#yes i also audibly gasped when polites showed up

[ghostvibesonly]

JAY GOT HIS MOM TO VOICE ODYSSEUS’S MOM I’M SOBBING

god listening to the underworld hurts so much more after learning that “fun” fact (genuinely it’s so sweet oh my god but i’m using humor to cope)

“i took too long. I ventured too far while you were waiting”

“I’ll always love you”

#i guess beautiful voices run in the family #yes i also audibly gasped when polites showed up #epic #epic the musical #epic underworld saga #epic odysseus #epic odyssey #epic spoilers #epic the musical spoilers #it is an actual crime this saga is only three songs #i’m already on my fourth listen (the first two were the watch party) #correction: now on my fifth i finished the fourth listen while making this post #don’t even get me started on no longer you or the powerful orchestrals at the end with tiresias’s haunting vocals #or jay’s acting oh my god the anger and hurt and betrayal throughout the entire saga #tHE GROWLS I LIVE FOR WHEN ACTORS GROWL IN THEIR SINGING ITS SO GOOD #but also the quieter peaceful moments of love when he sees polites and his mom again #congrats on completing act one jorge!! #i am in your walls!!

[fawnandshadows]

Elriel Month Day 12

Chapter Five

Rating: M

Word Count: 1.2

Warnings: None

“Are you ready?” Azriel asked, his strong hands gently holding hers. 

Elain looked to their joined hands, hers small and pale in his. She loved the roughness of his skin, marveled at how his skin felt against hers every chance she got, and she loved the beauty of his hands — how gentle and loving they were as he showed her the proper way to use a dagger, how beautiful his scars looked with hers. 

“Are you?” Elain asked, threading her fingers through his. 

“I don’t relish the thought of being around Lucien,” Azriel admitted, his thumb rubbing along the back of her hand. “Of smelling and seeing your bond,” His hazel eyes churned at the words, but his expression softened on his handsome face. “But that will be over soon.”

“And then we will have a bond of our own.” Elain said with a smile, the dread easing in her just a bit at the thought. 

They looked towards Vassa’s residence, a utilitarian looking building made from grey stones with large windows scattered throughout its walls. Not at all the beautiful palace that Elain would have thought the queen lived in, but sturdy and potentially cozy on the inside. 

“The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.” Elain said. Azriel nodded along, but neither of them moved. They stood rooted in place. 

“I’ll make sure to sleep in the room next to yours,” Azriel said, his voice breaking the lull that had settled between them. “Or I could also shadowwalk into your room.”

Elain could feel a grin teasing at her lips. 

“At night?” 

“At night.” Azriel said, his smile turning wicked. 

“Well, I suppose that’s only fitting for a spymaster. It is a little exciting, isn’t it?” Elain whispered, a thrill lacing her voice. “Just the two of us, meeting in the middle of the night, while everyone is asleep? Maybe,” She paused for a beat, her teeth working her bottom lip, but the corners of her mouth were upturned into a grin. “Maybe a stolen kiss or two.” 

Azriel rested his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingling between them. 

“Elain,” Azriel groaned, his eyes falling shut. “It’s not stolen if it’s given freely.”

“How right you are,” Elain whispered, her free hand coming up to wrap around his neck. Her fingers twined into the curls at the nape of his neck. “What if I kissed you now?”

A small hum sounded from Azriel. 

His free hand came up to settle on her waist, pulling her closer. 

“My little spy,” Azriel said, swallowing audibly. “Do you think you’d be able to walk through those doors without everyone knowing you’ve been kissed within an inch of your life? Do you think you could hide how thoroughly I’ve made love to your mouth? From your mate? Your flushed cheeks can be explained from our travels. But your lips? How would we explain your bruised lips? Because when I kiss you Elain, I intend to do it properly.”

Elain gasped at the words, at the way his hand tightened around her waist. 

“Maybe we should wait…until tonight?” Elain asked, peering up at him with large eyes. 

“Until tonight.” Azriel confirmed, slowly untangling their bodies. All but his hand, which pressed against the base of her back, leading her out of the woods and into the manicured lawn of the palace. 

——

“Did you have good travels?” Vassa asked, a polite, warm smile adorned her face. 

The five of them sat in a beautiful drawing room, one that was tastefully decorated and completely at odds with the exterior of the building, sipping tea while an awkward tension filled the room. 

“Yes, thank you,” Elain replied with a kind smile, trying to ignore the way Azriel’s thigh pressed against hers on the settee. As soon as Vassa offered her a seat, Azriel immediately took the spot next to her. Ignoring the glare from Lucien, who more than obviously wanted to accommodate his mate. Jurian sat silently by himself, laughing at them all. “This tea is exactly what we needed after traveling so far, and thank you for seeing us on such short notice.” 

Vassa nodded her head, ignoring the way Lucien was glaring at the Shadowsinger. 

“I will do my best to be helpful, but I’m afraid there’s not much I can say that I haven’t before. And the spell, well, it’s not that I’m forbidden from saying anything, but every time I try my mind goes fuzzy. And I can’t distinguish between fact and fiction, between dream and reality.” Vassa explained, her brilliant blue eyes dimming. 

She looked every inch a queen, Elain thought. Vassa’s vibrant red hair was fashioned around a crown full of emeralds, and the cream gown she wore was made of silk — She looked different from the other human queens… Vassa looked like she cared. 

“We have thought of something, Azriel and I,” Elain started, stopping when a soft growl came from Lucien. She briefly considered her mate and noted how his lips curled in a sneer, but she continued on. “We have been experimenting, and I think if I use you as a conduit, I might be able to see Koschei, or at least see something that might be useful.” 

Vassa’s red brows furrowed in curiosity. 

“How would that work?” 

“We’ve discovered that if I am touching someone —” 

“You’ve touched him?” Lucian sneered, his voice sharp as a sword. 

Elain slowly, confidently turned towards him and said, “Yes.” 

A dark chuckle cut through some of the tension, and all eyes turned to Jurian. 

“You’ve certainly touched the Queen.” Jurian said, a mockery of amusement in his voice.

“Jurian.” Vassa chided, her face almost as red as her hair. 

“It is none of my concern whom Lucien touches,” Elain said, smiling at the queen. “He is free to touch who he wishes, as am I.” 

Elain watched as some of the tension left Vassa, and a thankful smile formed on her lips. 

“Perhaps,” Azriel said in an icy voice. “We should start now,” He tilted his head accommodatingly towards Vassa. “If it pleases you.” 

“It’s splendid,” Vassa exclaimed, she clapped her hands and her servants carried away their refreshments. “Maybe it would be better if you two left,” She gave a pointed look to Lucien and Jurian, both of whom looked slightly offended. “So there are less distractions. The handsome one can stay.” Vassa waved an elegant hand towards Azriel. 

As soon as the room emptied, Azriel sent his shadows to dim the faelights. 

The three of them gathered on the floor and Elain took one of Vassa’s elegant hands in both of hers, and settled them onto her lap. Letting her eyes drift shut just like she did in her training sessions. 

The world turned fuzzy around her, and she saw a glorious firebird behind her eyes in a blaze of brilliant blue and vibrant orange — a chain of shadows around its neck that connected her to a man made of bone. A man of bone that stood behind a High Lord of Leaves. 

With a gasp Elain opened her eyes, dropping Vassa’s hand in the process. 

Azriel’s firm hands rested on her shoulders, grounding her.

“Well,” Elain took a deep breath. “Our suspicions are correct. Koschei is using Beron as his puppet.” 

--

tagging: @thefangirlofhp @azriel-shadowsinger @mis-lil-red @achelois-daughter @reverie-tales @elrielbliss @frogsdeservelovetoo @jujugirlfrombookstore @sakurakittypeach @kingcasteel @shedoessoshedoes @cassianfanclub @starswhogaze @feyredarlinq @alwayssara @tswaney17 @imjustslytherin @downingg2001 @fuckmelifesucks @swankii-art-teacher @elriel-month @mrspettyferr

#elriel fanfiction #elriel #elain x azriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #azriel #elriel fanfic #elriel month #elriel month 2022 #fawnandshadows elriel month #elriel month week 2 #blooming shadows #elrielmonth22 #elrielmonth

[lunnybunny12]

Sandor Clegane X Reader (Your secret sworn shield)

Thank you to @1ofjokersgoons for the request

A/N: here you go hope you enjoy it. This my mind to all kinds of places so sorry if it's not exactly what you wanted.

Master list

Word count: 1,787

Warnings: Swearing, fighting

Your nose burned in the frigid air, and you squinted against the sun reflecting off of the armed men around you.

The cold wasn't something you were used to. Hells, you'd only ever seen snow twice in your life and you weren't exactly fond of it then either. Thankfully It was the summer when your father roped your family into his campaign across Westeros.

"You can always ride with your Mother of you're cold, princess, " Your father said in a mocking tone as he rode beside you.

"I'd rather lose a hand to frostbite," You chuckled, adjusting your position on the saddle.

You were the eldest of the Baratheon brood and the jewel of Roberts eye. Unlike your siblings, there was no mistaking you were your fathers daughter. You had the looks and grace of your mother, yes, but you also had the attitude, appetite for fighting and signature brown/black hair of a Baratheon.

" And father please don't call me princess. You know how much I hate it,"

"Ah but that's the issue young lady, you ARE a princess and I want you to act like one. When we're at home you can come on hunts and roam about all you like, but not here. At Winterfell you need to put on those dresses you hate so much and you will watch your tongue in front of the Starks. Am I clear?"

Your jaw clenched in frustration. Your father had been saying this for the past week in not no nice ways but you understood full well why. One reason being that he was the only one you'd listen to. The second was that since you were born a girl, the Iron throne could never be yours. Your place as the eldest princess was to be wedded off to whomever your father deemed worthy of you, and thankfully (since the king held you in such high regard) that day was long overdue.

"Fine... But I want Clegane."

"The Hound? What need do you have of him?"

"If you want me to be a lady I will, but if I get attacked I can't protect myself properly while wearing heels and a bloody corset. I need a shield."

Another chuckle left your father. This time it wasn't out of cheer it was more in amusement.

"Ay you have the mind of a Lannister"

"One of the few good things that family gave me," you smiled.

When you got to Winterfell later that day it was a relief, to say the least. As much as you enjoyed the outdoors and hunting around the red keep, the warmth the castle provided was a godsend. It seemed like everyone from the north had arrived to catch a glimpse of your family but it's not like it was hard to miss. Your mother and siblings wore the bold Lannister red and their heir shone as brightly as the gold they mined. Your uncle Jamie in the white armour of the kings guard and you in the Baratheon colours, sat on your horse, taking it all in.

As you were getting ready for the feast a knock was heard on your chamber door. An audible gasp was heard from your chamber made then they saw the hound lumber into the room and holt at seeing you.

You were stood there in a long, (Favourite colour) dress with long sleeves and a matching cloak. Your hair had been styled the northern way, simple yet elegant. The southern styles were too fiddly for your taste.

"Ladies, you are dismissed" you said.

The women immediately scurried out of the door and shut it behind them with a heavy thunk. You smiled as you watched the man search the room for any threats or anyone that could eavesdrop. When he deemed it safe he was the one that spoke first.

"You wanted me, you got me. For the whole week"

"You're making it sound like a bad thing, my love"

"It is if I can't keep my hands off of you" he growled and pulled your hips to kiss you roughly.

You were 10 when Joffrey was born and he was more of a disappointment to you than anything else. He was brash, rude, inconsiderate, boorish, egotistical and above all a coward. If someone. When he was younger hed always be at your heels, annoying you to no end and constantly tried to get you in trouble (The keyword being tried) and since Sandor's purpose was to protect the future king, he was with you too. You ended up becoming his babysitter and whenever you were training the boy would shout and say nasty thing to make you lose your concentration. One day you had, had enough of his heckles and asked him to spar with you. However, instead of being a man and doing it himself, he sent his dog to do it for him.

"Clegane isn't always going to be with you little brother and neither will anyone else if you don't lose that sour attitude. So be a man, and spar with me yourself."

It was the way you said it that shook Clegane. He expected you to lose your rag or just leave the training area all together but instead, you talked like you would a scared child. Calm and collected yet firm. As expected Joffery took the challenge, lost and then whined about it like the boy he was.

You parted from the kiss with a cheeky grin as you held his neck in your hands, making him shiver.

"You've controlled yourself before Sandor, and you can do it again,"

"You put far too much trust in me Princess"

"No Sandor I put all of my trust in you. and don't call me princess."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days had passed since the feast and you didn't like who you pretended to be. You didn't like the dress or hair or corset but it kept your parents off of your scent for a while. A couple of times you were able to sneak off with Sandor and do your own thing and since you were there to keep up appearances, you weren't missed.

One evening as you were walking across the courtyard, you heard a scuffle coming from behind the stables. You were met with a fully stocked armoury and training area. The walls were lined with a variety of weapons, from knives and slingshots to swards and axes. You reached your gloved hand towards a sword a sudden voice made you jump.

"Be careful, your grace. They're sharp"

It was one of the Stark boys. He was on the older side, about the same age as you may be a tad bit younger. Admittedly you'd been too caught up in being with Sandor that you hadn't taken the time to know your hosts.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you, your grace,"

"Don't worry about it... um... sorry I'm so bad with names" You said to the black-haired boy.

"Robb Stark, your grace," He answered kissing your hand.

A deep growl came from behind you, and an amused smile crossed your face. Sandor knew full well the boy was just being polite but he felt protective of you regardless.

"and please be careful around the swords they are sharp. We can't have a lady hurting her self,"

The tone Robb used was like he was talking to a child that couldn't tell the difference between a knife and a toothpick. Sandor picked up on it too. He knew what you were going to do before you did.

From what the boy had said he wasn't aware of your training, nor your personality in general and a fake, sheepish, smile spread across your face.

"Well I have had a little bit of training in how to fight but since I came to Winterfell I've forgotten most of it... you look like you know a few things do you mind catching me up?" You said, acting naive and from the look Robb gave you, it worked like a charm.

Robb agreed to "help" you and took you into the training area. He introduced you to Theon Greyjoy and his half brother Jon Snow.

Sandor watched as you continued your act with an almost invisible smile. Whenever you were in the Red Keep you were a completely different person, you were you but god's did he find that facade entertaining.

By that point, Rob had shown you how to hold a sword, jab and do a couple of swings and before you knew it you were going to spar.

"Are you ready, your grace?"

"I'm a little scared" you answered in fake concern.

"Don't worry your highness, I'll take it easy on you"

You could hear the boys chuckle in the corner of the arena and you knew they were laughing at you... or at least Greyjoy was. Sandor had taken it upon himself to stand by the pair and tell them to hush and watch the show.

The second Robb called "go" you swiped his legs out from under him, knocking him flat on his ass.

"Oh sorry," you snickered "I did tell you I had some training didn't I?"

The Stark stood up and brushed himself off. "Its alright princess, let's go again shall we?"

Almost immediately he lunged at you again, that time you blocked his sword with yours and then knocked him down.

Round after round Robb lost and each time your smile grew.  By the tenth round, Robb had finished "Taking it easy" on you and you were completely fine with that, If he wanted to hurt you he would have done it already. It was all in good fun and after one more knockdown, Robb yielded.

"Nice skills Stark, your father should be proud" You said as you walked up to him and extended your hand to pull him up.

With a smirk, he grabbed your hand. "Likewise your majesty. Although you could have told me before I made a fool of myself"

"Aww and wheres the fun in that?" You said handing the boy the practice sword. "Its been a pleasure Lord Stark that was quite entertaining, but I must bid you good night."

As you walked to the exit of the arena you saw Theon and Jon looking at you gobsmacked.

"Have a good evening Gentlemen." you bowed to the 3 of them and they bowed back.

Many, hot, steamy, lustful kisses were exchanged that night. Not out of jealousy or anger or hatred, but out of pure infatuation. After a particularly long kiss, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Do you know what you did today?"

"No."

"You made me fall in love with you,"

#game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane #sandor x reader #sandor clegane x you #sandor the hound clegane #sandor clegane deserves the world #the hound x reader

[ashintheairlikesnow]

AAAAAH!!! Petition for the news people to show Chris's face on tv and Akio and his mom see and come to rescueee -🦖

(follows from this piece, in what I am calling the Chris Saves Himself AU)

CW: BBU, some vaguely dehumanizing language, references to child abuse and ableism

"Mom! Aki!" Emi's voice rises loud enough to filter right up the stairs and into Akio's room, audible right through his headphones while he listens to his playlist of Tristan's favorite songs and lays in bed.

Akio sniffs, sitting up and taking the headphones off, rubbing the tear tracks off his face. It's still light outside - he never knows what time it is anymore, not since he quit gymnastics. "Emi? Did you say something?"

"Yeah, you better get down here like right now! Right now!" The urgency in her voice sets his heart to beating faster and Akio pushes himself up, taking the stairs three-steps-to-a-jump. His mother is right behind him, coming out of her own room with her book still in hand, thumb marking her place.

"Are you okay, honey?" Aimi calls out. Somehow even though she doesn't skip any steps she beats Akio to the bottom. "Em? Emi?"

"I'm fine, I swear, just-... look at the TV!"

Akio and Aimi swing into the living room, finding Emi sitting on the couch, remote in hand, groaning in frustration.

"Damn it, they just cut way from his-... hold on, let's see if they cut back before this ends. You have got to see this."

"Just what have I got to see?" Aimi asks, frowning, walking up behind Emi and absentmindedly tucking a bit of hair behind her daughter's ear. Emi sort of ducks-pulls away, rolling her eyes. "I'm almost to the bit where the ship sinks, Em."

"I know, I know, don't mess with your reading time but-... but look!"

Akio's eyes scan the TV, reading the chyron - the little moving headline at the bottom - that says MYSTERY BOY FALLS FROM BALCONY IN GOVERNOR'S MANSION - IN HOSPITAL WITH SERIOUS INJURIES - POLICE LOOKING FOR CLUES TO IDENTITY - GOV. BRANCH CLAIMS LEGAL PURCHASE FROM WRU - WRU DENIES CULPABILITY...

Talking heads banter back and forth about the seriousness of the scandal, the lack of documents to prove any kind of veracity to the governor's claims.

The anchors start interviewing a woman with short, dark red hair with a cold smile that sends a chill down Akio's spine. Karen Renford, WRU Representative to the Media, reads the little nameplate beneath her as she speaks.

