#i never got to do that but it doesn’t mean I won’t treasure the capital as if I did | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

myckicade · 3 years

Text

Prompt: Ok so we all know Coco is touch starved, and would be clingy af in a relationship. What about Coco x wife!reader, while she’s trying to do basic errands/chores and Coco is her shadow?

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one. I really have. Hee hee. I just adore Coco. <3 . This piece sort of follows the story of the last two Coco x Reader pieces I have written, but it will stand-alone, just fine. And, I swear, these things just have a mind of their own. I can continue to apologize for length, and content, but, in the end... I let the story tell itself. ;) . <3 .

As a warning, I come from Vermont, where we have a plastic bag ban. Last I knew, California was the first state to have one. I don’t know how that would translate to Santo Padre, but… When I mention fabric bags, I mean reusables, and the ban is why. ^^;;;;.

Title: Worthwhile

Teaser: He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it.

“Okay…” you murmur, slowly, eyes scanning over the paper in front of you. Fifteen items, nothing crazy. Shouldn’t take you more than an hour, tops, and that includes travel to and from the store. “I think I’ve got everything we need… And, specials included your beer, and those little frozen cream puffs.”

Beside you, Coco groans, deep and guttural. “Fuck, I love those things.”

You giggle, but keep reading. Your man is too damn cute. “Feminine products.”

“Do those count as special?” Coco genuinely sounds thoughtful, as he steps up behind you, where you are leaning over the counter top. He wraps his arms around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Kinda’ a necessity, ain’t they?”

Tipping your head, you glance to your husband. Seriously. This man is a treasure. “Why don’t you run for political office?” you tease, pleased when Coco chuckles.

“Yeah, my record’ll look great, on the campaign trail.”

You shrug. “You can tackle pink tax, and tax evasion, at the same time.”

Coco grins, and steals a peck off your lips. “What else you got on there, muñeca?”

“Hmmm, let’s see…” You turn back to your list, tapping the pen against your lips, thoughtfully. Spying the next item on it, you try not to let out another giggle. He’s not going to like this one. “Letty asked if we could have that cauliflower pizza thing for dinner, tonight.”

As expected, this groan is decidedly not from food lust. “Fuckin’ vegetarians. When the hell is she gonna’ get over this shit?”

“It’s just a phase, Coco,” you remind him, for the… Well, honestly, you’ve lost track. It started shortly after the wedding, Letty’s change in diet, and you’re still not convinced the two aren’t related. You’re just not entirely sure how. But, two months in, and she’s still looking healthy, so you won’t send up any alarms. “It’s very popular at her high school, right now.”

Coco scoffs, disgusted. “When the hell’d she start copyin’ other people, anyway? My girl ain’t no follower.”

The words send a shot straight to your heart. He’s a little rough, your Coco, foul-mouthed, and quick to anger. Untrusting, and bitchier than a woman, on his best day. But, once you have his love, you have it. All of it. The love he has for Leticia is the greatest proof. They may carry on like cats and dogs, but when push comes to shove, there is nothing they won’t do for one another. My girl. It brings a warmth to your soul, and a smile to your lips.

You shake it off, enough to formulate a response. “She’s figuring out how to be her own woman. Trying new things.” You shrug, not wanting to make a big deal of it. You were Letty’s age, once, of course. And, a girl, to boot. Some things, Coco just won’t be able to understand. “It’s a process.” He hums, still disgruntled, but doesn’t push out another word. “You want anything else?” you ask, holding up your list. “I’ve gotta’ get going, before I run into the football widows.”

Before you can even take a step away, Coco tightens his arms around you. “You sure you gotta’ go, though?” he asks, leaning in to brush his lips against your neck. “With the house all to ourselves, like this?”

“If I don’t go,” you start, as Coco’s touches gain intent, becoming teasing kisses. Damn him. It feels nice, you won’t lie, but there are other things on your mind, right now. Priorities.

You’re just… having trouble remembering what they are.

Oh. Yeah. Shopping.

“If I don’t go, we won’t have anything for dinner.”

Another kiss, accompanied by a barely-there swipe of tongue. You shiver, and Coco moves his lips to your ear. “We can order in,” he whispers, breath so invitingly warm against your skin.

Oh, this asshole.

“And, what are we supposed to have for breakfast, tomorrow?” you try, again. “Half an Eggo, and a pack of Skittles?”

Coco cuddles you closer, again. “Ain’t you never heard about livin’ on love, baby?” Some of his smoothest work, that is. And, it’s almost convincing. Almost. You can imagine the afternoon ahead, if you give in. Your clothes will come off, and won’t be back on until the last second, before Letty walks back through the front door. By that time, you’ll be too tired to roll your ass off the bed, let alone go grocery shopping. And, you promised Letty you’d talk Coco into that cauliflower pizza.

“Great as that sounds,” you agree, preparing to capitalize on the truth. You ease yourself away from Coco’s stubborn hold, and give him one more smooch, just to soften the blow to come. “I don’t think Letty will appreciate the sentiment.”

A third groan. You must be going for a record. “C’mon, (y/n).” Oh, he’s whining. It’s so cute, it’s unreal. “We’ll find some place that delivers that rabbit food shit.”

Unfortunately for Coco, you’re already grabbing your bag. Lucky for you. You’re still two seconds from giving him what he wants. (He just doesn’t need to know so). “I’ll be back in a while.” God willing. “If you think of anything else, call my cell.” You rush out the front door, and don’t look back. If you see the look on your husband’s face, you know you’re as good as done.

Well, what the shit? Coco stares at the front door as it closes, you on the wrong fucking side of it. His arms are at his sides, palms turned toward the ceiling. That went so well. He kind of can’t believe you just walked away, like that. Left him alone, and wanting. In your big, empty house.

He probably should have volunteered to tag along, instead of just chasing you off.

Fuck.

Glancing around, Coco tries to find something to do. Something to clean, at the very least. But, that’s the trouble with having moved in with you, after the wedding, he supposes. Ain’t nothing to tidy up. Not that the three of you don’t have possessions. They’re all just in their proper places. Probably Leticia’s doing, in the end. He’d had a long talk with her, before the move, that she absolutely has to keep her shit where it belongs. Your house isn’t like their house. There aren’t burn marks in the carpet, or gouges in the coffee table. Dishes go in the damned dishwasher, not left to pile up on the counter, or in the sink. Beds get made. Laundry gets folded, and put away. No more wrinkled heaps in the clothes basket. So far, the kid’s been doing good. Real good.

Coco, though? He’s never felt so unnerved in his life.

It was different when he just visited. Spent a night or two, here or there. He’d almost felt at home, then, stupid as it sounds. At home, with the knowledge he wasn’t staying. But, now? Now, the reality has settled in, and he feels so-so… out of place. There’s so much he’s struggling to adjust to.

You have a purified water system installed under the sink, where Coco is used to buying bottled water.

You have a dining room, where Coco and Letty are used to eating on the couch.

You have an extended cable package, whatever the fuck that is.

You kind of have it all, here, certainly by comparison to what Coco is used to. The best of everything. Which really makes him wonder – not for the first time – what the hell you’re doing with a dirt-poor biker for a husband? You’ve had this conversation, on multiple occasions, and you’ve explained yourself, every time. But, this time… This time, you’re not around to give that speech. You’re not around to hold him, and kiss his face, and reassure him in a way that only you can. No, you’re at the grocery store, shopping for Coco, and his kid, which was apparently a better offer than staying home with him.

Oh, nope. Nope, he’s doing it, again. He can feel it. You love him, he reminds himself. You’ve got his ring on your finger, his last name, and – God-willing – his baby in your belly. By choice. All by choice.

Coco takes a deep breath, in. Lets it back out, slowly. Tries not to get sick, for all the nerves coming up to greet him. He wraps one arm around his own torso, free hand moving up to cover his mouth.

Fuck, he hopes you get back, soon.

You let out a deep sigh, as you park your car in the garage. Oh, it is so good to be home, at long-last. Talk about Old Home Week. You’d run into everyone, and his brother, at the grocery store. Shopping had taken nearly twice as long as you’d meant for it to, and you just know Coco must be losing his mind, by now. You hate to think about it, in such terms, but, sometimes… Well, sometimes, Coco reminds you of a new puppy. You can’t really leave him alone, without some kind of separation anxiety creeping up on him.

Ah, well. At least he isn’t ripping down the drapes, and shredding the couch cushions.

You blink. Well. That you know of.

Shaking your head, you climb out of the car, mentally preparing to unload armloads of bags. Maybe, if you really, really try, today will be the day you can finally get all twenty bags in, in one trip.

Right. And, shortly thereafter, you can have both forearms set, and casted. Be a real turn-on, in the bedroom.

You’ve managed to grab half a dozen bags, when the door to the mud room opens. “Hey, don’t grab too many!” Letty warns, as she comes hopping down the steps. “Let us help!”

Glancing up, you smile. For having had such a rough start, Letty can be a sweet girl. You know she gets that from her father. “Well, thank you,” you reply, resting a few, fabric handles onto her outstretched hands.

Letty grins, lowering her hands to her sides, before leaning in. “Did you talk him into it?” she whispers, conspiratorially.

You snicker, and whisper back, “He isn’t getting a choice. He’s outnumbered.”

“Yes!” Her hiss of victory is hardly subtle, catching Coco’s attention as he pokes his head out the door.

“You two plottin’ against me, again?”

“Yes,” you and Letty reply, in unison, leading you to erupt into a fit of giggles.

Coco is all grins. “’Course, you are.” He strides closer, he and Letty dancing around one another as she moves into the house. You lean into the car, and retrieve a few more bags. If Coco’s out here, he might as well assist. He’s peering into the car, once you stand back up, and lets out a low whistle. “Damn, (y/n)! You buy out the whole store, or what?”

“Hardly,” you reply, dryly. You hold up your hands, offering Coco the bags. “Here you go.”

“Oh, don’t mind if I do.” Thankfully, your hold on the bags is solid. Instead of grabbing the groceries, Coco’s hands are suddenly groping all over you. One hand is settled firmly at your ass, the other sliding into your hair, at the back of your head. He wastes no time diving in for a slow, deep kiss, and, damn, does his timing suck. He could have at least let you put the bags down, first. The contact makes you tingle, and has you regretting your decision not to stay home. Coco pulls back, after a few seconds, and hums. “Mm. Best delivery ever.”

You can’t help the small snort of amused laughter that leaves your throat. “Good try, Coco,” you praise, easing back far enough to offer him the bags, again. The look of disappointment on his face is just pitiful. “I’m not banging you in the garage.”

He has the grace to mock gasp. “I’d never!” It’s a crock, and you both know it. He looks too amused to be repentant, and you look too aware to be angry. You just raise your hands, slightly, in a third offer. Coco sighs. “All right. All right.” He takes the bags from your hands.

“Thank you.” You grab another load for yourself, rounding the open car door to follow Coco’s lead, into the house. One more trip for each of you, and you should have it covered. So much for only buying fifteen items.

Coco might be right about buying out the store.

Watching from the dining room, Coco has a good view of you and Letty unpacking the last of the groceries. Damn kid, she’d thrown him out, about ten minutes prior.

“Less groping, more helping, Coco,” Letty had warned him, after he’d tried to pin you against the sink.

It had been his last warning. Now, he’s been banished. Not the worst thing in the world, not really. Over the last few weeks, he’s really learned that there are some tasks he’s not so fond of. Pruning roses… Yeah, he’s pretty sure you’ll never let him do that, again. And, hey, nobody told him what to fill the bird feeder with. Unpacking groceries goes on that list, somewhere between line-drying laundry, and a streak-free mirror. He’s not sure why. Goodness knows, it makes him feel like a kid at Christmas, most times. Since being with you, though…

Since being with you, he feels like he’s taking advantage of something.

Yes, groceries are a strange place to let that feeling land, but he can’t help it. Coco’s been responsible for feeding himself since before he cares to remember. The only time anyone provided his meals was during deployment, and half that shit barely passed for edible. You, though… You keep the house stocked with more food than he’s seen anywhere, outside of a corner market. Letty always has options to take to school, and there’s a nutritious dinner on the table, almost every night. (Some nights, he actually does win the battle for delivery). If Coco goes on a run, you send him along with snacks for the road. And, yeah, he kinda’ likes that. He also likes the energy bars you picked out for him, last week. Something with cherries, and dark chocolate. He wonders, for a second, if you picked up any more. Come in handy during his mid-week trip outta’ town.

Coco blinks. Then, he does it again, just for good measure. That’s it. That’s what’s so fucking weird about this whole thing.

It’s you.

Okay, no, it’s not you, you. But, it’s you. It’s you, taking care of him. It’s you, seeing to his needs. Letty’s needs. It’s you, being his wife, his partner. It’s you, slotting into the place of role-model for his teenaged daughter. Welcoming them into your home. Not treating it like it’s your home. It’s you, being so fucking perfect for him, it’s taken his mind all this time to catch up with reality.

Coco doesn’t get perfect. Perfect doesn’t want him.

Except, now, it does.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Coco strides into the kitchen. He doesn’t wait for you to put the box of pasta in the cupboard. He just takes it from your hand, ignoring your confused look, as he tosses it onto the counter.

“Coco!” Letty admonishes, but it’s no use. He’s already lifting you off the floor, arms around your perfect backside. The kid gives a long-suffering sigh, he hears it, but pays it no mind.

Nothing – nothing – is going to keep him from holding you in his arms.

Your own arms go around Coco’s neck, and you smile down at him, surprise still lingering in your eyes. “Uhm… Hi, there.”

Coco grins. “Hey, muñeca.” Leaning up, he pecks you on the lips.

“Can I help you with something?” you ask, to which Coco shakes his head. Closes his eyes, as your fingers play in his hair.

“Nah. Got all I need.”

Pulling a package of mixed vegetables from the half-unpacked shopping bag, Letty rolls her eyes. You two… God, you’re gross. Coco always has his hands on you, no matter what you’re trying to do. It’s a wonder you don’t carry a damned fly swatter around. Actually, it’s a wonder you ever accomplish anything. He’s always smooching, and smiling, and snuggling at you. It’s disgusting. It’s pathetic.

It’s so damned cute, it’s sickening.

