least something that has a practical use. There are more than a few hints that he’s a bit dependent on him.

That said, I think he’s potentially pretty sensual. He doesn’t have someone he likes and trusts that way, but I think he could be really into kissing.

😬 - do they have a tell when lying/bluffing?

L hides behind his unconventional (but genuine) mannerisms, which is a very clever thing to do. I think it would be indeed very difficult to simply see if he’s being honest or not.

🚶 - what's their posture like, and why? What does it say about them?

As we all know, L’s posture is shit. And that’s because a) he’s sitting in front of his computer all day, b) he doesn’t care about his physical appearance and c) because he thinks it would be a waste of effort and time to fix his posture. I don’t think he’s deformed per se - but it wouldn’t surprise me either - he’s just casual about this sort of thing.

😱 - what does fear look like on them, and is there anyone who can tell before everyone else when it's setting in?

He can be quite dramatic, honestly. Not only did he fall out his chair once (though all things considered, it’s not that irrational of a reaction), we also see him make this face (O____O) a few times whenever something unexpected happens.

I think he’s either extremely obvious about it or good enough at hiding it that no one can tell how he actually feels. Such is the dualism of L.

🤩 - what's something they're absolutely amazed by?

Honestly? How good Light is at guessing what he’s thinking. In general, we can easily deduce that he’s intrigued by any high-profile criminal case. He’s an intellectual thrill-seeker, but his actual interests seem pretty limited.

🤪 - do they have any squicks?

I see L as pretty squeamish, so yes. I think he’s especially particular when it comes to food and can’t stand any kind of dirt, mould or other kinds of impurities.

😷 - what are they like when they're sick? (needy, self-isolating, try to power through, etc)

First, he always tries to power through. He seem a bit neglectful regarding his health, but I also think he can be quite whiny, haha. Being sick and staying in bed is something he considers “boring” and he’s probably not afraid to take drastic matters to get better as soon as possible. He hates simply waiting things out.

🤲 - how do they feel about touch?

Apparently he’s not a fan of it. In the manga, he doesn’t often touch people and I’m certain he’s not exactly used to being intentionally touched. Invading other people’s personal space seems not just like a tactic, but also like a... warning, perhaps. His body language is pretty interesting, and I think you can easily see how little he actually connects to people. Not only does he live a rather isolated life, he also seems to have a heightened sense of self, of what belongs to him and what’s strange, other.

👀 - how do they make eye contact? Do they use it as a gesture of power or subservience? Does giving it or withholding it mean something to them, or to the people around them?

He occasionally uses it as a gesture of power and intimidation, but also... this is for some reason an unpopular opinion, but I don’t think his staring always serves a purpose. Sometimes he simply doesn’t hide his curiosity.

Another interesting thing to note, would be that he actually makes eye contact less often than most of the other characters. He really only does it when he watches someone’s reaction, but very, very often he doesn’t bother to look at the person he’s talking to, especially not when he’s ordering them to do something.

🙈 - how would they handle having one or more senses taken away?

Oh, he would hate it, no doubt. There’s something sensitive about L, and there’s evidently little more important to him than feeling comfortable in his own body. Just look at how he dresses - he hates restricting himself. Suffice to say it would make him very uncomfortable.

😴 - what's the longest they've gone without sleep? Is skipping sleep a normal occurrence for them?

Probably a few days. And YES, obviously. L thinks that sleep is something ordinary people should experience, but not him.

😤 - what's something that will always, without fail, make them angry?

Getting tricked. People disobeying him. People asking him stupid question. People delaying things with their incompetence. L is used to things going his ways and he has little patience for people interfering with his plans.

📣 - how do they go about getting someone's attention?

Why, he simply challenges them on live TV for everyone to see, ha.

L rarely seeks the attention of others but when he does, he basically forces them to notice him. He hates doing things half-assed; even his more subtle actions are hardly something you could easily ignore.

👣 - what do their footsteps sound like? Could anyone recognize them from that sound alone?

I think he’s quiet. Not only does he prefer to walk barefoot, he’s also almost graceful in his awkwardness. Sometimes swift, sometimes a bit choppy, but never loud.

I’m sure Watari knows him from his footsteps alone.

✨ - tell a random fact about them!

We once see him eating with his left hand:

Kind of...

#ask meme answers #anon #box-just-for-wishes #l lawliet #headcanons

24 notes · View notes

burning-up-ao3 · 5 years

Photo

So Kiss Me ch 2/2

Pure chaos.

Absolute pandemonium.

It was perfect.

Sid relaxed at a table the guys had pushed into a corner about thirty seconds after they’d rolled into the room. Actually, they’d pushed all the tables out of the way, making a bigger dance floor for “all of Bjugy’s moves.” Sid rolled his beer bottle between his palms and watched the mayhem.

Schultzy adding an empty to his beer bottle tower. “Physics,” he slurred to Olli, who’d added plenty of his own empties to the tower. Cully egged them on, popping another cap and handing the beer to one or the other. Sid had seen Cully grab an empty early on and pretend to take swig. Sid flashed Cully a thumbs up, supporting his sobriety that few knew about.

Dumo handing off the DJ duties to Zach Aston-Reese and grabbing the <i>Rock Band</i> guitar from Horny. He joined Guentz, Weedle, and Rusty who were destroying Green Day.

Sid laughed when Jake offered him the microphone. “Nope. I’m good.”

“Then stop laughing at us!” Jake boomed over the microphone.

Bringing in gaming systems was genius. NHL19 in one corner of the room and Rock Band in another was genius. When he paid the bill, Sid would include a generous tip because these people deserved it.

What the manager had pulled together at 11 at night was incredible. One table was actual, nutritious food—a cold carving station with a Virginia ham and a variety of cheeses. Salad greens with the choice of sliced chicken or steak. Warm, crusty kaiser rolls. Tray after tray of cheesy lasagna.

One table was pure junk food. A popcorn machine with fresh, hot popcorn. Chips and salsa. Fat homemade pretzels with beer cheese. Brownies. A tub of vanilla ice cream chilling in an ice bath. Bowls of sprinkles, jimmies, chocolate syrup, tiny marshmallows.

And an open bar. Bottle after bottle of I.C. Light. Wine for Dumo and Rusty. Jack and Coke for Guddy and Weedle.

And ice-cold prune juice for Geno.

Sid had never asked why, and Geno had never offered a reason. But Sid knew it was his guilty pleasure. Ice-cold prune juice in a frozen glass.

The guys were happy and loose, having a great time and working together. No. Playing together. In the end, their jobs were still a game, still supposed to be fun. The day they stepped onto the ice with apathy and a Fuck. Here we go again instead of with awe and overwhelming excitement was the day they needed to hang up their skates.

And right now, judging from the laughter coming from all corners of the room, they were having fun as a team. Sid laughed at Dominik Simon, holding three beer bottles with one hand and a bowl of ice cream in another as he tried to avoid Bjugy’s attempt at breakdancing.

Jared McCann hesitated before slipping into the seat next to Sid. “Hey—uh—thanks,” he said, more tipsy than drunk. “For this.” He looked at his empty glass and swirled the ice with his stirrer. “I know it’s not how you wanted playoffs to go—but man, it feels good to just be at the dance.”

Sid didn’t know how to answer. Jared was good—on his way to great. And he was young. He had a lot of playoffs ahead of him. “Yeah, I get that,” he finally said. Jared nodded, and when he stood, Sid held his wrist for a moment. “This isn’t our last one. Not your last one.”

Bjugy ran toward them and, at the last second, dropped to his knees and slid on the glossy, wooden dance floor. He grabbed Jared and drag him away to show the group their disco moves. ZAR played some BeeGees that they were all too young to remember, and to Sid, Jared’s “disco moves” were less Tony Manero and more Tony the Tiger

“We needed this.” Jack Johnson tumbled into the empty seat, careful not to spill his drink. “You did good.” He leaned over to hug Sid, and lost his balance, almost falling into the space between the two chairs. “You’re a great captain. The best. We’re lucky to have you. Geno’s lucky to have you.”

“What does that mean?” Sid asked, taking a sip of his beer. Was he talking about them?

“As a captain,” Jack said with a touch of duh in his tone. “How much have you had to drink??”

Sid laughed. “Not as much as you, bud.”

“Glad I’m playing with you again.” Jack struggled to his feet. He dropped a wet kiss on the top of Sid’s head before straggling off across the dance floor.

<i>God bless that man.</i> Sid laughed as Jack told the bartender some story that involved dramatic hand gestures and a lot of mime.

“If he weave and dodge like that on ice, we make him winger,” Geno laughed, taking Jack’s place next to Sid. “Better than on D.”

Sid jumped at a loud crash; physics failed Schultzy and Olli as the beer bottle pyramid collapsed.

“We’re not hurt!” Schultzy yelled over the Rock Band noise without realizing the game was paused

Jake, who was lying in the middle of the dance floor—Sid didn’t know if it was because he was too wasted to stand or he was still trying to copy Bjugy’s breakdancing—began a slow clap that caught on, echoed in the room until Olli and Schultzy bowed.

Cully stood against the wall looking innocent.

“Mr. Crosby, I’m sorry to bother you.” The manager looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes. He stifled a yawn. “Did you have a closing time in mind, or would you like us to bring out breakfast?”

Sid looked at his watch. “Jeez, I didn’t realize it was after 4.” He looked around—most of the guys were flagging, in quiet conversation at tables or, in Olli’s case, passed out on the floor.

“Can kitchen make bacon egg sandwich for all?” Geno asked, pushing his empty glass away. “Grease and bread. Hangover be less bad. And can get maybe ten rooms for them? Not want them to drive.” The manager left, and Geno said to Sid, “Not want Uber to see. Maybe say online.”

Sid looked at Geno and love hit him square in the chest, took his breath away, and left him shocked but not surprised. Late nights, long weekends, sneaking into each other’s room on the road late at night. Waking up a few minutes early to watch G sleep—in a totally, non-creepy way. When he slept, G looked youthful, his face unlined with worry and stress, like he did the night they met in 2006.

It was never just Friends With Benefits, was it?

Sid’s heartbeat raced, as if it knew he was standing on the edge of a precipice ready to step off. He could fall. But, what if he flew? What if Geno felt the same, that they were good, so very good, and any risk was worth the reward?

“You’re—that’s—good idea, G,” Sid whispered, afraid if he spoke his voice would give away his feelings. “We should wake them up, let them eat, before we kick them upstairs.”

They pushed away from the table to the sound of several guys snoring and Zach’s 1990s alt music; Zach had fallen asleep at a table, his head cushioned on his arms and the iPhone still resting against the microphone.

“I love this song,” Sid said as the track changed. “My mom used to play it all the time. Sometimes, she’d dance with my dad when it was on the radio.”

Kiss me, out of the bearded barley Nightly, beside the green, green grass…

Geno held out his hand to Sid and nodded toward the dance floor. “Dance?”

Sid looked around the room at the passed-out bodies. There was no one to see, and even if there were, maybe that was okay.

He took Geno’s hand, followed him to the small open space on the dance floor between bodies. Geno wrapped his arms around Sid’s waist, his hands resting on Sid’s ass. To Sid, it felt proprietary, that he was Geno’s for everyone to see.

Swing, swing, swing the spinning step

You wear those shoes

And I will wear that dress…

“Is okay?” Geno asked as he turned slowly with Sid. “I’m not know how to dance slow so good.”

Sid rested his head against Geno’s shoulder. “Perfect.”

Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance Silver moon's sparkling So kiss me…

“So kiss me,” Geno echoed and lifted Sid’s chin. Tentatively, Geno leaned closer until their lips almost touched. “I’m kiss you?” he asked, his breath warm against Sid’s lips.

Sid nodded, his feelings too raw to speak.

They kissed softly as the music played, kissed as if they were the only two in the room, in the world. Kissed as if it were a promise of forever.