"Since when do you care about politics?" Akio asks, head tilted. "This is stupid. I don't care about any of this."

"WRU sponsors your team, Aki-"

"It's not my team anymore. I'm going back to my room."

He turns to leave, but feels Emi grab at his wrist, and when he looks back her black eyes are pleading. "Please, Aki. Please. Trust me, you will want to see this."

He sighs. Everything feels too heavy to add one more thing to his days right now. But Emi is his little sister, and... "Yeah, okay." He moves around the corner of the sectional and flops himself down on it. He's put on some weight since he quit gymnastics, the waistband of his jeans digging just a little into his stomach where he used to have to wear a belt.

He doesn't care. It's... actually really nice to not have to care. He kind of likes himself better this way.

If only he didn't have to be grieving his best friend's death to get there-

"There!" Emi hisses, and her nails dig hard into Akio's forearm, hard enough for him to wince. "There, Aki, fucking look!"

"Language, young lady-" Aimi starts, and then falls silent. When she whispers, "Nantekotta..." That's when Akio looks at the screen.

Where his dead best friend is very much alive in a hospital bed.

He hears a thump and jumps, turning to see his mother's book on the floor, fallen from suddenly numb fingers as she stares unblinking at the boy on the TV screen.

Akio looks back and swallows, hard, and then swallows again. Inside him there is a sudden burst of fight between the despair and anger he's been living in and a kind of awful, horrifying hope.

"Tris?" He whispers.

"I told you!" Emi says, still holding his forearm painfully. He doesn't pull away from her - he can feel her starting to shake right alongside him. His eyes flood with hot tears and he has to blink them away to focus on the screen.

"-are speaking with the boy, who appears to be a legitimate WRU product. A simple barcode scan was performed, and police have the pet's designation, Facility number, and basic identification number." Karen Renford's voice speaks in voiceover. "However, WRU has been unable to find in our own records at the Facility any record of the boy's existence or training. WRU has strict ethical protocols surrounding the age of accepted trainees who apply, and it's increasingly clear that none of our Facilities would have taken on this individual, especially not our flagship Facility here in Berras-"

Akio hears none of this.

Instead, he hears only a rushing as loud as a waterfall filling his ears, the sound of his own blood pulsing through his veins as his breaths go shallow and gasping.

Tris is right there.

He's alive and he's right there.

He's sitting in a hospital bed, cringing back from the doctors speaking to him, looking at them with wide, terrified eyes. There are bruises around his neck like someone-... bit him, or something. His arms are bruised, wrists rubbed red in circles. He doesn't sway or rock or tap like Tristan Higgs, he sits perfectly, hauntingly still.

But it's Tris.

It's him.

"He's alive," Akio says, and his voice is strangled. "Tris is alive, he's alive, but he's-... he was-"

His mother's hand rests on his shoulder and Akio tenses at the firey rage he feels right through the tension in her fingers. "His aunt," Aimi says with a voice that cuts through bone. "His aunt told us he was dead."

"She said he-... you know... did the thing. To himself," Emi says, looking nervously sideways at Akio. "That he ran away and they found him."

"He told me she took away all his stuff and stopped giving him his meds and then she took his phone... why would she say all that if he was alive the whole time, Mom?" Akio looks back up at Aimi, and she looks back down at him.

He is terrified of her, in that moment. Scared of her the way you are scared of a bear rushing at you, knowing that you aren't much more than a matchstick in its way. But he also wants - needs - her to tell him everything is going to be fine.

Instead, she pulls her hand back off his arm and turns to leave the room. She murmurs to herself in a rapid-fire string of Japanese even Akio isn't quite keeping up with, and he jumps up to follow her, Emi on his heels.

"Mom? Mom, what are you doing? Mom, answer me-"

"Mom?"

They manage to catch up to her in the den, where she's picked up her cell phone still charging, plugged into the wall, and dialed a number.

"Mom-"

Aimi holds up one finger without looking at him, phone to her ear, and Akio's voice cuts off immediately.

"Yes, hello," She says to whoever picks up. "My name is Aimi Nakamura and I am calling about the boy found in the governor's mansion today. I believe I can tell you who he is." She pauses. "Who he really is."

Another pause.

"Yes, I'll wait."

Yet another pause. Akio and Emi stay in the doorway, staring at her in baffled confusion. Neither of them dares to speak when her face looks this way. They know better than that.

Finally, Aimi takes another breath. "Yes. Thank you. Hello, Detective... Davis. Right. My name is Aimi Nakamura." She rattles off her phone number and address when she is asked for them without hesitating. "Yes, as I said-... as I said to whoever answered the phone, I know who the boy in the governor's mansion is. I have absolutely no doubt... Yes. His real name is Tristan Paul Higgs. He was born-... oh, yes, sorry. I can slow down. His birthday is March 6th... yes. I don't know his social security number entirely but I know the last four digits were 6654... his mother and I were close friends. Veronica Botham Higgs - Ronnie. She was murdered, with her husband, it was a double-... oh, you remember? Tristan survived it. Custody went to his only surviving relative, Joanne Botham..."

Aimi swallows, and Akio feels Emi's hand seek his out and squeezes it tightly, reassuringly, as their mother's steel comes flashing to the surface underneath her usual deceptive tranquility.

"Joanne Botham works for WRU. Her nephew lost his family and was given to her. And now, more than a year after she told us he was dead, he falls out a window with a WRU barcode. I think you see where I'm going with this, detective."

Another long silence.

"Yes. I need about an hour and a half. Is that too long? Perfect."

She hangs up, and turns to look at Akio and his little sister. There is a startling brightness to her that makes Akio think she's feeling exactly what he is - grief and horror and rage and that awful swell of hope.

Maybe it really was just a horrible mistake.

Maybe he's never been dead.

Maybe he's still breathing.

"Put your shoes on," Aimi says in a flat voice. "We are going to meet Detective Davis at the hospital where Tris is."

#Chris Saves Himself AU #chris the strawberry blond romantic #aimi nakamura #akio nakamura #grief tw #dehumanizing language #karen renford #bbu #box boy #box boy universe #alternate universe #I might do one more AT the hospital but that's it I swear

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Prompt # 19: Addiction  

@sicktember Alternate prompt #4: Stay

Title: Unexpected Developments Part 2

Fandom: Pride and Prejudice

Find Part 1 under prompt # 8. Mr. Darcy is sick in bed and miserable. Elizabeth is trying to look after him, but his bad mood gets the better of him and tempers flare. Will sweetness or stubbornness win out in the end?

Elizabeth Bennett was the only guest at Netherfield who wasn't in bed with a cold. The virus Jane had caught riding to attend luncheon with Caroline had spread around the whole house, but it seemed Eliza was immune. Mr. Darcy had been the last to fall ill, and Lizzie had discovered him sneezing in a corner over a day ago while she remained perfectly healthy. It was fortunate she had discovered him though, for the servants were rushing hither and yon at the beck and call of their ill master and his sister, and poor Mr. Darcy would have been overlooked completely if Lizzie hadn't taken him under her care. 

Lizzie, for her part, was glad Jane's cold was much improved from the days prior. Since Jane needed little tending now, she had given Lizzie her blessing to give most of her attention to Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy, for his part, was very accustomed to having a houseful of servants to do his bidding, and was little accustomed to being ill, strong and virile as he was. Because of these things, he was not the easiest patient, though he truly tried to make an effort to curb his frustration and not take his misery out on Elizabeth. Her lack of symptoms clearly perturbed him, however.

"How is it you are still in perfect health while I and everyone else are laid up with this beastly chest cold?" he griped that afternoon while Lizzie fussed around, tidying up dishes and rags from his bedside. If Lizzie wasn't accustomed to his voice by now, she would have had trouble understanding him, for his nose was stopped tight with congestion, and his voice raw and weak from coughing, rendering him nigh unintelligible. 

She giggled to herself. "Well you see, I believe I've already had this cold, for in the week prior to Jane's arrival here, my father, some of my other sisters and myself caught cold. We were envious of Jane's good luck in not falling ill at the time, but it seems it caught up with her in the end."

"Indeed," Mr. Darcy muttered sourly with a slushy sniffle.

"Oh don't be cross. It isn't so terrible lounging in bed all day, being waited on hand and foot is it?" 

"Yet when I find myself miserable in body, I find my mood tends to follow," he groused.

"Hmm." Elizabeth moved to his side, caressing his flushed face gently with the pad of her thumb. "It's just as I thought. You're only irritable like this when your fever is up, and indeed you are overwarm again. Jane's fever wasn't nearly so persistent."

"How fortunate for me," he mumbled to himself. Elizabeth tried to ignore his bad temper as she fetched her basin and rag. She wasn't fond of sarcasm, and his attitude was irking her more than she cared to let on. Tenderly as ever though, she began bathing his face and neck to try to bring down his miserable fever.

The cold water on his face made him gasp slightly, which became a cough, and the coughing only seemed to agitate him more. He usually enjoyed his face being bathed, but today he drew away from the rag. 

“Perhaps we should try another method for treating fever, since this does not seem to be effective,” said the sick man. His speech was curt and tense with foul temper.

Elizabeth gave him a long look, trying to keep her own temper under control. “What would you suggest, sir? We have tried willow bark, which made you feel more ill, and you will not have any other poultices,” she said in a measured, warning way.

“There must be something we haven't done yet. I would do anything to rid myself of this beastly cold, that came from *your* sister, I might add! You just said you already had  this cold. Think of something else to try!”

Elizabeth flew to her feet, tossing down the rag. “Perhaps you should go plunge yourself into an ice bath! That will surely help the fever, and I’m sure it will do wonders for your coughing and sneezing as well! But you can draw it yourself, and you can see to your own meals and entertainment too. You clearly feel my efforts are inadequate, so you can tend to yourself from now on. I am through with smoothing your insufferable pride and being a target for your bad mood. Good day, sir!”

With a whirl of skirts, she was out the door without a glance behind her. Elizabeth went straight to her room and lay down in the cool and quiet, for she was exhausted and careworn from nursing for a week straight. She fell asleep immediately and didn’t wake for several hours. 

She felt much refreshed when she did finally emerge. She first went to look in on Jane, who was overall back to normal, but was getting bored sitting around and eager to go home. On questioning the staff, they learned that Caroline had mostly recovered as well. Mr. Bingley was recovering slower, but getting better all the time. The sisters wished him a speedy recovery by way of the servants, for as soon as he was recovered, they would be able to return home.

After visiting with Jane for some time, Elizabeth desired to find a quiet corner and read. To her chagrin, she realized she had left her book in Mr. Darcy’s room. She did not relish seeing him again so soon after they parted so badly, but she had no choice if she wanted her book back. With a sigh, she made her way to his room with hesitant steps. She knocked softly before entering, which felt odd since she had been coming and going freely for two days prior. His hoarse, weak voice bid her come in.

He was in quite a different state than he had been a few hours before. Where he had previously been fitful and agitated, now he seemed weak and lethargic. Even in the dim light she could see how sweat-matted his hair was, and the dark ring on his pillow. He lifted his head up to see who had entered, and his sleepy eyes flickered with confusion upon seeing her. 

“I only came to get my book. I apologize for disturbing you,” she said stiffly, hardly looking at him. She snatched up the volume from the table where it lay and turned to go back out, intending to say nothing else.

“Wait.” 

She paused, and turned slightly, her good breeding winning over. “Yes?”

He sat up a bit straighter, coughing weakly as he did so. “I am deeply sorry for how I behaved earlier. My treatment of you was inexcusable after all you’ve done for me these past days--” Here he had to pause to press his handkerchief to his dripping nose before he could continue. Elizabeth waited silently. “I was a beast and feel very much like a fool. Please forgive me,” he managed, mumbling through the damp fabric. His eyes shone earnestly above the hand holding the linen in place.

Her face softened. “I accept your apology, and thank you for it. No one acts quite themself when they’re ill, so I gladly forgive you. I’m sorry too for my part in all of it.”

They shared a tiny smile as he tended to his nose with a thick, gurgling blow, and she knew she was forgiven also. Immediately the tension between them was cleared.

Now that they had made up though, she was reluctant to leave him alone again, for he looked so weak and forlorn and in need of care. However, she was a woman of her word. She spoke as she moved to the door, putting her hand on the knob. “You must rest, Mr. Darcy, so I'll leave you be. I truly apologize for waking you.”

“Miss Elizabeth?” 

Once more she turned to meet his eyes.

He held out a shaking hand. “Please… stay.”

She slowly returned to his side. “For what purpose, sir?”

“I… I desire your company… and your aid. You are… a far better caregiver than I, and I was a fool to imply otherwise. It… it won't happen again,” he croaked thickly. 

Seeing the effort he was making to be overly polite softened Eliza's heart further. She let him take her hand in his warm grasp, a smile playing around her lips. “If you insist. I will stay.”

He smiled also as he drew her hand toward himself. "Here, let me show you something," he snuffled. He placed her wrist against his neck, just as she had done many times over the past few days. He sighed softly as their skin made contact.

“Your fever has broken,” she murmured happily. “You are cool at last.”

“Yes.”

“How did you do it?” she asked, withdrawing her hand. “Did you plunge yourself into an ice bath after all?”

He stifled a cough before he could speak. “I… tried willow bark again, as you recommended. I felt worse… at first, but I fell asleep to ease the symptoms. When I woke, the fever had left me, and I felt… much clearer in mind. The fever was causing my foul mood, as you insightfully noted.” Yet another long speech, and now his voice was barely audible as he sniffled furiously and trembled with fatigue. 

“Yet you seem somewhat worse for wear, for you’re completely exhausted, poor man.”

“This illness has left me weary to my bones, it is true. Yet I could not have slept soundly tonight knowing I had offended you. It would be an understatement to say I was very glad when you returned, though I did not expect or deserve a second chance.” His eyes were getting heavier by the moment, and he yawned almost before he finished speaking, reclining back against his pillows once more.

Elizabeth brushed the sweaty curls from his forehead as his eyes drifted closed, then let her hand rest on his cheek for a moment, reassuring herself that his fever was truly gone. He lazily covered her hand with his, a content smile flickering across his face. 

She couldn’t help but smile in response, though he couldn’t see it. “Take some rest, Mr. Darcy. All is forgiven, and I will be here when you wake.” She gently tried to pull her hand away from his face. He quickly interlaced his fingers with hers to prevent this.

“You’ll truly stay?” he murmured sleepily, sniffling.

Leaving her hand on his cheek, she perched on the edge of his bed, so close their hips were almost touching. She saw him smile again as she did so. 

“Of course I will,” she murmured back, her eyes never leaving his face as he peacefully drifted to sleep.

#sickfic #sicktember2021 #alt prompt 4 #everyone is hotter with a fever

[little-mad]

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 11

~ Previous Part ~ Next Part ~

Gavin wouldn’t really say he was a good judge of character, the amount of friends in low places he had was a testament to that. However, even he could tell that this new alteon that had appeared was bad news.

There was something about the way the guy held himself--it was cocky and arrogant, as if he was certain he was the most important person in the room. Not to mention the sleazy little smile he was wearing that seemed to promise trouble. But what Gavin hated most was the way the guy looked at him. It was hard to describe, but the only thing Gavin could think of to equate it to was how middle school bullies looked right before they were about to trip some poor kid in the hallway.

The green-eyed giant had been speaking in the same language that Gavin had heard a couple times throughout his time in the alteon dimension. Of course, he couldn’t understand any of it, which made him nervous for some reason.

“Not really much to look at, is he?” the new alteon remarked, now switching to English. “I know all humans are pretty pathetic, but I was expecting someone a bit tougher looking.”

Gavin scowled. This guy had intentionally alternated to speaking in a language Gavin could understand so that he would be able to hear the insult. Why was he being purposefully antagonistic? Yeah sure, Gavin was a criminal, but even Rael hadn’t been that big of a dick at first.

“Ashryn, I suppose you’re stationed here? Rael inquired. Gavin could tell he was trying to change the subject, to shift this “Ashryn” guy’s attention elsewhere.

“Why can’t he just tell this asshole to screw off?” Gavin thought to himself crankily. He tried to catch Rael’s eye but was unsuccessful. It was like he was very intentionally keeping his eyes up and forward.

“Hmm? Oh yes, that’s right,” Ashryn responded absentmindedly. He was apparently too preoccupied with staring at Gavin to give Rael his full attention.

What was it with these alteons and staring unabashedly? Just because Gavin was a comparatively tiny person from an alternate dimension didn’t mean they had the right to gawk at him like he was some sort of zoo animal. It was like all their manners flew out the window when it came to humans.

Ashryn stepped closer, a crafty smile still on his lips. “This is your first time dealing with a human up close, isn’t it?” he said to Rael while still not looking away from Gavin. “You don’t really realize how entirely inferior they are until you get close to them,” he continued. “Sure they look tiny and pathetic from afar, but up close you can really get a sense for how insignificant they are.”

Gavin really didn’t have a short temper, it was one of his few good traits actually. For the most part, he’d learned to just brush off insults and move on. He had given up on being well liked the moment he decided to become a thief. However, even Gavin’s temper had its limits, and he had just about reached his.

Springing to his feet, Gavin glared up at the massive elf-eared bastard standing in front of him. “What’s your problem?” he demanded, hands clenched in fists at his sides.

If this guy really wanted to insult Gavin and the rest of humanity so badly, why couldn’t he do it in his own native language? Oh yeah, because he was a complete ass. Ashryn didn’t just want to disparage humans, he wanted Gavin to know about it. For whatever reason, this alteon had decided he wanted to start a fight.

Next to Gavin, Rael had tensed up. The human hardly even noticed, he was too busy shooting daggers at Ashryn. Besides, Gavin was none too pleased with Rael at the moment anyways. He was basically just letting his comrade, or whatever they were to each other, run his mouth freely.

The grin on Ashryn’s face grew only wider at Gavin’s outburst. He took a step closer. “Rael, I think I’ve angered your little human,” he commented with a chuckle.

Gavin didn’t wait to see how Rael would’ve responded. Forget getting him to defend him. Who cared if Gavin was miniscule compared to Ashryn? He was going to stand up for himself. Someone needed to teach these giants some manners. Gavin was already in trouble, so it might as well be him.