Really, Letty’s enjoying seeing Coco so happy. Like, genuinely happy. Not the false pride he carries around with his kutte. He’s more relaxed, nowadays. He drinks less, and he spends more time at home, both of which mean he’s not hanging around with those skanks at the clubhouse. He eats more, he’s healthier… Nothing to complain about, there.

And, hey, she has no complaints about you, either. You’re pretty cool, all-around. A woman who takes care of herself, and her family, and doesn’t bitch about either one. You’re not using Coco for money, or status, none of the shit she’s always been worried her father would fall into. There aren’t arguments, every night, not even between herself and Coco, as of late. No hostilities, nothing to avoid the house over. Just good dinners, and movies, and a new fish tank in her room. (Okay, so, you’d earned some major points with that birthday gift. She hadn’t actually expected to get one, when she’d mentioned it). For the first time, she understands what a peaceful, happy family feels like. It feels nice. It feels like home.

Glancing back to where Coco now has you perched on the counter top, stealing the most syrupy-sweet smooches… Letty can’t help but smile. Home is A-okay by her.

The sound of the air conditioner humming in the bedroom usually lulls you right to sleep. Tonight, it’s just providing you with white noise, a low background track to your thoughts. You don’t mind, not really. It gives you a few minutes to reflect on the day that’s just ended. To plan your day, tomorrow. To weave your fingers through Coco’s hair, and listen to him breathe. That, alone, makes it worthwhile.

Coco has been asleep against your shoulder for nearly an hour, now. Your arms are wrapped around him, comfortably, his own around your waist. You’d urged him up to bed, after he’d fallen asleep on the couch, his head in your lap. He’d snoozed from the middle of the movie, to the end of the nightly news report. Letty had tsked, and complained that no one had any business, whatsoever, in falling asleep during Zombieland. (How he’d stayed asleep was still a wonder to you, both, for how hard you’d been laughing at Tallahassee). With your fingers in his hair, Coco had been blissfully unaware for a couple of hours.

Glancing down, you take in the sight of your husband’s sleeping face. He looks so damn peaceful, the kind you’d outright murder to preserve for him. Coco’s still struggling with sleep, and relaxation, even though you’d hoped it would ease up, once your nuptials had passed. Most of it, you know will never go away. Anxiety doesn’t have a magic wand, or some perfect little on/off switch. And, all things considered, today wasn’t a terrible day. You’d been able to leave the house, with minimal panic on Coco’s part. Granted, it had taken extra time to get the groceries put away, and dinner made, but… You understand, as much as you are able to, that Coco needs the reassurances. It doesn’t cost you anything to carve a few moments from the day, every here and there, to give him what he needs.

Okay, so it did cost you that first batch of pancakes, this morning. They’d burned on the stove, and set off the smoke alarms, when he’d insisted on a dance through the living room. But, Coco loved the song you’d been playing on your Spotify, so there was really no denying him.

Oh, and… Yeah, you’d missed that phone call from the bank, the week before. Your husband had slipped up next to you, on the porch swing, and snuggled you to within an inch of your life. An easy fix, and you still got the business loan, but…

And, sure, you’ve been late to work, on numerous occasions. Coco has a habit of sneaking into your morning shower. And, after that… Well, hell, you own the company. It’s not like you have to explain to the boss that you’re late to your shift, on account of baby-dancing. (Fucking forums).

Point is, you’re more than happy to take care of Coco’s emotional needs. It may take you an extra hour to pay your bills. Daily tidying may have become every-other-day-if-you’re-lucky tidying. And, your ass may have gone numb, tonight, while he slept on your thigh. During which time, you could have loaded the dishwasher. Taken out the trash. Any number of tasks that have been neglected, in the name of Coco. They can wait.

Leaning in, you press a tender kiss to your husband’s forehead, before settling back in, and closing your eyes. Yes, chores can wait. Work can wait. The whole world can hold it, with both hands. So long as you’re around, Coco’s well-being will never have to take the back seat.

P.S. If Coco denies it, he’s full of it. He fucking loved that cauliflower pizza. Fucking vegetarians, indeed.

Masterlist | Request | Tag List

#mayans m.c. fanfiction #mayans m.c.#coco x reader #coco x you #coco cruz x reader #coco cruz x you #johnny coco cruz #anonymous request #fanfiction requests #ask box fic

213 notes · View notes

op-peccatori · 4 years

Text

Upon This Sword | MLQC Gavin

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Knight!Gavin/Queen!Reader

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: You’ve fought to keep Gavin by your side for a long time. When the time comes to let him go, will you find it in you to let him do the right thing?

Word Count: 6621

Warnings/Tags: fantasy au, royalty au, minor language, mentions of death, congrats you are a queen!!!, extreme cheesiness because I’m a block of cheese for these guys

a/n: yes, this is the result of reading chapter 22. I strongly debated posting this on here but honestly, I had so much fun with it I’ll probably do parts for the other boys too (~˘▾˘)~ this is an unholy union of all the fantasy shows and webtoons I’ve ever consumed.

With the early morning sun just barely making its appearance, the sounds of heavy footsteps thudding against the ground of the courtyard drown out all other sounds in the castle.

“Keep your heads up, we’ve got a few more laps to go!”

You’re aware of the eyes boring into your back, knowing there are some trying their best to stay averted, ones still glinting nervously. It hasn’t been long since you started joining the soldiers in their drills instead of working privately, but it seems not all have gotten used to your presence.

You keep your gaze fixed on the one leading the group.

Amber eyes glance back at you for the briefest of moments, a sharp brow cocked your way questioningly. A guileless smile is your only response; you pretend you hadn’t just been studying the way his shoulders flex under the thin layers of his clothing. He continues to run, unfaltering, drenched with sweat; his hair, gathered up tightly, sways with hypnotically, its edges brushing the top of his spine.

You follow, not much better off yourself, with your sleeveless tunic and leather armour clinging to you like second skin but you can’t deny the spring of motivation welling up with the presence of the others around you.

By the time the sun is high in the sky and the stone keep castle is buzzing with life, you’ve switched to sparring.

The clash of steel has heads turning, and the figures clashing keep them turned. The others have paired up, walking away as fast as possible after receiving their instructions, eager to get away from the two of you circling each other like a pair of eager, sweaty hawks.

You see pursed lips twitch, so subtle if you were anybody else you would’ve missed it, and you’re just barely swift enough to dodge the jab to your side.

Gavin narrows his eyes at you.

“You really need to work on your tells,” you tell him seriously, before propelling yourself forward to strike him head-on. He blocks it with a grunt and a tiny roll of his eyes.

“Not if you’re the only one who catches them,” he mutters, shifting his weight and you slip away, your longsword sliding off his, an impish grin blooming along your mouth.

“It’s only a matter of time before others catch up. Or are you saying you just let your guard down around me?” Your smile is saccharine as you swing your weapon in a high arc; he meets you with a strained laugh, swords meeting with a loud ring.

“Around you? I’m no fool,” he says before you both stop horsing around and charge in with a flurry of attacks, striking hard and fast. You keep him in your line of sight, focused on every minute movement from him. From the slight bend in his knees to the glistening bead of sweat at the top edge of his upper lip, your senses deeply attuned to him.

29-30 is the current tally—in Gavin’s favour. It’s time to avenge your pride.

‘I’ve got this.’

“Your majesty!”

Your sword lands in the mud behind you, the tip of Gavin’s quickly pointed at your heaving chest. The both of you turn in stone-faced unison to see Minor standing behind the fence with his hands clamped over his lips.

“That doesn’t count,” you say at once and Gavin grins at you, not budging an inch.

“Shouldn't have gotten distracted. A loss is a loss. Say it.”

Looking like you’ve eaten the most disgusting fruit in Loveland and trying to school your face into something more dignified, you sigh with no small measure of frustration.

“I suppose. This victory is yours.” He backs off without another word, rolling his shoulders as he visibly basks in the glow of his unfair win.

And then you turn to glare at Minor, who winces at the ire in your face.

“I’m so sorry! It was Anna! I mean, she sent me to inform you that there’s a council meeting in an hour.”

You see Gavin pause in your peripheral vision; there are a number of reasons why the small council would need to call a meeting, but with the recent tensions with a neighbouring kingdom, Sethia, you wonder if there’s more bad news coming your way.

A grumble on your lips, you move to yank your sword out of the ground. “This is it for now.”

You watch, unamused, as Gavin inclines his head deeply. He slicks sweat-slicked bangs back, leaving you momentarily distracted by the sight of his forehead. He smiles that quiet little smile, the one that leaves you smiling back helplessly. “Your Majesty.”

“See you.”

You reach up to feel your own damp, and maybe a little muddy hair. An hour. That’s barely enough time to clean up well enough for Anna’s standards and get some food in.

“Minor, I’m going to need some help.” You could probably get some in if someone else wrestles your hair into compliance.

“On it, boss. I’ll have someone send up a plate once you’re done cleaning up.”

From your seat at the head of the table, fingers drumming on the wooden surface without missing a beat, you study each member of your council in grim silence. Not all of them are people appointed by you; some of them you wouldn’t trust with a treasured brick, even if they’ve sworn oaths to you. If it belongs to you, they’d find a way to use it. It makes you uncomfortable, but there’s not much you can do about them.

Sunlight pours in from the wide windows, bathing the room in a soft, bright glow. It would make you sleepy if not for the stress of what’s coming.

“We’ve received reports of increased activity by Sethian soldiers near the borders,” Anna informs you, jogging a stack of papers, face set evenly. She remains the picture of grace, the one guiding presence in your life after the passing of the previous ruler—your father.

You nod at Anna, leaning back in your ornate chair.

Some council members you would trust with your life—have trusted with your life. She never loses her cool, not in front of you, and it allows you to hold onto the calm a little better.

“How many?”

“Not big enough to worry, but it’s unusual.”

“Knowing their king, I’d say it’s enough to worry,” you muse, a sour taste filling your mouth at the thought of the man. There had been an incident involving envoys from the other kingdom. In a suspicious case of misidentification, the small group had been killed. The soldiers involved, your own, had sworn to all the gods above that they had believed them to be enemy spies but could not give an account of who had given them that information, or why they had charged in and killed them without reporting them first.

It left everyone perplexed, but the biggest consequence of that was the Sethian king crying for blood. The soldiers had been stripped of their ranks and handed over for interrogation, but the muddled explanations were not satisfactory for the other ruler. While your kingdom wasn’t small by any means, you still wished to avoid warring with Sethia, what with all the other threats in the lands.

“Ahem.” You look over to see Leto frowning at you. “I agree, Your Majesty. Which makes me wonder if it’s wise to have certain council members here.”

As one, all of them—except you—shoot speculative glances at the man to your right, seated opposite Anna. Gavin stares back at them unflinchingly, and you draw their attention back to you with a light cough; fighting to keep your hands relaxed, choosing instead to lean in and rest your chin against steepled fingers.

He’s much older than you. Leto has been on this council since your father’s time, and you can admit he’s good at what he does. As the Minister of Laws, and thus the head of law enforcement he’s done a fantastic job of controlling crime within your lands, especially the capital.

But there has always been something about him that makes you want to recoil and keep him away. Whether it be the barely-hidden mockery in some of the things he says, the contempt clear in his gaze, or the hunger for power barely contained by his respect for the rules. There is also, of course, the biggest source of your aggravation when it comes to the man.

“You think it’s unwise to have our Lord Commander attend a council meeting, Lord Leto?” There’s a note of warning hidden in your silken voice, but the man doesn’t flinch. “One that involves reports of enemy soldiers?”

“I merely wish to remind you of our Lord Commander’s origins. He is, after all-”

“The man who wins our battles for us and keeps us safe. That is all you should keep in mind when it comes to Lord Gavin.” Your tone had been sharper than intended. Not waiting for a reply, knowing there won’t be one worth listening to, you turn to Gavin. “What do you think?”

How he manages to remain level-headed even in the face of Leto’s ridiculous suspicion is beyond you, but it’s always been one of his more agreeable traits. “It could be a red herring, but we still need to keep an eye of them.”

“Send Eli to the borders, give him fifty men. More if you think it’s necessary. And have someone contact the Mage Tower.”

“You think the mages will get into it?” Anna asks. “They’ve always remained neutral.”

“And I’d like to keep it that way. Has their head mage been located?” Your father taught you many things when it came to relations with different factions in all the lands. One of them had been to never, ever make an enemy of the mages.

But if you do, make sure you have people of similar power on your side first.

“No. His Excellency—Lord Lucien is still missing.”

“Assign some men to help them, just make sure you pick the ones less likely to be freaked out by mages. Actually, tell Karyu he’s got the mission, but have him give you an accurate list of the men he recruits. Tell him to work with our spymaster.”

“I’ll have a word with her, we need more eyes in Sethia’s capital as well,” Gavin says, wincing at the thought of having to track down the elusive member of their council. She probably already knows what’s going on, but you should still have a word with her about showing up for these meetings.

“Tell her to come find me.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

You cast an expectant gaze around the table, ignoring the pointed looks by the old crones you wish could be forced to retire.

“Are we done, then?”

“One more thing, ma’am,” Leto leans in with a tight-lipped smile, eyes drifting to the man on your right once more. The determined look in his eyes has your hackles rising at once. “I know you said not to bring it up, but I must, once again, impress upon you the importance of keeping peace with Sethia.”

“What’s on your mind, Lord Leto?” you ask, trying your level best to keep your discomfort out of your voice. He looks at the members sitting around him before meeting your eyes, straightening his posture a little more. You don’t think it’s necessary; if the man stiffens up any more he might snap something.

Oh, perhaps he should keep puffing up a little more.

“Keeping his origins in mind, I feel the need to ask if you think they could actually be of help to us.” Gavin seems to be listening intently, much to your secret dismay. “He was born in Sethia, regardless of his current position, and I wonder if, perhaps, we couldn’t arrange a diplomatic visit to arrange a treaty—one led by Lord Gavin, of course.”

‘Oh, you would just love to send him back into the jaws of the wolves, wouldn’t you?’ you think darkly.

“As you said, my lord, Lord Gavin was born there,” you respond, keeping your tone neutral. “But he has lived here longer than anywhere else; he belongs to our kingdom. To answer your question, no, I do not think it would be wise to send him to treat with them. I doubt they would respond as peacefully as we hope they might.”

Leto looks far from pleased at your answer.

“Now, if there’s nothing else, I believe lunch is ready.”