“I love you,” Sid said as the song ended. “I think I always have.”

“You say hello for first time, and I’m think, he could be friend. Then I’m know that you much more.” Geno kissed him again and said, “I’m love you.”

The clatter of metal on metal made them jump apart. The manager had somehow dropped the dome top against the serving tray as he wheeled the cart into the room. “Sorry. So sorry. Just clumsy.”

Sid thought, judging from his grin, that it probably had been on purpose to warn them he was there.

When they turned to rouse the guys, Sid and Geno realized that almost all of them were awake, sitting up and grinning, Cully the widest of anyone.

“Finally realized?” Tanger asked, his voice bright and clear.

“I guessed as much,” Cully added.

Horny rubbed his chin. “I think they together for year, two years.”

“How are you guys even awake?” Sid balked. “You were sound asleep.”

Almost in unison, the three said, “Kids.”

“Kids always wake you up in the middle of the night, and you have to be 100 percent awake immediately.” Cully grinned wider as everyone laughed.

“Is not for advice or chirping,” Geno said, waving his hand between him and Sid. “Not want.”

“Wait. Are you guys—” Jake raised his head slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Yes, we are,” Sid said in his captain voice. “Now can we just have breakfast?”

A few guys groaned, but most of them shuffled over for a sandwich and a room key. They left in small groups, and some joker had hit the light switch leaving Geno and Sid alone in the darkened room. The ballroom’s glass doors led outdoors to a patio, and they could see the first hints of dawn.

“I didn’t know what they’d think,” Sid said. He felt awkward, like a teenager again, unsure what to do or say.

“They think we best,” Geno said simply. “On ice and off. I’m think they know I love you. Not think I’m hide it so good.”

“I don’t think I hid it so good, either,” Sid said crowding Geno, who seemed happy to be crowded. “I got us a room. Want to show me how much you love me?”

“Don’t know if we have time,” Geno said as they left. “Have game day after today.” He slid his hand into Sidney’s and waited for the elevator to arrive.

It wouldn’t be enough time, Sid knew. But then, they had all summer to show each other. All year. All their future. Maybe even that wouldn’t be enough. “It’s a start,” Sid smiled and said, “So, kiss me.”

#pittsburgh penguins #Evgeni Malkin #sidney crosby #2019 stanley cup playoffs #fix it fic

8 notes · View notes

master-sass-blast · 6 years

Text

Of First Dates and Not So First Kisses.

5 AM editing...

I am so good at adulting.

The latest piece from my hyperfixation hole: You and Piotr Rasputin go on your first date together.

(Set after the fic “Myska” and before (well, partially before) “Dig the Needle In,” both of which you can find on my Tumblr and on Archive of Our Own.)

Warnings: None. Except maybe strong language. Other than that, it’s just pure fluff.

Rating: T. Because Wade.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader and vaguely implied Wade Wilson x Nathan Summers.

“No! I refuse to accept this!”

You roll your eyes as Wade flails around dramatically. “Wade, unless your real mutation is bending reality and the subjects therein to your will, you have to accept it.”

“This is art! Art!”

“No, this--” You point at the TV screen, which is currently playing a rerun of Desperate Housewives “--is garbage. Hot, shitty, nasty garbage.”

“Okay, apparently my efforts to reverse your parents’ brainwashing haven’t been as effective as I thought, because there’s no way any sane person in total control of their faculties would say something like that!”

You roll your eyes. Again. “No, Wade, I’m just not stupid enough to believe that daytime drama TV is entertaining.” Before your best friend can start in on another tirade, you add, “And, I mean, come on. If there’s anyone you should be showing this, it’s Cable. They don’t even have TV in the future, Wade. I at least got to experience it for a couple years before my dad got rid of our television set. Point stands, Cable’s situation is far more dire than mine.”

Wade perks up, and it’s obvious from the look on his face that he’s actually buying in to your distraction.

“Besides,” You continue, laying on the persuasion extra thick. “What an excellent opportunity! The two of you, on the couch, watching TV together; it’s practically a quasi-date!”

Wade falters. “Yeah, because everyone’s just lining up to date this face,” he grumbles bitterly.

“Fine.” You switch tactics like the master con artist you are. “Don’t think of it as a date. Just think of it as an opportunity to fill his brain with tons of bullshit about this century while tormenting him with shitty reality drama.”

That does it --because if there’s one thing that motivates Wade more than his Texas-sized crush on Nathan Summers, it’s an opportunity to be an unrepentant asshole. He bounds off to the kitchen --where Nathan is conveniently in the middle of making a sandwich--and loops his arms around the older man’s neck while gushing about ‘quality time’ and ‘historical education.’

You take the opportunity to make your escape --blowing a kiss at Cable when he glares at you, though it’s worth noting that he’s letting Wade lead him to the rec room without too much complaining--and head off in search of your boyfriend, Piotr.

He isn’t in his room, nor is he in the training room. It’s Saturday, so he’s not teaching, and he isn’t grading or lesson planning in one of his classrooms.

A smile lights up your face when you realize where he must be, and you scamper off towards one of the unfinished expansion wings on the mansion.

One of the ongoing goals at Xavier’s is that of expansion --taking in more mutants, reaching more people with the truth about mutants, extending their reach to an international level so they could help mutants around the world... the list goes on and on, but the immediate effects of that mission often manifest in upgrading the mansion or other X-Men facilities.

You walk through the unfinished wing, taking time to relish the unfiltered sunlight and the natural, homey feeling of the space.

The wing, once done, is supposed to serve as extra classrooms for the ever growing group of mutant students and kids that lived at the mansion. However, at your loving badgering, Piotr had asked for an art studio.

It was multi-purposed, he insisted. He could use it for himself, yes, but he also could use it for his students. At any rate, the studio was approved.

Now, he uses it mostly as his personal, private get away whenever the mansion gets too chaotic --one that, according to him, you’re welcome in any time as long as you don’t bring Wade.

You walk up to one of the few doors on its hinges --lovingly painted and decorated with the hand prints of Piotr’s art students--and poke your head into the room.

He’s sitting in an overstuffed arm chair positioned by one of the windows, sketchbook in his lap and face tense with concentration. He looks up when you close the door behind you, and absolutely beams at the sight of you. “Privet, myshka.”

You grin back, unable to resist his infectious happiness. “Hey, big guy.” Your heart hammers in your chest as you walk over to his chair and press a kiss against his lips. It’s only been a few weeks since the two of you decided to get together, and you’re still swept away with giddy energy every time you get to do something remotely couple-y with him.

He smiles up at you, cheeks flushed and face glowing with bashful exhilaration, when you break the kiss. “Is there any particular reason why you’re here?”

“Actually, yeah. I had to escape Wade; he was trying to make me watch garbage TV again.” You sit down on the armrest of the chair and grin at him. “I managed to sic him onto Cable, though. With any luck, he won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Piotr lets out a breathy laugh. “That was devious of you, myshka. I’m not sure Cable deserved that.”

“Hey, he’s just as capable of punching Wade in the face and walking away as anyone else is. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he actually likes spending time with him.”

Your boyfriend simply shakes his head --he’s still smiling though, which means he finds your antics amusing rather than disapproval-worthy--and curls one of his massive hands around one of your considerably smaller ones. “Well, at any rate, I am glad you are here. I wanted to talk to you about something --it actually connects to ‘escapes,’ ironically enough.”

You cock your head to the side, beyond intrigued about whatever’s going to come out of his mouth next. “What’s up, big guy?”

He gazes down at your intertwined hands for a moment, gently running the pad of his thumb over the back of your hand. “I would... I would like to take you on date. Sometime this week.”

“...Really? You want to take me on a date?”

“Da. I want to spend time with you... without others interrupting.”

Well, you’ll be fucked if you’re going to argue with that. You say as much --grinning impishly when Piotr gives you the ‘language’ look--and lean in and kiss him on the cheek. “So, where are you gonna take me, handsome?”

“That is what I wanted to ask you about. I am... not sure where we should go --and you should have a say, too, since this is your first ever date.”

You swing your legs back and forth, heels knocking against the side of the chair as you consider your options. “I trust your instincts, Pete. I don’t think you could pick something that I wouldn’t like, considering that the main thing I want to do is spend time with you.” You can tell that the open-ended-ness of your answer makes him nervous, so you add in a few stipulations for his sake. “I guess... nothing to fancy or upscale. We could do that down the road, if you want, but I kind of just want to hang out and have a good time with you. And I’d rather not do anything at night, I guess. I’d just feel better if we were back here around dinner time.”

He nods --you know he’s taking all this seriously, it is him after all--and squeezes your hand. “Of course, dorogaya moya. Whatever makes you comfortable. Perhaps... lunch date on Wednesday? I can show you some of parks and shops nearby?”

You grin, warm and unbelievably happy. “That sounds perfect.”

The rest of the remaining time until Wednesday is spent trying to nail down the perfect date outfit. You have a several hour consultation with Neena, Yukio, and Ellie --and Wade, because he refuses to be left out of anything--a couple days before the big event to decide what constitutes a good ‘daytime, causal but not too casual lunch date that also includes walking around together.’

Wade got as far as recommending his ‘hooker heels’ as your shoes of choice --Ellie smacked him across the back of the head for that--before Neena kicked him out and took over like the wonderful big sister figure she was.

In the end, the four of you had settled on a soft black t-shirt with a faded Guns’n’Roses logo on the front, a camouflage skirt that fell mid-thigh, a denim vest to go over the shirt, and a pair of low-rise black Converse (considerately loaned to you by Ellie).

You stand in front of your bathroom mirror, carefully tying a red bandanna around your head to act as a headband. Once you’re satisfied with its position, you check over your make up (natural, at Ellie’s suggestion).

You're unexpectedly nervous. You know Piotr’s not going to judge you --or dismiss you--for how you choose to dress, but you really want him to find you pretty. You’re fiddling with your hair when the sound of someone clearing their throat at you catches your attention.

Ellie’s standing in your bedroom, watching you with her usual stoic expression. “He’s ready for you.”

You nod, and let out a nervous huff. “Okay. Show time.”

“Relax. You look fine.” The corner of her mouth turns up in the barest hint of a smile. “Have fun.”

You flash her a thankful smile before you dart out of your room, snatching up your purse as you go. You hurry down the stairs and practically skip out the front door, any nervousness you might have felt far outweighed by the excitement running through your veins.

Piotr’s out on the front drive, leaning against a sleek black car that oozes power and ‘I’m more expensive than your college payments.’ He’s dressed in jeans, nice sneakers, and a light-blue short sleeved button down shirt that he’s tucked into his pants. He smiles, soft and warm, when you dash towards him. “You look nice, myshka.”

“Thanks,” You say, a little breathless from your mad run out of the mansion. “Shall we go?”

He nods, bends to kiss your forehead, and opens your door like the consummate gentleman that he is. Once you’re safely tucked inside, he closes the door and walks over to the driver’s side. “I thought,” he says as he buckles himself in, “we could start by walking through one of the parks.”

You grin and can’t help but shiver a little as the car rumbles to life. “Sounds awesome.”

He drives to a quaint town a little over half an hour away from the mansion. Piotr parks by a lush, quiet park at the edge of the town and immediately gets out of the car to get your door for you.

You smile as you step out and breath in the fresh summer air. The park is filled with different bushes, trees, and outcroppings of flowers. You can hear a stream gurgling nearby, and birds chirp overhead. “This is perfect, Piotr. It’s so beautiful here.”

“This is one of my favorite places to come and draw when mansion is too chaotic. Close enough to be safe, but far enough to, ah, avoid Wade.”

“He’s not all bad.”

“Nyet. But he is... trying.”

You giggle up at him and latch on to his hand. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

The two of you amble through the park, not in any particular hurry to get anywhere. You’re happy to take your time, thoroughly relishing the way Piotr’s fingers sit so naturally between yours, how warm his hand is, the way his voice rumbles as the two of you talk, the soft, bashful smiles he keeps favoring you with whenever you look up at him...