“Okay you big, pointy-eared asshole,” he started with a bang. “Just because you’re bigger than humans doesn’t make you better than us--in fact with an attitude like yours, I’d argue you’re substantially worse than most humans I know...and I know some pretty shitty humans.” The words were flying out of his mouth almost of their own accord. It was like he’d opened a floodgate that he couldn’t close. “You’re clearly just a pompous dick who--”

“Enough!” The words echoed around him like thunder. At the same time there was a rush of air, a flash of movement, and then a thud that vibrated up through Gavin’s feet.

It took a moment for him to register the giant hand next to him, and a few more moments for him to realize it had just slammed down beside him. Gavin looked up, following the arm connected to the hand, expecting to see it attached to Ashryn. Instead, he was met with the rage filled face of Rael.

And then all of a sudden he was back in that clearing, pinned under a hand bigger than his entire body. The fear, the intimidation, the betrayal--it was all the same, probably even worse now actually. The worst part was that he didn’t understand, he didn’t understand why Rael was staring down at him with nothing but fury in his teal colored eyes.

Despite their turbulent relationship, Gavin had...well he had come to trust Rael. For god’s sake, he’d nearly considered the alteon to be something akin to a friend. So why...why had this happened? How had Gavin screwed this up?

“You will show some respect,” Rael growled down at him, and it was like Gavin was looking at a completely different person to the one he’d been talking to only a few minutes ago.

-

Why had he been put in this situation? Why did the guard outside the office have to be Ashryn? Why did Gavin have to snap like that? These questions swirled around inside Rael’s head as he looked down at the fearful human standing mere inches away from where he’d slammed his palm down on the bench.

“You had to do it,” a dark part of Rael’s mind told him. “If you hadn’t, Ashryn would never respect you, and he’d defame you to the entire Imperial Guard.” It was true--if Rael had failed to scold the human that was in his charge after he’d blatantly insulted an alteon soldier, he would be viewed as a failure among anyone who was anyone. Still, he hadn’t enjoyed doing it.

It wasn’t like last time, when Rael had trapped Gavin under his hand. There was no sense of satisfaction or pleasure derived from the action. All he could feel was a mess of anger and guilt.

He was furious that Ashryn had essentially manufactured the situation, but he was also angry with Gavin for quite literally forcing his hand. If the human had just kept his mouth shut, if he’d ignored Ashryn’s goading, then none of this would have happened. Why couldn’t Gavin have just made things easier?

“Well,” Ashryn spoke up with an appreciative tut. “I must say, you certainly know how to put a human in their place.”

Rael shifted his gaze towards the alteon. He couldn’t stand looking at Gavin anymore, seeing the fear and betrayal in those hazel eyes only deepened the heavy pit that was forming in his stomach.

“And you apparently know how to rile them up,” Rael muttered as he moved his hand away from Gavin and placed it back on his own lap.

Ashryn gave an amused chuckle. “Maybe so,” he answered with a satisfied grin on his face.

Despite having a primarily amicable relationship with one another, Rael had never much liked Ashryn. While they were about the same age and had gone through most of their training at the same time, Ashryn was regarded more highly within the Imperial Guard. Rael attributed this largely due to the fact that Ashryn’s family has had a long history of involvement with the Guard. Perhaps that also explained why the man was so pompous and smug all the time.

It was then that the door to the Emperor’s office opened for a second time. This time, it was a group of some of the top Imperial advisors exiting. They all eyed Gavin as they passed, however none of them said anything, only acknowledging the two soldiers with brief nods. Rael noticed that the last advisor out failed to close the door behind her, leaving him with a view inside the office.

There, sitting at his desk, was the Emperor of the entire realm of Iaela. He wore a calm smile on lips and waved a beckoning hand at Rael. “Bring in our human guest,” he called, his tone authoritative yet somehow still polite.

Ashryn was quick to assume his position beside the office door. He stood up straight, his arms behind his back like a perfect soldier. However, the part that the Emperor wouldn’t be able to see was his face--with that, Ashryn smirked over at Gavin. “Why does he look like he knows something that we don’t?” Unfortunately, there was no time for Rael to ruminate on his uncertainties. The Emperor was the very last person to be kept waiting.

Rael turned to Gavin. The human had gone pale and his body was so tense that it looked like the guy might bolt at any second. Rael was sure that the last thing Gavin wanted was to be picked up after what had just happened. However, there was no choice. There wasn’t even time for Rael to allow the human to walk onto his palm of his own accord.

As gently as possible, Rael carefully scooped the human up into his hands. Thankfully, Gavin didn’t put up any kind of fight; he gave a quiet gasp, but otherwise made no audible complaints. Once Rael was sure he wouldn’t drop the little man, he began to make his way into the Emperor’s office.

Immediately upon getting past the doorway, Rael felt a whoosh of air and heard a soft thud, indicating that the door had been shut behind them. This left him and Gavin entirely alone with the most powerful person in the realm.

This wouldn’t be Rael’s first time speaking with the Emperor, however it was certainly his first time alone, without any advisors, scribes, or guards around. Rael swallowed hard. He couldn’t mess this up--he had to prove himself to be a proper soldier worthy of being accepted into the ranks of the Imperial Guard. He wasn’t a peasant anymore, he was a proud, noble soldier.

“Rael, correct?” the Emperor inquired, the name sounded so foreign coming from his lips.

Rael nodded silently as he dipped into a low bow, which proved somewhat difficult while keeping his hands horizontal and steady for Gavin.

“Very well, Rael, could you place that human on my desk please?”

(Also, as a side note, I fixed up some continuity errors in chapters 6 and 9 if you feel like skimming through and seeing the minor adjustments)

#sometimes my own plot points just fly right out of my mind ig #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #my writing #oc: gavin stone #oc: rael #g/t fearplay

[mansions-maiden]

Helloww, I'm here for 3rd request xD

Don't know you like it or not but hw abt MC is sweet, ladylike, polite, never complained, and lovely girl but someday...when comte hold a banquet and yeps mc has low tolerance alcohol and got drunk so herself became 180° 😂😂😂

She started laughing like maniac, shouting and scold the residents like asian mom 😂.

For example : (arthur) DO YOU KNOW WE CALL A HUMAN TYPE LIKE YOU A THOT ?! FROM NOW I'LL CALL YOU ARTHOT

(isaac) OII YOU MINI APPLE BOI, HOW CAN YOU INVENTED CALCULUS?! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH PRESSURE YOU GIVE TO FUTURE STUDENTS ? I CAN'T EVEN ENJOYED MY SCHOOL LIFE !! YOU MUST KNOW HOW MUCH I WANTED TO KILL YOU WHEN I WAS IN HIGHSCHOOLER !!

Etc 😂😂 you can make what kind of screaming+scolding she will throw at them 😂😂😂 The residents ? OH I WANT TO SEE THEIR STUPID SHOCKED FACES AHAHAHA. Take your time writing it xD and thank you so much before my darlingzzz 😘😘😘❤️❤️

This is gonna be a fun one to write! Sorry this took so much time to write! I have been busy with school works. But I’ve been writing it slowly. here you go!  The words in the brackets (..) indicate that she missed saying these words.  I had to write the words in a weird way to show that the words were being slurred by mc. 

I tried writing it to your ask .Hope you like it! 

Everyone was still wearing surprised Pikachu faces as they were staring at sleeping MC. For never had they expected to see the completely hidden side of her.

Previously, that evening~  

MC is sweet and  perfect lady, as described in the ask. But little did the vampires know what they would be witnessing that night. 

The lord of the mansion decided to throw another banquet that night for the second time in the month being the hedonistic man he is. And all the residents were invited, including MC. 

All of them reached the venue that evening and in the banquet halls, many fancy dishes were there, waiting to be eaten by  people. There were finest of the wines brought from the  far away land and the exotic dishes that were never seen before. 

All of the mansion residents gathered in a room(kinda VIP room). All have helped themselves with a drink or two and were chatting away. MC stood against the walls of the room, swirling her champagne glass as she spoke to Sebastian.

All of them continued talking to each other.

After some more time:

MC was still speaking when she began giggling to herself continuously. 

All the residents:  “???????⁇?”

MC:” if only people knew how crazy these idiots are!! bwahahaha!” 

Napoleon: “Who are you talking about MC?”  

MC: “ Who am I ... talkin bout? I talk about the grreeat ‘men’ in history.." mc continued giggling as her words began to slur.

Arthur: "And why exactly are we 'idiots'? "

MC: "who in the world knew that all of these men would have crazy sides no one ever knows!" She began laughing again.

All of them looked at each other and then at MC. They noticed her flushed cheeks and understood the situation. 

“MC, you are quite drunk. You should stop drinking now..” 

“ N-no no no no.. I’m not drunk at all.. see,I only drank 1,2,... 4 glasses of champagne! I want to talk! “ 

MC: “comte! do you know..? arthot went into the town again yesterday even after you shun himm.. But he didn’t let me tell you...! teach him a lesson comte!” MC told as she pretended  that she was holding a gun against Arthotur’s head. 

“What in the world is mademoiselle doing?” Jean asked with a confused stare as Sebastian replied, “In our time period, we show guns with our hands in that way.. it’s a type of pretend play..”. 

“And..wait  what? From when did my name change to Arthot?? Did she misspell it??” Arthur asked looking at her. 

“ Lemme think.. nope.. You’re ..definitely Art..Thot! yup! That’s it!” 

  “Arthur.. come to my room later. I should ‘gently’ remind you the rules of the mansion. “ Arthur gulped audibly as comte stared at him with ‘nothing-is-wrong’ smile.

“Arthur, Dazai-san!! Can (you) come here once??” She suddenly asked them with  puppy eyes as they came forward. She tried to reach their faces but couldn’t. She pouted a little and climbed onto the couch behind her. 

“OWW!! “ Both of them cried in pain as MC twisted each of Arthur’s and Dazai’s ears.  “ how.. how dare youu...!  How dare you tease.. Is..Isaac?! the only baby of this mansion! Poor boy! He’s traumatized because of you!” 

Isaac having the time of his life: “That’s right mc! How dare they tease a bab- wait! Who do you think you’re calling BABY!??! “ Isaac frowned at his yet another new nick name. 

Her feet began wobbling and she fell from the couch onto Mozart.  “Aww man!! I fell off the couch!!! Bu..but.. this pillow is soo smoooth and silkyy.. yayy! A nice pillow for me..! “ She said as she snuggled her face into her’pillow’, aka Mozart’s chest. 

“What do you think you’re doing?! Get her off me! mmph!! “ Mozart began yelling but felt a hand clamped over his mouth. “Shh.. doon’t shout.. and you should.. smile like this. Say CHEEEESE! “ MC said, forcing his lips into a smile with her hands. 

MC kept giggling even when Napoleon and Leonardo helped Mozart and sat her on the couch.

(I'm sorry I know that her giggling is too much but I don't know how drunk person acts exactly ^^;)

Leonardo: "How much did she even drink? Why didn't you stop her Sebas?"

Sebastian: "I'm sorry master Leonardo.. I didn't expect her to drink these many. I thought she had high alcohol tolerance.."

Leonardo (stretching hand towards mc): "Cara mia, you had enough fun, c'mon you need to rest up in the mansion.

MC shook her head vigorously . "Noooo! I don't want to rest! I want to talk to all of you~! Why don't you go to sleep ...? Da Vinci~. You've got your bed AKA them... (Pointing finger towards floor and wall) . I'll sing a lullaby to youu.. "

She began humming the tone of the lullaby as she dragged Leonardo with her.

" Rock-a-bye, baby, in the tree top

When the wind blows the cradle will rock

When the bough breaks the cradle will fall

Down will come baby, cradle and all"

"Go to bed renaissance man! And ! Your cigarillos are confiscated by me! Hmph! " She took the cigarillos from his pockets and threw them into the dustbin.

"MC! You sing so good! It's as if the angel herself has sung the lullaby.. what song is it?" Vincent asked with an excited and curious gaze.

" the lullaby..? T'is from my own time.. god! I miss my old days in college! " Everybody heard small sniffles in the room then. 

They felt helpless seeing her cry. “What’s the matter cherie? Why are you crying? Is something hurting you? “ comte asked approaching her. 

“*sniffle* everything is *hic* alright comte *sniffle, hic*. I just remembered *sniffle* my own time and my friends.. I miss them *sniffle* a lot..” Tears began rolling down her soft cheeks.  Everyone looked at each other.. 

“ A-and.. *sniffle* I also remember the days I used to cry and struggle due to math in college. Especially calculus.. And I’ve heard that Isaac was the one wh- *sniffle* who invented it.. Isn’t it Isaac?”  She asked Isaac through the glassy eyes. 

Isaac: “Y-yeah... it was me..” He lowered his eyes as if he had done a mistake. 

MC grabs Isaac’s lapels weakly and shouted, “Why? Why did you invent calculus?! I remember.. I remember the days I used to stay awakee... until late night, scratching my head and struggling to... to solve them!!    I... hatee.. you !!” She suddenly released him and pushed him back, making him wobble a little. 

Theo: “what the heck hondje?! how much drunk are you!? your mood swings are faster than Arthur’s snarky comments! “ 

MC: “ Hey Theo! Don’t you dare call me Hondje.. You’re the hondje... Who doesn’t allow anyone to come near your darling brother like a guard dog!” 

Theo was very taken back at the sudden backfiring of the nickname. 

MC: “Coming to Vincent and Jean! you both are so adorable.  You’re the epitome of purity. I love you both so much. muah!” She sent a flying kiss to both and both the men’s cheeks flushed a little. 

Napoleon: “Do you have something to say about me MC?” He asked her with curiosity and a little amusement dancing in his eyes. 

MC: “ Well, All I can say ..is.. DON’T GO AROUND KISSING PEOPLE! I can’t.. beliieeve that ‘nightmare of Europe’ went around kissing people.. poor soldiers must have been traumatized..! “ 

“ I can’t believe the nerve of you all to send me to Napoleon’s room early in the morningg!  *gasp* Wait !!This means that all of you have been kissed by him.. didn’t you? Hahahaaa!!”   she continued laughing clutching her stomach hard. 

“Do you know?! There’s a stalker in the mansion who stalks you all 24/7. And he notes it down in his ‘oh no! they didn’t ‘ notebook! It’s none other than our Seba- mmph! “ her voice suddenly came out  muffled as Sebas quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. 

“Wait-who is that stalker??” Dazai asked in confusion. 

“It’s no one Dazai san. She’s just blabbering.”  Sebas quickly replied in a stoic expression. 

“Wow.. she speaks truth when she’s drunk Will..” Vincent told Shakespeare. “ She is.. After all, a drunk mind speaks a sober heart..” Shakespeare told him. 

“Cherie, you must really go back to mansion now. Come, I shall escort you back home..” Comte said worriedly as he approached her. 

“ NO! no comte ~ . See, I-I’m perfectly fine~. And you should stop being a mother comte. For the god’s sake, you’re a man! See, look at your reflection! You’re a handsome man! not a beautiful woman! Ditch all these.. motherly duties and enjoy yourself.~! “  She exclaimed as she turned him towards the mirror. 

“And you all~! stop being such a child and stressing out poor comte! Okay?! repeat after mee! from this day forth, I shall look after myself and never stress out  mama comte!” 

“Do you even like us luv?” Arthur asked her with a knowing smile. 

“Well, yes.. of course! Even though you all are handful.. I love you all a lot! I love you all this..much (spreading her hands on both sides)..I want to.. stay here..for..ever..” 

Suddenly, she felt the world spinning and lost consciousness. But Sebastian caught her by the waist in the nick of time. 

The room suddenly fell silent as the blabbering of a drunk resident stopped. 

“Well well- tonight’s play was rather very interesting.. But the curtains have fallen in a very unexpected way..” Shakespeare said laughing and breaking the silence. 

Sebastian gently laid her on the couch as she slept soundly. “never expected to see this side of cara.. not that I dislike it though..” Leonardo said as he laughed breezily. 

“It felt so entertaining to see her talking her like this.. Though it’s not gentlemanly, I would love to invite her to drinks and make her drunk.. I want to hear those words and keep them to myself..” comte said looking at her. 

“Let’s take her home and call it a day.. And let’s keep it a secret among ouselves...” Napoleon added. Everyone nodded in agreement and started towards mansion, still laughing at her words. That’s how they came to know the completely hidden side of mc that eventful night.  

                  -------------------- THE END   --------------------

 i also wanted to ask you guys if my plots up until now were different or if it feels like I’m writing cliché things..how does it feel? 

#Ikemenvampire #ikevamp #ikevamp hc #ikemen vampire xreader #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp comte #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp theo #ikevamp vincent #ikevamp shakespeare #ikevamp jean #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp leo

[piccolini-cuscino]

Getting to the truth.

You’re Bruce’s assistant, but more than that, you’re his friend – his only friend. So, naturally, when he arrives at his own party injured and looking worse for wear, you’re worried. But there’s more than one truth-bomb in store for you!

Note: I had no idea how to finish this one, so it’s a bit garbage (you have no idea how much I wanted to change it up and have it basically be the fic version of Secretary, but alas, this is boring and smut free), but I’m so here for an emo millennial Bruce Wayne and a lil but of humour with my angst.

“Why am I organising a ball for all of Gotham, when Bruce won’t show up?” you sighed, turning to Alfred.

“Listen, I’m just the butler. How am I supposed to know what Master Bruce gets up to at night?”

“You live here, Alfred.”

Alfred leaned in close, peering at you from above his round spectacles. “And you’re his very beloved assistant.”

“Don’t remind me,” you huffed. “They’re only showing up for him, you know. They don’t care about the Wayne Foundation. Orphanages and education. He’s the richest man in Gotham, and no one’s seen him in years. The press would kill for a glimpse too.”

Alfred was fond of you. He always had been. He reckoned you brought a little bit of light to the place the second you walked into Wayne manor, fresh out of college. So, you knew his words were sincere when he spoke, with a gentle pat on the arm. “Well I can’t promise anything, but I’ll try.”

“Good enough for me,” you said, turning towards the door. “I’m going home to get ready. There’s a new Dior suit hanging in the wardrobe. Tell the boss to wear it, will you? And remind him to tuck his shirt in. That’s if he decides to show up.”

It was a night of your own making, and you watched it unfold from the lobby. Checking off names. Stopping drunken high society snobs from vomiting into 17th century vases. Directing everyone and their dog towards the bathrooms. But, for the most part, you found yourself alone, dancing with yourself in the cracks of pale moonlight that streamed like silver ribbons on to the sparkling checkerboard floor. No sign of your boss.