You shoot out of your seat, striding off before anybody can stop you, and the clanking of heavy armour tips you off to Gavin’s presence behind you. Closing the heavy door behind you, you grab him by the arm and pull him into an alcove near the door, behind the statue of one of your esteemed ancestors. He doesn’t even protest, long used and resigned to your antics.

With how often you’ve used it, you wonder if one of your predecessors created this space for the very same purpose.

Gavin stands close behind you, enough that you could lean against him easily if you wished to do so. You very much do, but now is the time for some basic espionage, not acting on your often overwhelming emotions.

His breath puffs warmly against the nape of your neck as he leans in, no doubt straining his ears. You remember the first time you had done this, a smile curling along your lips when you remember the aghast look on his face at your sneaky ways.

You hear the door open, Leto’s calls of ‘Your Majesty!’ following. You both stay quiet as some of the other council members approach him.

“It was a good plan, Lord Leto. But you know she would never agree to send him away.”

“Hasn’t this gone on long enough? The late king took him in out of the kindness of his heart, treating him like one of our own, but their closeness is simply unacceptable,” Leto mutters, and you can imagine the great scowl on his face with ease. “How is any future husband of hers to accept it?”

“He’s an important asset to the military. Surely, you cannot disregard his achievements,” one of his friends try to offer.

“I’m not. I agree that he’s a gifted soldier, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is a foreigner. And yet, she still treats him like her beloved pet.” Their voices fade as they begin to walk down the hallway, but you stay in your little space, trying to breathe through the sudden rage that demands you find Leto and send him on a vacation to the dungeons.

“It’s not like that,” you whisper, all the doubts you had never quite buried finding their way to the surface once more. Because how you see the two of you differs greatly from how others see you: a fledgeling queen and her foreign knight.

“I know that. The people who matter know that,” he says into your hair. You exhale forcefully, nodding at his words. Sensing the calming waves of your mind, he continues.

“He’s an asshole, but his plan has some merit,” comes a murmur that threatens to send you hurtling back into a temper. You whirl around, looking at him in disbelief, advancing on him until he’s pressing back into the wall.

Much to your consternation, he remains infuriatingly calm even in the face of you nearly breathing fire at him.

“Oh, he’s not wrong, you say? Why don’t we fix this, then? His other solution was to marry you off, maybe we should pursue that plan too?” you spit out through gritted teeth, a voice in your head telling you none of this will help but you can’t stop the rapid thrumming of your heart in your veins. Leto has a way of getting under your skin and you’re tired of letting him, but he just makes you so angry.

“It would’ve helped,” Gavin agrees, raising a hand to tuck a lock of your hair behind one ear. “But as I told him, I could never leave your side.”

His smile is softer than all the fabrics you’ve touched in your life and good god this man puts Peggy’s desserts to shame.

“You could.” Your shoulders slump as you recall the furious threats you had made against the councillors wanting to marry Gavin off. “I’d never force you to stay.”

“No, I couldn’t,” he says firmly, and the anger leaves you in a rushed breath when armour-clad arms wind around your waist, pulling you in. You pretend you can hear the familiar, steady beat of his soft, martyr heart beneath the steel as he tucks your head under his chin.

“I don’t own you, Gavin,” you repeat, for the umpteenth time. “We’re friends. We’ve known each other since we were ten. Short of committing a massacre, you know I would support whatever decision you make.”

Friends.

A wary, subdued boy in plain clothes, standing at your father’s side when he returned from war. A ward, he’d declared, from Sethia. Be nice. You remember being baffled at his presence, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You had fallen into slumber near the window, and at the first sound of hooves thundering across the grounds you had sprinted to the hall.

But who was this little boy looking like a baby bird displaced from its nest? Surely, his parents would come looking for him.

Years went by, and there was no attempt at contact from Gavin’s people. You used to pester him about it, asking if he’d like to send them a letter, but his response was always a little smile and a quick shake of his head.

“They don’t want me back,” he told you once. “I like you much better anyway.”

That was the day you decided Gavin was one of you. If they wanted him back, they would have to fight you for him. It was risky, to allow him to join the military. It just wasn’t done. Wards were glorified hostages, a way to keep kingdoms in line.

But Gavin is ours now. He won’t go back.

He still faces contempt from people who believed he was a spy, a man who could tear the country apart. But he remains steadfast at your side through it all, content to shield you and strengthen your soldiers. A warm, reliable presence. Somewhere along the way, he became a big part of what home means to you.

“I never asked you, did I?” you realize, all of a sudden, cheek smushed against unyielding plate, fingers tracing the symbols etched into the metal.

“Ask me what?”

“If you wanted to go back. To Sethia,” you clarify and your heart throbs madly as you wait for him to reply.

He takes moment to think it through.

“I did when I first came here. Everything was unfamiliar, I didn’t know anyone...it wasn’t home,” he admits, and you pull back slightly, scrutinizing his expression. You feel his breath on your skin, see his mouth so close; you force your eyes back up, grappling with the sudden surge of desire. His proximity flusters you more than he would ever know.

He shifts slightly, his own gaze drifting down your face before he looks up quickly. Feeling a bit too warm, you finish his train of thought in the way you’d hoped it would end.

“But...now everything is familiar and this is home?” You can’t hide the hope in your eyes, and he doesn’t reply for a moment, expression blank. You feel his hands struggling with something behind your back, but just as realisation dawns he’s pinching your cheek hard with a gloveless hand, a laugh shattering his poker face at your immediate disgruntlement.

“Yes. This is home,” he assures you, warm tones and honeyed eyes leaving you feeling disconcertingly hot. You avert your gaze with haste, your stomach clenching with emotions that still give you sleepless nights, and Gavin releases you only brush his fingers along your jaw and cup your cheek. “Which is why I ask that you let me do whatever I can to help.”

The warmth leaves you in an instant. You slip out of his comforting hold and out of the alcove without another word. “No. Time for lunch!”

You stalk away, breath heavy and fists clenched, oblivious to the man standing at the end of the hallway. Gavin, who slips out behind you, watching you go with a hooded, wistful gaze, turns to look at him.

“Lord Commander,” Lord Leto greets him, a tiny, knowing smile on his lips. “I believe we have some matters to discuss?”

You’ve already disappeared around the corner, and with a sigh, Gavin follows him.

You’ve loved Gavin for nearly half your life.

You don’t know when it went from trying to make the quiet, moody boy smile, to the same boy’s smile making your entire day better. You don’t know when you fell in love. It’s carved into you so deeply you wouldn’t know who you’d be without it. You’ve gotten into all sorts of mischief together, but kept each other out of trouble and had each other’s backs no matter what.

Gavin has devoted his life to protecting you, but you value his safety and happiness just as much. You’ve fought to keep him with you, to make your home his home, and you will continue to do so until your dying breath. It would be him and you, fighting at each other's backs, sneaking food from the kitchens late at night, learning how to sew because you did everything together.

He was there when your father left you, standing at your back as you beat your sword, and your anguish, against a training dummy. He was there with his clear eyes and no judgment, coaxing you to eat something when it felt like your appetite had deserted you. He helped you breathe.

You had been there for each other after your first kills.

It’s not as if everyone suspects him. The men he fights with admire him deeply, looking to him for guidance and as a role-model. Most civilians have even set their prejudice aside, acknowledging his loyalty, won over by his charismatic demeanour, charming people everywhere he goes, often to your own frustration—mostly because you feel you’re not nearly as likeable, despite Gavin’s assurances.

But he has a place here.

“So why are you telling me you’re leaving?” you ask numbly, standing in your chambers, in your nightgown as Gavin tries to get you to put a robe on before giving up and wrapping it around your shoulders.

It’s been a week since the council meeting, with more reports of Sethian sightings coming in. You had just awoken to Gavin’s knock at your door. He’s not in his armour, dressed comfortably for long travels instead and there’s a distinctly guilty look in his eyes, with a steely resolve sheltering it. There’s a scroll in his hands.

Your heart plummets at the sight.

“If I don’t at least try—it might work, ___,” he says, so earnest it might break you. “Eli will be taking over for me, they’re sending someone else to the borders.”

“Or it might not, and they’ll kill you. And then I’ll kill them.” He sighs, rushes to you, dropping the paper on a table before cradling your pale cheeks and forcing you to meet his gaze. You wonder if you could reach it before him and throw it in the still lit hearth, set it on fire before he can do anything. “No.”

“Will you force me?” he asks, and a slap to the face would’ve hurt less. He notices how your face crumbles and looks slightly apologetic, but still so damn determined.

“You know I won’t.” He dips his head, pressing his forehead to yours, sweet syrup on his breath and he doesn’t get to do this, not when he’s leaving.

“I know. This is something I need to do. But, listen to me. I will come back to you.”

“Is it because you want to leave? Did I do something?” you croak, thoughts on the verge of spinning out of your control, and he visibly holds himself back from leaning in. “You’re my family. You know that, don’t you? I don’t care if they’re of the same blood as you, I…” you can’t bring yourself to continue, keeping your eyes locked with his despite the tears springing in them. But he understands.

And so he steps back to unsheathe his sword, sinking to one knee. His sword—one of a pair, forged for the two of you when you both came of age. They’ve never been too far apart either. God, you had been so confident that he’d be with you forever. He holds it pointed down, the tip of it sinking into the thick carpet.

“Listen to me.” His tone is firm in that way he uses when he needs you to focus.

You attempt to quiet your mind, knowing full well your heart is a lost cause, feeling as if the floor is collapsing beneath you.

“ ___. I swear, upon this sword, I will come back to you. Alive.” You stare down at him in conflicted silence. “You’ve protected me for so long. Let me fix this for you. I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t try. And...”

You clutch the silk of your nightgown anxiously.

“And if I didn’t feel the same way, I would never even think of going back there,” he tells you, a glow settling about him as the sun begins to peek at your parting.

“If they hurt you...” you warn, eyes darting to your own sword out of habit, where it rests near your bedside. He reaches for your hand, brushing his lips across the back of it and keeping them there for a moment. Even with the chaos swirling within your chest, the soft contact sends your nerves tingling.

“I know. It won’t come to that.” He looks up at you, soulful eyes pleading and chipping away at your resolve. “Will you sign the mission?”

It’s true. You have protected Gavin, kept him close and within reach. This is a moment that will change your lives forever. You could choose to refuse, and not sign off on this. You could keep him safe.

Or you could trust him.

You sign it in resigned silence.

You could never disrespect him, or do him the injustice of not believing in him when he’s done nothing but support you all this time.

‘You don’t know that they won't hurt you. And I know you know that,’ you think, watching him walk to the door, turning to smile at you one last time. ‘Other people aren’t like you. They’re not good.’

You wave back at him, trying to muster a smile, but the thought that this could be the last time you see him makes it near impossible. “Gavin?”

He hovers at the threshold, hand resting on the mahogany door frame. Words unspoken hang in the air between you. They’re crawling up your throat, roaring to be let out, but you swallow them like you’ve done for years.

“When you return, there’s something I have to tell you. So...Don’t take too long. I’ll be waiting.” He hesitates, wanting to ask. He leaves with a small nod.

It’s not goodbye. But the pain you feel, a quiet helpless prickling, cannot be reasoned with.

Gavin had come to your home a boy with a chip on his shoulder, and a determination to prove himself. Before you knew it, he became the one man you knew you wanted to spend your life with.

But even Anna had never been on board with that.

“You could do it. But it would make all our lives very, very difficult.”

So you had never told him how you feel. You had gathered up your love and willed it to hide within you, but it always showed, threatening to burst at the seams at the most inconvenient times. It showed how you would seek him out the minute you had some free time. How you insisted on learning together, and snuck him sweet cakes whenever he felt low. In how you watched him do the most mundane things as if he was channelling the wind his ancestors were famous for.

It became obvious when you reacted to his suitors with clear disdain, and sometimes your sword. It’s not something you have ever been able to contain, not completely.

It’s been two months. Two numbing months without him, spent pacing restlessly, asking for reports obsessively, waiting for news from the docks. It’s a bitter, hopeful taste on your tongue, a rope wound tight in your chest.

You have a few regrets. Maybe should’ve told him how you felt. Or begged him not to go. You could’ve met the king in neutral lands.

You look back down at the report in your hands, something about the fae. But the words seem to keep dancing at the edges of your comprehension, and you feel frustration rise swiftly as it’s prone to do without Gavin here to temper you. It’s unfair to put the responsibility on him, but everything just keeps reminding you that he’s not here.

There’s a series of urgent knocks at the door to your study.

“Come in,” you call out, placing the document down with no small measure of relief at the prospect of a distraction. Perhaps you should add this to the list of things you hate doing without him: read.

The door flies open to reveal Minor, panting heavily—but smiling widely. Hope blooms anew in your chest and you fight to control it.

“It’s him,” he breathes. “The ship docked nearly an hour ago. Lord Gavin’s back.”

There’s no hiding your anxiety as you watch the gates.

You had been advised to wait in the throne room, where you accept other visitors, and you had seen fit to ignore that. This isn’t a visitor.

For a brief second, you wonder if your attire is too casual, before dismissing it; it’s just Gavin. At least you’re in a dress—a plain peasant dress it may be—although Anna doesn’t seem to agree with that sentiment.

A few soldiers had been sent to escort them from the docks, Gavin’s personal horse taken along despite concerns that it could be seen as inappropriate. Why would it be? It’s his horse.

And when he rides in through the gates, you nearly collapse at the sight of him unharmed. Relief fills you, pushing out every ounce of worry you’ve kept bottled up, and you can finally breathe again. His hair is shorter. He looks a little tired but that’s to be expected with the long journey. When he dismounts, the parting of his heavy cloak gives you a glimpse of his attire. Finely woven clothes—in Sethian colours. Your eyes fall on the foreign insignia stitched at the front of his cloak, that you had overlooked in your all-consuming joy.

There are four unknown men with him. Soldiers, from the look of them.

You have a feeling, and you don’t know how you feel about it.

Gavin’s eyes fall on you and your heart flutters at the way they light up; he approaches you without hesitation. You can feel the gazes of the people around you, their confusion and unease, disquieted and unsure of what to make of this.

He bows at the waist, before straightening back up and holding his hand out to you. “Your Majesty.” You notice the approving looks the strangers shoot each other.

You don’t think twice about placing your palm on his. Whatever’s going on, you have him back. “Welcome home.”