It’s heaven, pure and simple.

“I can see why you like it here,” You say after a stretch of comfortable silence. “It’s peaceful. And gorgeous. What do you draw when you come here?”

“Landscapes, mostly, though I have started to sketch passersby as well.” He ducks his head and lets out a self-depreciating chuckle. “I am... not that talented with faces.”

“I’ve seen your sketch book, which leads me to believe that you’re probably selling yourself short.”

He shrugs and smiles at you. “Who can say? Art is subjective, after all.”

Eventually, you reach the end of the park and step into a stylish downtown area that boasts several locally owned shops and cafes. You meander down the streets with Piotr, stopping every so often to gaze through one of the windows or step inside and check out one of the stores. Your stomach starts gurgling after a while, to which Piotr chuckles and suggests that the two of you find some lunch.

You let him lead you down the street and into a sandwich shop, a mom and pop sort of a place. A college aged waitress with her hair pulled back into a ponytail greets the two of you with a sunny smile --though it’s largely directed at Piotr.

Not that you blame her, necessarily. Be honest. Who wouldn’t?

“I haven’t seen you here in a while,” she says as she picks up a couple menus. “I was wondering if you’d forgotten all about us.”

“Work was... hectic for a bit,” Piotr replies, tacitly side-stepping the fact that he’s a superhero and that his ‘work’ was babysitting a homicidal maniac.

“Story of my life. Who’s your friend? I don’t think I’ve seen her here before.”

“This is my girlfriend,” Piotr introduces you with a smile that absolutely glows. “I wanted to bring her here for our first date.”

The waitress’s sunny smile dims slightly, but she’s still polite. “Well, congratulations! I’ll make sure I sit you two somewhere a little more private so that you aren’t bothered by the noise or other patrons.”

You end up sitting at a table for two that’s by the front of the shop, out of the way of the incoming traffic. It’s well-lit, positioned by one of the store front windows, and provides an excellent view of the charming street outside. Your waitress takes your drink orders and leaves you with the menus, promising to return in a couple moments.

You peruse the menu at a leisurely pace, lulled into a temporary glowing calm by your time spent basking in his unfiltered affection. Fortunately, you know what you’re doing --the first time Wade took you off the mansion grounds you hadn’t had the foggiest idea of how to even order a meal for yourself. He’d taken it upon himself to catch you up on all the skills necessary to survive in the real world; as far as you’re concerned, it’s worked.

After a few minutes of studying, however, you come to the determination that you really don’t know what to order. None of the staples Wade’s introduced you to are on the menu, and --while everything looks good--you don’t know what to pick. You reach across the table and put your hand on Piotr’s. “Whats good here?”

“Everything. I usually order the grilled chicken and vegetable sandwich.”

You can’t help but grin. “Of course. Always the nutritionist.”

“It’s important to be healthy.”

“It is, it is. I’m not sure I’m feeling that virtuous, though.” You feel a flash of satisfaction at the way the tips of his ears turn red and return your focus to the menu in your hands. “The pulled-pork sandwich looks pretty good. I think I’ll go with that.”

Your waitress reappears a few moments later to take your orders --a grilled chicken and veggie sandwich with a fresh fruit side for him and a pulled pork sandwich and fries for you. She takes the menus and disappears into the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

Piotr takes your hands in his, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your knuckles. “You look adorable today, myshka.”

You duck your head, smiling bashfully. “Thanks. You’re looking good as well --though that’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

His cheeks flush to a lovely rosy color. “Are you enjoying this?”

“Yeah. I really am. This has been really great; it’s nice that we don’t have to worry about Wade ambushing us.”

“Da.” He hesitates --his cheeks flush darker, which looks surprisingly good on him--then gives you a shy, hopeful look. “I want... to do more of this. A lot more.”

A rush of exhilaration runs through you, and you can’t help your excited smile. “Are you saying you want this --us--to be long term?”

“Da. I do.”

“I like the sound of that. I really, really like the sound of that.”

His returning smile is soft and pleased beyond all compare.

Lunch passes quickly --too quickly for your taste. It’s largely dominated by conversation, with occasional comfortable pauses. The two of you talk about your hopes and dreams, your opinions about the world around you, what you want for your futures...

It’s nice. You can’t remember the last time you were able to just spend time with him like this and be.

Whenever the conversation lulls for too long, you ask him to tell you about Russia. He obliges, happily, telling you about the farm he grew up on, his parents, and his sister.

Eventually, he’s covering the bill --upon his insistence, because he can’t not be a gentleman--and you realize that lunch is done and that your date time is quickly coming to a close. As you leave the restaurant, you beg him to show around the town for just a little longer --and he obliges you with literally no resistance whatsoever.

It’s sweet, and you love him for it, but you also have the distinct sense that he’s going to end up creating a bit of a monster out of you.

Towards the end of your stroll around the town, your attention’s snatched away by the distinct, sweet smell of sugar and chocolate. You whip your head around, searching for the source of the heavenly scent, and spy a small confections shop on the opposite corner. “There’s a candy store!” You swoon dramatically, leaning against Piotr as you press your hand against your forehead. “Suddenly, I feel faint! I think it can only be remedied by mass quantities of sugar and chocolate!”

He chuckles as he nudges you upright. “Would you like to go get something?”

“Yes... or, as you would say, da.”

He escorts you across the seat, looking both ways before the two of you cross --because safety, and, to be fair, you probably wouldn’t have if he wasn’t here. He gets the door for you --again, gentleman--and ushers you inside as a bell dings above your heads.

The inside of the shop is light, airy, and decorated in pastels. The far wall is lined with shelves of containers filled with novelty candies --gummy worms, jelly beans, taffies, and the like. Tables loaded with different pastries and treats dot the shop floor. The counter boasts an extensive display case holding dozens of different chocolate treats --and an ice cream cooler, which looks seriously tempting.

A middle aged woman dressed in a mint green polo and a black apron smiles at the two of you. “Hi! What brings you in?”

“My girlfriend wanted to check the shop out,” Piotr says with a smile.

“It was a matter of life and death, Piotr,” You insist cheekily. “I could’ve fainted! Or died!”

The woman chuckles. “Well, we’ve got a great selection of chocolates, candies, and pastries, along with our ice cream that we make in store. My name’s Melody; let me know if I can help you with anything.”

Piotr thanks Melody, but you’re already eyeing your options. You squeeze his hand to get his attention. “Can I get one of everything?”

“Uh, no,” he says with a laugh. “I didn’t bring that much cash with me.”

“I was kidding... mostly.”

The two of you amble around the shop --you because you’re taking your time to seriously evaluate your choices, Piotr because he’s content to follow you and finds your depth of concentration amusing.

Eventually, you decide that you want chocolate and you skip over to the display case.

It doesn’t do much to simplify your decision making process. There have to be at least fifty different types of chocolates in the case.

You smile at Melody. “So, what’s good?”

“Well, the obvious answer is ‘everything,’ but it really depends on your tastes. What do you normally like? Are you a purist, do you like a little crunch, are you a fan of chocolate a fruit combos...”

Your cheery smile dims slightly. Despite his best efforts, this was one area of food Wade hadn’t thoroughly indoctrinated you in. You honestly have no idea what you ought to like, but this seems like something that any normal person would have opinions on. “Uh... I don’t know, actually.” At Melody’s politely confused look, you ad-lib a little lie. “My parents were, uh, health nuts. They didn’t let me have chocolate growing up.”

“Gotcha,” Melody says. “Well, in that case, I’d recommend a covered fruit option; they’re not as rich as some of our other options, so you’re less likely to feel sick after eating ‘em.”

Piotr’s hand comes to rest on the small of your back as she goes through the options --a small but reassuring pressure; he knows how much talking about your parents bothers you. He kisses the top of your head and wraps his arm around your shoulders when you lean against him.

“So, do any of those strike your fancy?”

“Uh...” You peer at the trays of chocolate covered fruits. “I’d like to try... the chocolate covered strawberries.”

“Excellent. It’s one for $3.75 or four for $5.00.”

You smile up at Piotr. “Can I get four?”

“Da,” he murmurs as he kisses your temple. After a little good-natured pestering from you, he also asks for some fudge for himself.

You give him a mock --well, partially mock--incredulous look as Melody packages your orders. “Fudge? I would’ve thought you would’ve gone for something healthy, like the fruit.” You puff out your chest and drop your voice as deep as it will go in a fairly horrible impression of him. “Nutrition is important. Pizza is not breakfast food. Cheetos are not food in general.”

“It is guilty pleasure,” Piotr laughs as he pays for your treats. “And I don’t care what you say, moya lyubov’. Cheetos cannot be food; they don’t even taste like cheese!”

“That’s not the point! The point is that they are crunchy and delicious!”

Piotr simply shakes his head, still smiling, and takes your hand as you leave the shop.

The two of you settle on a bench in the park you started your date in to eat your treats. Piotr hands you your box of chocolate covered strawberries --tied shut with a cute gold ribbon--and a napkin before setting his small box of fudge --and a napkin--in his lap.

You open your box and carefully pick up one of the berries. You study it for a moment, shrug, and bite in.

The chocolate casing shatters.

You let out a squeak and lift your hand up to catch the pieces of runaway chocolate. “Is that supposed to happen?”

“Da.”

It takes a little fumbling, but you manage to stick most of the shards back to the strawberry. You carefully finish your first berry, trying to hold it ‘just so’ so that you don’t drop more chocolate on your skirt.

It’s delicious. Insanely so.

You let out a delighted moan as you start in to your next strawberry. “Where has this been my whole life?”

Piotr smiles as he watches you. “I take it you like them?”

“Oh, hell yeah. This is amazing. I’m going to punch Wade for not introducing these to me.” You take a moment to wipe your fingers on your napkin, then eye his box of fudge. “Mind if I try a bite of yours?”

“Sure.”

You take the chunk of fudge he offers you and --without much thought or consideration--pop the entire piece into your mouth.

A mistake --relatively speaking.

“Oh god,” you mumble around the fudge. “It’s so sweet.”

“That’s why I don’t get it too often.”

“Holy shit. I can actually feel the cavities forming.” You hold out one of your strawberries to him. “Do you want one?”

“No, but thank you, dorogaya moya.”

“Okay. Your loss.”

The two of you finish your treats in relative silence. Well, you finish your strawberries, devouring them with the voracity of a starved velociraptor. Piotr eats maybe a quarter of his fudge, then neatly closes the box and tucks it back in the bag ‘for later,’ like a responsible person would.

He’s such a dad type, and you absolutely adore him for it.

“Do have anything on my face?” You ask as you pat around your mouth with the napkin.

“I think you’re good.” He stand and holds his hand out to you. “We should probably go.”

“Yeah --just hang on a minute.” You hop to your feet, pop up onto your tiptoes, and tug him down by his shirt to give him a kiss.

It’s undeniably perfect. His hands settle at your waist, pulling you in slightly. His lips are soft and warm --and taste a little like fudge, which is excellent. Stack that with the overall glow you’re feeling from the date, and it’s the best damn kiss you’ve ever had.

“I love you,” you murmur when the two of you part. “I really don’t want this to end.”

“I love you too, myshka. But we should probably go.”

“I know,” You groan. “I’ve just really enjoyed today.”

He practically beams down at you. “I’m glad. I had good time as well.”

You bump your head against his chest. “I want to come here again. I really like it out here.”

“We can do that. Whenever you want.”

“Awesome.” You wrap your arms around his massive waist in a hug and let out a happy sigh when he reciprocates. “But, yeah, we should head back. If we stay out any longer, Wade’s gonna take it a sign to set something on fire.”

Piotr stiffens in your arms at and mutters something under his breath in Russian. “Da. Not that I don’t love this --don’t love being here with you--but... da. We should make sure Wade doesn’t burn down house.”

You giggle and take his hand as he heads back to the car.