Until something caught you off guard. Quiet, shuffling footsteps over by the study at the foot of the staircase. A dark figure emerged from the shadows, hobbling, ascending. Step by step.

“Hey! You can’t go up there!” you called.

The figure moved faster, breaking into a pained jog.

With nothing else to do, you threw off your heels and sprinted after the intruder. Taking the stairs two at a time. They were heading for Bruce’s bedroom. No one, not even the various women he liked to entertain – not even you, as close as you were – went in there. He was a tremendously private man.

Finally, reaching out, you managed to grab their arm.

The figure flinched away in pain, then they turned to you.

“Bruce?” you gasped, feeling your heart race at the sight of him. His dark hair, unkempt and dishevelled; jet black rings around his eyes. His whole body seemed to tremble and heave. “What happened to you?”

“It’s nothing,” he said. Then he broke out into a witter. “Go back downstairs, I’ll be there in a minute, I’d hate to miss out on all of your hard work. I just need to–”

But you pulled him back, swiping your thumbs through the muck beneath his eyes. They were blue, but they always looked so dark. Like a pained void. “You need to clean yourself up. Let me help you.”

“You don’t need to see me like this. Go and enjoy your evening. I’m speaking to you as your boss. Please. Go.”

“Yes, Mr. Wayne.” You straightened up at his words and turned away. But before you reached the stairs, he called your name. If looks could kill, Bruce might have been a heap on the floor. But those eyes, again, dulled any hurt you felt about the distance between you.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

You couldn’t look him in the eye. It was a battle even just to thank him politely for the compliment. And your legs shook all the way back to the lobby, through a strange mix of worry and giddiness.

You kept yourself to yourself for twenty minutes, alone with your panic, before Bruce returned. Gone was the darkness around his eyes, and his hair was neatly slicked back. He cut a strong, proud figure as he walked towards you in his suit. Even if he was sporting a limp and clutching his side with every step.

“I thought I told you to enjoy the party?” he smiled.

“Sorry, Bruce. There’s just no one to watch the door and show people where the…” You trailed off as he gently took your arm, leading you through into the reception hall. A warmth radiated from him, soothing but stoic. Nothing like the frantic panic from before.

“Help me get through this,” he muttered as the room fell silent. All eyes on you and Bruce.

The party quickly resumed; music played and the chatter of the guests around you echoed through the hall. Occasionally, beneficiaries of the Wayne Foundation would introduce themselves to your boss, or business bigwigs would try to bend his ear about trade deals and contracts and bureaucracy. But one thing was constant throughout the whole ordeal – Bruce’s hand never once left its place on your waist.

You could feel it there. The way his fingers would trail through the material of your dress as people talked and talked and talked to him. And the tension, when he balled his fingers up into a fist when faced with people that he just didn’t have time for. All those little cues forced the question from your lips. “Would you like to dance?”

You knew he didn’t dance. He hated it, in fact. But in that moment, the gratitude was evident on his small, weak smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Something was wrong, though. He flinched when your hand draped over his shoulder. His gait was unsteady. And no amount of makeup could disguise the bruise underneath his left eye. You kept glancing up at it as the two of you daintily spun circles around the room. And he kept glancing down at you, knowing now that you had noticed.

The song ended and Bruce’s hands dropped to his sides. “I think I’ve had enough for one night,” he said with another defeated smile. “People might begin to talk.”

“I think we need to talk, Bruce.”

His eyes darted over his surroundings before they returned to you; his lower lip pinched between his teeth.

“Please,” you pressed.

“Come with me.”

You and Bruce slumped into two cosy armchairs in his study, with a roaring fire, a coffee table and two glasses of scotch between you. “Don’t think Alfred and I haven’t noticed you sneaking off all the time.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and stared at the flames. “I’m your boss, remember?”

“You’re also my friend. And you also looked like crap earlier. Who did that to you?”

“It’s nothing,” he said, shifting in his chair, letting out an audible groan.

“They obviously hurt you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“No you can’t. I think me being here says that much. C’mere,” you said, beckoning him.

“When you’re right you’re right.” Bruce might have been your boss, but he still knew better than to defy you; he slumped to his knees and shuffled over to you.

“Let me take a look at the damage.”

For the second time that night, Bruce recoiled from your touch as you gently pulled up his shirt, exposing a galaxy of bruises along his ribcage and a large, makeshift dressing on his lower abdomen. “Easy,” he said, swatting your hand away.

“How did you get that?” You peeled it away from his skin as gingerly as you could manage. Rather than concern, your voice grew cold. Serious, even. “What have you been doing?”

“I’m a little disappointed,” Bruce remarked through gritted teeth.

“How so?” you asked, running your fingertips over the slap-dash stitches that held together the vivid red gash.

“I thought this was something else.”

“Something’s eating you, though. And who did these stitches?”

“I did,” Bruce said, his jaw clenched.

“Can I redo them?”

Bruce was growing breathless by the time you finished inspecting his wound. “First aid kit’s in the top drawer of my desk,” he wheezed.

“Rubbing alcohol, too?”

“It’s all there.” Bruce wearily watched from the floor as your pale outline trailed its way across the study. His heart growing faster. “You really do look beautiful,” he said, his voice quiet and spiked with hope. He couldn’t meet your eyes when you looked up from rummaging in the drawer, so he stared down at the rug, finding interest there instead, with one hand clawing through his hair. “What was it that you wanted to ask me, by the way?”

“I really don’t like repeating myself, so cut the bullshit, Bruce.” You were so matter of fact, breezing back over to him and joining him on the floor. “I wanted to know where you go at night.”

“If I told you the truth, then you’d have me shipped off to Arkham.”

You poured some of the alcohol on to a cotton swab, keeping your eyes on Bruce. There was always something so defeated about him when the two of you were alone, that no one else ever got to see. And something always got in the way of him being honest with you. “Want to bet on that? How do you know I’m not already considering it?”

Bruce almost chuckled, but the sting from his side made him draw a sharp breath. He studied you out the corner of his eye. “Do you really… want to know?”

“It’d be nice to not have to spend my evenings with Alfred, who worries like a mother hen.”

Bruce choked out his next string of words in quick succession. “Can I tell you something first?”

“Before I cut you open?” you quipped.

“Preferably.”

Before Bruce reached the end of that word, you had already snipped through his self-administered stitches, revealing just how deep the wound actually was. Your feeble attempt at being jovial quickly switched to a reserved kind of worry.

“You’re the first person who’s ever really understood me. You never pry or say too much. You’re always there. And you have such a low tolerance for bullshit. You don’t coddle or bow down because I’m Bruce Wayne. Plus it’s nice to be around someone who isn’t in their sixties or who knew my father…”

You hummed in acknowledgement, neatly weaving the wire through Bruce’s skin. Too focused on the job at hand to really get what he meant. Until his fingertips brushed over your jawline.

“You’re my only friend in this godforsaken world.”

“Besides Alfred,” the pair of you said in unison.

Biting back a fit of laughter, you stroked his cheek and he keened, like an animal craving affection. “What are you trying to say, Bruce?”

Every fibre of Bruce’s being tensed with renewed panic and a tinge of awkwardness. His wide eyes searched for something, anything, to focus on, as long as it wasn’t you. “I’m…I guess what I’m trying to say is that… I’m–“

With a mental fuck it, you threw caution to the wind. You couldn’t stand hearing him bumble on like this. Closing the gap, your lips crashed on to his. He tasted like scotch and cigars, and this much of him was never going to be enough for you. Just when your hands tangled through his hair, Bruce pulled away.

“I’m the Batman.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Bruce nodded.

“I would’ve settled for ‘I’m in love with you’ you know.”

He sighed, sitting back so casually now that the difficult part was over. “That, too.”

“You can’t lie to me anymore, you know that, don’t you?”

He nodded again.

“So,” you said, glancing around the study, “which bookcase is actually a revolving door?”

“Huh?” Bruce asked, pulling down his shirt.

“Secret lair… a bat cave, if you will.”

“Oh,” he said with a chuckle. Then he pointed towards the bookcase behind you. “It’s that one. Pull out Ulysses and it’ll… spin right round. Be careful not to let the bats out, though. They’re kind of like my pets.”

“Fuck you, Bruce.”

“I can show you if you want?” he said, hopefully, as he scrambled to his feet.

“I’ll settle for another kiss. And you getting some rest.”

“You’re taking this surprisingly well,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“What, the bat part or the other part?”

Bruce chuckled and planted a small, soft kiss to your forehead. “Both.”

“I had my suspicions. One thing’s for sure though…”

“What?”

“You might need a few pointers with your eyeliner.”

#bruce wayne x reader #battinson #robert pattinson #bruce wayne #the batman

[wreathedwith]

No Time To Die thoughts

Major spoilers throughout, obviously.

the good/the bad/the divisive

The good

That opening sequence: from creepy horror to high romance to gorgeous Matera to thrills and spills and gun headlights (and those motorbike stunts!), followed by Betrayal and Train (biggest gasp from my cinema companion, despite the number of cars being knocked around like Newton’s Cradle later on: Bond crossing the tracks in the train station) – this had it all, a mini Bond movie in its own right.

Lashana Lynch was brilliant and I actually think she and the film managed to carry out her character’s difficult balancing act extremely well: cool, not secretly a mole or an enemy, not a stereotype, part of the team; the appropriate combination of admiration and annoyance for Bond. That’s hard to do, especially with such a well-established character.

Ana de Armas and Craig’s chemistry went far beyond any (is there any? oh how I wish they had more, but they don’t) with Léa Seydoux – she was funny and instantaneously appealing.

Q! I know I should care more that the sexuality confirmation was of course done in the most anodyne we-need-to-sell-this-property-to-200-plus-territories way possible, but I still think it was great. (And then Bond stayed over! Hm. Hmmm.)

Felix! Bond has frend? Bond has someone he actually talks to like a normal human being? (Well, for a bit.)

Some silly gadgets and appropriately leaden quips (but not too many).

Even the critics who are not rating the film so well overall seem to feel Craig’s performance is excellent in this – and it is. He does the emotion, the hints of deep vulnerability, the action, the standing naked under an outdoor shower, and the stupid Bond one-liners. He does it all.

(trying not to attribute things to her when I of course know nothing, but surely PWB had some influence there? Hugh Dennis, not The Wrong Trousers.)

The bad

Sufin: nothing bad to say about Rami Malek’s acting and portrayal (although arguably his relationship and chemistry with Swann was more important and better than with Bond, for better or worse), but this character was a very weak Bond villain, a fact perhaps tacitly acknowledged by also including a much more highly-charged encounter with Lecter I mean Blofeld as well. Blah blah generational motivation, something about plants, wants to kill millions of people because Villain Reasons?; just not really much going on here. Also: another facial disfigurement? Really?? Yes Bond is trope-y as all hell and shouldn’t have too much regard for real-world logic, but you get up to a certain point and it’s really too much. (Cool lair tho. But more monochrome and less balls-to-the-wall than some classic Bonds.) (For me the ranking of the Craig-era films remains: Brilliant (Casino Royale and Skyfall); Servicable; some great elements (Spectre and No Time To Die); awful (Quantum of Solace), and not so coincidentally it’s Le Chiffre and Silva who really shine as villains. Villains are important!

James Bond: plot moppet edition. Much like the world of Grand Theft Auto, I don’t think children should exist in the James Bond universe.

You could definitely tell this had a few writers. I was drawn in and not bored during the whole thing, but it IS long. Too much plot and most of it not very good.

I’m not quite sure what the line is between satisfying callbacks to previous Bond films in combination with polite cribbing from all other action franchise versus feeling like a bit of everything has been thrown in without there being much that’s new, but this film probably crossed it. (Yes, Skyfall probably had more franchise callbacks, but somehow it all worked.)

The Bond-films-are-soft-power Royal Navy proper gander: one of only six missile destroyers just happening to be in the right sea, ready to go! Hm.

The divisive

I loved the ending! Bond isn’t a real person. The continuity of the series already makes no sense whatsoever if you stop to think about for more than about ten seconds. This way you can put a proper, planned end to the Craig era, emerge clean out of the knotty franchise interconnections disease caught from Marvel et al (no, we didn’t need to retroactively link the brilliant likes of Le Chiffre to a Greater Power And Agenda (Spectre), actually). And begin again.

(Also worth it for the person sitting behind me in the cinema whose clearly audible response to ‘James Bond Will Return’ was an annoyed ‘you JUST showed him getting blow up’. Can’t argue with that.)

#no time to die #james bond #no time to die spoilers

[ravenforce]

Stark Legacy V

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Carol Danvers x Wanda Maximoff x Maria Hill x Reader but Carol Danvers x Reader centric for this chapter.

Summary: Carol takes her motto to heart: higher, further, faster.

Word Count: 3515

A/N: I am so sorry for being on hiatus for the past few months but I’m back. I hope I did Carol justice on this one. Let me know what you guys think, please. xx

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4  | 6

***

You arrived bright early the day after you signed up to be the newest agent at SHIELD. You were just entering the command center when you bumped into your immediate supervisor, Deputy Director Hill. 

“Agent Stark-” The millisecond that it took her to glance at the watch behind you told you she wasn’t expecting you to be early again but Maria remembered she promised to stop having preconceived notions towards you based on her knowledge of your brother alone. She smiled genuinely. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning -” You hesitated. Maria motioned for you to follow her. 

“Agent Hill is fine.” Maria rounded a more secluded corner, you fell in-step with her. She eyed you sideways. “Maria when no one else is around.” 

You cocked your head to the side in silent question. Maria shrugged. “Can’t have other agents thinking I have favourites.” 

“You have favourites?” You asked teasingly. Maria stopped in front of a huge glass door with one side open to reveal the gym. 

“I do not.” You looked at her with bright eyes, and she knew you didn’t believe her. She rolled her eyes at you playfully. “I do however want to be your friend.” 

That stopped you from teasing her further and staring at her intently for a minute. “I would love that,” you said sincerely before walking deeper inside the gym. Maria watched you talk to some of Agent Colson’s team for a few minutes, making sure no one will give a weird treatment. 

“I think you might actually have a favourite.” 

Maria didn’t even flinch when she heard Carol’s voice behind her. “Oh shut up, I -” Carol cut her off by wrapping her arms around her waist and giving her a soft kiss on the cheeks. 

“You don’t have to explain your crush to me Mar,” Carol said while leaning her chin on Maria’s shoulder, watching you now too. “Besides if you explain, you’ll be late for your meeting with Nick.” 

Shit. She almost forgot. She immediately untangled herself from Carol’s arms and gave the blonde and quick kiss on the lips. “Keep her company will you?” 

“But I’m busy -” Carol tried to reason.

Maria who’s almost at the corner stopped to look at her girlfriend sternly. “You wouldn’t be here loitering around if you are.” Then she’s gone.

***

Being asleep for a long time, made you rusty when it comes to social interactions but not any less perceptive. You can feel everyone staring at you since you walked inside the gym, you can feel that people are wary of you. You guess, the word does travel fast. Thankfully some of the agents from Agent Colson’s team saw you and waved you over.

“Hey! We heard you’re officially on board,” Agent Simmons, you remembered, said cheerfully.

“Welcome to the fam,” Leo greeted sincerely. You smiled softly, “thank you.”

“Are you here to train?” Agent May asked.

“Yes but no one wants to train with an inhuman.” You hide the awkwardness with a smile, subconsciously waiting for someone to flinch.

“Ugh,” Agent Grant moaned. “Would totally want to spar with you-”

“Me too but we’re about to go on duty,” Leo interjected.

“Next time,” you said with a smile. You like this team, they’re all nice and genuinely warm. Colson’s team was just about to exit the gym when Carol walks in.

“I’ll spar with you.” Everyone stopped and stared as the blonde continued to walk towards you with the confidence and swag only an Avenger can muster. “Unless you’re scared.”

You let out a full belly laugh, cutting Carol off. Instead of being offended, she was enthralled by how realistic it sounded. She wanted to hear it again. More importantly, out of the blue, she wants to be at the least one of the reason for you to laugh again.

“You’re on, Captain,” you said hopping on the mat with her.

***

Carol looked you up and down unabashed. Had you been fully human, you would have blushed with the way she checks you out openly. You cleared your throat to gain her attention. “Rules?” you asked with a confident smirk to hide your nerves.

“No weapons of any kind.”

“That’s it?” you asked while wrapping a bandage around your knuckles. You didn’t really have to but it gives you some sense of normalcy.

Carol shrugged. “Too many rules take the fun out of everything,” she said cheerfully.

You chuckled, making Carol cock her eyebrow at you. “I guess that makes you the fun one, huh?”

Carol made a lightning-fast move to cover your mouth. “Don’t let them hear you say that,” she whispered while pretending to look around for her girlfriends.

You rolled your eyes playfully before, in an equally fast move, you threw Carol down the mat. Carol gaped at you from the floor for a minute before breaking into a grin. You offered her a hand but instead of getting up, she pulled you down with her and rolled around until she pinned you in the mat. You groaned and it took a little longer than usual to shrug Carol off of you.

“Not bad, Stark. Where’d you learn how to fight?” Carol asked smiling while you two circle each other.

“Tony insisted that I take lessons before I started school.” You blocked a heavy punch to the side of your face. “He said I’m not allowed to use my inventions on other kids, so I’d have to learn how to protect myself another way.”

“Smart,” Carol commented unnecessarily since everyone knew Tony’s beyond smart; he was a genius.

You kept attacking each other with unrestrained force, rendering the rest of the agents who were doing their morning routines to stop working out completely. You caught a glimpse of the little audience gathering at the edge of the mat from your peripheral, distracting your momentarily. Carol used the opportunity to land a heavy blow on your left cheek.

An audible crack can be heard from the stillness of the room, followed by a collective gasp.

“Oh my God, Y/N,” Carol worried. “I’m so sorry. I got carried away.”

Carol chewed at her bottom lip when you wouldn’t lift your head and meet her eyes. Then you started giggling. “Y/N?” She asked softly.

Carol’s forehead crinkled adorably in confusion. You silently thank the universe for being inhuman because had you been otherwise, you surely would have been vomiting blood by now. You’re also thankful that Tony used only the best materials available in the world for you shell because had any of it been subpar, you’re sure that your cheeks or even your whole skull would have cracked.