He presses a kiss to the back of your hand, lips curling against your skin.

Gavin doesn’t seem that different, but you know something has changed. It’s obvious he has something on his mind; he offers a crooked elbow to you and escorts you back in. It shows in how he stands, confident with a secret in his eyes, while you sink down onto your throne.

“Well?” you demand, and he fights a smile. His entourage bristles slightly, but you hadn’t missed their curious, calculating looks when you had greeted them.

“There is one thing I should probably begin with.” You wait, breath held against its will in your chest. “My family has accepted me back into their ranks.”

You wonder if you misheard.

“Elaborate. Please.”

“My revered father has reinstated me. As a Sethian,” Gavin explains and one of his escorts steps forward.

“His Royal Highness, Prince Gavin of Sethia, to be precise. Your Majesty,” he added with haste, stepping back with a bow as you resist the urge to start tapping your nail against the gilded plates of your throne. Anna, Leto and Minor stand to one side; the council members look oddly pleased at the announcement, while Minor looks floored.

You had expected and hoped for many outcomes, but for his father to take him back just like that? Batting away the jealousy, frustratingly territorial in nature, you accept this result. Gavin would not look nearly as cheerful if something had gone wrong.

“That’s quite generous of him. It’s good to see the esteemed ruler of Sethia remains as kind as ever.” Very pointedly not rolling your eyes when you see two of the group looking pleased with the praise for their king. You look back at Gavin, silently demanding him to spit it out. He looks pleased as punch and you’re literally at the edge of your seat here.

“Yes, he’s quite benevolent. Unfortunately for me, he already has an heir. My brother has been raised to rule Sethia, despite being younger in age, so that is one position he couldn’t give back to me.”

“And…” you prompt, leaning forward in your seat.

“And so he sends me with a proposal. An alliance, to keep peace, one contingent on two conditions.” The man to his right steps forward with a little smirk, holding out a document to Gavin but he waves it away. “The first is to join Sethia in the New World alliance.”

You glance at Anna, and only look back once she nods. The look on Leto’s face is, for once, unreadable.

“And the second?” you ask, clutching the arms of your seat tighter.

“Marriage.”

For a moment, there’s complete silence in the hall, before it’s broken by Minor’s gasp and the sudden chatter that comes from behind the doors to the room. In the midst of the shocked reactions, your eyes remain fixed on Gavin’s smile.

“We’ll call a meeting,” Anna announces over the voices, when it looks like you’re unable to get a word out. “It’s good to see you, Prince Gavin. While we discuss your proposal, please allow Minor to escort your men to their assigned quarters. Would you prefer your old quarters or…?”

His eyes find you and you rise from your seat, descending from the raised platform with a sudden calm blanketing over you.

“Before that. Anna, I was wondering if I could ask Prince Gavin to accompany me? Just to the gardens, there are some concerns I’d like to discuss with him.”

You take his elbow before he can even offer it, pulling him along without another word.

Your mind is oddly quiet, as if unable to produce a coherent thought, as you walk, your preferred gazebo soon within sight: the one surrounded by all your favourite flowers. Gavin’s quiet throughout as well, but the moment you’re alone and out of sight he slips his arm from your grip to curl his hand around yours, his skin just warm as you remember it, and something relaxes in your chest.

“Just to be clear, when you say marriage…” you trail off, turning to him when you step into the shade.

“Well, Sethia found themselves with a prince to spare, and what better way to secure an alliance?” Gavin explains, holding onto your hand. “And, yes, that’s me.”

‘This is too good to be true’, you think and feel a bit faint when he sinks to a knee, no sign of nervousness in the smooth lines of his face. “Are you-?”

He takes a deep breath, reaching for your hand, and it’s just like when he was leaving, but this time he’s here to stay.

“I should wait, shouldn’t I? To be honest, I don’t think I can. I’m sorry about that. But we’ve waited so long. And these two months apart have been ones I never wish to repeat in my lifetime. Even though I’ve known it for a long time, I don’t think us not being together is an option. It’s awful, it’s what I imagine foul magic is like.”

He smiles up at you, a little wobbly and so very soft. Your eyes feel wet and damn it, you had wanted to propose first.

“I love you, ___. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. And I know we’ve both known for a long time, but...there’s no longer anything that can separate us.*” He takes a deep breath, and another. “I came up with a lot of things I wanted to say but I can’t seem to recall what they were. And the ring is in my trunk. I’m sorry for springing this on you.”

You study him, his quiet frustration at not being able to recall his no doubt carefully chosen words and the way his hand flexes around yours.

You sink to your knees, hands weaving through his hair and tugging him close to finally, without the need to hide, crush your mouth to his, nearly falling into him at the taste of him on your tongue. His arms wrap around you, holding you to him, his cheeks just as wet as yours.

You kiss and kiss to your heart’s content, because even though the council will insist on discussing it—

“Yes, I will marry you,” you whisper against his lips. A part of you worries your heart might burst with how desperately it’s pounding. It feels unreal, but you think kissing him will help. “I hated it without you too. I love you so much. And I agree, I suspect dark magic is quite similar in nature.”

He listens to your rushed words carefully, nodding along.

“We’ll ask the court mage, once the tower finally gives us one.”

Us.

You grin at him, primal satisfaction rushing through you at his hazy eyes and swollen mouth. “I can’t believe we’re going to do this.”

He kisses you again, breathless with a giddy sort of joy. “I’m going to be your husband.”

“I’m going to be your wife.” Your grin mirrors his, ridiculously wide and your knees are starting to hurt, but it feels like, in this one moment, everything is going right and you get to have the one thing you’ve wanted, properly.

“Glad you let me go?” He sits back, crossing his legs and pulling you onto his lap. After aeons of very carefully just keeping yourself off him, you can’t get over how right this feels, of your bodies pressed close and hands touching freely.

His smile looks a touch smug.

“...I suppose. This victory is yours.” You can’t feign displeasure over it when you can feel his lips on your hair, your forehead, and you can tilt your head back to let him slot his eager mouth over yours.

His response is a breathy laugh against your flushed skin.

“No, it’s ours.”

It’s time to plan a wedding.

Welcome to the finish line! Thank you for reading ♡

(MLQC masterlist)

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #mr love queen's choice #mlqc fanfic #mlqc bai qi #love and producer #mr love gavin #I LOVE GAVIN #now i can go back to reading without feeling guilty...for 2 days

168 notes · View notes

zachsgamejournal · 3 years

Text

PLAYING: Breath of Fire 4

This was supposed to read COMPLETED: Breath of Fire 4, but the designers decided in lieu of story and character development, they’d pack in a billion bosses in the longest dungeon this game has ever seen.

So we arrive a fishing village. It’s cute, but small. That’s the weird thing about this game, every town and dungeon is very compact. Even the village with a giant canon shooting nuclear-level hexes at places is smaller than a 7-11 parking lot. Anyway, village. In order to progress, we need directions...I guess. The only guy with directions won’t give’em until we bring him one of three things. I decided to go search some ruins for a special item. It took a while, but i found it and the path was revealed.

This brings us to the world map: unlike BoF3, instead of moving about freely, the player moves along paths to hot-spots: like Mario RPG. So you cannot discover places without being allowed. This is a good way to control the player’s progress. It also prevents confusion, like in Breath of Fire 3 when you move to the East Continent and everything is just available to the player, but you’re not quite sure where to go. But this also carries the issue of having to “lock” every new location until the player fulfills a prerequisite.

So...we went south. We found some nomads. They warned us the checkpoint to the capital was closed due to some business. We instructed to go through a tomb. This is the tomb where Fou-Lu came out. We run into his guardian, and defeat him. This was a fun fight. It was challenging but not overwhelming. I had to shuffle characters, manage healing, and pull off some good spell combos: fun.

But then at the end of the tomb is another boss. This boss is a pair of dice. Dice one is impervious to magic attacks. The other is impervious to physical attacks.They both have spells that murder and insanely injure in a single hit. This boss was not fun. But I survived.

So we get back to canon town. Ursula gets us on the inside. We move up to a headquarters on the hill. Inside, we find injured soldiers. Moving through some weird lab with a giant organ in the middle we find a room filled with...more giant organs. I remember this part, but I actually thought this happened sooner. Anyway, ELINA is here, we found her! She warns us that a tentacle or something that is blocking our way can only be cut with the Dragon Slayer, a sword that Yuna--a bad guy--has. Talking to the injured troops, we’re told Yuna is at the check point.

Giant eye roll here friend: GIANT EYE ROLL.

Get to the check point, Yuna says he doesn’t want to fight. Ryu isn’t playing though, he swipes at Yuna and the dragon slayer is dropped at our feet. Yuna flees and we take the sword back to the organ room. As we make our way through gunk and ribs, we find small house in an indoor garden. Inside is Elina.

Yuna is there to explain. To shoot the Hex Canon, they need a sacrifice. The more attachment the sacrifice has to the region targeted, the stronger the hex. Also, they need to fill the sacrifice with negative feelings. So they torture the sacrifice, horrifically. The problem, according to Yuna, is that the sacrifice often dies. So Yuna wanted to create a permanent sacrifice. Something that could survive the torture and be used again. So taking parts of monsters and using a variety of black magic, Yuna turn Elina into an “endless” (a god, like Ryu and Deis). But she doesn’t look human. Her lower torso down is grotesque mix of enlarged organs spilling out of her. Those ribs we climbed up were hers. Those tentacles we cut, were hers.

It’s gross.

And depressing.

It’s weird, BoF3 was like hit after hit of emotionally challenging scenarios. Nothing this dark, but consistently more than “hero defeats evil”. But this is some dark shit. Cruel. it’s not morally grey. It’s evil.

And Yuna escapes again.

Elina and Cray are in love. So she asks Cray to put her out of her misery. Cray is quite heart broken. Cray doesn’t tell the others what he did, but they know and they support him.

We’re now committed to find Fou-Lu. we get to the capital and it’s destroyed. refugees are sprinkled about, lost and confused about why this is happening. Imperial soldiers are injured and express absolute fear of what’s happening. We find a general. It’s interesting that bad guys in the city are thieves (looters, I guess?). Turns out it’s Ursula’s grandfather. They have a moment before we enter the castle. It’s interesting, despite the empire being evil, the soldiers don’t seem to share the innate cruelty of their commanders...but you know. You commit to serving monsters, you don’t come out smelling of roses.

SO--finally in the castle. I’m like, “This is it--I’m finally about to beat this game.” Nope. The largest, most confusing dungeon in the whole game. I mean, it makes sense, it’s the final dungeon. But so much of this game was short, compact dungeons. There’s no more story left. We know all the plot, we know all the character stories (for the most part), yet there’s hours of gameplay here.

The castle is confusing as hell. At the beginning is a door that says you need a blue charm. Damn. So I start wandering the basement. I got turned around and confused so many times. Every time I thought: “This is it”, I found a dead end with some shitty treasure. It’s not fun. I’m not high level, so none of the fights are a breeze. I can still win, but it takes work and concentration. So it sucks being lost and bumping into a fight every 30 seconds.

FINALLY I find another boss: Dragonne. It’s like a zombie dragon or something. After every round, he heals for 15,000 hp. No way I can do that much damage in a single round, so I’m freaking out. I check online, they suggest using a dragon form to knock out the healing. After that, the battle isn’t too bad. Afterwards, I get lost again and find a door now needing a red charm.

DOES THIS NEVER END!?!?

I checked a guide. Apparently Dragonne dropped a blue charm. I missed it. I had to call it a night. I really thought I was gonna wrap this up, but god...

#Zach's Game Journal #PLAYING #Breath of Fire 4 #PlayStation #PS1 #DuckStation #Emulation #Video Games #For Elina #Imperialism is bad

7 notes · View notes

miss-choco-chips · 4 years

Text

The dangers of sugar coating

Dick tries to give his little brother nice things (and fucks up), Tim is paranoid (and too tired to think clearly), and Damian thinks they might actually be a good team (while they plot Santa Claus’ downfall).

(Beacuse @animemangasoul and I decided we’ve been too rough with Tim lately, so I tried to give him some batfamily fluff. Somewhere along the way I fucked up and ended with this. No edit, pure crack)

-----.------

-Before I tell you anything, you need to promise me you won’t get mad.

The Bruce of ten years ago, new to parenting and oblivious to its dangers, would have done his best to emulate any ‘How to be a good Dad- guide for new, utterly lost fathers’ book. Now, though, tired after raising Dick to semi-adulthood and still hurting over Jason’s… Jason, he knew better. Life had toughtened him up.

So he didn’t raise his eyes from his newspaper, and gave into the urge of sipping his coffee before humming under his breath. Not even the slightest show of acceptance over those terms.

If Dick was asking that, instead of hiding whatever this was or dealing with it himself, it meant the situation was either out of his control, bound to make its way to Bruce eventually, or both.

Probably both.

-Come on, B, just promise you won’t get all passive aggressive bitch on me. I did it for the greater good...

Another hum.

However, Dick has spent the same amount of time learning under his guide than he had raising him, so the younger was bound to develop some of his own tactics.

-...and I did it because Tim obviously needed it, so…

Warning bells ringing in his mind, Bruce gave up and shoot Dick a look. He didn’t seem overly guilty, so whatever this was, it probably wasn’t irreversible. But he was also shifting his weight from one leg to the other nervously, so… there was a catch here.

-What did you do?

-You didn’t promise.

-I won’t take your allowance away, but I may yell. It depends on how convincingly you make your case -compromise, he had learned after many, many mistakes, was as good a plan as any.

-Deal -then, quickly, like ripping off a bandaid:- I might have made Tim slightly more neurotic than he was. On accident.

The bells turned into firefighter’s sirens.

-What did you do?

They have had the fifteen year old living in the mannor for a few weeks at most. They couldn't possibly have already broken him, right?

Right?

Dick winced, but sat down by Bruce’s left (the side closest to the dining room’s window), which meant this was the only issue, but a hard to explain one.

-You see… We were talking, bonding over childhood memories and stuff, and… you know how christmas is just around the corner, and I asked him about Santa. I mean, obviously he doesn’t believe in that now, but the thing is, he never did.

-He’s too smart for that -growled Bruce, impatiente to get to the point and figure out just how much damage control would he be doing.