The drive back to the mansion is too short for your tastes --not from him speeding, because Piotr would never, but just from being engrossed in conversation with him and just being captivated by him in general.

Your heart aches slightly as the mansion comes into sight, officially marking the end of your date.

“I can drop you off at door,” Piotr offers as he pulls up the drive.

“And miss out on the precious minutes of walk time from the garage to the mansion? I think not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yupp,” You answer, popping the ‘p.’ “To the garage, big guy!”

It only takes a couple of minutes to reach the garage, and less than that for Piotr to park and turn off the car, to your dismay. Before you’ve managed to collect your purse, he’s opening your door and helping you out of the car.

“Thanks for taking me out today. I had a great time.”

“My pleasure, dorogoy.” And then he stoops down and presses his lips against yours.

This kiss is different from the others you’ve shared today. For one, it’s more passionate --he’s holding you closer, kissing your harder. It also lasts much longer, like he doesn’t want to part from you until he absolutely has to.

Eventually, as all things must, the kiss does end.

You’re panting slightly when he pulls back. “Now, that’s what I’d call a proper ‘end of date’ kiss.”

Piotr ducks his head and smiles, cheeks flushed a gorgeous rosy color. “We should go inside.”

You walk with him to the house, still indescribably giddy from your date and the kiss in the garage. You step through the back door --Piotr gets the door for you again--and into the kitchen--

Wade is perched precariously on the counter, lighter in one hand and bottle of vodka with a rag sticking out the top in the other.

“Wade! No!”

You watch, endlessly amused, as your boyfriend surges forward and disarms your best friend.

It’s amazing that this is your life now --a mix of wonderful and crazy that you wouldn’t trade for the world.

You laugh as Wade pouts at Piotr and decide to join the chaos.

#sass writes #piotr rasputin x reader #colossus x reader #piotr rasputin imagine #colossus imagine #piotr rasputin #x men fanfiction #nathan summers x wade wilson #cablepool #sort of #if you squint #so fluffy #i have actual cavities from writing this #it's like cotton candy but sweeter #should i have edited after getting some sleep #probably #but i live for instant gratification #so here we are

115 notes · View notes

stevenuniversallyreviews · 6 years

Text

Episode 81: Same Old World

”I’ve got nowhere to go.”

It’s impossible to overstate how important Mirror Gem was in redirecting the entire series from the daily adventures of a magical kid to a long-term story about (among many other things) how sins of the past loom over the present. But I’ve certainly tried! I’ve gone on about the episode’s impact at length in multiple reviews, but it bears repeating again here, because Same Old World is where Lapis Lazuli finally starts to shift from Important Character to regular fixture.

For someone that leaves such a lasting impression, we don’t see much of Lapis until Season 3. After she flies away healed in Ocean Gem, we catch a glimpse of her in The Message, where she once again has a huge impact for her small amount of time on screen. This frantic, confused version of Lapis is what we’ll get in The Return and Jailbreak and Chille Tid, but we see her get angrier with each appearance as she’s forced to face trial after trial. Her suffering was supposed to be over, but it keeps happening, and by the time she’s finally free again it makes sense that her first instinct is to get the hell off this planet.

But the saddest thing about Lapis isn’t her horrible luck, even if her ordeals are arguably more intense than any other character’s. It’s that she’s had to face these ordeals alone. The Crystal Gems and the Off-Colors are ragtag teams of outcasts, but they still have each other. Homeworlders like the Diamonds and their underlings, even the wandering Jasper, fit in just fine with an established society. Peridot makes a relatively smooth transition from the latter to the former. But Lapis’s comfort zone only exists in a past that will never come back. Steven may be the only Gem with parents, but the tragedy of Lapis Lazuli is that she’s an orphan. Only in Spinel do we meet another Gem cursed with such abandonment.

Why does Lapis attach herself so strongly to Steven, to the point where she’s willing to risk everything to protect him from Homeworld? For the same reason she eventually latches onto Jasper despite knowing that it’s toxic: because she has nobody else. And that isolation, rather than the specific injustices she has faced, is the trauma she’s actually forced to overcome starting in Season 3, beginning with Peridot in our next episode. But for now, Same Old World does a brilliant job establishing who this character is (a lost, lonely soul) and what she needs (a home and a family) so that she can make a change. And it does this not by showing her wallowing, but rather, for the first time since Ocean Gem, by showing her happy.

It says everything about Lapis that she sincerely enjoys hanging out with Steven. Despite her antisocial tendencies, she doesn’t hate people, she just doesn’t trust them (and for good reason). By freeing her in Mirror Gem and healing her in Ocean Gem, and by bonding with her in both episodes through open-hearted conversation, Steven earned her friendship. And an arc where Lapis finds the strength to open up to others benefits from our knowledge that she’s already capable of doing so, so that’s what Same Old World does. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel, and knowing this makes it even harder to watch when she stumbles, but all the more rewarding when she starts to come out of her shell around more people.

Lapis’s newfound exuberance is best conveyed by Aivi and Surasshu, who modify her theme (still my favorite) from its typically haunting or mystical tone to a breezy, adventurous anthem. Lapis began as a source of wonder for the audience, so it’s great to see her actually feel that wonder herself as she learns more about the planet that held her prisoner for so long.

Steven’s narration gets funnier and funnier as they travel from the woods to Empire City to Jersey; even a show this sweet can’t help but make fun of New Jersey. While Empire City is a clear blend of New York and Paris, with a little Vegas thrown in judging by the town motto, and this universe has locations like Delmarva and Keystone and Aqua Mexico, I love that Jersey is just...Jersey.

Further signs that this is a setup episode are found in the Empire City segment, and not just because we go back there in Mr. Greg. We’ve already seen Peridot living it up in the barn, and soon enough she and Lapis will be roommates in the way Steven foreshadows here. But more importantly, he’s using the language of television, which Lapis might not understand now, but very soon will.

Of course, an episode where Lapis is chipper throughout would be disingenuous, and boy does Same Old World deliver on the inevitable gut punch. We get one last moment of whimsy as the two head over the ocean, but the gleeful variant of her theme fades away as they encounter the Galaxy Warp.

Considering the way Pearl left Steven hanging in Rose’s Scabbard, there was a very real chance Lapis would drop him here as she has a minor panic attack, and the suspense allows us to feel all the weight of Lapis’s problems rushing back after a day of fun. It might not sound like a big deal, but this episode needs us to switch from happy and peaceful to antsy and pensive within seconds to keep the pacing solid, and it’s amazing that it does so without giving us even a hint of whiplash.

The return of Lapis’s hollow eyes is a nice touch, and leads us into a flashback that efficiently and stylishly shows us the depths of our hero’s misfortune. She wasn’t a Homeworld zealot but a noncombatant, and her cracking was a complete accident caused by a nameless, unidentifiable Gem. There’s no twist or big moment, simply a series of events outside of her control that built upon each other to ruin her life. This isn’t to say we don’t get lore—the Gem who poofed Lapis is our first glimpse at a bismuth, perhaps the Bismuth, and we see the Diamonds’ corruption attack with a quick taste of their theme—but the message here is that Lapis’s fate served no great purpose, and wasn’t even an intentional punishment. Sometimes life just kicks the shit out of you for no reason.

Lapis is clearly used to it at this point, shrugging off how horrible her life has been before she tries to leave at the beginning of the episode and rejecting Steven’s sweet offer to take a minute at the end of it. This isn’t to say she isn’t upset, but there’s a sense of acceptance that her life will continue to be miserable no matter what, which is why it’s so important that Steven doesn’t just tell her that she’s welcome on Earth, but that Earth is a place that allows change. He tells somebody who had no control for ages, then went on a power trip as soon as she had the opportunity to dominate somebody else, that she finally has the opportunity to make a healthy choice. And she takes it.

Peridot obviously becomes a bigger factor in our next episode, but she’s established quite well in the first act so that her “surprise” appearance at the end feels earned; why would she have gone away in the day or so that Steven and Lapis went exploring? Lapis’s petulant reaction to sharing her new home with Peridot gives us one last bit of foreshadowing for her arc: her adjustment to Earth transforms her into an angsty teen.

I can imagine this characterization disappointed some people; certain fans are bound to insert their own concepts into a character as mysterious as Lapis, which of course makes any divergence from this headcanon a disappointment. But the idea that Lapis’s Daria Phase comes out of nowhere is baffling to me. Really, what better way to portray someone whose life feels like one crisis after another inflicted by forces beyond their control than as a teenager?

Lapis Lazuli rarely displays overt happiness after Same Old World, and will quickly develop a sardonic sense of humor that genuine playfulness occasionally escapes from. But it nonetheless sets the stage for her potential before Barn Mates wisely reminds us that her journey towards trusting others won’t be a walk in the park.

(And then we get a walk in the ballpark. Season 3 picks up quick once it gets rolling.)

Future Vision!

I already mentioned Empire City, Bismuth, and the Diamond Corruption, but it’s also quietly sweet to rewatch this episode after we learn Lapis actually held onto Steven’s leaf in Beta.

I hinted at it a little, but there are definitely echoes of Lapis’s story in Spinel’s, with the major difference being Lapis’s series of misfortunes versus Spinel’s single act of betrayal. Both endured thousands of years of solitude, both attack others on instinct as a result, and both are moved by Steven preaching the power of change.

If every pork chop were perfect, we wouldn’t have inconsistencies…

It’s weird that there’s never any follow-up on Lapis’s poofing, considering she starts hanging out with Bismuth after Change Your Mind. Even if it was a different bismuth, that’s still worth a joke or something.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

Such a great Lapis episode. If it had a song it might be even higher up, but it still holds its own through great characterization, great music, and awesome setup for her new arc.

Top Fifteen

Steven and the Stevens

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Winter Forecast

When It Rains

Catch and Release

Chille Tid

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

No Thanks!

5. Horror Club 4. Fusion Cuisine 3. House Guest 2. Sadie’s Song 1. Island Adventure

#same old world #steven universe #su #steven universally #review

28 notes · View notes

parachutingkitten · 6 years

Text

Season 4 Analysis

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: I am going to be applying the concept of criticism to a TV show you presumably love and adore as much as I do. If you do not want your idea that the show is immaculate to be challenged, I would not advise reading past this point.

Mood for the season: It's a SuPeR fUn HaPpY pLaCe!!!!!

You don’t need to, but if you are interested, and haven’t seen my analysis of past seasons, you can find those here:

Pilot

Season 1

Season 2

Season 3

Hey guys! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Season 4! We are here! I am SO biased with this season. It has problems man. It has ALL the problems! ALL the plot holes! ALL the stupid, stupid stuff, but I LOVE ALL OF IT! okay, let's back up. I'm about to drop some context on you.

So, when you're a military brat you tend to make friends with whoever you can, and when I lived in Germany I had a friend who was fandom OBSESSED. She, at the time, was super into Homestuck, something I managed to avoid being sucked into, though I do know more about it than I would like. Anyway, this was the point at which I started getting sucked into Ninjago. So, I figured that if I could trust anyone with a strange obsession, it was her. I showed her the last episode of season 3, and she decided she was just going to dive head first into it with me. We watched season 4 together as it came out, we talked about it, had a bunch of inside jokes about it, I wrote some very short fanfiction about it, she made some OCs, one in particular that I remember was Stormy, a ditzy cloud master who wore pink, we shipped him with... one of my OCs, I don't remember. She hadn't watched the first two seasons, so I had to fill her in on a lot, but she was the first person I ever fandomed with, and it was over season 4. So I guess you could say season 3 was the grand beginning of my love for this show, and season 4 was the peak of my fangirl experience (at least for that phase of my life).