Then you looked up at Carol with a smile. “Again,” you said while going on a fighting stance.

You used Carol’s hesitation to launch an attack. Carol struggled at first, overwhelmed by her momentary worry and the sudden increase in your speed and strength. Carol smiled realizing that she just found someone she can spar without holding back. Before she can retaliate though, Maria’s voice cut through the room.

“Enough you two,” she said calmly. You and Carol immediately dropped your fighting stance to regard Agent Hill. You just noticed then that Carol’s heaving, you bite the inside of your cheeks to keep yourself from smiling. “Agent Stark, clean up and meet me at the command centre after lunch.”

You nodded before thanking Carol for her time and hopping off the mat. “Spar again, soon?” Carol asked hopefully before you can exit the room. You just smiled at her and nodded. The rest of the morning stragglers went on their way to the showers to clean up as well, leaving Carol and Maria alone.

When everyone was out, Maria threw a towel to her blonde girlfriend’s face. “Just how long were you two at it?”

Carol grinned before sitting down. “Around after you left,” she answered before chugging down a bottle of water.

“Four hours?” Maria nearly yelled in her surprise.

“I guess.”

Maria stared at her girlfriend for a while. None of the Avengers ever trained with Carol that long, not even Natasha. Her surprise turns into a warm smile as she watches Carol smiling softly to herself.

“Oh Mar, she’s amazing!” Carol can’t stop herself from gushing about your strength, your fighting techniques, and your elegance. “Dare I say, she’s as elegant and deadly as Natasha.”

Maria smiled, wondering what Nat would feel if she heard Carol say that. She listened intently and patiently as Carol talk her head off about you all the way to her office where they’re supposed to eat lunch together.

“What?” Carol asked after she sat across Maria’s massive table. Maria opened multiple food containers in front of them.

She looked up at Carol. “I’m not giving her up to The Avengers,” Maria declared confidently.

Carol’s smile was wicked. “Not yet,” she challenged.

“We’ll see about that.”

***

Ever since the first time you two sparred, Carol always finds an excuse to go to the HQ to train with you. You really don’t mind, spending time with Carol, albeit just in the mat, is surely always fun. Captain Marvel is fun. She’s a perfect combination of chill yet intense when need be. She’s also ridiculously flirty, which you chuck as just within her nature and not because she’s actually attracted to you. 

But most especially, the reason why you absolutely love spending time with Carol was that she doesn’t treat you any differently. Some of the agents at work are either too polite because you’re a Stark or too aloof because you’re inhuman. You appreciate her and Maria for making you feel a certain degree of normalcy, and more importantly, they make you feel like you belong. So when Carol showed up at the Stark Tower on your day off, you welcomed her with a bright smile. 

“Hello Captain, what do I owe the pleasure?” You voice heavy with teasing. Carol tried not to think too much about the way you said the word pleasure but by the growing smirk on your face, she knew she wasn’t doing a very good job at hiding how that simple word made her hot all over.

She cleared her throat before speaking up. “I bumped into Happy at HQ and he told me that today’s your day off,” she trailed off a little when you closed the hood of your car and stood beside it, revealing your choice of outfit for the day. You watched her take in your simple grey shirt, denim mini skirt, and black boots. You cleared your throat, and you chuckled when she visibly shook her head to clear her thoughts. “I was just wondering if you want to do something fun today?” 

You wiped the grease from your hand using a dry towel before walking up to the blonde. You stopped a foot away, making Carol sweat unnecessarily. “I would but you have to be honest with me first,” you whispered, holding her beautiful hazel eyes. 

“Always.” 

“Did you really bump into Happy or were you looking for me today?” 

“Shit. Happy snitched on me, didn’t he?” Carol groaned, making you laugh. Carol crossed her arm and pouted. 

“Do I need to change for where we’re going?” You asked walking pass the blonde to go inside your suite. Carol turned just in time to have a perfect view of your ass in denim mini skirt. You laughed again, having perfectly timed your walk. 

“Yes, change to your Phantom suit.” 

That made you pause and turn back to her. Carol shrugged with a huge smile on her face, not giving you any clue at all to where she’s taking you. 

***

You gaped at Carol when you landed on her idea of fun. You took your suit’s helmet to have a better, unobstructed view of your surroundings.

“No fucking way,” you said in pure excitement while moving in circles to take in everything.

“It’s not much now since it’s been abandoned for a long time but -”

Carol didn’t get to finish her sentence before you cut her off by jumping at her and giving her a tight hug. Carol wished to whatever higher entity there is out there for you not to hear or feel how hard her heart was beating in her chest at the way you feel against her arms.

“Are you kidding me?” You still didn’t extricate yourself from her. “You brought me to a freaking space station.”

Carol chuckled. “Abandoned space station,” she corrected with a smile.

This time you untangled your arms from around her, much to Carol’s disappointment. “Semantics,” you said before walking ahead. Carol watched you look at everything with childlike wonder. “I never thought I’d ever been able to step in one.”

“Oh don’t be modest, given your intelligence and credentials, you totally could,” she countered earnestly.

“Maybe but I like working at SHIELD.”

“Why?” Carol asked. Not because doesn’t think you’re fit for the job but because she’s genuinely curious. You can be anywhere in the world, yet you chose to stay and sign a contract with SHIELD.

You run your fingers across the decaying console on the main deck before looking ahead, into the stars before turning back towards Carol, with your ass and hands resting on the edge of the table. “I can protect the people I love better with SHIELD than all alone.”

“The people you love?” Carol stepped closer to you.

“Pepper, Morgan, Happy…” you paused to watch Carol inch closer to you some more. “…and my friends: you, Nat, Maria.”

“Are we friends, Y/N?”

You tried to hide it but you visibly gulped at her proximity. “Aren’t we?” you asked, lips curling into a soft smirk.

For the past few months, this has been your dynamics with Carol: playful banter and harmless flirting. You’re used to it by now but the longer it goes on, the harder it is to ignore your growing attraction to the blonde. Which would be totally fine, if she’s single but you have to remind yourself every day that she’s not.

Carol had to step back too to ground herself. She’s moving too fast, she knows it. She knew she had other people to consider too. Apart from Maria who’s obviously on the same boat as her, she hasn’t really talked to Nat and Wanda about her attraction towards you. She knew Maria hasn’t mentioned anything yet either because it’s too early.

“We are,” she whispered.

“Good, I’d really like that.”

Before Carol can say anything, her stomach grumbled loudly. She turned beet red while you started laughing. Just like that the tense atmosphere’s gone. You took her hand and led her back to the ship. “Thank you for taking me here, Carol but I think it’s time to go home.”

Carol’s relishing the feeling of your hand in hers when her stomach protested again. She joined in when you started laughing again. “I don’t need to be told twice,” she grumbled playfully before pulling you to a run.

***

Carol walked into the command centre after her appointed meeting with Nick to see if Maria wants to grab lunch together. She faltered on her step when she saw the worried face Maria was sporting.

“Hey-” Carol greeted cautiously. Maria turned back and gave her a quick smile.

“Hey. Meeting’s over already?”

Carol ignored the question and stood next to her girlfriend. “What’s wrong?”

Maria’s eyebrows crinkled together further. “Nothing,” she whispered before turning to the monitors in front of her. Carol was just about to ask where you are since you’ve been working closely with Maria since you started a couple of months ago when Carol saw your name on the board.

Suddenly, she understood why Maria look worried. “Why is Y/N out with Agent Colson’s team?” Carol tried to hide the concern in her voice but Maria knew better.

Maria sat in her swivel chair. “They’re down one person for today’s recon mission. Nick decided she’s ready for fieldwork,” Maria sighed.

Carol took a deep breath. She knows that you can very much handle yourself out there but it doesn’t mean they can’t be worried.

“She’ll be fine.” Carol and Maria looked behind them. They’ve been so engrossed in worrying about you, they didn’t even hear Happy approached.

“Need I remind you that she’s a Stark?” Happy asked smiling. Carol chewed on her bottom lip. “Besides, she trained with only the best around here.”

That made Carol and Maria relax a little. “She will be fine,” they both murmured to themselves before their phones simultaneously lit up with a message from Natasha, asking them to meet them in town for a quick lunch.

***

Carol was having a quick trip off-world to check on a nearby planet when she received a message from Nick. She left a sizeable crater on the lawn of the HQ when she landed, almost knocked down a wall, and almost took off the door from its hinges in hurry to get to you. Carol’s heartache when she saw you on a hospital gown, lying side by side with a sleeping Maria.

“Hey,” you whispered as not to wake up the agent beside you.

“Hi,” Carol greeted back. She wanted to move towards you but her knees felt like lead as the adrenaline leaves her body. “You’re safe -”

You smiled sheepishly. “I’m so -”

Carol cut your apology off by nearly tackling you and Maria out of the bed. “Settle down, Carol. She’s alright. She’s home now,” Maria grumbled, cuddling next to you further; face buried in your neck.

Carol looked at her sleeping girlfriend “I think the repair stressed the living daylight out of Maria,” you whispered, squished between the two women.

“You think?” Carol hopped on the bed, squishing herself on your other side. “She’s been worried since you left for the mission.”

“I’m sorry. It was an ambush,” you started to explain but Carol started snoring softly with one arm and leg swung over your body cut your explanation off.

You were smiling to yourself when Natasha entered the room with a quietness that only the Black Widow can do. Your eyes met, Natasha looked a little conflicted. “Shouldn’t you be the one sleeping?” she asked teasingly.

You shrugged with a smile. You patted your lap. “You look like you can use a nap too,” you said softly.

Carol and Maria opened their eyes momentarily to look at their redhead girlfriend, and together they patted your lap before resuming their previous sleep position.

#carol danvers x reader #captain marvel x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #maria hill x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #black widow x reader #scarlett witch x reader #carolnat x reader x wandahill #carolnat #blackhill #unholy pentagon #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow imagine #carol danvers imagine #captain marvel imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlette witch imagine #raven writes

[zelenacat]

When We Were Young- Chapter 31- An Obitine Story

There was much to discuss when the immediate battle was over. Anakin had killed Dooku, and Master Yoda insisted they have sessions to meditate together. The Sith Lord Palpatine’s trial was approaching and the Council themselves were very busy. Fortunately for Satine, Korkie was able to show Tristan a back entrance to avoid the paparazzi already showing up at the palace front steps. Tyra was allowed to accompany Mara back to the palace as well, her master discussed strategies with Satine and her advisors, and Obi-Wan went to retrieve Jynn and Lyra, as well as the birth certificates.

“Dear God, Duchess,” Prime Minister Jaru frowned, “you’ve been friends with the Jedi for over eighteen years?”

Satine gave Quinlan a nod.

“The Duchess and Master Kenobi have eighteen-year-old twins, sixteen-year-old twins, twins who are a year old-”

“Eight months.” Satine corrected.

“And,” Quinlan paused for permission, “the Duchess is expecting triplets.”

The silence was so heavy Satine wanted to punch something.

“We need to worry about the line of succession,” the Prime Minister said finally, “Parliament will have to approve your marriage.”

Satine flinched.

“They will likely join the line after you’re married,” Jaru stated, reading the signs, “but this is quite the scandal.”

Just then, Satine’s news alert buzzed. She read the headline and smiled.

“Duchess?”

“My sister has commented,” the Duchess straightened, “she supports me, saying that tradition would be against her marriage, and that we can honor tradition without sticking to outdated ideas.”

Master Vos cheered as polite applause took hold of the room.

“That is helpful,” the Prime Minister agreed, “but a press conference will be needed.”

“I have an idea,” Quinlan held up a hand, “the ancient monarchies used to hold ceremonies to welcome their new children.”

An idea clicked in Satine’s head.

“A ball,” she announced, “a ball and an old-fashioned welcoming ceremony for the triplets.”

One of her aides began taking notes.

“We should invite influential Parliament members,” another advisor added, “and the whole court.”

“Agreed,” Jaru nodded, “let’s craft the announcement.”

After that chore was done, Satine and her advisors moved on to the press conference that she and Obi-Wan would give.

“We should also like the Jedi Council for a statement,” Quinlan suggested, “saying how Obi-Wan is leaving.”

Everyone agreed this was a good idea.

Quinlan stood, “I’ll contact them now.”

The Prime Minister had three aides type up the announcement they’d crafted, as well as adding the detail about the press conference. After checking it over, Satine told more guards to be stationed around the entrances and gave the go ahead.

“The Council has agreed to say something,” Quinlan announced, coming back in, “they recommend that we set the conference for after the Sith Lord’s trial.”

“I think that is wise,” Satine agreed, “the trial is tomorrow, correct?”

“Yes,” Quinlan nodded, “and Obi-Wan is still a part of the Council.”

“He’ll have to be there,” Jaru concluded, “this will be a test of the paparazzi’s control.”

That afternoon was busy for Satine. She had a room prepared for Jynn and Lyra, as well as rooms for her older children. Naturally, this caused some drama within the staff. Fortunately, Parna, and Khaami, who had just returned from visiting her family, assured everyone that this was formal procedure and that they would get the news they were seeking at the press conference.

When Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi touched down on the palace landing pad with two toddlers there was an upspike in the rumors. Unfortunately, somehow, it had got out that Satine had made contact with Korkie’s old nanny who'd left ten years ago. This piece of knowledge seemed to confirm to everyone that the rumors were true. Still, they’d have to wait.

“Dad,” Tyra asked when the family was sitting together, “what will happen to Je’er after the trial?”

Obi-Wan smiled, “He’ll be put to death.”

“What!”

“He’s kidding,” Satine put a hand on her daughter’s arm, “don’t you worry, Tyra Satine.”

“Sorry, bad joke,” the Jedi apologized, “he’ll be questioned about his knowledge about the dark side, and then we’ll likely release him.”

Tyra nodded.

“Don’t worry, sis,” Tristan rubbed Tyra’s back, “he’ll be fine.”

“I’m wondering, children,” Satine smilled, “if we should extend ball invitations to your special friends.”

Mara gasped, her excitement clear on her face, Korkie didn’t look so sure.

“All the Jedi Council is coming,” Obi-Wan told Korkie, “and Anakin and Quinlan.”

Korkie bit her lip, “Will it stress her out?”

“Not if her father’s there,” Mara offered, “don’t worry.”

Satine was proud of the way she taught her son how to treat women. He had to be chivalrous if he was going to be a successful prince.

“Duchess,” Parna smiled, opening the door, “dinner’s ready.”

The family at dinner in one of the private dining rooms, serving themselves and laughing at each other’s jokes. Satine could hardly believe how perfect it was.

Obi-Wan’s comm beeped, “Obi-Wan, come in.”

“Anakin?”

“The Council wants you back to prepare for the trial,” Anakin sighed, “boring stuff, really.”

“Naturally,” Obi-Wan stood, “I’ll be over quickly.”

Satine pouted.

“Don’t worry, Darling,” the Jedi kissed the Duchess’ cheek, “I’ll be home after the verdict.”

“Bye, Dad!”

“Good luck!”

“See you soon!”

“Love you!

“By kids,” Obi-Wan smiled, bopping a smooch on Jynn and Lyra's heads respectively, “look after your mother.”

The Duchess did not watch the trial, but she knew that Anakin, Padme, and Je’er would be witnesses. Not to mention that the Sith Lord electrocuted a couple Jedi Masters when they came to arrest him. They had tested his blood for midichlorians and found them, connections were found to many assassins who’d killed political rivals of the Supreme Chancellor, and there was a direct comm link that when called, appeared on Count Dooku’s body.

“It was horrifying,” Obi-Wan told Satine as they crawled into bed, “his laugh, his mannerisms, he tried to manipulate Anakin right there on the spot.”

“And to think so many trusted him.” Satine frowned, disgusted.

“He was a good politician,” the Jedi sighed, “his punishment is to have his force manipulation ability taken away from him.”

Satine went wide eyed, “They can do that?”

“The Witches of Dathomir have a way,” Obi-Wan shivered, “it’s strange to think about it.”

The Duchess was silent for a moment.

“The press conference,” Satine finally said, “it’ll be just as publicized as the trial.”

“Likely even more,” Obi-Wan agreed, snuggling close to Satine, “but we don’t have to worry about that until tomorrow.”

The Duchess exhaled.

“You're nervous.”

“Yes,” Satine responded, “it’s hard to control what people will ask.”

“We could begin with our story,” the Jedi suggested, “and ask that questions be saved till later.”

That’s exactly the form the press conference took. However, Satine still considered it a nightmare. When they entered, holding hands, Satiine without a corset, the press turned into rabid animals. Khaami and Parna had to shout multiple times to get them to quiet down.

Obi-Wan began with how Master Qui-Gon and he were sent to protect the Duchess from harm during the Mandalorian Civil War, and they did so for a year.

“The Duke of Sundari and his twin sister, Padawan Tyra, were born about eight months after my coronation,” Satine jumped in, “the Duke was raised on Mandalore while his sister was sent to the Jedi Temple.”

“There are no hospital records of this, why?”

Satine sighed at the reporter, questions were supposed to be saved for later.

“Korkyrach and his sister Tyra Satine were born in the basement of the Summer Palace, there was one medical droid and my two ladies at the time.”

There was audible shock.

“Two years later,” Obi-Wan continued, “the Duchess welcomed a second set of twins, Tristan was raised by Clan Wren, and Mara was raised by the Supreis family, to which her lady belongs.”

“What about the birth certificates?” someone asked.

“The real ones are in the hands of the palace lawyers,” Satine answered, “including the ones from the births of our eight-month-old twins.”

In the midst of the stunned silence, a hand was raised.

“Where were these twins born?”

Satine grimaced, “The same room as all their siblings, with one medical droid.”

The crowd shivered.

“Jynn and Lyra, the youngest twins, were given false surnames and raised at the Jedi Temple these past months.” Obi-Wan added.

There were a couple of gasps.

“You have announced your family will host a ball and welcoming ceremony,” a reporter began, “are the dates for these set, and will the royal children be in attendance?”

“The dates are not set yet,” Satine answered, “but the children will be in attendance for both events.”

Audible scribbles were heard all over the room.

“Your Grace,” a strained voice asked, “do we have Mandalorian Jedi?”

The room got so quiet the Duchess could hear herself breathe.

“We have Mandalorian force-users,” Obi-Wan jumped in, “it is their choice whether or not they want to become Jedi.”