-No, his parents were too shitty. They were never there on Christmas, so no gifts under the tree unless he put them there himself, and whenever that happened, it was because his parents sent them and he wrapped them himself. Also no surprises, because he was the one asking for specific stuff. And I got a little sad, because how can a kid never believe in Santa? Like, come on. It’s part of the concept of childhood innocence. So...

Bruce waited a few beats, but Dick didn’t follow up. See, this was the moment where his parenting books would suggest waiting until the kid was good and ready for sharing his thoughts. But, since this was his younger child at stake here, he couldn't allow himself the luxury of letting a single second go.

-And? -he prompted, as gently as he could, trying not to spook Dick into abandoning ship.

-And I sort of… convinced him that Santa was real. Like, a full out super powered meta whose purpose in life was to bring joy to all of us. I texted Barbara and she planted some old looking reports on the batcomputer about it, to give credibility to the lie. I even drew parallels with Batman being thought of as a myth outside of Gotham to support the ‘Santa is real, people just don’t believe in him’ thing. And, after some hours of convincing and with Babs’ help, he bought it. So now, if Tim approaches you about it, you better back me up, because otherwise you would be ruining the last vestige of innocence Tim might still keep. Downside, though, Tim is now holed up in his bedroom searching the deep web for any Santa related info he can get his nerdy little paws on.

Silence in the room. Dick blurted out a goodbye and jumped out of the window. Bruce didn’t get up to check if he had landed safely on the other side. He probably had.

Tired, he looked down at his coffee. Black, just like he needed it now.

He should have stopped at zero children.

----.----

Cassie watched, with no small amount of unholy glee, as Tim thoroughly convinced both Kon and Bart of Santa’s existence. One a clone with little social understanding and the other from a very dark future, they were unsurprisingly easy to convince.

This was the kind of hilarious shit that made being in a superhero team worth it. All the life and death situations were balanced out by this kind of drama-like absurdity.

Even better was Tim’s completely fucked up perspective on the matter.

-So you’re saying Santa is not only real, but a deranged psychopath? Who’s probably both a pedofile and a mind controlling scumbag? -Kon tilted his head, both confused and esceptic.

Cassie did her utmost best to keep a straight face while nodding along, as if everything Tim had laid down in front of them made perfect sense.

-I thought it was stupid, too. But Dick showed me evidence, old reports, both handwritten and digital, and I found footage of Santa sneaking into the Manor when he was still young, deeply buried in the Batcomputer mainframe.

-Couldn’t that video be, you know… made up? -Bart asked, frown unusual on him firmly in place.

-If it was anywhere else? Sure. But this is The Batcomputer we’re talking about. Why would Batman have that kind of thing there? It was too heavily protected to be placed there as decoy for anyone hacking, not like they could ever get over Oracle’s firewalls. Besides, what reason would Batman have to invent this? I’m fifteen, I don’t need the ‘Santa fantasy’. The only believable answer is that Santa is real and very dangerous, and some people have taken his name for capitalism’s sake and made a holiday out of that and some religious backing, to get more people roped up into it. The true mastermind is obviously hiding somewhere out there, and the Christmas propaganda is merely a means to get funding for his devious plots.

Both metas hummed thoughtfully, Superboy even crossing his arms as he examined the pile of photos and papers Tim had laid out in front of them. Bart was nodding, hand cupping his jaw. The looked dead serious.

Cassie wanted to excuse herself to use the toilet (lead lidden because this was Gotham, specifically Tim’s secret place, so of course it was super-proof) so she could laugh her ass off, but the temptation of seeing this trainwreck to its fiery end was too strong.

It was taking up all of her amazonian training to keep her straight face, though. Diana would be so proud.

-I even searched the deep web for Santa related crimes, and looked up his name in disturbing forums. You wouldn't believe what some people, serial killers and rapists both, do using Christmas as a theme. I couldn't sort through it all, it was that sick.

Kon looked utterly disturbed- So what do we do now? Christmas is just around the corner!

Bart got up and started pacing back and forth- We need to hunt this dude down. Christmas is about goodness and family! We can’t let this, this… psychopath ruin it! Think about the children of the world!!

Oh god, this was getting even better.

-But how? The man sounds like a velocist of some kind, I mean, running and leaving gifts everywhere in the world in the span of a few hours? How are we even gonna catch him?

-Maybe if we dress up as Elves? -Cassie couldn't stop herself from suggesting, voice choked in her effort to be serious, but most likely interpreted by the boys as clogged up on rage- From what Tim wrote here -she raised a paper from the pile, hand shaking- it looks like they are his mind-controlled slaves. If he thinks we ran from his captivity, he might take us to the North Pole with him to brainwash us again… Oh, but I probably shouldn't dress up, so you know, I can be back up if he manages to catch you three…

-That’s a great idea! -Bart’s skinny arms wrapped themselves around her neck, and she took the chance to hide her face in his mane of hair, corners of her mouth twitching up.

-Should I also record it? -she asks, almost begging- In case people don’t believe us later, when we have to explain why we imprisoned Santa.

-Yes, I think that might be wise -Tim conceded, eyes scanning his papers again.

Thank the gods. That tape was going to be Cassie’s most precious treasure forever.

-I think he has a way of controlling people’s minds too. Like, parents and stuff. And then he makes them be the ones to give his children gifts in his name, as a way of gaining their trust. Sick fucker.

-So you think it’s a kinky thing for him?

-Kon, he literally categorizes kids as ‘good’ or ‘naughty’.

-You are right, we need to stop this bastard.

Cassie loved her boys so, so much. She also owed Dick Grayson the biggest high five.

----.----

Red Hood was just lighting up a cigarette when he saw Red Robin making his way to his rooftop. Cursing, he dropped the entire thing and kicked it away. The brat knew Jason smoked, but Dick had been on his ass lately about being a good brother, and he still felt kinda bad about trying to kill the kid twice, so he was actually trying to set a good example.

Besides, out of the two possible little brothers to take under his wing, he certainly drew the lucky ticket, because while Dickie had gotten stranded with the pompous brat, Jason had the all around good kid circling his radar more often than not. Like, Tim had broken him out of prison, a little after Jason had done his best to end his life; he couldn't get more forgiving and nice than that. It certainly beat making a murder League child let go of his katana on a nightly basis.

-I need your help.

He blinked. While they certainly had worked cases together in the past, they were always preluded by some kind of smalltalk, little banter, at least a ‘hello’. Not this straight to the point bullshit.

He had the urge to take out his guns, to protect them both of any threat following Red Robin here. He refrained.

-What’s the matter, babybird? What’s wrong?

Tim looked almost frazzled. The cowl was hanging around his neck, just a domino preserving his identity, and his hair was a knotted mess. Disveleshed was too little a word for his state.

-We need to make a plan to catch Santa Claus before Christmas this year. His reign of terror must end. It’s still not too late.

Yeah, okay, he might need that cigarette after all, to hell with Dick’s bitching. Besides, how bad of a influence could that be, when this kid was obviously already on some kind of drugs? Like, Santa? Really?

-What… do you mean?

What followed was an hour long rant on the dangers of a super powered, evil version of the myth that Tim had somehow cooked up on his mind.

Was this real? The kid looked far too distraught for a joke.

-… Does Nightwing know about this? -whatever ‘this’ was- Bats?

Tim shook his hands frantically. Jason was legit getting worried.

-N was the one who told me about Santa -there, he knew this smelled like a Golden Boy trademark fuck up-, but he seems to be under his spell. Bruce as well. They tried to convince me he is some kind of good-hearted samaritan. Jason -he stated, breaking the no names during patrol rule, a show of just how deep into the rabbit hole he was- you wouldn't believe what I found on the deepweb. Joker’s yearly special seems tame in comparison.

That, Jason could believe. But he was also fairly sure you could type about any word in the darkest side of the net, and find half a dozen kinky or deranged things that matched. Santa-temed crimes? More likely than anyone would believe. Real life Santa doing the deed? Not so much.

Tim had been too young when Dick lied to his face, most likely. And nowadays, the young vigilante was running on three hours of sleep on a good week. And it wasn’t even too far fetched to believe, on their line of business, specially when dealing with metas and supervillains day in and day out.

Still…

-Kid, I don’t know how to tell you this, but… Santa isn’t real -he told him, slowly, hands raised as if to touch his shoulders but not daring to actually make contact. Tim looked so manic he might actually nerve strike him.

The icy blue eyes were hidden under his mask, but Jason knew from the way he tensed that Tim was terrified.

-He got to you, too -he whispered, almost too softly for him to hear. Then, without giving Jason the chance to inquire further, he turned tail and disappeared into the night.

....

He really needed that cigarette.

----.----

When Drake told the family he was taking Damian under his wing for a case, everyone seemed so happy he couldn't just shoot the other man down. Besides, reluctant as he was to admit it, Red Robin was the superior detective in the entirety of the team, so there would be rewards for taking the blow to his pride and working with him.

He expected to be directed through some easy case, maybe a little puzzling but not too challenging. Or be sidelined while Drake worked through things, so he could learn by example.

This, though, this he hadn’t foresaw.

This case was way more serious.

-How come Father has allowed this depravancy to continue?! -exclaimed Damian, hands gripping the sheets of information tightly- This ‘Santa’s’ influence has been permitted to cement on too many people already! And it keeps growing!

-I know. Fuck, I know. But I can’t get anyone to help me. My team knows, but sadly we aren’t enough. Bruce and Dick don’t believe me, and neither does any other hero I contacted on the matter. It’s just like when B was missing in time; they either think I’m crazy, or try to sugarcoat things, like they would with a baby.

Damian snorted, disbelieving. Whatever his opinion might be on his predecessor, he at least knew to trust his insight in a case. Grandfather himself had recognized his genius on that field.

They were on Drake’s perch, his center of operations outside of Batman’s influence. He would never admit it out loud, but if Damian ever needed his own batcave, it would be just like this one.

Now, the long table in front of him was completely covered in information, case reports, photos taken from live footage, deepweb forums’ conversations, history books…

-And you say this… monster, targets children?

-I mean, he brainwashes the parents too, but that seems like a plot to both increase his economic funds and to gain the children’s trust.

-How are you so sure they are his objective?

-The parents tell their children Santa is ‘always observing them’, and ask if they ‘have been good’ that year. If they aren’t perceived as obedient, Santa leaves them coal, which incentives them to do their best to change that by next year’s christmas.

-Maybe the coal and gifts have mind control devices, or some magic?

-My thoughts exactly.

Damian frowns even deeper. He’s glad Drake is taking his detective training seriously, but if father himself is being deceived, he wonders what can the two of them (plus Drake’s team) do.

-What about Todd? Red Hood is proclaimed as Saint Protector of Children in Crime Alley, after all. He certainly has opinions about this ‘Santa’ person.

Timothy shakes his head- He got Jason too. I suspect he’s been under his control ever since he was a child at the manor.

-So, we are alone in this.

-Essentially, yes. Thankfully, not everyone celebrates christmas. Some religions flat out forbid it, so we won’t have as much ground to cover when we lay out a trap. We could choose a close by location and plan around it.

He nods, back straight with purpose. He -and Drake, he supposes- would be freeing Father and Grayson, along with the rest of the victims, from this madman’s control. Maybe even Todd, if he has the time.

-I’m with you on this endeavor, Drake.

-Good. Remember we need to act natural in front of the family. If Santa catches wind of what we’re doing, he might focus his efforts in getting to us.

Damian wants to say to let him come, he would show him why it's a bad idea to mess with his family. But Drake is, admittedly, the superior detective, and it seems he’s been working on this for a long time now. Damian will defer to his judgement this one time.

Drake’s superior knowledge and Damian’s unrivaled training might be what’s needed to orchestrate this ‘Santa’s’ downfall.

They will be a good team, he thinks.

#My writing #Tim Drake #batfamily #Batfamily Fanfic #core four #Dick grayson #Bruce Wayne #cassie sandsmark #kon el kent #conner kent #bart allen #jason todd #Damian wayne #this is just crack guys #Tim thinks Santa is out to get everyone #he's a tired boy okay #no edit #tw: mentions of child abuse #nothing graphic just Tim doing typical comic book research

261 notes · View notes

maybankiara · 4 years

Text

NOTHIN’ LASTS FOREVER (WE BOTH KNOW HEARTS CAN CHANGE)

pairing: JJ Maybank x Kiara Carrera

prompt: pre-canon

summary: JJ decides to take his chances with Kiara the summer before they go to different high schools, which possibly ruins their friendship (and by an extension, the Pogues’).

word count: 5.3k

a/n: written for the first day of jiara july jubilee! this is basically how jj causes and ends kiara’s infamous kook year, full of angst and a sprinkle of fluff with some banter to match.

masterlist | tag list

read on archive of our own

They talked about everything, but high school was the one thing none of them wanted to mention.

The Pogues grew up together. Some more so than others, but at the age of when things are starting to get real, they were as much a family as they could be. Pope brought the sense of reason, John B brought the sense of home, Kiara brought common sense, and JJ brought nonsense.

It shouldn’t have worked, because all of them were people who shouldn’t have found friends in one other, but they did.

JJ can’t imagine a life without the three teens in it.

It’s a sunny afternoon, like most late august afternoons on the island, and John B’s dad takes them to the Chateau’s backyard, out to the marsh. Big John is a man JJ has come to think of as more of a dad than his own father, but he’d never say it – so when he tells the kids he’s got something for them to see, JJ doesn’t think twice. He follows the man to the back of his plot, excitement filling his veins.

He leans over to John B, who’s walking right next to him. ‘You got any clue what this is about?’

‘He didn’t tell me anything.’ The brunet glances at his father, making sure he’s out earshot, and then says for only his friends to hear: ‘I think it’s whatever he’s been hiding for the past week.’

‘The thing in the garage?’ Pope pipes in. He walks over until he’s right behind the two boys, Kiara at his side. ‘It has to be the thing in the garage.’

‘It’s a boat,’ states Kiara. She sounds confident to the point that all of the boys turn to her, the same question evident on their faces. ‘Y’all are blind.’

And sure enough, when JJ looks at where Kiara is pointing, there’s a boat there. It’s an old thing, flat bottom Carolina Skiff, 19-footer, JJ reckons. It’s a little beat up but looks decent enough, and if JJ’s right, then Big John must’ve spent the whole of last week fixing it up.

‘A boat?’ asks John B.