Plot

This season is a real mixed bag. Coming off the heels of the first season, nothing makes sense. Suddenly there are more elements, completely discrediting Lloyd's supposed power of four powers. And now it's genetic, which brings up the problem of Jay, who... if either Ed or Edna were masters, they would have slipped by now (but also like, how cool would it be if Edna just busted out with lightning powers) and then Zane who... doesn't have genes. It makes the world bigger, yes, but it also discredits the lore of the last two seasons, and brings up the question "Where the hell were the rest of the EMs when the Great Devour attacked? Or the stone warriors? Or the final battle?!" Anyway, it's a bit jarring and sudden to say the least. It definitely was not planned beforehand. There aren't even any hints in season 3. Like wouldn't it be cool if in season 3 we saw them go to the noodle shop, or Wu was really vague about elemental questions. It would make a lot more sense then. Idk. It opens the universe up to the plotlines of most of the future seasons, but it does sort of discredit the first two. This season is also kinda choppy feeling wise. You go from the mood the past season have had in the first episode to this sort of native tribal feel on the island, and then the factory and then back to Ninjago. It's kinda a mess. Overall it was just an excuse to put these characters in cool situations (which I have done before, I understand). Which I get, and it makes for some cool stuff, but I don't think any of it ends up meshing together super well in the end. When I think of this season I think of the tournament. I forget about the whole snake stuff at the end most of the time. I forget about the while Garmadon conflict. The fact that I forget that's there has to be a bad sign, right?

Characters

Character work this season is really pretty good for the most part! There are a lot of new characters. And they all are very distinct and fun, and even when two people you don't know especially well battle, you're still really invested. All of the Cole and Jay stuff is pretty good this season! Major upgrade from season 3. The whole fight scene is absolutely fantastic. Garmadon is freaking awesome this season. He keeps on trying to kill himself, and it's stupid, and the show sort of acknowledges that it's stupid, cuz Lloyd is just like 'dude, what the heck'. Kai's arch this season is pretty good, exploring his darker side and putting that intense conflict in front of him was good. I can tell you one thing, I like it a heck of a lot better than season 7, but we'll get to that when we get to that. So, yeah. Overall improvement in character! It doesn't dive super deep or anything, but it all works and is all interesting.

Skylor

So... she is one of the reasons I call this season the fanfiction season. We have a whole bunch of other elemental masters we've never heard of, and one of them their power is... all the powers. I can not tell you how much this ticked me off! And she hardly ever uses them! She has pretty much infinite power, and she doesn't think to use it, pretty much ever! There are no restrictions on her! This is what I hate Skylor for. And I do mean hate. BUT aside from that, strictly character wise she is done pretty well. She feels pretty fake and overly sassy at the beginning of the season, but there's a reason for that. It's an act. But it's not like she changed her personality to fool him, she intensified her personality to cover her intentions. Her arch feels pretty natural. That one scene where she does the evil laugh... that was weird. But aside from that, it feels okay. She was raised to think that lying and cheating is the norm, so when someone presents her with another option she begins to change. It makes sense. I love the scene where Kai and her look at each other through the prison bars and (even though their freaking legos) you can feel her realization that she's ashamed of what she's doing now. And after she makes the transition, she's just really chill. Like, I would like to hang out with her. I guess it is kinda sweet that even though she had all of the powers of... ever, at the end she's happy to just run her noodle shop. It's kinda poetic. Anyway, she may be a bit overpowered, and she feels like a bit of a Mary Sue, but overall her personality and interactions are enjoyable enough for me to mostly ignore that. I do agree that she is best used in moderation. She doesn't need to be part of the team. I wish we had a quick cameo each season, but whatever. What we have now in season 9 is nice, but she definitely needs to step back out of the spotlight in future seasons (knock on wood) in order to remain as likable as she's been.

Karlof

Love him. Freaking love him. Honestly, I probably relate to him the most. He's the first loser of the tournament, he avoids trouble, he sticks to what he knows, and he says it like it is. I love his interactions with everyone down in the noodle factory. He's like this perfect blend of optimism and pessimism. His interactions with Cole are beautiful. Their chemistry is really great. One of, I think everyone's favorite masters, and there's a reason why.

Shade

So... typical darkness character. Obviously selfish. But once the climax hits, I actually like him a lot. He kinda serves as an antagonist at first and then flips. It's kinda cool seeing a character with moral boundaries that far out. He's purposely suspicious to take attention away from Skylor, which I get. I think he has a lot of missed potential, but nonetheless, a decent character.

Neuro

I absolutely love his power! I love his manor, I love his voice. He may well be my favorite EM. I don't even know what else to say about this guy. If Karlof is who I am, Neuro is who I'd like to think I am. Calculated, calm, reasonable, and much like Karlof again, not too risky. I like him a lot. Cool guy. I like seeing how far he's willing to go for the ninja, and where certain lines are for him. It's kinda cool to watch. He could use a friend though. I HC he and Paleman hang out. Both quiet. Both reserved. Neuro could probably locate him in a room even if he's not visible. Idk. Anyway, I like him a lot! Great character.

Griffin Turner

Classic speedster. Good enough. Not much to say. He's fun. He's cool. He's what you'd expect. Decent screen time. None of it particularly character developing. For what he is, he's good at it.

Jacob

So, let's ignore the part where they made us think he was dead. He's a lot of fun. Good for them getting a blind character in there. Still confused on what his powers can... do? But I like his spunk. I think we all have a little soft spot for him.

Chamille

One of the only girls and she's pretty much evil. Why do girls have to be evil at one point to be interesting? Idk. Don't really care for her, don't really think much about her. Whatever. She's there. She serves her purpose. Fine. Okay. Moving on.

Paleman

Friggin love him. For the master of light to be invisible is a great move, and pretty creative. His voice is kinda obvious, but very distinct. It's a creative background character to have. I like him a lot. Again, I feel he could use some more love. See above Neuro HC. Like him a lot and... yay.

Bolobo

Kinda missed the "mother nature" pun... could have had at least one more female master... that's okay. He's cool enough. Kinda disappointing though. I mean, vines? Is that it?

Gravis

Gravity is a dang cool power. Idk what else to say. He doesn't get a ton of screen time, so it's hard to praise him too much, but yeah. I really like that. Actually had an FC (she was a villain but you know whateves) with the power, so seeing that be a real element they used is really cool.

Ash

I don't like him. He's very strange. He's just got that one laugh. He seems comically over the top a jerk. I like the way his mouth looks though. Unique and kinda cool. I was looking on his Wiki page, and it said he and Chamille kissed in the background at one point? Is that true? I am way curious now

Tox

Okay. She's nonexistent here, no personality. I guess she's kinda tough. Yeah, this gets confirmed later in season 9, when she speaks. But even there she's pretty nonexistent. Here's my idea. Instead of having all your females being 'tough' why not flip expectation on its head? I think it would be way funny and clever if the master of poison was super friendly, and bubbly, and genuinely a nice person. I'm thinking almost like Jay's (lightning... or I guess adopted) mom, levels of talkative and nice. Wouldn't that be kinda fun? Idk. Whatever. It is what it is.

Kapau and Chope

Best villains ever 10/10. 'Nuff said.

Romance

KAILOR

Okay, I freaking love them! They're not my favorite couple or anything, but they work really, really well… under certain conditions. There are a few bumps I can't ignore. Can we have a protagonist in the show who doesn't send googly eyes at their future love interest the first moment they see her? And remember when they made us think Kai and Skylor were related... yeah... why did we need to do that? That was... kinda uncomfortable. BUT other than that, Skylor is exactly what Kai needed. First, he needed a redhead. Duh. Second, he needed someone who would see right through his Kai shmoltz and be real with him. Third, she had to be fun. And finally, she needed to wear the pants in the relationship. And Skylor fills ALL of those requirements! I like that Kai falls for her right away, and I love that she doesn't think she likes him until... she totally does and it's like 'Oh SNAP!'. I love that weird scene where Chen walks around with Kai like he's already his son in law, that cracks me up! I guess I like them more in theory than in practice. It feels a touch forced, and it needed a bit more time. Point being, the beginnings of the relationship are extremely awkward and strange, but towards the end of the season, it gets good! I just wish we could see more :)

The... love... triangle

Alright, by now, you guys should know how I feel about these things. They suck. They're stupid. I hate them. They're pointless. And this season is... quite possibly the stupidest. So... the whole Garma-Wu-Sako... thing this season is that Wu wrote a letter to Misako a long time ago, and Garmadon stole it, and then... Misako *groan* used it to determine which of them she was going to marry... okay. Yeah, Garmadon, that was a crap thing to do. But you know what, he was evil. Wu should have just signed the thing when he wrote it. But also, Misako... WHAT ARE YOU DOIN' GIRL?! Why... would you let a letter... be the final deciding point? I don't get that. And my main problem is that she basically chose her husband based on his writing ability. The thoughts Wu had in the letter obviously directly express what Garmadon wanted to say. In the end, his feelings for her were still the same. The only thing different is that he didn't write it. He's not good with words the way Wu is. But the show treats it like he lied about his feelings, and didn't even like her. Like he was using her for personal gain or manipulation or something. Idk. The whole thing makes no sense. Now, maybe if he did something to make Wu directly look bad or disingenuous THAT would be understandable. But... idk. I don't get it. Misako sucks. Let's move on.

Villians

Chen

Chen is my favorite villain. Hands down. No competition. Any way you slice it. I friggin love the heck out of this dude. And here's why. First off, he's a very comedic villain that still remains extremely threatening, which is an extremely thin line to walk. I mean, think about it. With all the other villains, they were intimidating, and the henchmen provided the humor. Here, I guess you could say they flipped it cuz Clouse is pretty intimidating, but Chen is still crazy scary on his own. And here's how they do it: He's insane. Straight up, he has lost his mind. Nothing he does makes sense, but that's fine, cuz it probably makes total sense to him. You can laugh at the quirky things he does, but also live in fear knowing that he has trap doors installed EVERYWHERE. Why? Cuz he likes them! Is there a better reason than that when you're crazy! That was my problem with people with Pythor. He is so smart, why didn't he ever think that the devourer might eat him too?! There is no explanation. But with Chen, that doesn't matter! He wants to be a snake! Why? Why not?! No flaws in that thinking, right? This is also why I like Ultra Violet so much. She's the only one to rival his position, but because she's more of a side villain, I don't feel that's enough to dethrone him. With insane villains, you never have any idea what they're playing at, if it's smart, or how to counteract, cuz they're just insane. I mean, seriously,

"Chen, the ninja have figured out our plan, what should we do?"

"COOL! Let's tell EVERYONE our plan!"

And it works! I love his voice. Just the way he says things makes me so happy! He's having so much fun, and I have fun with him! 10/10 villain. Great work.

Clouse

I can't get past the voice. It sounds so over the top evil and... it's kinda annoying for me? He has a decent backstory and such, but whenever he's on screen I always find myself wishing it was Chen. He just sucks the fun out of everything and leaves nothing there, so most of his interactions aren't particularly interesting. I don't know. Never really thought much of him.

Humor

Needless to say everything with Chen works! Everything with the EMs works. Jay's whole Positive Thinking streak is amazing! There's not a lot that falls flat on its face. It's really pretty fantastic.

Favorite joke: too many to count. If I had to pick one...

Chen's: the reds, the purples, the super dark purples!