In the silence that followed, a reporter raised his hand, “When will the triplets be welcomed?”

Satine ground her teeth, “This fall.”

It was Marsh, Tristan and Mara were having their seventeenth birthday tomorrow and a few months after that Korkie and Tyra would be nineteen. Not to mention Jynn and Lyra would be a year old three months before the triplets were born.

“We will announce the dates of the celebrations nearer to the dates,” Obi-Wan announced, “thank you for coming.”

Khaami and Parna closed the heavy doors with an extreme huff.

“Thank God that’s over.” Satine sighed, leaning on Obi-Wan. “Let’s go,” Obi-Wan suggested, “there’s still the entire palace who will talk about us.”

The Duchess was with her seamstresses, planning her outfit for the ball when Tristan burst through the door.

“Lady Mother,” he huffed, “Auntie Padme and Uncle Anakin are on the holonews!”

Satine jumped up immediately and rushed back to her room with her son just in time for Anakin to announce his departure from the Jedi Order for his wife and children. Then, Padme kissed her husband and the crowd cheered.

“They certainly know how to steal your thunder, huh?” Tyra grinned.

Obi-Wan exhaled, “I think we’re very grateful because of that.”

Two days later, when the entire palace was busy preparing for the upcoming ball, an invitation arrived for the Duchess and her family.

“It’s from a Mr. and Mrs. Skywalker,” Mara read, wiggling her eyebrows, “they’re gonna renew their vows publicly.”

“Ahsoka must be overjoyed.” Korkie commented.

Satine snorted, “They must be trying to outdo us, Ben.”

Obi-Wan laughed and planted a kiss on Satine’s cheek.

“No one could beat us,” the Jedi winked, “just look at how many children we have.”

“Oh no,” Tyra gasped, “what will we wear?”

“My closet is your closet.” the Duchess gestured.

Mara and Tyra giggled and began jumping up and down. Jynn and Lyra giggled at their sisters’ foolishness.

“Speaking of the ceremony,” Obi-Wan asked, “when is it?”

“In three days,” Tristan said, taking the invitation from Mara, “I’m sure the paparazzi is ecstatic.”

“Most certainly.” Satine agreed.

“The ball is in a week,” Obi-Wan frowned, “do you think-”

“I’m sure the paparazzi will have forgotten all about the vows then,” Satine assured her Jedi, “they have a very short attention span.”

The Vow Ceremony was beautiful, and the entire Kryze family looked their best. All in blue and purple, they sat in the front row next to Master Fisto, Master Secura, Master Ti, and Ahsoka. The latter grinned so much her face would likely hurt afterwards.

Up at the front, Anakin stood with his half-brother Owen, and his wife Beru, behind him. Padme’s sister Sola and her husband waited on the other side of the aisle.

“She’s coming!” 

There was a collective gasp when Padme entered, each of her parents holding an arm of hers. The Senator looked overjoyed and glorious in her fabulous white gown. 

“Ani.”

“Padme.”

Satine almost cried at their reception of each other, they were all giddy and sweet.

“Anakin,” Master Yoda turned, “something to say, have you?”

Master Skywalker grinned, “Padme, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re so amazing and wonderful. There are so many magnificent adjectives that you are, but none more so than mother.”

Here, members of the crowd sighed.

“I know you’ll be the most marvelous role model to our twins, and I can only hope I bring you as much happiness as you bring me. I love you.”

“Anakin,” Padme grinned, “you have a tendency to run off into danger.”

Some members of the crowd who knew the Jedi Master best laughed.

“But I couldn’t love you any less for all the good you do for the galaxy, even if you have a certain charming disregard for the rules.”

“True, this is.” Master Yoda agreed.

The crowd laughed again.

“Ani, I love you, and both the twins and I can’t wait to see you as a dad.”

The crowd cheered and clapped politely as the couple kissed. 

“Congratulations,” Satine kissed Padme’s cheeks when they made it to the front of the reception line, “I’m glad to see you both so happy.”

Anakin grinned at Obi-Wan, “I set the stakes pretty high, didn't I, Master?”

Obi-Wan nodded, “Good job, Anakin.”

There was dancing after the ceremony, but Satine and Padme sat happily chatting with plates of food and their Jedi.

“Ben,” Satinie elbowed Obi-Wan, “Korkie is looking at Kara, convince Khi-Adi not to kill him.”

Anakin snorted.

Obi-Wan stood, “On it.”

“One day, Ani,” Padme looked at her husband, “you’ll have to help our son.”

“I’m worried about how many people will be in love with my daughter,” Anakin confessed, “I’m sure she’ll be as beautiful as her mother.”

“Aw.”

Parna and Khaami sat with Padme’s ladies discussing happy times and giggling over Jynn and Lyra.

“It’s wonderful isn’t it?” Padme sighed.

“Yes,” Satine agreed, “the treaty signing was yesterday, wasn’t it?”

“I’m actually surprised at how smoothly it went,” Padme answered, “very pleased however.”

It pained the Kryze family to say goodbye, but Obi-Wan and Satine had much to do for the ball, so they bid goodbye to their friends and went home.

“Good job, Korkie,” Tyra smacked her brother on the back, “I think Master Mundi doesn’t hate you!”

“Korkie was perfectly civil,” Obi-Wan agreed, “although your fear was endearing.”

“How-”

“The force, Korkie.”

“Oh.”

The next few days were filled with dress fittings, menu checking, and formal etiquette training for the children who needed it.

“What do you mean I can’t dance the Mandalorra,” Mara frowned, “you danced it with the Count?”

“It has a negative reputation,” Satine huffed at her daughter, “that dance is best done with fiances.”

Mara stuck her tongue out at her mother.

“Don’t do that at the ball.” the Duchess warned.

Mara laughed.

“Satine,” Parna peeked her head in the dance studio, “the children's friends are here.”

Mara squealed.

“Bring them here, Parna,” Satine smiled, “and inform my children.”

Boba Fett looked extremely uncomfortable at the formalities used to address him.

“Mara!”

Satine smiled as the bounty hunter picked her daughter up and spun her around.

“Now only if you can do that in a dance.” the Duchess pointed out.

“Your Grace,” Boba bowed, “I’m honored to be invited.”

“Thank Mara,” Satine grinned, “it was her idea.”

Tyra walked in on Je’er’s arm, her smile radiant.

“Your Grace,” Je’er bowed, “it’s good to see you again.”

“Yes,” Satine nodded, “and this time you’re healthy.”

Tyra giggled.

“Your Grace.”

Satine turned.

“Princess Sori,” the Duchess matched a curtsy, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Your Grace is most kind, inviting my mother and I,” Sori stood, “we’re quite excited.”

“It’s nothing at all,” Satine winked, “I’m looking forward to seeing Cousin Miraj.”

“Sori, you’re here?”

“Yes,” the Princess blushed, “I’m here.”

Tristan took her hand and kissed it.

“Woah, look at that.” Tyra teased.

“Do I have to do that?” Boba asked.

Mara laughed.

“Your Grace?”

Satine walked straight up to Kara and kissed her on the cheeks.

“Kara, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you.”

The Jedi’s daughter looked pleasantly surprised, “Thank you, I can’t believe I’m here.”

“It’s magical isn’t it?” Korkie agreed, putting an arm around Kara’s waist.

Satine clapped, “Children, get ready to waltz.”

Boba looked horrified, “Waltz?”

The room laughed. It was a marvelous moment for Satine, instructing her grown children and their partners in a traditional Mandalorian Waltz. Korkie and Tristan already knew it, and lifted their partners into the air with varying degrees of success. Tyra and Je’er took a little longer to learn the steps than Mara and Boba, but they did do a successful lift first.

“Alright, now,” Satine smiled, “break time.”

That evening Obi-Wan got to hear all about Satine’s adventures while he complained about eating traditional Mandalorian food.

“It wouldn't hurt you to learn the waltz.”

“What do I need to waltz for,” Obi-Wan shrugged, “we already have nine children.”

Satine laughed.

“Do you feel them yet?” the Jedi asked.

The Duchess sighed, “Sylvian is a little stinker. He and Jacen wrestle while their sister and I try to sleep.”

Obi-Wan’s face melted, “You can tell them apart?”

“Yes, Ben,” Satine placed her Jedi’s hand on her stomach, “they're quite rambunctious.”

“We still haven’t picked a girl’s name out yet.” Obi-Wan pointed out.

“We’ll find one.” Satine assured.

Her ball gown was glorious. The entire family was going in white, and they would look magnificent. Satine’s dress was an ivory ball gown embroidered with silver lilies and pearls. It was wide like the dresses of the Ancient Queen Victoria, and was held up by her shoulders, which were covered in lace. Over all of this, Satine wore a deep purple velvet robe also embroidered with silver. It had a lengthy train too, something the Duchess absolutely adored. Then, to top it off, she wore the blue sash of the monarch and all her medals.

Satine met her daughters in the jewel room.

“Oh, Lady Mother, look at us!”

Tyra’s dress was the same style as Satine’s, except her robe was Kryze blue and her embroidery was gold. She wore a purple sash and slim dancing slippers. Mara wore a periwinkle robe over her ivory and gold dress. Her shoes and sash matched that of her sister’s, but naturally, she wore her Kryze brooch. Jynn and Lyra, the precious angels, were wearing little salmon pink robes over their chiffon tea-length dresses, which were also white with gold embroidery. Their little purple sashes were adorable.

“You look lovely, girls.” Satine smiled.

“The jewels in this room, Lady Mother!” Mara gasped.

Tyra and Mara wore multiple necklaces, chokers, and bracelets, all gold and white to match their outfits.

“I see you have the Warrior’s Eye,” Satine smiled at Tyra, “I remember giving that to you.”

“I never take it off.” Tyra nodded.

Jynn and Lyra were each given a string of pearls for their necks, and they looked every part of princesses.

“And you, Lady Mother?” Mara prodded.

Khaami cleared her throat, she and Parna were standing with the Jewel Master, a chest between them. Everyone in the room gasped when the ancient case was unlocked.

“Is that-”

“The pearl-drop tiara,” Mara gasped while Tyra fanned herself, “gifted to Queen Mara by Zagreus the Second of Zygerria!”

Satine performed a regal curtsy and Khaami placed the crown on her head, Parna held up a mirror.

“Exquisite, Your Grace,” the Jewel Master smiled, “we have the matching accessories ready.”

Her necklace was a silver chain of diamonds and crystals hanging low against her bodice. She had pearl bracelets and white satin gloves.

“Pierre,” Satine turned to the Royal Jeweler, “I wish my daughters to wear Kokoshnik tiaras.”

The girls old enough to understand this request squealed.

The Jewel Master bowed, “Right away, Your Grace, if the Princesses will follow me.”

Tyra wore a headdress with cerulean gems to match her robe and Mara wore purple garnets in between her golden latticework.

“And the little ones?” Pierre asked.

“Silver headbands for them.” Satine suggested.

The Duchess and her daughters met the rest of their family in the hallway behind the grand doors that led to the ballroom.

“Gorgeous, Lady Mother.” Korkie smiled.

He was wearing a white version of his uniform, with a purple sash with a blue line through it to designate him as heir. He also wore medals, as did Tristan over his white uniform, but he had significantly less.

“Satine,” Obi-Wan smiled, “you look heavenly.”

“Thank you, darling,” the Duchess smiled, “you get to lead me into the ball this evening.”

The Jedi kissed Satine’s hand, “I’m honored.”

Korkie took Tyra’s right hand while she held Jynn in her left. Mara held Lyra in her left hand and placed her right in Tristan’s. Satine nodded at Parna, who snuck away to find the announcer.

“Wait till you’re announced.” Satine whispered.

Lyra giggled.

“Her Grace, the Duchess Satine Kryze of Mandalore, Second of her Name and Lady Krewella, escorted by the Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

The announcer took a large breath, “His Grace Korkyrach Kryze, Duke of Sundari, Her Royal Highness, Tyra Satine, Princess Royal of Mandalore, His Royal Highness Prince Tristan of Keldabe, Her Royal Highness Princess Mara of Mandalore, Her Royal Highness Princess Jynn of Mandalore, and Her Royal Highness Princess Lyra of Mandalore!”

#obitine #obi wan kenobi #obiwan #obi wan x satine #satine x obiwan #satine #Duchess Satine #satine kryze #fanfiction #fanfic #The Clone Wars #korkie kryze #korkie kenobi

[twokinkybeans]

Inch By Inch (Sequel to Seven Inches - Tailor!AU)

A sequel to Seven Inches, written for both our TwoKinkyBeans July Exchange plus the line prompt that Lien sent me:

“Oh” Tony coos as Peter gives him another quick gasp. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?”

I hope you guys enjoy!!! 

Warnings: nff, smut, handcuffs, light dom/sub, pet names, a size kink I didn’t quite intend to write but IT HAPPENED.

-

Peter stares at the supple material that’s spread out all over the desk. He swallows and reaches out for it. His fingers trace past the tightly woven twill texture. May, from the other side of the shop, cocks an eyebrow at him. “You’re alright up there?” Peter’s cheeks flare up right away. He tries to come up with a somewhat plausible excuse as to why he takes such a sudden interest in the navy blue material. He can’t think of any. The only thing that keeps replaying in his mind is Tony’s promise. He can nearly feel the man’s hot breath tickling on his ear again. “Make that tweed suit yourself, kid, and it’ll be the one I wear when I take that sweet little ass for the first time.”  The man had slapped is butt and resumed their earlier conversation as though nothing had happened. Fuck, he wants Tony so bad.

“I, eh-” Peter stutters, “-I want to learn how to make a suit myself.” May squints at him, searching his face. “Why do I have a feeling this has something to do with a certain customer?” She presses her lips together, but her eyes betray how she’s trying to hold back a wide grin. Peter smiles sheepishly.  “I wouldn’t know what you’re talking about.” “Mmmh.”

-

Peter’s focus is nowhere to be found. He wants to listen to May as she gently explains different sewing techniques to him, he truly wants to. Yet, it’s only Tony’s voice he hears inside his mind. Gosh. He wonders what it’ll feel like to have Tony inside of him. Sure, he’s been topped by other guys before, but nothing is comparable to the size of Tony’s massive cock. He can already imagine it sticking out of the thick pants proudly. The suit itself would be a hot as fuck look without question. Would Peter be able to feel the structure of the fabric against his thighs? Feel every little fiber?

Peter craves it all. The man’s voice, his hot gaze. Since the ‘Shop Incident’, they haven’t even laid hands on each other again. Okay, well, they had. But nothing truly sexual. Just chaste kisses and whispered promises as it’d been impossible to find space in their shared schedules. Peter has been very occupied with his newly found Spider-Man duties now that Tony had taken the role as a mentor too. His new suit is insanely good, and Peter loves patrolling in it and exploring all the latest tech the man included. Tony has been busy also, and he hasn’t made it into the shop once.

“Peter Benjamin Parker, get your ass back to earth.” “Wha-” Peter breathes out startled and blinks a few times. There, he’s got no focus. 

No. 

Focus. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but your crush is as big as Stark’s wealth.” His aunt shakes her head almost teasingly. “Aaaargh, May, how do I get rid of it?” “You don’t. Well, you will eventually. But while it’s there, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. You’ll be walking with your head on cloud nine for quite some time.”

Peter is silent for a few seconds, letting her words sink in. “Do you… Do you think I’m too naive?” “How- Why do you think that?” “He’s Tony Stark, May. Am I… Delusional for thinking he might actually want me?” “It’s clear he does, isn’t it?” “I mean…” His voice trails off. May finally puts the fabric back down on the table.  “Yeah?” “More? I mean more. Oh, I don’t know. I don’t even know if I want more, then how can I even think about what he might want from me?” May makes a shushing noise, shaking her head and grabbing Peter’s hands within her own. She smiles sweetly at him in the way only she can. A warm, comforting feeling spreads in his chest, and his panic dies down. 

“Peter,” she whispers and tucks a loose curl back behind his ear. “As much as I understand your nerves… They’re only natural. And there’s no hurry. Now tell me, what’s with the suit? Every time you see it, you get a little weird.” “He… He made a promise about it.” “Oh?” “Mmmh, I’ll spare you the details.” “Oh.” She chuckles. “In that case, why don’t we get back to making it?” “That sounds like a solid plan.”

And that’s what they do.

-

Peter’s heart hammers in his chest when his eyes dart up to the top of the immensely large building that is the Stark Tower. He’s been here before, obviously. But never as Peter. Always as Spider-Man- with the other Avengers around as well. Now, he’s just Peter. A tailor-in-learning. On his way to deliver a handmade suit to his crush/mentor/hero. Tony. Tony Stark. The richest man in the States. 

How the fuck did he get here.

He stares at the intimidating entrance. Men and women in their sophisticated clothes walk in and out of the building. He feels terribly out of place, but he takes a deep breath and pushes through his nerves. The large, busy foyer nearly overloads his sense. However, a few deep breaths help him to shut out the visual and audible stimuli. He strides over to the reception area and smiles politely at the lady behind the computer.  “Hi! I’m Peter, Peter Parker, Miss. I uh, I’m here to see Mr. Stark? About his new suit?” He holds up the package to show it. The woman returns his smile and nods.  “Let me check his schedule, Sir.”

Sir. Peter almost snorts but feels very proud at the same time. 

“Mr. Stark is expecting you in his private quarters. Here,” she says. She hands him a keycard and then points towards the elevator. “The keycard grants you access to both the elevator and his suite. It’ll take you to the right floor automatically. Please hand it in when you leave the building.” Peter nods, his jaw slack as he takes in all the information. He slides the keycard through his fingers, twisting- turning and playing with it nervously. Pressing his lips together, Peter thanks the lady once more and makes his way towards the elevator. 

It isn’t until he actually sets foot into the metal box that he realizes what exactly the woman had told him. He nearly gasps. His heart misses a beat and his cheeks heat up.

Private quarters.

Oh God- Oh God. Tony has set up the meeting in his private quarters. That means something. Doesn’t it? Or is he the type of man that doesn’t care about random people stalking through his living space? Peter has no clue. He hopes he’s an exception to the general rule. That no one else is allowed in the man’s suite. 

He hopes… Well- He hopes Tony and him are going to have sex. Real sex this time. Tony promised. He told Peter they would. He wouldn’t back down now, would he? Peter sighs, tapping his foot in restless motion. Peter eyes the small display indicating the floor they’re at and inhales slightly when he sees they’re nearly there. This is it. This is-

Ding.