It seems like a dumb question (it is , thinks JJ) but it feels like someone has to say those words to clarify they’re all seeing the same thing.

Big John beams at his son’s words, hands moving from his knees as he crouches, patting the wooden front. ‘A boat. Actually, your boat.’

The words sound as if you means less John B and more all of you , so his son exchanges glances with all of his friends, licks his lips with a soft tilt of his brows. ‘Ours?’

‘If you want it to be.’

JJ steps forward and touches the wood. He’s always wanted to have a boat – his dad’s Phantom is a treasure he’s not allowed within ten foot of, and being able to just set out into the ocean, or even the marsh without anyone bothering him...

He looks at Big John with a wary grin starting to take over. ‘You’re saying that you’re giving this boat to us?’

‘You kids are getting older,’ explains Big John, talking to all of them. ‘I don’t want you hanging around my backyard all the time.’

‘So you gave us a boat,’ Pope notes.

‘Damn right, son.’

He takes them out of a spin, teaching them how to man it. JJ gets it the quickest because boats are in his blood, and John B and Pope each need a couple of repeats to get the hang of it. Kiara sticks to the side, saying hardly anything. between themselves, the boys figure she’s just not a boat person. JJ thinks there’s more to it, but doesn’t say anything.

They celebrate at the Wreck. Big John drops them off before work, promising them they’d get to take the boat to themselves tomorrow. It’s hard to say who’s most excited, but it’s easy to say who isn’t.

Kiara doesn’t sulk, but she’s quiet, and they’re not used to that. Her dad gives them something to snack on (Big John pays for it, because the kids aren’t Mike Carrera’s favourite people).

John B and Pope are the first to go, leaving with the latter’s parents. It’s getting quite late already and Kiara’s dad is still working the shift, so JJ decides to stick around. (He’s always thought Mike dislikes him the least.)

They munch on fries.

‘Why are you quiet?’ he asks. a fry lands in her mouth and they’d high five at their coordination, usually, and the lack of a high five is what bothers him the most.

She leans back in her chair, glancing at her dad, before averting her eyes.

‘Kie.’

Her fingers are on the fries, but she isn’t throwing them at JJ anymore.

He lightly kicks her leg underneath the table. ‘You can talk to me.’

What he means is i understand you better than pope or john b ever could , but he doesn’t want to say it out loud. He doesn’t want to admit it. He doesn’t want her to know how he feels.

‘I already have a boat, JJ.’

‘So?’ JJ frowns. ‘You’re pissed because you’ve already got a boat?’

‘ No .’

Kiara opens and closes her mouth a handful of time, licking her lips in-between. JJ sees her grow agitated, but he doesn’t know if it’s at him, because of him, or something else altogether.

She slumps into the back of the chair. ‘You guys seemed so happy to just have a boat. I looked at it and my first thought was i have a bigger one at home . And I couldn’t get as excited.’

‘So you’re pissed because you’re rich,’ JJ concludes.

‘Don’t say it like that! I didn’t mean it like – JJ, I wanted to be happy because of the boat Big John gave us. And I am, kind of. I’m excited that it’s ours. But I couldn’t stop thinking about my mom’s boat, and how I’ll never see the simple things like that as something great.’

‘Are you now pissed that we’re poor?’

‘JJ,’ Kiara warns. Her eyebrow’s raised and she watches him sigh, resigning his failed attempts at humour. ‘You know why I’m upset.’

i do , he realises. The atmosphere between them turns sombre, and JJ wishes there were more people in the Wreck. He plays with the fries in front of him, stuffing a few into his mouth.

Consoling other people has never been JJ’s strong suit – he’s mediocre at best. But it’s Kiara , of all people, so he plays footsies with her leg underneath the table.

‘Stop it.’

He does. ‘Come on, Kie. You’re one of us even if you could buy your own boat and not even notice.’

Kiara raises her eyebrows. JJ apologises.

‘Money or not, you’re a pogue. Things aren’t going to change once you’re attending that stupid kook academy.’

‘Cooke,’ she corrects him, quietly. ‘It’s the Robert Cooke Academy.’

‘Seriously, if you’re correcting me on kook bullshit, I’ll retract your pogue membership.’

He watches her face fall as if he didn’t say those words with a mischievous grin on his face, throwing a fry at her. JJ concludes trying to console Kiara is an absolute disaster, and he’d really like to be able to stop, but he doesn’t see anything else that could work.

Humour certainly doesn’t.

‘Look, as long as you’re hanging out with us, you’re one of us. That’s the whole deal. You might have money, but pogues aren’t about money, have it or not. Sure, you might not be able to relate to what it feels like for kids from the Cut to be on our own boat, but we can show you. as long as you want to hang out with us, you’ll always be welcome.’

At the end of the monologue, JJ takes a deep breath; he’s fairly certain this was the longest thing he’s ever said in one go, so he tells her that.

She laughs, a little bit. JJ figures it must’ve done some good.

He throws a fry at her and she catches it with her hand, then puts it in her mouth. She throws another one and she catches it with her mouth this time, and they’re back to playing the game from earlier. Her laughter is a little louder now, a little more cheerful, and he notices her shoulders aren’t as slumped.

It’s getting even later now, but JJ doesn’t leave. her dad’s still got some work to do, clean up, lock up, all that jazz, so the two teens make their way out of the restaurant. The air is fresh and they’ve both got a brisk walk to their feet, laughing louder than they should.

JJ likes this. He likes spending time with his friends, and he likes spending time with Kiara alone.

There’s a bench a little down the road, in the very middle of the street (and the Cut) and they sit down, side by side. They’re close enough that their thighs are touching, and JJ is acutely aware of the contact of skin on skin that their shorts uncover.

He glances at her and catches her gazing at the starry sky.

‘I can’t imagine a world where you’re not one of us,’ he tells her. ‘That’s why I think things won’t change when school starts.’

‘When I become a kook.’

‘You won’t, though. you’re a pogue.’ JJ looks at her, face serious, and hopes she can tell he means it. JJ Maybank might be a kid, but he knows loyalty, and he doesn’t give it away easily. ‘We’re friends. Friends stick together.’

The nod Kiara gives him is soft, reluctant. ‘What if we don’t?’

‘What if we don’t what ? Kie, there’s no pogues without Kiara Carrera.’

‘I’m not from the Cut,’ she says with a smile on her face, but sadness in her voice. ‘I’m not a pogue.’

‘You’re a pogue with a capital p ,’ JJ says then. He feels the fire in his chest, anger and excitement, and bitterness at the fact that Kiara is the one who keeps worrying she’s not one of them. ‘We’re the Pogues with the capital p . You me, John B, Pope. And – and our boat, the one we got today? That’s the Pogue boat. HMS Pogue . It’s ours .’

‘So we’re not pogues, we’re the Pogues?’

‘Hell yeah.’

Kiara’s face changes as she absorbs JJ’s little speech, watching him crouch on the bench instead of sitting on it. There’s confusion between her brows, then a smile in the wrinkles around her eyes, then finally laughter coming off her lips. Her hair’s wild today, in the way that is so like her that if someone asked, JJ would describe kiara as a pretty girl with curly hair and a nose for trouble.

He puts a hand on her shoulder, tugging at the strap of her top so it snaps onto the skin every other moment. ‘So, Kie. You a pogue?’

Kiara swats his hand away. ‘Will I be a pogue even if I become a kook?’

‘ Please . We’ll always like you, kook or not. Besides, you’d be the only one to be a kook and a pogue at the same time and that’s kinda cool.’

Her eyes lose some of the little concern he can see in the dark, and a reserved smile graces her lips. Something warm bursts inside his chest.

‘Thanks, JJ.’

He looks at her, really looks at her, and feels like he’s seeing her for the first time. The street lights on the Cut are orange and shitty and it makes her look a little orange, too, but he’s never before noticed the depth of her complexion, or how it’s gotten darker since summer started. He’s never noticed the quirk in the right corner of her lips, a slight tug upwards that makes her look like Mona Lisa at times.

He should look away, but his eyes are on her lips, and it feels like the warmth led to something brewing inside his chest.

bravery , he thinks.

JJ looks into Kiara’s eyes and they’re unguarded, soft, vulnerable, kind, all the things he loves about her, and JJ just...

He kisses her. It’s sloppy, and he almost smashes his mouth against hers because there was no time to think , and he freezes.

He fucking freezes.

Kiara pulls back, the same eyes wide and guarded. ‘What the fuck was that , JJ?’

‘Nothing,’ he quickly says. ‘Forget about it.’

He knows he should look away, but he can’t, he just stares at her and she stares right back and they’re both just like what the fuck is going on what the fuck do i do what the fuck what the f u c k

‘Pogues can’t mack on other Pogues,’ Kiara states, firmly.

JJ says nothing. He swallows the gulp in his throat with difficulty, finally averting his gaze. his eyes don’t sting; his chest doesn’t ache; his body isn’t overflowing with chills.

(All of those are lies.)

‘JJ, we’re friends,’ she says.

He doesn’t look at her so he looks up at the stars instead, wanting to see a shooting star and wish that he could take this moment back, or that he could grow a pair and not freak out like he’s doing right now.

A shooting star doesn’t come.

‘JJ,’ Kiara starts again. ‘You’re one of my best friends. We can’t – we can’t do this. What would happen with – with the Pogues, with capital p ?’

‘You’re right,’ he tells her, shaking his head. ‘It was dumb. Sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.’

‘I just...’ She sighs. When he finally stops avoiding her gaze, he’s surprised to see her looking into the distance. ‘We can’t mess up our friendship. It’s not just us – it’s John B and Pope, too.’

‘You’re right,’ repeats JJ. He places a hand over hers and gives it a light squeeze, until he’s got her attention. ‘No Pogue on Pogue macking.’

‘No Pogue on Pogue macking,’ echoes Kiara.

The rule’s set in stone that night, after a kiss they quietly agree to never talk about. JJ doesn’t talk to the boys about it and he knows Kiara doesn’t, either. The little rule they came up with got rid of all the tension that could’ve ensued from the kiss.

JJ knows she shot him down, but there are times when her words are a broken record in his mind, and he tries to figure out if there’s any chance that she didn’t. He doesn’t know. She was right, they couldn’t ruin their friendship, but JJ wonders if she meant it in the if we kiss more we’ll ruin our friendship way or if we are together and then break up we’ll ruin our friendship way.

In any case, it ends up not mattering, because their friendship falls apart regardless.

It happens slowly, over the course of early autumn, and begins the day school starts. The boys go to Kildare High, Kiara goes to Robert Cooke Academy. At first, things are fine – they spend more time together after school, at the Chateau or lounging on the HMS Pogue . But then school starts getting real, and more of their free time is taken away.

Soon enough, Kiara starts coming over less and less. It’s because of homework, mostly, or extra classes the kook academy is asking her to take. She’ll apologise and show up next time with some cookies in tow, and the boys wouldn’t think twice of it.

By the time October rolls around, they’re hardly seeing her anymore. She keeps being busy and so do they, but they make up for it by chilling in the few classes they have together, or during lunch hours. JJ slacks off most of the time, so he’s the one who gets to hang out with Kiara on the odd chance she’s got time when they don’t, but even that is not the same.

‘We miss you,’ he tells her the evening before Halloween. They managed to sneak some time together for the first time in over two weeks, but it doesn’t feel the same anymore. ‘The boat kinda sucks without you.’

Kiara’s legs are swinging out of her bedroom window and she’s staring off into the distance. She says she misses them, too, but the tone in her voice is distant and quiet, and it makes JJ feel as if that’s not the truth at all.

i shouldn’t have kissed you , he wants to say, but he doesn’t. They agreed they wouldn’t talk about it. He doesn’t want to make her dislike him any more than she already does.

‘How are the kooks?’ he asks.

Kiara smiles, but it’s the ghost of a smile. ‘They’re good. Not half as bad as I thought. Sarah Cameron’s nice to me.’

‘They better be nice to you. We’ll kick their asses otherwise.’

The look she gives him lets him know she doesn’t agree.

JJ looks at her straightened hair, her little blouse that she usually wouldn’t be caught dead in, and at the flashy rings on her fingers. It’s seeing this that makes something click in his brain, and JJ just shakes his head.

‘I’m gonna go.’

‘Okay.’ She doesn’t stop him; doesn’t even pretend she wants to. ‘See you soon.’

JJ drops from the window, landing with a thud. His ankles hurt a little bit, but he’s a big boy who knows how to fall and how to take a hit. i don’t think so , he muses.

He looks at her and gives her a two-finger salute in goodbye.

No classic Pogue handshake. Nothing.

It’s the last time any of them talk to Kiara in real life. He wonders if the kiss has something to do with it, and he guesses it must, because things were okay before it. Kiara was the one who was the most upset about the idea of going to a different school, losing the three of them, becoming a kook – and now, JJ thinks that it was more her choice than anyone else’s.

There’s a piece of plastic that must’ve fallen off a car on the side of the road, and JJ kicks it. It doesn’t hurt, so he keeps kicking it as he walks down the street.

They all tried to keep her one of them. They all wanted her to stay.

She was the one who didn’t.

That night, JJ lets her go.

With time, the Pogues recover from the loss, mostly because it wasn’t sudden – a blind man could’ve seen where it was leading. September wasn’t off to a good start, and October was when things came to a cliff and jumped off of it.

Big John goes missing in February. Nobody has spoken to Kiara since the end of October, when the boys just decided to make their own groupchat, considering she hardly even checked the one with her in it anymore. This is where John B texts the two.

jombee [6:47pm]: guys i’m starting to get worried for my dad

popeye [6:48pm]: i’m sure he’ll be fine. the thing might be taking longer

jombee [6:53pm]: can you guys come over? jombee [6:53pm]: and bring some beer

me [6:54pm]: on it mister bee(n)

JJ is the first to show up, carrying a six-pack in each hand. pope comes a bit later, having picked up some snacks on the way. At that point, Big John has been away for four days, when he usually doesn’t leave for more than three.

‘Do you know where he went?’ asks JJ, through a mouthful of chips.

Pope darts a beer cap at him. ‘Be serious, JJ.’

‘I am!’

John B says he doesn’t know where his dad went; he doesn’t know when he should get back, either. The boys do a semi-decent job of keeping the atmosphere from falling into the dumps, but it’s not an easy task. Usually, Kiara’s the one who holds everything in place, who knows the right words to say.