Drama

This season has some damn good drama. It has my personal most sad moment in all of Ninjago. I'm of course talking about Garmadon's death... JK! XD I WAS LAUGHING ALL THE WAY THROUGH THAT SEQUENCE! But we’ll get to that later. Okay. But for real, my personal most heartbreaking moment is when we find out Pixal is scrapped (of course it's Pixal related) but seriously, watching this for the first time, it broke my heart hardcore. I audibly gasped. They have these conversations, and she realizes he doesn't remember her, and it hurts her because they were comPATABLE GOSH DANG IT! And then he starts remembering, and she knows she can't go with him, so she lies to him to give him the motivation to make it out, and then the reveal, and Zane's heart breaks, and your heart breaks. This whole scenario reminds me of my own writing, it has all these things I enjoy using. Distinctions between fantasy and reality, characters lying to each other to protect them, and an ending realization of total and complete emptiness. Of course, Pixal is added into his head, and all is fine and dandy. It works for this season but serves her worse in future seasons. Regardless, that moment when Pixal says 'scrapped' is the most depressing thing I've ever seen. All of the Zane drama this season works really well. Zane having an identity crisis is something I didn't think the show would handle. When Zane says he's just a clone if himself I was like 'oh, dang! They went there!'. It's almost like he's comparing himself to Cryptor, and it's some heavy stuff. Everything this season is shrouded in mystery. I love that. For the first half of the season or so, I really like the tournament stuff. But as we get Cole, and especially Jay in the noodle factory, that plotline gets much more interesting. I don't get into the Nya and Lloyd and Garmadon stuff that much. The stuff with Kai is okay. But overall, there's some good stuff.

Climax

Okay, so... I... I mean I like the build up. The thing with all the trucks is really good. Most of it was really pretty good with all the EMs doing stuff the ninja would usually do. But the whole ending thing, with getting mini Pythor involved, and you know. The whole Garmadon death thing. He died an honorable death and all that, but... idk, I can't get past Lloyd's voice. As he reads him off I just couldn't stop giggling! It's so overdramatic, they feel like they need to make Lloyd mad at his dad for whatever reason so he can come back at the last second, and it all feels so forced. And then the ending is super overly cheesy for how serious the show wants to take itself at that moment. Idk. I don't like it. One of my least favorite finales.

Spotlight episode

There are some good ones to choose from this season. Some real good ones. But the one I find myself watching the most is Ninja Roll. This episode doesn't have too high stakes, it doesn't make much sense, it's kind of pointless, but it perfectly encapsulates the reason I watch Ninjago. I don't know exactly why I watch Ninjago. I'm not into the action most of the time. The romance is cute, but not potent enough to warrant watching the show. The humor isn't revolutionary, the characters aren't especially deep. No, the reason I watch Ninjago is cuz it's fun. Ninjago is just a good time. It has just enough of all of those aspects to make for something I love. It makes me smile. With seasons 8, and especially 9, Ninjago has shifted into this darker action based, lore-driven thing, which I thought I would like, and I do, but I think it's lost a bit of that fun factor. In my opinion, Ninjago is it's best when it's self-aware, and doesn't take itself overly seriously. When you don't have to end the season on an ominous dark cliffhanger. I mean really. What is this? Chima? No. I just want to go hang out with the ninja and the gang, whatever it is their doing. This episode takes advantage of every situation a roller derby with the ninja provides. Of course Jay roller skates with his mom. Of course, Kai is incompetent at it. Of course, Chen cheats, of course, it all comes down to Lloyd. Of course, there's freaking buggies that Chen releases! This whole episode makes me smile and laugh and it has a good message. This is what I miss about Ninjago, and that's why it's my spotlight.

Misc

I know everyone always teases Jay about his TV show, but what about Kai and his wrestling career? I just feel like that would come up more often

I completely subscribe to the theory that Pixal was scrapped to fix Zane cuz they beat him up so badly when capturing. I'd kinda like to think Pixal even volunteered herself for it... ONE SHOT IDEA

I have to scratch... my face.

I need a number on the trap door to button ratio on the island

This season has my favorite intro of any season. Mainly cuz the remix is FIRE and I hate the fact that they don't have an extended version that sounds more like the opening itself.

So all together, the word to sum up season 4 is fun. Definitely not technically the best, or the smartest, or the most well done, but it's my favorite because of nostalgia, my inner child, and because it makes me smile. I love this season.

- Maya (Parachutingkitten)

#ninjago #analysis #ninjago season 4 #ninjago ToE #tournament of elements #parachuterants

35 notes · View notes

marcythewerewolf · 7 years

Text

Quick Kierarktina fic inspired by @princekierz post about them getting older. I’ve touched on this theme before, but it’s fun to explore!

Kieran stuck to the shadows of the their booth, unnoticed by servers and other patrons alike. Gently, he prodded his eldest daughter, who was engrossed in whatever exciting mundane things were flickering on her glasses.

“Where are the bees?” he asked, “Apples, I can smell a few of, but bees seem few and far between. It is a misleading name.”

Araceli sighed the deeply disappointed sigh of a fourteen year old confronted once again by the fact that her parents were embarrassing. It was a small sorrow, but one that struck her to the heart every time. Honestly, Kieran was glad he hadn’t acted this way at her age. Gwyn never would have let him get away with it.

“It’s a mundane thing, t’Ada, you wouldn’t understand it,” she told him, with a weary shake of her head, before retreating back into the open arms of technology. Kids these days.

Since it seemed to be a night for iron and steel, Kieran moved across the sticky pleather of the bench and started prodding the device at the far end of the table, which, Mark and Cristina always assured him, would order their food for them.

Sure enough, whenever they went to mundane restaurants, the food did usually arrive, so Kieran was ready to trust whatever strange witchcraft they knew which he didn’t. He could do actual magic, he let them have the fake replacement of metal.

Family nights out were bad enough without having to confront actual servers. Mundanes got so difficult, and they never quite knew how to deal with Kieran. (Cristina insisted he didn’t know how to deal with them, but no, that couldn’t be right.)

Lights flickered on the display, mortal text moving to fast for even Kieran’s knack for tongues to follow, and the heat of it burned his hands. Even buried under layers of plastic, he could feel the iron lurking there and he fancied it could sense him too.

“You’re going to break it,” Araceli warned, barely glancing up from thin air.

“Nonsense,” Kieran said, even as it began to sputter under his finger tips. Drat. The magic of the fair folk didn’t mix well with fragile electronics, and sometimes he forgot how much of it he had these days. At some point, Kieran Kingson had grown up. They all had, and they had the clinging brats (beloved though they were) to prove it.

Cristina came back first, with Antonio slightly cleaned up and wrapped in her sweater. The boy seemed to have moved on from swimming to dumping everything he came across down his shirt. It wasn’t his fault he was clumsy on land, but sometimes Kieran felt it might be his. Did nixie blood skip a generation? Out of some measure of misplaced guilt, the not insignificant desire to keep Cristina from being too mad at him, and the much more pressing need to protect Antonio from his bully of a big sister, Kieran patted the seat next to him and smiled when Antonio clambered over, followed quickly by his mother. Trapped two deep in this mundane hell was almost claustrophobic, the presence of his family made it tolerable.

Cristina tapped futilely at the now erratically flickering screen and then grimaced. “He did it,” Araceli offered helpfully, not even bothering to nod to Kieran. There was only one ‘he’ who it could be.

Kieran strove to look above it all. Once, that had been easy. Usually it still was easy, but mundane places threw him off guard. Cristina like this, soft lines around her mouth, chipped nails, hair greying into finest silver under the abominable golden lighting; she threw him off.

“I’ll go find a server,” she said, and leaned down to kiss him as she left. Kieran ran his fingers through the fine hair on the back of her neck and breathed in her scent, soft citrus and a hint of Antonio’s spilled apple juice.

When he came up for air, Araceli had detached herself from ‘web’ (whatever that was) and was staring at them. No, Kieran corrected himself, staring past them. He followed her gaze to the table oblique to them, where an elderly woman was looking mildly scandalized. An echo of youthful rebellion surged in Kieran’s chest, bringing back memories of the Clave and disapproval and wars. Some were even recent, though they had tried to shelter the children from the worst of the nastiness.

You could never fully succeed at something like that, he reflected, as he saw the hurt in Araceli’s eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she whispered, drawing her brother’s attention now as well.

Kieran looked at her steadily. “No electronics at the dinner table,” he said finally, “You know that’s a rule.”

It served the intended purpose of distracting her, with the minor side effect of starting an argument which Kieran didn’t manage to win until Mark returned, bringing Aine and another dose of parental authority. (Heaven and earth, they were all so terrible at this. Even waiting a few years, far longer than Shadowhunters usually did to have children, hadn’t helped much. Sometimes Kieran felt like they were flying by flapping their arms very fast. Sometimes he suspected all the other parents were as well.)

“It is a rule,” Mark opined, plopping a changed Aine (their children being apparently incapable of going five minutes without either spitting up, or dropping something on themselves, or otherwise needing immediate hygienic intervention) down on the bench next to Araceli. “And it does count in restaurants. You can talk to your friends when we get home.”

“Home doesn’t have wi-fi!” Araceli pointed out, with the desperate air of someone making a very important point. She might have been, for all Kieran knew. “Because we live in a forest or in the dark ages or another dimension or something-”

“It’s just for a while, you know that-”

“I like our new house,” Antonio said as if that settled the matter, and smiled up at Kieran guilelessly. His heart melted, until he realized the boy had managed to get his hands on another juice box already, and was poking at it furiously like that hadn’t been the cause of the first disaster.

Mark was just as quick on the uptake, “Tony, give that here...” he began, holding out a hand for the juicebox. Araceli had already palmed something else mundane and bright and probably under the heading of technology. Kieran, slipped under the table and over to her side, blocked a curious Aine from and moved to scold her in one smooth motion.

All the wars in the world couldn’t prepare you for this.

It seemed like hours before Cristina came back, serving staff in tow, though in reality it was probably only a few frantic minutes.

Mark was trying to interest Araceli in a game of something called hangman, which was much less bloody than it seemed, except he’d forgotten most of the rules and she was being surly. Kieran had his other two children gathered around him and was listening to Antonio and Aine talk while he stroked her fine, dark, toddler hair. Ears, just pointed enough to need a glamour, unlike her siblings’ dubiously human ones, poked out from underneath it. Already, she seemed made of too many odd parts. Too big ears, too long limbs, Mark’s bright sea eyes and Kieran’s stormy hair. Less changeable, a little more shadowhunter- angel blood was so reliably dominant- but still a little too faerie.

Just like him.

Their neighbours across the way, the nosy old biddy and a younger couple, were still staring and whispering. He wasn’t sure why. Was a father not allowed to spend time with his children?

He glared at them as Cristina introduced the serving man (his name was also Mark, which seemed entirely unconscionable. Humans needed to find a sense of originality.) Mark apologized for the useless hunk of plastic at the end of the table, and then started taking drink orders. Antonio’s request for grape juice was toned down to a less stain-prone milk, Araceli was grudgingly allowed a soda, and Kieran took it upon himself to be the grownup and asked for wine.

“A significant amount of it.”

Mark the servant blinked at him, a look of confusion quickly replaced with smooth control, “Do you have an ID, um, sir?”

Cristina and Mark already had the looks on their faces that meant they were rapidly going into damage control mode. Kieran trusted them with that, so he forged ahead. “No?”

Their server looked pained, “Well you, uh, you do need one of those.”

“Sorry,” Cristina said quickly, “He’s European, and I think he left his passport at home tonight. Can I have a bottle of wine? Please?”

“Yes,” the server said, pivoting with relief to face her, “But I’m afraid you can’t share it with your friend. House rules, we have to assume you’re underage until proven otherwise.”

Most of the words in this conversation were flying over Kieran’s head, but one detail stuck out, and he had mostly made it in politics by taking little details and dragging them to death. “You didn’t ask her for an eye-dee,” he said, in a tone of flat accusation. He didn’t add ‘You cur.’

“Yes... but you’re...” Mark the server floundered.

“What he means to say is that Mom looks like an old lady and you look like a model who escaped from a ren faire, Dad,” Araceli snapped, “Now can we order? I want a vegetarian burger with the works and chili-mashed potatoes.”

There was a sort of sullen silence, different from the usual sullen silences, from Araceli while their food arrived. Kieran knew the many shades of sulking, and knew this was the amalgam of terror and pride and disappointment which came with saying something you’d been thinking for a long time, to only a moderate response. For her sake, he tried to think up a reply, in between stolen sips of Mark’s wine.