Peter clutches the suit a little closer and hesitantly steps out. Everything in the Tower is absolutely gigantic, and apparently, the suite is no exception to that. Peter can’t even imagine having… This much space. The glass windows let the sunlight cast a golden glow over the man’s presumable costly possessions. He takes it all in. The large, plush sofa. The pool table. The fucking  hot tub in the middle of the room with circular descending steps around. A soft, instrumental beat is playing through the hidden speakers. Peter wonders how on earth he will find Tony seeing that this is just his leisure room.  “Mr.-” “Ah, Parker, there you are. I’ve been waiting for you.” 

Peter turns around startled and stares at the man leaning against the side of the bar. A smirk plays on Tony’s lips and he raises his glass. “You want some?” “I, eh-” Peter babbles, still a little dumbfounded. Tony flails his free hand, and Peter decides a quick why the fuck not. If he’s old enough to fuck whoever he wants, he can sure take a small drink, right?

A few minutes later, they’re seated on the large plush sofa. Peter sips his Tequila Sunrise cocktail. Tony insisted that Peter would enjoy it and much to Peter’s liking and dismay, Tony was right. He’s not 100% sure what’s in there, but he sure isn’t complaining. “So,” Tony smirked, “-I see you brought a new suit?” Peter eyes the suit, still neatly packed in its cover.  “I- I did, Mr. Stark. Would you like to try it on?” Tony tilts his head. His eyes burning, prodding and oh God- Peter can feel his own heartbeat speed up. “Show it to me first, boy.”

They stare at each other for a brief moment. They both know what’s happening. They’re slipping back into their roles. Just as they had in the shop. Tony’s voice already dropping a notch, the rough scratch in his words catching on his tongue so sweetly. So… Authoritative.  “Of course, Sir,” Peter gushes and rushes to pull the zipper down. Carefully, he takes out the suit, smiling slightly at the feel of the thick, textured fabric as it slides past his hands. Tweed suits are not very high in demand, but they definitely radiate a certain chic vibe. Maybe because it’s so timeless.  “Here you go.”

Peter stands up, holding the piece by the clothing hanger and blushes when he hears Tony’s appreciative hum. The man stands up too. Slow. Calculating. He strides closer, making Peter’s dick twitch every time the man’s leather soles hit the floor. When Tony stops right in front of him, the older man grins. “Oh, isn’t it just gorgeous,” he coos. “Almost as beautiful as you. Tell me, did you make this?” “I-I did, Sir. My aunt, uhm- May. She obviously helped me get the technique right.” “Goooooood.”

A pause.

“Now, be a good boy and help me change clothes.” “Yes, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispers breathlessly. For a short second, Peter waits for Tony to make the first move. It never comes- oh.  A strangled noise escapes from his throat when he takes a step closer. His fingers moving up to help Tony get out of his cardigan sweater. He’s the one making the movements, and yet it feels almost humiliating to undress Tony. In the very best way, of course. “Am I doin’ it right?” “Mmh- Just keep it up, honeycomb.” Peter nearly cracks up at the pet name, but the lustful look in Tony’s eyes keeps him going. He’s deliberately not being very careful. His fingers brushing past Tony’s naked, warm skin at every possible opportunity where he slides the fabric off the man’s shoulders. The icy, blue light coming from the Arc Reactor shining freely onto Peter’s face. It’s… Such a powerful device. Peter groans. “I can feel the vibrations,” he mumbles as he keeps staring at it. His hands slowly trace down now. He definitely should work a little faster if he wants the man inside him sooner rather than later. It’s not gonna happen automatically.  His hands work on the fly of the pants and he tugs them down impatiently. Then, he drops onto his knees. Carefully untying Tony’s shoelaces and taking them off together with the pants. All that’s left now are the tight, black undies. “Leave them on for now. Go on, dress me.”

-

“Oh, oh!” Peter whimpers out loud. His arms are shackled to the headboard above his head. His legs are draped over Tony’s still fully clothed shoulders and the man’s cock pounds into him harsh and fast. The soft, thick wool pants have slid down to Tony’s knees where it rests on the sturdy mattress. “Oh” Tony coos as Peter gives him another quick gasp. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?” “P-Please, gimme everything, every last inch of you,” Peter pants heavily. He feels so incredibly full. It’s nothing like he’s ever experienced before, and it only aids in riding his ecstasy more and more. He can’t really feel Tony’s balls slapping against his skin yet, and somehow it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted at this moment. “More, need more!” “Yes, ’m gonna make you fall apart at the seams,” Tony growls. He slows down his movements for a good second and tightens his secure grip on Peter’s hips, dragging him up a bit. Peter snorts at the pun, but the light chuckle morphs into a loud and pleading moan when Tony slowly but surely fills Peter up wholly. The weight of his balls finally settling against his skin. Peter’s eyes water at the near overwhelming intensity of pure happiness coursing through him. He did it. He took a full seven inches inside of him.

Everything that happens after that is one big blur. Tony manages to hold him up with just one hand, using the other to drag sweet strokes on Peter’s hard and leaking cock. Everything just feels so goddamn perfect, the fire in his stomach building and building and building and- “I can’t- I can’t stop oh fuck oh Tony!!” Peter cries out, cum spurting from his cock right onto his chest. His eyes are pressed shut, his head pressed back into the soft, fluffy pillow. “I keep coming...” he mumbles completely dazed. It’s true though, he can feel the muscles jerk- aiding in forcing even the last few drops out of him.  Tony’s hips stutter. His breathing simply stops as he presses into Peter with such force that it brushes past Peter’s overstimulated prostate again. It stays there when the cum oozes from the man’s dick. It fills him up, Peter can feel the slight pulsing inside of him. 

“Oh, sweet boy…” Tony murmurs after a few seconds of undisturbed serenity. The firm grip suddenly becomes a very soft caress on Peter’s tired muscles, and it’s only then that he feels they’re trembling. Slowly, Tony helps him put his legs down. As a result, his cock slips out, and Peter gasps when his hole desperately tries to clench around nothing after the fast pounding it received.  “Mmh- feels cold,” he mumbles. Tony is quick to respond to that, shifting around so he’s able to tug the sheets up to cover the exhausted boy. Peter lets out an appreciative groan.  “So,” he smiles sleepily, the tiredness catching up with him, “-do you like your new suit?” Tony snorts, and he nods. “It’s perfect, such hidden talent in you, Spider-Boy.” “Oh, go fuck yourself,” he giggles. Tony tilts his head playfully. “Nah, I’d rather fuck you. After a short break, obviously.”

Peter gives the man a teasing push, only to draw him down and nuzzle into his chest. He might not be sure what Tony wants from him, but Peter sure as fuck wants cuddles right here, right now. “Hug me.” “As you wish, honeycomb.”

#adult peter parker #starker #iron man x spider man #spider man x iron man #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #tony x peter #peter x tony #fanfic #fandom #fan fiction #fan fic #fanfiction #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #starker fanfiction #seven inches #inch by inch #tony stark #iron man #peter parker #spiderman #spider man

[theritualofourexistence]

Clarity in the Cancellation Crusade

After posting multi-paragraph comments on a couple different things that have popped up in my feed recently, it seemed like I should probably just sit down and write this out.

“Cancel culture.” Crazy shit, right?

The recent onslaught of cancellations includes Mr. Potato Head, Pepe Le Pew, a handful of Disney movies (Peter Pan, Dumbo, The Aristocats), and *audible gasp* Dr. Seuss. The Muppets also got a newfangled Disney+ content warning, though I’ve seen significantly fewer headlines about that.

The thing that inevitably happens when the news media decides to publish a headline about a children’s toy or book being “canceled” is a veritable parade of social media complaints about how sensitive people have become. I saw this particular post over 10 times in the period of a couple hours one day last week…

The question I’ve been asking recently when I see posts like that is this: “Who do you think cancel culture is?”

Because “cancel culture” isn’t real. In the majority of the cases currently making headlines, the choice to remove a character from a movie or stop publishing a book has been made by the company responsible for that character or book… and that is very much a normal thing companies can choose to do.

No one I’ve posed the above question to has overtly mentioned “Libtards,” but it’s certainly implied. People who haven’t read a Dr. Seuss book in 20 years are now suddenly all up in arms (literally?) because “the Liberals” are coming for “And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street.”

The Liberals are not coming for Dr. Seuss. They do not care about a potato toy. Also, nothing is happening to the Cat in the Hat. I repeat: NOTHING is happening to the Cat in the Hat.

The choices to stop publishing that book and to market a vegetable toy in a less gendered way were made by the companies responsible for producing those products… not the Liberal “cancel culture” ghoul. In fact, it’s really, really hard to find public outcry about any of the things that have been recently “canceled.” There was a single NYT article that recently discussed the problematic nature of the Pepe Le Pew cartoons… that said, Warner Bros hasn’t aired that show in decades and it is not clear whether that article had anything to do with the skunk’s scene being removed from the new Space Jam movie.

Even growing up I remember things like political correctness needlessly becoming a partisan issue. When we fall into that media trap, all we’re doing is watering the plant of an already poisonous and ineffective two-party system. Be bigger than that temptation. Push back against media intended to further divide Americans. If something stinks, it’s probably rotten. Sure, there are certain topics that fall under the umbrella of political correctness that sound alarm bells for censorship issues… but didn’t everyone’s mom tell them that if they didn’t have anything nice to say, they shouldn’t say anything at all?

Again, though, the most important thing to remember about this recent wave of “canceling” is that censorship concerns are moot. A person who owns a thing is legally allowed to do all the censoring they want. It’s not the government that has decided to stop publishing 6 books written by Dr. Seuss… if it were, we could have the censorship conversation. These changes aren’t happening because there is a Democrat in the White House. They’re happening because the company who makes these products, has for whatever reason, decided to take a different approach.

In the case of the Dr. Seuss books, Dr. Seuss Enterprises re-evaluated their choice to publish 6 books based on racist themes and images. I have only heard of two of those six. The image below is, in my opinion, objectively problematic:

The fact that a major company behind such a well-known name has seen that something is problematic and has decided to stop publishing the books containing overt racist images is awesome. It sets a great example that we can all learn from. Humans have an amazing capacity to learn… that’s one of the only reasons we are in charge here on Earth. If we fall on ice once, we are often more careful on ice the next time. When we see that something is racially problematic, it’s a good thing if we can take action to get that thing out of rotation. More on that later.

Fundamentally, what is happening right now in Media Land is gross sensationalism.

“Cancel culture” isn’t real. Should people face consequences if they say or do racist things? Yes. We should all agree on that. Should we stop publishing books that perpetuate racist stereotypes? Yes. There are plenty of non-racist books that provide an education about racial differences without the added (exceedingly inappropriate) zing of Asian characters being painted yellow and African characters being given monkey features.

If you’re not convinced that some of Dr. Seuss’s material is racially problematic, I encourage you to pop on over to Google to check out the series of ads he did for FLIT in the 1930s. Yes, it was the 1930s. In the last 90 years, we’ve learned that images like that are not okay… let’s use that knowledge to let old racist graphics die.

Still can’t accept that “cancel culture” isn’t real? Still feeling like there’s something in the air now that is different and worse than before?

Okay, then, let’s consider it further.

Things have been “canceled” by people for millennia… this isn’t new. Being all for cancel culture when Colin Kaepernick kneels for the anthem (a perfectly legal form of peaceful protest considered respectful by many veterans) but opposing cancel culture when it’s threatening to eliminate an obviously racist thing is not exactly a moral stance. Burning your Nikes in the street but then turning around and spending $400 on a copy of “If I Ran the Zoo” on eBay after Dr. Seuss’s own family has pulled it from publication due to racist imagery is… silly.

The same people who seem to be so vocal about “cancel culture” now are part of the same communities who tried to cancel plenty of things in my lifetime. Things like trick-or-treating, Harry Potter, school dances, books and movies with LGBT+ characters and themes…

History absolutely bubbles over with things that have been canceled… often for good reason! Some examples that come to mind: 

DDT

the Catholic Church (see the 16th century Protestant Reformation)

doing our everyday poopin’ in outdoor holes

polio

hoop skirts

phrenology (new science cancels old science like every damn day)

Ford Pintos (not to mention cars without seatbelts)

telegrams and rotary phones (replaced by easier and better ways to communicate)

lead paint

asbestos

Four Loco

Y’all remember when we all did the ice bucket challenge to cancel Alzheimer’s?

Learning that something is problematic and moving past it is LEARNING… not cancel culture.  Learning and growth are good things. We all benefit from them.

Another thing worth commenting on from that Cat in the Hat post that circulated in my Facebook feed: why do we consistently demonize sensitivity? Racism feels like something we should all be sensitive about. If being sensitive about something results in meaningful change and a less hateful country, isn’t that… good? Why do so many Americans seem to place so much value on their “freedom” to hurt others?

And don’t get me started on comparing this stuff to Cardi B. It boggles my mind that that’s happening at all. Why is there suddenly so much outcry about one song that features female genitals in a literal ocean of songs that feature male genitals. I grew up knowing every word to songs about sex well before I even knew what sex was. Your kids are only desperate to listen to WAP because they know it makes you squeamish. And take a second to think about why it makes you squeamish. Genitals are human and scientific and we literally all have them. If you have more of a problem with WAP than with any of the other 10,000 songs about dicks and sex, you need to spend some time examining why that is.

Here’s another post I’ve seen bouncing around the social media feeds:

Something about this is just plain hilarious to me. Like what are racism and rape culture if not THE REALEST issues? This country’s problem with systemic racism runs so, so deep and is reflected very plainly in centuries of cold, hard numbers. It’s not that I *think* systemic racism is a problem. The data very clearly shows that regardless of what white people think about race in this country, systemic racism absolutely IS a problem. Racism and rape culture, arguably at the root of the most recent canceling spree, are not just real issues, they’re real American issues. They’re cultural issues. And solving cultural issues is not easy. We know that these issues have been passed down through the generations so maybe changing children’s toys and books and shows isn’t such a bad thing to try. There is SO much work to do to address racism and rape culture in the United States, but small steps are still progress.

If choosing to stop airing a show that blatantly perpetuates rape culture means one less young person is stalked or assaulted or raped, that’s worth it, no? What if that one young person who doesn’t become a victim is your daughter?

If choosing to stop publishing a book with racist themes and images leads to even one kid understanding more about the nuance of race in America and the breath-taking extent of white privilege, that’s worth it too.

Would I rather the media spend time and money to bring American attention to bigger issues associated with this nation’s racism and rape culture? 100%. There are ENORMOUS fish to fry. Dr. Seuss is not an enormous fish. Potato head toys are not enormous fish. Pepe Le Pew is not an enormous fish. They’re not even big fish. They’re small. They’re tiny fish. They’re anchovies. But frying some fish is better than frying no fish.

Canceling Pepe Le Pew is not hurting anyone. Warner Brothers owns Pepe Le Pew. Warner Brothers owns nearly everything; they are not hurting for money. And canceling Pepe certainly isn’t hurting American kids. There are plenty of other kids’ shows to watch that are significantly less problematic. Just because you watched Pepe Le Pew and went on to be a properly respectful adult doesn’t mean there aren’t other kids out there who did internalize a harmful disrespect for consent. No, Pepe Le Pew probably isn’t single-handedly responsible for anyone’s decision to stalk or rape anyone else. But could a show reinforce the groundwork that ultimately leads a kid down a path where he is unable or unwilling to respect the boundaries of others? I mean, it’s not the craziest thing I’ve heard this week.

Canceling six total Dr. Seuss books that are already pretty obscure is not hurting anyone.

Changing the name of an already genderless potato toy to reflect that genderless-ness is not hurting anyone.

A brief recap: racism and rape culture are very real, very American issues.

If the decision to stop doing a thing doesn’t hurt anyone and may even save someone some hurt, why does that decision bother you?

Also, in all your frantic Facebook posting, make sure you are differentiating between “cancel culture” and consequences. When the media tosses around the phrase “cancel culture” it has this tone of finality that is, plainly, not realistic. Fads and trends move so quickly in the internet age that the idea that a group of people could “cancel” something permanently is just not possible. People who do or say racist things, though, should face consequences. People who do or say transphobic or homophobic things should face consequences. Consequences are one of the only ways we learn to do better. And again, that’s not my opinion, it’s science.

One of the consequences that can have the most impact is, you guessed it, losing money! In this capitalist hellscape, money talks. Boycotting and choosing how we spend our money are some of the most engaging ways to combat racist and homophobic garbage. When you have your temper tantrum because the company who owns a book with overtly racist imagery decides to stop publishing that book, that speaks volumes about your priorities. If you respond to that company’s decision by buying the book in question on eBay for $400, that speaks even louder volumes. What are you doing? WHY are you doing it? I’m guessing you don’t even know, and you should probably spend some time thinking about it before you flush away a chunk of your stimmy on a freaking RACIST KIDS’ BOOK.

All actions have consequences. All of our choices never affect just us. How we vote affects other people. How we spend our money affects other people. Spending our money on things that are problematic perpetuates the problem… whether it be racism, rape culture, homophobia, or transphobia… or so many other things this country desperately needs to address.

It’s human to not like change. Change is going to happen, though, regardless of whether or not we’re comfortable with it. In the information age, we have a remarkable opportunity to steer that change. Leaving behind racist relics is change, so it may be inherently uncomfortable. But change that moves our country away from racism and rape culture is GOOD change.

I am begging you. Use critical thinking… if you’re seeing a headline about something being canceled, look up WHY. Some of these headlines are absolute bunk… they’re shared just to get people all riled up and create American division. However, just like we *should* cancel lead paint, a children’s book with overtly racist images shouldn’t be published anymore and it’s weird if you disagree with that. Disagreeing with that decision, as silly as it may seem, perpetuates racism. I know how triggered y’all can get when someone suggests you might be perpetuating racism, but it is what it is. Do your research. Don’t spend your money on racist garbage. Be better.

I feel like this post is me just barking the exact same thing in different ways, but I also feel like there is so much more I could say.

I’ll leave you with this:

What will it take for Americans to weigh the threats of racism and homophobia the same way we weight the threat of lead paint? If it’s a matter of costing lives, well, the numbers speak for themselves.