Inadvertently, JJ glances at the spot on the HMS Pogue where she used to sit. Even though she hasn’t been here for months, they never put anything there, even if the rest of the boat is packed. It’s a space that’ll always belong to her, regardless of what happens.

Big John is declared missing three days later, when it’s been a week. If he was at the sea, they would’ve found him, or at least that’s what the authorities say. They have some hope, but the three Pogues are the ones who keep their necks out of the water, looking for the man.

They cruise the marsh, the ocean, everything they can find, for weeks. At some point, Pope is the first one to lose hope, and he says it to JJ only. It’s March, nearly April.

‘People are starting to talk,’ he tells him, while they’re waiting for John B to come out of the Chateau, resting on the boat. JJ’s got his hand in Kiara’s spot, and he doesn’t look at the boy next to him.

‘People have been talking since the beginning,’ counters JJ.

‘No, man, I’m being serious. It’s been two months. The chances that—’

‘Stop, dude.’ JJ turns to Pope, knowing that disappointment and disbelief must be clear on his face because he doesn’t bother hiding them. ‘Are you giving up? You can’t do that to John B, man. That’s fucked up.’

Pope shakes his head, leaning forward as he sits with his legs crossed. ‘I’m not giving up. I don’t even know what I was trying to say.’

‘Big John’s still alive and he’s looking for someone to save him. It’s gonna be us, because you can never trust the cops.’

The boy nods. John B comes to the boat a minute later. He’s got his shirt buttoned the wrong way, with the uneven holes sticking out. his hair is getting long and messy, the top now merging with the sides. He lost his spunk, gradually as time wore on; he doesn’t smile as often – none of them do. Life hit them and it hit them fast, some more so than others.

John B walks over Kiara’s spot and sits at the wheel, turning on the engine. ‘Ward Cameron offered me a job. To take care of My Druthers .’

Pope chokes on the beer he was drinking. ‘ That ’s the boat’s name?’

The brunet shakes his hand as he steers them out of the chateau and into the marsh, sighing. ‘It’s a dumb name, yeah.’

‘Did you accept?’ asks JJ.

‘I need the money.’

JJ sips his beer, recalling Kiara saying she’s friends with Sarah now. He wonders if they’re still friends, still as close as they seem to be. If John B ends up going to the Camerons’, maybe he’ll get to see her in the passing.

The thought leaves a bitter taste of envy on his tongue, and JJ downs it with beer.

John B doesn’t end up seeing Kiara, but JJ does. It’s April, nearly three months into Big John missing, and he’s starting to understand Pope now. Hope is a difficult thing to keep when all it does is run away.

He doesn’t text her, because she’s changed her number. He doesn’t want to message her on social media, either – that feels vain and stupid , and the reason why he needs to talk to her in the first place is anything but superficial.

So JJ rings the doorbell, like a normal person would, instead of climbing the tree in front of her bedroom window.

Kiara’s mom opens. surprise is evident on her face when she lets him in, but she doesn’t ask questions.

‘She’s in her room.’

‘Thanks, Mrs. C.’

He walks up the familiar flight of stairs, toward the room he’s spent many evenings in, yet it feels as if he’s walking into an exam hall. His half-closed fist taps against the door two times, and he waits.

‘It’s open!’ comes from the inside.

JJ’s got his hand on the doorknob, but it falls, slick with sweat. He hasn’t heard her voice in so long that he’s forgotten what she sounds like.

It’s a blow after blow after blow, what’s been happening for the past few months. JJ needs something to bring him back some stability – something that in his opinion, is what only Kiara can give them.

Here’s hoping the Pogues won’t hate him for doing this.

He walks into the room and Kiara’s hunched over her desk, scribbling away into her notebook. her room looks the same but wrong , as if everything had been moved an inch to the right, or painted a different hue, or maybe JJ just hasn’t seen it in way too long.

Kiara looks different, too. She’s thinner now, and when she turns around and her mouth makes an ‘o’ shape, he notices she’s got some lighter strands in her hair, too.

‘ JJ .’

‘Hi,’ he says.

The JJ that is in Kiara’s room now feels like an entirely different person in comparison to the JJ that was in Kiara’s room in October. Hell, he’s never been further from the person on that bench next to the Wreck last summer.

Life’s a fucking shipwreck now.

So he sits down on Kiara’s windowsill, one leg to his chest and the other hanging out of the window. Kiara’s on her bed, at first, but she comes closer when JJ tells her about Big John. He tells her about John B giving up on his grades, on how he’s working for Ward Cameron to survive, how the boys are the only thing that’s keeping the Chateau alive now.

He doesn’t spare her the gritty details and he doesn’t ask about her. He’s not here to find out what she’s been up to.

When he finishes his story, she’s quiet.

‘Once a Pogue, always a Pogue, Kiara.’

‘JJ, I fucked up.’

He shakes his head, and he means it. ‘We can put that behind us. Fuck that, Kiara.’

‘Is it that bad?’ she asks.

‘What do you mean?’

Kiara hesitates, and it’s the first time JJ feels like he catches a glimpse of the kiara he fell in love with was friends with. She’s a little vulnerable, but she’s got the spunk, and she’s got enough to give to others.

She sits down on the windowsill, close enough that their thighs touch. They’re both wearing jeans this time, and JJ wonders, for a fleeting moment, if he’d feel the same as he did all those months ago if they were skin on skin again.

‘You must be out of options if you came to me, JJ.’ She looks at him with grave sadness in her eyes, and something that JJ recognises from the mirror, and wouldn’t wish upon anybody. Her chuckle is dry. ‘You don’t have to lie to me, JJ. I know you. You’re loyal to a fault, and you expect people to be the same, and I fucked up. If you didn’t need me, you wouldn’t look at me twice.’

JJ is quiet for some time, letting her words sink in. The breeze is cold and light outside, touching his face like a gentle, cold hand.

He missed Kiara’s window.

‘You’re right,’ he says, finally. ‘It’s bad. And I don’t – I don’t know if I would’ve come to you if I knew what to do.’

‘You wouldn’t,’ Kiara offers.

JJ chuckles, and it’s as dry as hers was. ‘Yeah, I probably wouldn’t.’

They don’t talk for a bit. JJ finds himself enjoying her presence – it’s like going to a place you have both good and bad memories of, and you haven’t visited for a while, and the memories become distant, merging into one another.

He doesn’t know how he feels about her anymore. He knows he’s hurting, for more reasons than just one, and he knows that having her around will be better than not having her.

‘I can’t imagine what it must’ve took, to come here,’ she admits. ‘You’re not the one who should be asking me to come back. I should be begging you and the guys to let me come back.’

There’s something in her tone that’s almost yearning; something so intrinsically aching that JJ manages to read between the lines. It’s not an apology, nor an admission of guilt, but it’s as close as they’ve gotten from her in a long, long time.

‘Why didn’t you?’ he finally asks. It’s a question he’s had on his mind for months , and saying it out loud to no one other than Kiara herself, is freeing and daunting at once. ‘Come back, I mean?’

Her head bows and JJ thinks he sees a teardrop reflect the light on her cheek. ‘I thought you’d hate me.’

‘Kiara, you know the boys would’ve welcomed you back with open arms.’

‘Not them, JJ.’ She looks at him and her eyes are watery, and it feels like a blow to his stomach, even after all this time. ‘I thought you would hate me.’

i could never , he thinks, because he still remembers how she tasted like fries. But then he remembers the ache in his chest, the nights spent staring at her number on his phone screen wanting to call, just to hear her voice again, just to have her tell him things are going to be okay.

He didn’t want to be without her. He didn’t want a life without her in it. He needed her, same as he needed John B and pope, same as he needed the ocean, same as he needed to feel adrenaline rushing through his bones when things started going to shit.

He needed her to be his anchor, and she wasn’t there.

But JJ shakes his head, half at his thoughts, half at her words. ‘I could never hate you, Kie.’

Whether it’s the earnestness of his voice, or the way it cracked when he said her nickname for the first time in months, JJ can’t tell – but she lays her hand on top of his and gives it a little squeeze.

‘Thank you.’

He doesn’t forgive her right there and then, and neither do the boys, when he pulls up on his bike the next day with her on the back of it. There’s a lot of conversations, a lot of things that need to be said on both sides, but JJ keeps to himself.

He sits on the bench at the porch and watches it all unfold.

What he thinks about Kiara is something he can’t tell anybody. It’s intertwined with everything that’s happened in the recent months like vines on a branch, and he doesn’t want to undermine everything.

JJ Maybank is angry and hurting and broken, and every time he looks at Kiara’s face he thinks of the time when she was all he needed to get through the day but she wasn’t there for him. Seeing her reopens the wound all over again, yet he pushes it to the side in favour of growth, in favour of giving her a second chance.

Kiara was wrong, when she thought that his loyalty would be the downfall of their friendship – his loyalty to her is the only reason he came back for her.

They all need her, John B most of all.

It’s only when the Pogues are back to the original four, each of them lounging on their spot on the HMS Pogue , that JJ feels like the hole in his heart is starting to fill up. Kiara knows the right things to say when John B gets upset, or when Pope loses hope, or when JJ feels like he’s about to lose his shit. The Pogues aren’t the Pogues without her.

Eventually, he knows he’ll forgive her. For now, he’s just happy she’s back.

★

tagging. @jjmaybanky @chasefreakinstokes @drewstarkey @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge @outrbank @juneyxx @drewstarkeyobx @ilovejjmaybank @teamnick @jjmaybanksbaby @mahleeyuh @nicolewithasoul @kiarawilliams127 @starlightstarkey @anonymous0writer @outerbongs @warnettc @jjandreidsgirl @jjmaybanqs @sofiesshitshow @kaitieskidmore1

#jiara #outer banks #obx #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jj maybank x kiara carrera #jiara july #outer banks fanfiction #jiara fanfiction #obx fic #my fic #f: obx #s: jiara

80 notes · View notes

mysterioh · 4 years

Text

The Ignorant Beauty and The Beast of New York - Ch. 13

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

SYNOPSIS: Y/N is an exhausted bio major. Steve is danger with a capital DANGER. She thinks he’s a sarcastic prick with an impressive knowledge of art history. He thinks she’s cute even if she’s only running on one brain cell. All he wants is a single date, but she’s adamant upon denying.

A/N: This one’s for the girls who feel underappreciated. Love you all! 💗

W/C: ~5k (kinda long this time)

Masterlist

Insert Very Cute Very Soft Title

“He’s so fluffy!” you fawned, squatting down to the dog's level, hands pressed against your cheeks as you looked at the fluffy cotton ball in complete awe.

Lucky sat on his bottom, smiling and panting with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, unaware of the effect he was having on you. He sat relaxed but ready to pounce on Steve if he let him. You squealed, shaking your head back and forth, and the mob men find it amusing.

"Don’t be rude Lucky, shake hands," Steve chuckled behind you.

“Hello, Lucky,” you placed your hand in front of him and he placed his paw on top. “So cute!” you screamed in awe. Steve pays close attention to the way your fingers sift through his luscious white fur. "Oh my god, you’re so soft!"

“She really likes Lucky," Bucky chuckled.

“I never knew she could be that nice," Steve shakes his head. His confusion and shock slowly morph into envy by the way you're playing with Lucky. "I can’t believe I’m jealous of a dog.”

“Hey, at least you know she isn’t a gold digger," Sam said. You're too busy with the dog that you don't pay them any mind. "She completely ignored this giant mansion filled with priceless treasures."

"Would you shut up?" Steve asked annoyed. "She's literally right there."

"She's gone, bro," Bucky crossed his arms. "She's not coming back anytime soon."

"You guys are finally here," Nat said, strutting towards them from the hallway. "I was wondering where you were."

You stand up as the redhead walks towards you. "And you brought a friend," she smirks at Steve. He looks away with an irritated blush creeping on his cheeks.

"Hi, I think we met at the restaurant," you extended your hand for a shake. "My name is–"

"Y/N," Nat shakes your hand. "I know. Stevie's told me a lot about you."

Your face flushed warm and you turned towards him with a wicked grin.

"Is that true, Stevie?"

Steve gulps when you tease him, it's like a sweet blaze burning through his veins. Steve's lips form into a pout before clicking his tongue.

"Alright, it ain't that funny," he said pointedly at the three snickering mischievously. "Sam, Bucky, Nat, in my office now," he ordered firmly, but it didn't phase them. "Peter stay here with Y/N."

"Aye, aye, Captain." He saluted.

He walks up to you and scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "I gotta have a quick meeting. If that's okay with you?"

"No problem with me," you shake your head.

Steve smiles brightly. "Thanks, it won't be too long. Make yourself at home," he turned on his heel. "If you need anything just ask Peter."

You chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll be fine, Stevie," you teased.

Steve shakes his head with a blush staining his cheeks. "Stop," he said in an attempt to sound serious but trails off into a flustered chuckle.

You turn to look at Peter. “So what do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugs, “how about we sneak around and do something illegal?”

“In the kingpin’s house?” you smirked. “I love that idea.”

“Great,” he beams, “Let’s—” Peter’s ringtone goes off and digs his hand into his pocket for his phone. He pulls it out and sighs. “It’s my girlfriend.”

“Why must your girlfriend so conveniently call when we are on the brink of a major discovery?”

“I don’t know,” Peter chuckled, “I shall answer and find out,” he takes a skip towards the living room for some privacy, leaving you alone with Lucky.

You crouch down to his level. “Well, Lucky, I suppose our mystery gang is down to two,” you said, cupping his cheeks. “What do we do now? Got any embarrassing pictures of your old man we can go through?”

Lucky barks and rushes off somewhere. He returns not a minute later with a ball in his mouth. He places the ball on the floor in front of you and pants heavily.

“Ball?” you asked, “Are you even allowed to play ball in the house?” You shrugged, taking the ball into your hand. “Well, Steve did say to make ourselves at home. So that means— catch !”

Lucky scrambles after the ball, slipping along the shiny marble floor of the foyer and into the hallway. You wait patiently for him to return, observing the interior of the mansion’s foyer. The house was styled in an old French Country Style with worn and ornamental wooden furnishings and soft tones of warm colors. In the middle of the foyer was the staircase lined with shining mahogany banisters that narrow at the top and grow wide downwards. The walls are decorated with various paintings. All matching perfectly with the decor.