It tasted better with his breath on the rim of the glass, but Kieran couldn’t help but resent not being allowed his own. He was an adult, a father, a prince, a diplomat. A lack of simple mortal legal documentation shouldn’t prevent him from getting moderately drunk at a family dinner.

Mark, always attuned to his heart, squeezed his hand under the table and whispered, “Sorry, we should have glamoured you. You know mundanes.”

Kieran leaned into the gesture and smiled back, but kept silent, not in the least because Aine was trying to hand feed him bits of mozzarella stick.

When Mark and Cristina kissed over Mark’s salad, he resisted the urge to join them. They soft and warm and beautiful and his, and that was enough, and besides, Araceli was groaning loudly enough already.

After dinner, with the younger children secure with their parents (their Shadowhunter parents, their legal parents as far as the Clave was concerned) in the car, he waited with Araceli to give Mark their check. He had been reassured the credit card process was quite simple, even he couldn’t mess it up, and if it wasn’t, he had some suitable gold coins on him.

Araceli was looking at him funny, and he realized he was staring at her, trying to put his thoughts into words. Perhaps mistaking his concern, she said “Don’t t’Ada, it’ll work.”

“I know it will,” Kieran said, a little annoyed, “I’m not a child, no matter what you might think, little star.”

He held back from ruffling her hair, aware of her new, prickly boundaries, and she shrugged a sort of acknowledgement of this. “I know. It’s just... you’re very young looking sometimes. Like when people ask if you’re my old brother, and not my father, or when people see Aine and think you must be my step-dad instead. It gets annoying.”

“It is flattering,” Kieran pointed out, “You have excellent blood.”

Faerie parentage didn’t mean slower aging, but it didn’t hurt. Mark showed the years less than Cristina did, and Kieran was almost unchanged. Helen Blackthorn had settled into a kind of stable permanent flawless fifty, silvery gold and shining. It was vain, but Kieran could rest a little easier knowing that even if he did outlive his children, they would look excellent as they aged.

(And that was if he didn’t manage to steal them away to faerie permanently. The technology fixation was a minor bump in the road, but Kieran would work on it.)

“Maybe for you,” Araceli mumbled, “It’s just... it gets weird, okay.”

“We are weird,” Kieran pointed out, “Even by the standards of the fae, even by the standards of the angels. Certainly by the standards of the mundanes. And that’s hard, I won’t pretend it isn’t. Part of the reason we thought so long and hard before we had you was because we knew it would be a life both strange and merry. You can hate us for that, if you want, though I’d prefer if you were a bit older before you came to any final conclusions on it. But one bad dinner at an Apple-sans-bees does not a family ruin, does it? It does not erase the love I have for your mother or for Mark, a love that only grows the older they get. It does not erase the love I have for you and your younger brother and sister.”

She knew he couldn’t lie. She used it every day to her own advantage. Now she smiled.

“Please don’t talk about being into mom and dad being super old. But yeah, I guess.”

“Wonderful. Now, let’s forge your father’s signature, shall we?” Kieran said, too loudly.

Needless to say, they got kicked out of the Applebees.

#kierarktina #black rose triad #mark blackthorn #kieran #cristina rosales #m writes #fanfic #the dark artifices #araceli and antonio are kieran and cristina's kids #aine is mark and kieran's daughter #(mark identified as a boy from very young in faerie and andrew ran with it since the fae are flexible)#they're all officially blackthorn rosales to the clave and kieran's kids to the faeries #they like to keep things simple #and honestly officially they're just the three of their's children #all of them together #the a alliteration was not intentional but kieran loves it to bits and made sure it continued once he figured out

43 notes · View notes

smile-smile-ichthys · 7 years

Text

Out of Office Drama: Fancy Feet

(First part RPed between me and @hifftn)

Jazz filed the new profile away and sighed, turned the laptop off and leaned back in her chair. She had already found some suitable marriage candidates for Alberto and there wasn’t even a hint of wistfulness. They only had a one night stand after all, they hadn’t been in love. But she did like him, back then and now. Nonetheless she was somehow relieved that H didn’t have to write a report on him; it felt somehow tasteless to basically ‘share’ lovers. Although Jazz had shared quite a bit, mostly with Miho, but obviously all MJS girls had something with Baba at some point and Rose had her own history with Kyobashi.

But Alberto? He wasn’t part of the MJS staff like Baba and Kyobashi; he was someone Jazz wanted to keep for herself. At least in her memories. She grabbed her phone and called H, after all she still owed her a proper explanation. And now, with the ball H was invited to, Jazz had an opportunity to spent time with her again, if only for dress shopping.

“H? Hi, do you have time later? I’m fed up with work for now, do you want to go shopping today?”

"Dude I am there, I have like no dressed here and I need a proper one if I'm gonna go to that ball thing! I'll meet you in an hour? I can grab the train and meet you in town" H said almost instantly, she was so ready for a shopping fest to get the dress she desperately needed, but also, she deserved to have an explanation for why she was asked to leave so suddenly when that butler arrived.

"I'll see you in a bit yeah?" She hung up and grabbed her bag, this was gonna be good!

With a smile Jazz got up and grabbed her bag, told Izumi she was going out and left the office. She just knew the perfect store to buy a beautiful, yet affordable dress for H. And a nice little café where they could talk a bit afterwards.

After everything they had been through lately Jazz considered H almost a little sister, maybe because of their similar heritage, maybe just because the young woman was so cheerful and lovable. So, when they met up, Jazz hugged H and grinned.

“Come on, let’s find you something that will leave them all speechless.” "Ok but I want it to be classy, if this butler prick is gonna be there I want to show him that I ain't no slut and I have class" H laughed, linking arms with her. She really had started to care about Jazz, more than just a boss, she just clicked with her. She felt like she could be truly honest and open with her, and thanks to Jazz, she had made some genuine friends at work, people who cared about her...it was a nice change.

"Oh you know, maybe something blue or green!" H piped up as they reached the little boutique.

“Blue. With your eyes and your hair colour blue would just be perfect.” And a deep blue was always classy. Jazz immediately flagged down a sales assistant and told her to bring some ball gowns while Jazz and H browsed through the racks of beautiful dresses.

“I actually have some sapphire earrings and a necklace you could borrow if you like,” Jazz mused loudly. “Nothing too fancy, just one small gem in silver setting.” One of the few gifts from Ai that Jazz had kept – mostly because it simply looked fabulous on her.

"Thanks, I may take you up on that offer" she smiled, looking over the dresses until the assistant brought a few over.

"Hmm, that's too low cut, but that ones nice!" She took the blue dress off the assistant and turned it around on the hanger "once we've found a dress you will tell me about that butler dude you didn't want me to know about, right?" She asked, curiosity was quickly getting the better of her. Who was he? How did he know Jazz? Man she'd been around the block, something H looked up to. Jazz laughed.

“Sure, you get the full report,” she happily said, waggling her eyebrows. “But first things first. Try that one and this one here. I like the unobtrusive beading. Not too flashy but not too plain. What do you think about layers and gatherings?”

With H’s body it shouldn’t be too hard to find something that made her look amazing, so Jazz was confident that this wouldn’t take long after all. H looked over the dress, nodding happily.

"Sure, yep, I shall try this one, won't be a minute!" She grinned, running off to the dressing room.

It didn't take long to find a one she liked. The beaded one was just too lovely to pass on, so she whipped out her purse and purchased it, both of them heading to the cafe Jazz had picked out.

"Thanks for the help, dresses aren't exactly something I wear too often out of work, I appreciate the help" she said.

“You’re more than welcome. You know, when I feel down, really, really down, I go and try on evening gowns. I don’t know why, but that always cheers me up.” Jazz knew it was silly but hey, everyone had their little quirks. And it was definitely better than drinking.

“So, you and Takao are going to impress the royals, huh? I bet he looks great in a smoking hot suit. That broad back and he’s so tall…” Jazz sighed dreamily. “You will look so good together.”

She knew that H had no romantic interest in Takao, but she could still state obvious facts.

“And try not to rip that butler’s head off. As far as I heard he serves a rather difficult master. Although that doesn’t excuse his behaviour towards you. Nothing can excuse that.”

"Oh damn right he's gonna look so hot in a suit" H laughed. She loved Takao, very much so and she really hoped that she could possibly set him up with someone, he deserved it after what he goes through every day with the MJS girls. Maybe she'd ask him what he likes in a woman at the party.

"Right, if that butler does my head in, I won't hold back, don't care what kind of 'master' he serves" she huffed, but soon smirked "talking of butlers, who was that guy who came into your office? Do tell!"

Jazz sighed. She had promised to tell H after all.

“Alberto is the butler of the Altarian crown prince. We met a couple of years ago, right after I found out about Ai… anyway, I was still working as event manager and one day I had to organize a party for the prince. It ended in a small catastrophe and when I drowned my frustration in a glass of wine Alberto kept my company and – cheered me up.”

She grinned and stirred in her cup of cappuccino – decaf, of course. H just smirked, smiled, grinned, everything you could think of as she listened, hands holding up her chin on the table.

"Oh he cheered you up alright" she said "so that's why I didn't get him as a client, you already knew what to write in his report, that's fair enough" she sipped her own drink "so, any other butlers you've done?" She laughed heartily. If she'd done one, maybe she'd done a few more, maybe she would get the details out of her eventually. "What was he like?!"

“He was – intense. Not the serving kind, if you catch my drift. Demanding. And oh so good. Just what I needed back then. But we both knew it was just sex so I was fine when he left the next morning. We didn’t stay in touch and I would have never thought of him again if he hadn’t walked into my office.”

Jazz shrugged. “But I do want to find him the perfect match.” She eyed the cakes in the showcase and sighed, but opted against a sugary treat.

“As for your other question, Alberto is actually not the only butler in my personal log. There was the butler of the Oresian crown prince, he was a client but cancelled his contract after the simulation. I managed to make him confess his love to his childhood friend. And back in Europe I actually met another butler, he was very shy and sweet and we were both still young… nothing serious happened, only a few kisses before my student exchange ended and I had to go back home. I was heartbroken and I think so was he. Well, and you met Jan and took care of him before I had to. That’s my butler experience so far. I met some very nice ones – unlike you, huh?”

"Been seriously making your rounds" H laughed once again, almost imagining what her butler was like in bed. Intense? After what she could remember of his face, yeah she could vision that. Damn, she missed out.

"But yeah, at least you've had good experiences, I mean Jan was a perfect first client, and I'm so happy he has someone!" She grinned like a 5 year old, she was happy for him, it warmed her heart hearing back from him about it all "but yeah, this dick one...not so much" ordering a slice of cake, knowing she wanted some, not letting her argue as she ordered a large slice for them to share. "Just hope he behaves at this ball"

Over their shared slice of cake Jazz thought about something Alberto had told her.

“You know, he’s a pretty young butler. Still has to prove his worth… that’s what I heard at least. And still he is fiercely loyal to those close to him. What a pity his head seems only to serve the purpose of hosting his hair instead of his brain. His heart seems to be in the right place…”

"Hmm" H was unconvinced, sure he was young, younger than she was, but saying the things he had said...it got to her, hurt her, more than she let on to Jazz and the others. She picked at the cake, letting Jazz have more than her, while she thought of the ginger prick. Maybe having a tough master like that would affect you, but even when she had bad managers, bosses...even that bad time before moving here she never spoke to people like that. Ugh, it was all so difficult, but she still smiled at Jazz, happy she told her about Alberto. "So do you think you'll find Alberto someone soon?"

“Like I said, it’s no excuse for saying those awful things. And if I ever meet him I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind. I just wonder what would make a young man like him say stuff like that. You know, I talked about him with Jan and Alberto… it doesn’t seem to fit him, that’s what they said at least. But he was a jerk to you and that leaves him in a bad light.”

She took a fork full of the cake and chewed it thoroughly.