#cancel culture #cancellation #racism #rape culture #the muppets #pepe le pew #dr. seuss #seuss #consequences #change #mr. potato head #potato head #cancel culture isn't real

[kissmyassloves]

The Selected Enola Holmes: Chapter Three (3)

Fair warning! This fic is not mine. It belongs to my frined ‘multifandomkingdom’ on AO3. I asked her to write it and thankfully she said yes Heres the link if you want to read it there. Enjoy! https://archiveofourown.org/works/27004441/chapters/65919898

Enola observed. It was one of the things she did best, after all. And right now, the recipient of her observation was Prince Reese's mother, Queen Athena. She had just joined her and the rest of the selected in the great room, and for what? Enola had yet to figure out. To be fair, she had just gotten there. But this was all Enola knew of her.

 The Queen was generally beloved by the people. Warm but reserved. She was the epitome of grace, composure, and regality. She said plenty with few words. And she was a traditionalist who was sometimes willing to bend for modernity's (her son's) sake. Enola had seen her for the first time today, and she politely greeted the selected as she sat down with a book. She had looked slightly guarded, but that was a mystery Enola would try to refrain from cracking.

  The girls around her had been practically gawking and attempting to make themselves presentable to who may become their future mother-in-law. And the thought made her realize something. She had read somewhere that Queen Athena had had trouble conceiving in the past. And that Reese was nothing short of a miracle baby. So Enola was beginning to understand why she looked so guarded. The daughter she never had may have been in this room, and she didn't want to be disappointed or show favoritism in case the one she would have wanted wasn't her son's choice. And so, in such little time, Enola had started to view her with new eyes. Because another thing Enola can now add to her personal knowledge of her majesty was the fact that she was also a tender, wise soul. And she hadn't even said a word to her yet. So much for that refrain earlier.

  The near-silence didn't last long as one of the girls, January, decided that she wanted to spark a conversation with the Queen. January was the type that naturally loved to hear herself speak. An ambitious girl, of course, but one who was so self-interested that she was oblivious to how negatively she was perceived. She was beautiful, so at least there was that. But so was just about every other selected girl that surrounded Enola. And Enola was willing to bet that January would be one of the first to go. Queen Athena was really an expert on exercising patience and maintaining a pleasant face because she listened to January with little to no input other than a polite response here and there. However, Enola could acknowledge that though January was many things, she also sort of got the conversation ball rolling. The others were starting to formulate ways to involve themselves in the growing talk, and not long after, they gathered on the floor in a semi-circle at the foot of the Queen's chair.

  Enola kept a small distance, but even she was invested in what the Queen had to say. And she had to admit, it was nice to just be a girl and listen to advise that by her standards was shocking when it came from someone like a Queen. But then she had to remind herself that Queen Athena came from relative poverty until she had won the selection and married the then Prince Dixon. She wasn't a stranger to the experience of being underprivileged and so her advice mirrored that of a person who has seen the world in a multitude of ways. Enola could admire that. 

  After a period of comfortable discussion (and more reading on Enola's part), she had heard an audible chorus of gasps and felt a shift in the air. Excitement spiked it now. She looked up to see the girls facing someone, and following their vision, she spotted a well-dressed Reese by the massive frame doors. He greeted the selected and kissed his grinning mother on the cheek with a pleasant and urbane smile.

  "So sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to stop by and say hello to you lovely ladies before you all begin to get ready for the interviews that will introduce you to the rest of the country and subsequently the world. No pressure, by the way,"

 He was met with light giggling in response. He surveyed the room subtly with a small smile and momentarily locked eyes with a smirking Enola. She could've sworn she saw his smile stretch just a little as he looked at her. And he continued,

 "Well, that was just about all I have time to do for now. Forgive me for being so brief."

January had other plans, though, and with a flirtatious simper, she retorted

 "So soon? We've only just gotten to see you. Stay with us a little longer; what's the harm?" 

 See? Ambitious.

 And January had inadvertently reminded Enola that she had a point.  This  was actually the first time that the rest of the selected had gotten to meet the prince. Enola had to remember that though she and Reese were already acquainted, that wasn't the same for everyone else. Reese glanced at his amused mother and then at Enola briefly and took January's slight eagerness in stride. Looking into her eyes and making his way towards her, he sweetly responded

 "No harm at all, in fact, it would be my pleasure. But unfortunately, we have a very tight schedule to keep. I can promise you that we shall meet again and soon." He sealed his promise with a delicate kiss on her hand.

 Huh . So Reese  could  flirt. And well too, apparently  (what? Enola could give credit where it was due).

 And she could see that the rest of the girls were now covertly staring daggers behind their books and fans at January, who was too intoxicated by her good fortune to care. Enola found it all rather amusing, to be honest. 

 And if she had been paying less attention, she may have missed the slight but subtle tug Reese gave his ear as he smiled and glanced at her before making his exit.

#enola holmes lord tewksbury #enola holmes x tewksbury #enola x tewkesbury #enolaholmes #enola holmes x lord tewksbury #enola holmes #Enola #enola tewkes #TheSelectedEnolaHolmesFanfic #theselectedenolaholmes #viscount tewksbury #viscount tewkesbury #viscount tewkesbury marquess of basilwether #lord tewksbury #lord tewkesbury #fanifiction #holmesbury fanfiction #holmesbury fanfic #holmesburyfanfic #holmesbury fic #holmesbury

[livayl]

when allergies (sneak) attack

- Or how Azariah met Sofia -  Summary: Azariah never had allergies before. Which is why she does not pay that much attention to the nagging itch and growing congestion she experiences after jogging outside. At least not until it keeps lingering and getting worse. Right next to that sweet baker´s food fair stall of all things.   This time no spelled out sneezes. But they and all the urgently growing tickles and congestion are thoroughly described. ;)  CW: I´ve mentioned mess/spray/wet sneezing and sniffling several times but it is not super descriptive. Also mention of food since it´s a food/bakers fair the two are at. Some cussing because Azariah tends to do that. Even inwardly.  Fic starts under the cut

Azariahs gaze wandered over the aisles and the various goods stacked up not sky but at least top shelf high. All peeking through the various food stalls where one looked more promising than the next. She normally wasn´t one who´d dive into shopping trips and crowded places for fun. But there certainly were exceptions: Like pushing her way through overcrowded streets to be rewarded with the newest fine clothing at any kind of fancy men's tailor. And the extra sweet topping of politely voiced confusion some of these suffered from when they noticed that, yes indeed, she was the customer. And wanted to try on this, that, and oh! Please give me the black Tom Ford one with the grey silk tie, too. Thank you. Instead of just searching a practical gift for her not existing boyfriend, fiancé or husband. Not that she would say no to some new cuff buttons herself. One could never have enough of them: Silver, gold, black, with engravings, all those different shapes... Azariah wasn´t one for wearing jewelry but surely did not mind gently adorning a suit to make it rise to the occasion even more. The other one was visiting various kinds of foods markets and the attached shops. Or going all in with this big ass fair packed to the brims with various baked goods, the sweetest treats and mouthwatering, savory deliciousness. Plus the perfect ingredients to create all that herself once back at home. The air was filled with various kinds of alluring smells. One more tempting than the other but never mingling to a point of being uncomfortable. At least that´s how it should have been. Azariahs nose was way too congested to tell. That damned thing had been a mess ever since she´d left the house for a run this morning. It had worsened more and more until running properly had become an actual challenge. And even a steamy shower had not properly managed to clear her sinuses. Instead only provoked a fit of harsh, draining sneezes that had forced her to brace both hands against the wall. They had left her breathless and dizzy without a bit of satisfaction. Or soothed need. Instead only intensified the pressuring congestion that did not vanish with the help of nose blowing either. It was weird and infuriating. To a point were she was so hopelessly stuffed up that her lips had to stay softly parted to breathe.

The irritation wasn´t stopping at that though. There was that constant buzzing itch that teased and tickled insistently enough to make Azariahs eyes water. And oh my fucking god those itched, too. Sometimes that constant, unwanted stimulation would rise and prompt her sharp, lightly downturned nose to twitch in response. Then tuck on her lips. Contort them into a snarl before her mouth opened for a series of urgent, gasping hitches. She´d cuss under her shaking breath and turn aside from anyone around her. Arm raised up hastily enough to show the fluent movement of muscles under her midnight blue button down shirt. She´d hover above the crook for a bit. Face helplessly scrunched up, long nostrils flaring back even further. Body tensed and chest moving with fruitless, teasing build ups that would crest in a frustrating and embarrassedly voiced false start. Right followed by another inaudible curse as she´d dab at her eyes. Or wince at a few very congested sniffles that made her whole sinuses burn. All that only to be forced to give a repeat performance a few minutes later. So much for enjoying her rare free day by eating piles of tasty food. Or gathering some inspiration for new dessert creations. Her nose seemed to have other plans apparently. And those were distracting enough to demand Azariahs full attention. Begrudgingly but undeniably so.

She was just about to head towards a bathroom to, well, do something against that. Get some relief and pause from that nagging, vexing tickle with whatever solutions some privacy could offer. But it seemed like her nose had other plans with these intentions as well. The lingering irritation sparked to live with irresistible force and pushed her past the point of no return. Azariahs breath first caught in her chest as if surprised by the sudden ferocious urge that tickle had caused. Then her eyes fluttered and face contorted with a deep, gasping inhale that so clearly spoke of need it was audible. She shuddered forward, stumbled amidst two steps, and fiercely sneezed into the crook of her right arm. The sound was loud and made the throat scraping quality clearly audible even when forcefully muffled. It left her hazy and a palpable damp spot on her shirt. Which would have made her curse again if not for apparently needing to repeat that as well. Right away, it seemed. Azariahs eyes had barely opened again when they fluttered shut anew in a flurry of black lashes dappled in irritated tears. She shook her head. Desperately, as if too ward off what could not be contained anyways. Then hid her face behind the still raised arm again as the second sneeze hit. Full bodied, demanding and unable to be restrained in any kind of way. Still, it wasn´t enough to soothe the burning tickle, that itch so hard to satisfy. Just fuelled another one. Azariah subconsciously braced herself against a nearby stall, almost crumpled against it. Her left arm came up to aid the cover the other one seemed lacking. Right in time for a deep inhale that titled her head back. Exposed widely flaring nostrils just above her forearm. A gasp before another forceful sneeze was muffled against the soft fabric. It made Azariah wince with the sound that was sharp and throaty yet underlined with spraying wetness. She shuddered at the short-lived aches the sneeze had left in it´s wake. Among a shit load of loosened congestion she tried to sniff back with a miserably gurgling, crackling sound. At least that wrenching triple seemed to have taken the sting out of the irritation. For now. Azariah blinked a bit dazedly in search for anything that could stem the flood threatening to leak out. Her fiercely blushed nose was securely tucked into her sleeve. Scrunched up with wet sniffles that were desperate enough to raise her shoulders. She was so occupied with her fruitless hunt for anything to mop up the mess that a sudden, very close voice startled her. "Bless you. Do you need a tissue?" It asked and was soft spoken but not timid. Just very gentle. "Well, it´s not tissues but napkins... Lots of those at least." The woman added and there was a hint of friendly amusement underlining the words.  Azariahs cheeks flushed in the same tone of her nose when she turned around to face the shop keeper. So that was the thing keeping her upright. The counter of  a small shop that sold cookies. Lots of them. "Jeez. I´m very sorry. That probably wasn´t the best thing to do around here." Azariah said with an apologetic smile that was still hid by her sleeve yet honest enough to make her grey eyes crinkle around the corners. Her voice sounded about as rough as she felt right now. "I swear I´m not sick. It´s just all that...Whatever that is..." She used her free hand to gesture to her face and teary eyes before taking the napkins and turning around. How could whatever that fucking was still tickle after all that? Her nose felt ready to fall off. "Allergies?" The woman asked in that same mellow tone that seemed also a little sympathetic now. A melodious accent curled around the vowels. It was very nice to listen to. Azariah shook her head, back still facing the shopkeeper. She had never suffered from allergies before. Why should that start today out of all times? Azariah thought and started to blow her nose as unobtrusively as possible. It ended to be an excruciating long, messy affair that used up the pile of napkins she´d been given. Well, completely destroyed those. Great, very appealing. "Excuse me." Azariah mumbled. Then turned around again and dumped the crumpled mess into a nearby bin. Still her nose had decided to keep leaking which made her sniff thickly again. She scowled at herself.   "... Aaand excuse me again. I should probably go off to be gross somewhere else." Azariah said with a sheepish laugh that was a little hoarse around the edges. Thus perfectly matching that scratchy feeling lingering in her throat. And irritating tingle that seemed to have settled in her nasal cavities for today. "Please take these with you then. And get well soon." The woman smiled. And damn, it was a gorgeous little gesture: Curving those plush lips upward. Then dimpling her softly shaped cheeks before sparking even more life into her big, brown eyes. Friendly, warm and crowned by long lashes. Colored in a tone of rich chocolate like the mass of long hair barely to be tamed by that thick braid. It looked so silky as it disappeared behind nicely rounded shoulders. Ah fuck, Azariah felt herself blush again. Even more so when she finally noticed the folded up napkins held out to her. Sure, just keep thinking about beautiful eyes and pretty smiles when your nose is dripping all over the place. That´s the way to go. "Yeah! Right. See you-huh no... I meant: Thank you!" Azariahs wince morphed into another sheepish, yet thankful smile. Then she turned on her heels to tactically retreat to the bathroom. Or well, maybe fleeing there. Just a little. She was sure to hear a friendly, good natured giggle trail after her. And somehow could not help but feel like she wanted to listen to it again. Even if it meant making a dorky mess out of herself.  

Maybe Azariah could recover from that embarrassment and come back to buy some of those cookies. To make up for the life-long supply of napkins she had just used. Besides, they had looked very tasty after all. Who could say no to them. They were awesome. And as an apology in case her sudden fit  had scared away some customers. That was just polite, right? She knew how to be polite after all. Mostly.   Maybe, after she´d manage to get her nose back under control and herself presentable again. For the...Cookies...That had been very nice... Looked very nice. Huh. Azariah groaned at her reflection in the mirror that looked about as flustered as she felt.

#my fic #my OC #Azariah #Sofia

[selfshipwritingandstuff]

Sleeping in the Arms of a Poet

Being the protector of Morrowind, the Nerevarine, was a full-time job. Every single person in Morrowind looked up to her, with admiration… but also a ton of expectations. So Sultana often found herself having to live up to the standard of Nerevar himself; a great hero whom memory made even greater.

Whenever someone contacted her, it was usually a request to slay a monster, or solve a dispute, or reclaim some stolen item. And every step of the way, she had to keep Nerevar‘s image in mind. Be strong, but not violent, be merciful, but not naive, be noble, but not conceited. An endless list of do‘s and don‘t‘s to consider while she dealt with the troubles of Morrowind‘s people.

So that was also what she expected when she received word that Vivec wanted to see her.

Her relationship with the former living god of Morrowind could best be described as… cordial. Then again, he was extremely hard to read. Vivec, like no other, understood to separate his personal feelings from business, so while he was always polite and patient when talking to her, he had never shown her any particular kind of fondness.

Vivec‘s audience chamber was dark and quiet, as it usually was, air heavy with incense. Vivec was levitating in the middle of the room, cross-legged and his hands resting on his knees.

„It has been a while since we last spoke, Nerevarine.“ How did he manage to make his voice sound so… emotionless?

„Is there anything I can do for you, Lord Vivec?“, she asked, getting straight to business just how she thought he liked it. „Any threats to Morrowind that I need to deal with?“

The former living god regarded her with a long, quiet look, before stating, quite matter-of-factly:„You are anxious."

Her physical response to that remark left no room for denial; widened eyes, sudden pallor followed by a flaming blush. She took a step back, with her hands raised in a defensive gesture, and stammered: „I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be. I can't show this kind of weakness if I want the people of Morrowind to trust me-"

„Sit down. With your back to me." Vivec gently lowered himself down from his levitating position and gestured in front of himself.

Sultana hesitated. But Vivec's tone, while perfectly neutral, left no room for arguing. It was odd, being so close to him and having her back turned to him. Reckless, maybe, considering the very real possibility that her alleged former self, Nerevar, had been killed by him. She gasped quietly when she heard him shuffle closer. Then his hands were on her sides.

„And now... Breathe."

„I wasn‘t aware that I stopped", she replied with a hint of frustration.

He let out a small, barely audible 'tsk'. „You are breathing, but too quickly, too shallow. Try to breathe slowly, deeply. Just follow my lead."

She quieted down and listened to his breathing; half an eternity seemed to pass between each time his chest rose and lowered. And as she tried to match that, heavy exhaustion took hold of her. Was that Vivec's doing, or had she been too tense to even sense her own fatigue?

Without her even noticing, her head dropped backwards until it came to rest against his shoulder. When she felt the contact, she immediately wanted to sit up again, but he pressed his hand against her forehead to keep her in position. 

„Vivec, this is really inappropriate…"

With a hint of amusement in his voice, the first sign of any kind of emotion he had shown her today, he asked:„What is? Me helping you ease your tension?"

Was that it? Her head felt foggy. "I… uh… I think that was it, yes."

„It really isn't. You are the protector of Morrowind now; and you cannot protect Morrowind with your mind clouded like that." With every word, his warm breath grazed her skin. Odd. The fact that Vivec, like very living being, needed to breathe had never even occured to her.

She slipped deeper into the haze, closing her eyes and deeply inhaling. He smelled of incense and parchment, ancient and yet very present; mortality and immortality clashing in the walking duality that was Vivec. Being so close to him was oddly intoxicating, his skin warm under her cheek when she turned her head to look up at him. She couldn‘t tell if this was some spell he was casting on her, or just her own exhaustion, or her being generally touch-starved. She just knew that she felt… safe. „I might fall asleep."

„Then sleep." He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her torso. „Nobody will bother us here. Nobody will question the time you spent with me here.“

Her hands found his, pale fingers intertwining with his of both grey and gold. Through the sleepy fog on her head she couldn‘t help but feel weird about… well… cuddling with Vivec of all people. But she was tired, and comfortable, and the incense and his warmth hardly even allowed her to form a coherent thought. So she gave herself to the sleep tugging at her, not caring what would happen when she awoke again.

#selfship writing #i still need a ship tag for Vivec #or maybe this title is a good ship tag #Sleeping in the Arms of a Poet