“You are right, let’s talk about something else. Something more pleasant. I already have someone for Alberto in mind. He already has the first profile and I will send him another one soon.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I was so thankful Jazz had helped me get a dress, and lent me some jewellery, I wasn't really any good at those sorts of things, so pulling it on I smiled at how pretty I looked in the mirror. Oh, heads would turn. But I was still just looking forward to coming back to bed after the evening, just hoped that there would be at least decent food since I hadn't eaten since lunch.

As I was checking the time, my flat buzzer buzzed, Takao was outside, so I grabbed my little bag, fixed my hair once more before heading outside to meet him.

Damn, Jazz and I were right, Takao did look good in a suit! Tall, extremely handsome, it made me wonder why no other girl had snapped him up yet. "You look beautiful, ready to go?" He asked, offering me his arm, which I took. "Thank you, you look incredibly handsome" I grinned up at him as he lead me to the car we had been given.

Takao helped me inside and then slid in himself. We were silent for a moment until I finally broke it.

"So why don't you have a girlfriend yet?" I asked.

"Huh? Oh, I guess I haven't found the right girl yet" he said nonchalantly. "What kind of girl do you like?" And I began my interrogation.

When the car finally pulled up, Takao quickly exited to grab the door for me, such a gentleman, but it wasn’t Takao who greeted me as I stepped out. And I had a better idea what girl he liked, challenge accepted.

“Pleasure to see you again miss” the elder butler, Aleck was it? Gently bowed to me. Takao just missed out in opening the door, but he did take my hand to help me out.

“Oh, erm, thanks, didn’t have to” I said to Aleck, giving Takao a quick smile. “You are our honoured guests tonight, it is only fair you get treated as such” Aleck explained “his highness wishes for you to give him an audience later, would that be alright?”

“I’m sure it will” Takao said kindly.

“Thank you, if you would follow my grandson sir, he will take you to the cloakroom” Takao nodded and followed Luke who had suddenly appeared behind him “my lady, would you come with me?”

“Sure?” I let Takao follow Luke while I followed Aleck into the ballroom. “I wish to personally apologise for my grandsons behaviour and words to you” he said, oh so that’s what the whole splitting up thing was about “I genuinely did not raise him to say such things to a woman, everyone is free to do as they like and we are the last people who should judge”

“Especially since he doesn’t know me” I blurted out “Oh sorry!” Aleck laughed kindly.

“I fully agree miss, hence why my apology, I was mortified when I found out” he stopped when we reached the entrance to the ballroom. It was so grand, elegant, gorgeous, and just…so not me. People were dancing already, chatting to the side where there were nibbles laid out, ugh no proper food, I was going to have to get a takeaway after this, I knew it.

“I assure you miss, Luke will personally apologies himself tonight once his duties have cleared slightly, he promises me that” Aleck said genuinely.

“Will he mean it though?” I asked, a little doubtful “I mean, it’s no offence to you Mr Aleck, but, well, he doesn’t exactly seem the most gracious or polite guy” The sadness in Alecks eyes became so visible it almost broke my heart. He obviously truly cared for his grandson and it hurt to see someone dislike him so. But I couldn’t help it, the way he spoke to me was so spiteful, hateful, and it disgusted me.

“I am sorry you think that of him, but he is a hard worker, dedicated, patient, kind, generous, I’m afraid his highness has a little too much influence over him from time to time, he tries too hard…will you at least hear him out?”

“Oh of course, but I can’t guarantee it will change my opinion of him” I said truthfully.

“I understand, thank you” he bowed again, smiling as Takao returned, Luke following behind again “We shall leave you two to enjoy the party, if you need anything, just come find us”

“Thank you Aleck, truly” I said, taking Takao’s hand. And I swear I saw Luke hesitate, glancing at our hands before leaving.

Takao lead me into the ballroom and straight for the nibbles, he either knew me too well already, or he was hungry too. Sure, the food did look absolutely delicious, but, why so tiny? Why have such small slices of toast with the tiniest dab of cream cheese on? I must have had three before Takao laughed at me. “Don’t laugh at me!” I retorted to his chuckling.

“Sorry, I know they’re small nibbles but, you sneaking each one into your mouth is just too funny” he explained.

“Can’t exactly just shove them in, can I?” I smirked “I mean, who puts such small bits of food for a party?”

“A prince who wishes his guests dance, laugh and enjoy themselves rather than worry about formalities for dinner” a new voice came up behind both of us. “Your highness” both of us bowed at prince Keith who waved it off. “So, you came” he huffed.

“Yeah, well we were invited” I snapped back slightly. If he didn’t want us there, was it someone else who made the invite? Even if it did say Prince Keith in the letter, didn’t mean he wrote it.

“My father invited you after hearing about what you did” ah, question answered. “Well, we are happy for the invite, very grateful” Takao said politely, seeing how annoyed I was getting already. Man I didn’t like smarmy people.

“You’re welcome” he said, glancing at Takao, the music changing in the background. The prince smirked at me “May I have this dance?” he said, offering me his hand.

Uh oh. What was he up to smirking like that? I could never put my finger on this guy, and I didn’t like it. Takao just smiled kindly, letting me decide. But I couldn’t exactly say no to him. Could I?

“Sure, I guess” I said, taking it firmly. Well, if he wanted a dance, damn straight he would get one.

He lead me onto the dance floor, causing a lot of people to turn and stare at us, I didn’t care, not really. I’d done this several times at home, made no difference to me a change of venue. He placed his hand on my waist and I placed mine on his shoulder, not putting much effort into my posture yet. He smirked down at me.

“Better keep up with me” he said. What? Was this a challenge? Oh, bring it. I smirked back.

“You too”

I gracefully leaned back slightly, tilting my head to left and I could see Keith’s face drop ever so slightly as he started the waltz. He lead beautifully, I had to admit, and he was challenging me with the steps, but I kept up with ease. I kept my posture well, my feet following his with grace and, hopefully, beauty.

By the end of the dance, everyone was staring and some even clapped when the music finished. His highness even stared at me when we parted. I bowed. “Thank you, I enjoyed myself” I simply said, returning to Takao who just laughed when I grabbed a drink.

“His face, I don’t think he thought you could dance” Takao admitted.

“I don’t think he did either” I smiled, downing my drink “can you?”

“Me? A little” he blushed.

“Come on then, let me teach you a bit”

Again, it surprised me how little confidence this amazing guy had in himself, he was such a good, natural dancer and he clearly enjoyed himself, even caught the eye of a girl. Of course, he hadn't spotted her, but I had. Maybe I could finally set him up with someone. Only thing I didn't notice, was Luke watching us from a distance.

After the next song, both of us split and he guided me to the food table again. The girl kept eyeing him, so I nudged him, gesturing to her. The oblivious, gentleman he was, he had no idea. I sighed, giving him an excuse then walking over to the girl.

"Hi" I said with a kind smile.

"Oh, sorry, is he with you?" She gestured to Takao.

"Came together but not dating, he's all yours if you want" I winked.

"Is he...nice?" She asked, obviously she had been messed around a lot, well, if she was at this party I had no doubt that some snobby idiots had done stuff to her. I just smiled more.

"Damn right he is, proper gentleman, kind, loving, go talk to him, he is a bit oblivious though" I winked once again and the lady smiled.

"...Thanks! I'll give it a go" she smiled back genuinely and walked over to Takao. Ah, job done.

I picked up another glass of champagne and glanced round the room. Yeah, everyone in their own little friendship and class groups, chatting, dancing, until I saw Luke from the corner of my eye heading over. Ugh. No, not now. Thankfully, or maybe not so much. Prince Keith came over.

"You dance?" Keith said simply.

"I do, well, I did, not so much anymore" I explained and Keith actually listened, it kinda worried me "May I help you?"

"I just wanted to talk, you intrigue me" he answered.

"I intrigue you? Am I like some sort of experiment?" I asked, a little offended. "Well, I've never taken an interest in a commoner"

"Oh, ok, that's it, I'm done talking to you, excuse me" I said quickly, moving away from him, not giving him a chance to stop me.

Ugh, men, well, posh men, royal men. I sighed heavily and noticed Takao had left when I realised he wasn't where I had left him. Had he gone with that girl? Hmm, good on him. But since now I was on my own I was tempted to leave too, but something inside me was telling me I needed to calm down before something happened publicly. I didn't feel emotional right, simply, I was wound up. I spotted a balcony, so I headed straight out and leaned against the railings, taking some slow deep breaths, noticing Takao below escorting the lady to a car. I smiled, genuinely smiled, had I found him someone too.

The cool breeze helped clear my head a little, but it didn't help clear my emotions. I was happy, I was, truly happy for once...in a long long time. I had friends who loved me, accepted me, helped me, I also had a job I enjoyed every day, but I think I had been too happy for a little too long recently. I watched as Takao left, quickly using his phone, probably to text me...yep my phone buzzed in my bag, before getting in the car after the lady. As soon as his car was gone the tears flowed. What the actual fuck? Why now? Why was I feeling so pathetic right now? I'd probably made one of my best friends incredibly happy, it might have been the start of a true romance between then...so why couldn't I be happy like that? Oh. Now it made sense.

"I'm such an idiot" I said to myself "of course it's all about that"

For the longest time I had known I'd never truly fallen for anyone, I'd never been in love, never managed to get past the third date without losing interest. Was I really incapable of loving someone like that? Maybe I was, and I just had to accept that. I thought I had. So why was I crying?

"Woman up H, come on" I said, wiping my eyes.

I truly was pathetic, crying over something like this? No. That life wasn't for me. I had accepted it, and it was ok to feel upset about it every now and then, but it was not ok to feel pathetic.

"You are not pathetic, you are not useless, you are not broken, far from it" I said to myself, but more tears just came "and yet here I am standing on a balcony, on my own, crying like an idiot, of course, bravo H' I wiped my eyes again, only for a handkerchief to come into my vision. I jumped back.

"What the actual fuck?!" I almost shouted, facing Luke.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you..." he said sheepishly.

I stared at him in silence for a bit, desperately trying to stop crying and clear my eyes of any trace of the tears.

"What do you want?" I asked harshly.

"You were crying..."

"I asked, what do you want?" I repeated.

"...I came to give you my apology" he finally replied but continued "I saw you had vanished from Prince Keith's side so, I came to find you, that's when I heard you crying and saying those things about yourself"

No-one saw me like that, no-one, not even Jazz, so knowing he had seen me and heard me, it made me angry.

"You forget what you saw, got it? You don't need to apologise" I said, before making my way to leave.

"I can't do that, I have to apologise for what I have done to you" I stopped.

"You don't have to do what your grandad tells you to, just please, forget all of it" I said through gritted teeth.

"I want to apologise" he said, sounding genuine for the first time "What I said to you, it was extremely immature of me, I would use the excuse that I was under a lot of pressure from his highness and I was very stressed, however, that doesn't excuse my behaviour, I am truly sorry I offended you" he said. I was getting close to an anxiety break-down, I just wanted to get out of here and home.

"Thank you, can I please leave now?" I asked.

"O-of course, yes, silly of me to think that would change your opinion of me, let me escort you to a car, I shall take you home"

It took all my energy to hold back my emotions during the car ride home, a car that Luke drove himself and pulled right up next to my flat block. We both got out at the same time, he didn't say anything, just bowed and offered me his handkerchief again, which I took.

"Thanks" I said, heading inside, but he stopped me by speaking.

"I truly am sorry, you are a beautiful and strong woman, I don't think you're pathetic in any way, I hope one day I can make it up all the offence I have caused" he said, but quickly getting into the car and driving off.

Maybe...just maybe I didn't hate him as much as before. that's when my stomach growled...takeaway it was. What I didn't realise is that the necklace Jazz had lent me had fallen off in the car.

MJS Ladies: @hifftn @whatdoyouexpectthistime @smutmylifeup @nitelotus

#mjs marriage series #butler luke #takao mfw #bmpp #prince keith alford #sorry long chapter

10 notes · View notes