You snorted while placing your hands on your hips. Of course, he’d have paintings in his house. It’s not like he couldn’t afford it.

You realize that a couple of minutes have passed and Lucky still hadn’t returned with the ball. You walk down the hallway calling Lucky’s name quietly. The low tone of conversation comes from one of the rooms and you tiptoed towards the door, cracked open just enough for a beam of light to peer through.

Crouching against the wall, you crane your neck towards the door to listen to the conversation inside. You were never one to eavesdrop but you had a lot of questions about Steve. A lot of questions he probably wouldn't want to answer.

You squeak at the feel of something soft brush against your leg and turn to find Lucky sitting next to you, ball in mouth. He drops the ball drenched in his slobber into your hand. Slightly disgusted you smiled at him. “Where have you been?” you whispered before turning back inside.

"Those men were either Rumlow or Chicago, we're not exactly sure."

"We'll find out."

"Chill out, Stevie, the girl's fine."

"It's not something to chill out about, Bucky," Steve countered, "She could've gotten hurt."

There's a genuine sound of worry and care in his words and even without taking a peek inside, you imagine what he looks like. Eyebrows knitted loosely in frustration, lips curved downward slightly in anger, jaw ticking, muscles bulging underneath white sleeves pushed up past his elbows, and hands placed flat on his desk as he's hunched over with the most despicable expression on his face. And it's all because of you. For you. You didn't know if it was right or wrong.

Bucky snorted along to the creaking of the chair he was sitting on being balanced on its hind legs. "Not when her prince in shining armor's there to save h–ow! Okay! I'm sorry!" He hollered.

"This isn't a time for jokes, Buck," Nat stated, seriously.

"The clown can't help himself," Sam snickered.

"Screw you, Wilson," Bucky jabbed. Sam was ready to retort but Nat interjected.

"What if it's neither?" Nat proposed. "What if they're all working together?"

"What do you mean?" Bucky asked, clueless. Nat sighed.

"Think about it. The Gambinos work with Lucchese. They're pals. Rumlow’s working with Lucchese and he shows up with this proposition right after Steve decided to nuke the Gambino brothers."

_Wait, nuke who? Nuke as in bomb? He's killing people? _

_All of a sudden, Quentin's highly irritating, fatherly voice twinkles in the back of your head. _

"You mean they're all in this together?" Sam questioned.

"What else am I trying to say?" Nat snapped.

"Woah Sis, better check that attitude," Bucky replied.

"You wanna say that again, Buckethead?" She asked, dangerously low.

Bucky gulps while shaking his head.

"Thought so."

"If they're all working together, who's the head?" Sam said, rubbing his hand across his chin.

"It could be a compromise?" Nat stated. "Working together to take over?"

"No, they ain't that buddy-buddy," Steve counters with a grumble. "There's gotta be one at the top that brought them together."

The room goes silent for a few minutes and you can hear your heartbeat bouncing back and forth between your chest and the wall. Lucky opens his mouth to bark and you quickly cover it with your hands.

"Sshh," you whispered with a finger in front of your lips.

"Hydra," Steve stated and your attention returns to inside.

"What?" Bucky asked incredulously, "there's no way."

"No wait a second," Sam stopped him. "The Gambinos were working with Hydra behind our back. Who's to say Lucchese isn't?"

"Sam's got a point," Nat agreed. "Hydra could be the head. They're covering themselves up with the big guys and those dumbasses are falling for it."

Bucky nodded. "Makes sense. The underdog's taking a chance to make it to the top."

"Well they're messing with the wrong mob," Sam snarled. "We'll show 'em just what we're made of."

"But, we can't afford a war," Bucky reminded, "Not when elections are coming up."

War? What does he mean by that? Does he mean like a GANG WAR? OH GOD, WHAT AM I DOING HERE?

"Bucky's right,” Steve agrees.

"For once," Nat quickly replied, earning a grumble from Bucky.

"Here's what we do," Steve started. You notice just how different he sounds. Stately and somewhat dictating, very serious with speckles of something dark. Something that makes shivers crawl down your spine. He doesn't sound like the Steve you knew.

“We wade this out," he continues, “Let it pass until the elections are over and then we hit ‘em."

"You think T'challa's gonna like that?" Nat asked.

"He will if he wants to keep his ass on that chair," Sam retorts.

"We don't make any moves until the elections pass and he wins," Steve re-stated. "Tell everyone working under you to lay low. No fights. No bullshit," he ordered. "We make 'em feel like it was nothing. Ya hear?"

"Got it," Bucky nodded.

You hear them shuffling inside, chairs being pushed, and steps coming towards the door and take it as your cue to disappear. Quickly picking up Lucky, who's heavier than he looks, you quietly run down the hall just as Bucky opens the door.

"And the girl?" Nat asked while Sam helped her put her coat on.

"What about her?" Steve asked, clearing the papers from his desk.

"If you're gonna keep her around, which you probably are, you have to tell her what she's getting into."

Steve sighs and drops his papers back onto the desk.

"Nat's right, buddy, she needs to know before it gets worse," Bucky agreed.

"I'll talk to her," Steve responded.

"Tonight?" Nat asked her tone stating that he better say yes.

"Tonight."

A haze of smoke dances underneath dim lights, above and around the round table of Sir Alexander's notorious mobsters.

The thick smell of alcohol and cigars mingled with the aroma of day-old pizza inside of Gino's Pizzeria. A few sat around the table playing cards, laughing raucously at another lewd joke. Others lined the bar with the wall illuminated by speckled bar lights shining through bottles of different hues.

It was always a den of debauchery, alcoholism, and the great unwashed of the town. No one came there with anything wholesome in mind.

Strucker walks past the men, each of them giving their stalwart a greeting nod or word, and into the back. He opens the door, gaining the attention of the men sitting around the table. They look at him with questioning eyes and he gulps silently. His eyes meet the cold ones of the man at the head of the table, sending a shiver down the grown man's spine. Alexander Pierce, the leader of Hydra.

"He got away," Strucker informed.

"How'd you let that happen?" Pierce asked, tapping his finger against the wooden table.

"It was dark," he said blankly.

"Are you fucking serious?" Rumlow asked incredulously. "He's not serious is he?" He points at Strucker while looking at Zemo.

Zemo sighed, slightly irritated by Rumlow. He's been all night. "With all due respect sir, I told you it would've been a bad move to do this," Zemo told Pierce. "But it's not like anyone listens to me around here," he looks straight at Rumlow.

"What the hell are you looking at me for?" He pointed at himself with both his hands. "I had an idea and you all liked it. How is this solely my fault?"

"Everything you ever come up with goes to shit," Zemo stated flatly. "Now the kingpin knows we're sneaking around."

"They don't know it's us," Rumlow retorted.

"But they know it's someone and most likely you," Zemo said pointedly.

"The boss gave me the okay," Rumlow replied. Zemo always had a way of getting under his skin. "So your opinion doesn't matter."

"After begging like a dog for it," Zemo bites.

Rumlow quickly stands, shaking the table along with him. "You wanna say that again?" He threatens with a grisly voice.

"Rumlow, sit down," Pierce stated calmly, unphased by his outrage, but slightly irritated by the three of them. "Zemo, shut up."

The two follow their stalwart's orders giving each other death stares making the older man sighed deeply like a tired mother.

"The Brooklyn Mob is the biggest force in the city. They've got the biggest territory. The best guys. And all the politicians that can do something," Zemo lists. "They got the mayor. Half the police force on their payroll. The best damn lawyer in the city."

"Nick Fury's getting old. He can't do that forever," Strucker said, lighting a cigarette.

"For old Rogers? I highly doubt it." Rumlow guffaws. "You know how much he gets paid for keeping his ass outta jail?"

"But there's always a weak spot," Pierce pointed out, cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. "No great empire lasts forever. They all have a weakness.” he sits back in his chair, hooking his leg over the other. “All we need to do is find one.”

“How are you going to do that?” Rumlow asked, completely confused. “No Brooklyn mobster is dumb enough to go against the kingpin, not like they want to anyway. They’re the cockiest little shits I’ve ever met.”

Zemo shakes his head. “You’re thinking too outwardly, Rumlow. We need someone on the inside, someone close to ol’ Rogers.”

“You mean like Barnes or Wilson?” Rumlow questioned, incredulously. “Good luck with that Harvard man.” Zemo huffs through his nose with a grimace.

"We need something. Something good,” Pierce told them. “Something that'll make the kingpin fall so far that he'll never get back up."

“I think I have something,” Strucker raises his hand.

“Strucker, be quiet, you don’t even have a brain,” Rumlow shuts him down.

“Honestly listen to me,” he persisted. “There’s some talk going on around the city.”

“Well, are you gonna tell us?” Pierce questioned harshly.

“Apparently, Rogers’ got a girl.”

Rumlow scoffed. “That’s news? Who cares about some chick he’s fucking?”

“No, no this may be something,” Pierce counters and Strucker smiles small. “Rogers is a gentleman. He’s sweet around the ladies.”

“Well, whoop de doo his momma taught him some manners before kicking the bucket. So what?”

“Whoever this girl is,” Strucker started. “She’s important to him. Maybe even more than his damn mob. I mean everyone knows the kingpin doesn’t back out of a fight, but this time he did and wanna know why? Because she was there with him.”

“Who is this girl?” Zemo asked him.

“I don’t know. No one knows,” he shrugs, “Probably a civilian.”

“So what do we do?” Rumlow asks the others. “Go after the girl? Bribe him into it?”

Pierce shakes his head with a frown. “No, I’ll tell you what we’re going to do,” he stood up, looking at his three best. “Rumlow, you’re gonna stay low.” he pointed at him then at Strucker.

“Strucker, you’re gonna find this girl, get every piece of information you can on her. Every damn thing you hear me?” Strucker nods in haphazard. “But don’t make a move. Not until I say so. This girl may just be what we need,” Pierce smiles devilishly and laughs haughtily.

“And what about me?” Zemo asked with furrowed brows.

“Pack your bags, kid, you’re going on a trip,” he patted him on the shoulder as he walked by.

“What?” he questioned Pierce as he walked away. “Where?”

Pierce stops at the door and turns back with a wicked glint in his eye and the gears in his aged brain concocting a toxic plan.

“Jolly old England!”

“So you live in this huge place all alone?” you asked, sitting on a stool by the kitchen island with Lucky resting on the floor next to you.

The kitchen alone was bigger than your entire apartment complete with granite-topped counters, sparkling clean kitchen items, and that never-ending fridge Bucky was talking about.

"Not really," Steve said, making some coffee. "I've got a penthouse. Smaller. Closer to work. I usually stay there."

"But you're still all alone.”

Steve stops for a second to ruminate on your words. True, he was alone. He didn’t have any family left, except for Lucky. He always tried not to think about it by keeping himself busy, but loneliness had a way of sneaking up on him. He shrugged, pulling out two mugs from the cabinet above him.

"I don't know being alone isn't so bad,” he replied, placing the cups down. “It gives you time to think. About yourself. About what you want in life and what you don't,” You listened while watching him pour some coffee into a mug. “You can use that time to find out something you never knew about yourself."

“I guess,” you replied sheepishly.

He turns with a smile telling you not to feel bad. He places a mug in front of you. "Besides I'm not always alone. I've got my friends."

"Oh yeah,” you chuckled. “How could I ever forget them? They're kinda hard to miss."

Steve laughs, returning to the counter to get his cup. "Sorry if they're annoying."

"No, they're not annoying,” you shake your head, cupping the mug with both of your hands. "I like them. They seem like a lot of fun."

He snorts. "They can be when they want to."

You take a sip of the hot liquid. A sweet wave of French Vanilla bombards your tastebuds. You notice a yellow sketchbook, sticking out from underneath some junk mail. Without thinking, you pull the book out.

"You draw?"

He turns to see you with his book in your hand. He smiles sheepishly. Why did I leave that there!? "A little,” he replied, turning back to work on his coffee.

"Seems to be more than a little,” you chuckled. "Can I?"

"Hmm, oh yeah sure go ahead,” he said, adding some creamer to his mug. He stops midway when he realizes what book was in your hand. The yellow one. The one no one was supposed to see. Especially the girl who’s picture he drew horribly in it.

He almost drops the creamer as he quickly lunges over the granite top as you turned the page. "W-wait! Not—not that one!" he shouted, as you turned the page to reveal a picture of you. It’s a simple headshot going down to just above your chest.

Steve’s face goes red as half off him lays on top of the table, watching the way you’re looking at the picture he drew. Your eyes move from place to place, taking in every part he drew with attention to detail. Every stroke twisted into a lacy network of pencil lead. The painstaking task of shading to represent the contrast between light and dark. It’s fragile, natural, beautiful in its own way.

It makes you think. How long did he take to make this? How many hours did he erase to get it all right? Every line has been made with care, every stroke with you in mind.

Brushing your fingers along the picture you gasp in awe. "This is me."

"It is," he murmurs. You turn quiet and look at the sketch in wonder. Steve takes your silence as you being weirded out and begins to ramble an excuse.

"I'm really sorry. I just...I don't know what happened to me and I drew this cause I was thinking about you and I know it's really creepy—."

"I like it," you interrupted.

"What?"

"I said I like it. I love it actually," you looked up at him, beaming. "I've never had my portrait done before."

He stands straight and scratches the back of his head still embarrassed. "I'm- um- glad you like it."

"You've really outdone yourself with this. I don't even look this pretty," you remarked.

Steve was taken aback at first then shakes his head with a sad smile.

"I don't–I don't think that at all. I'm still lacking so much. I still can't get that pretty smile of yours right or that sparkle in your eye," lifting up your head, your eyes meet his vibrant, honest ones. "I'll never be able to recreate the things that make you so beautiful.”

Beautiful .

That's something you've never really felt before. Something no one's ever really said before. It's always been the opposite. There are a million flaws you could pick out right there and then, but you take his words as truth.

There's a dry ache in your throat as tears start to bubble at the corners of your eyes. You sniffle as teardrops fall onto the paper.

"What's wrong?" Steve came towards you in a hurry.

You shake your head, wiping away the tears "It's just," you sniffled, rubbing your eye. "No one's ever really said that to me before," you look up with a smile and red eyes. "Sorry, I'm getting your book all wet," you chuckled, avoiding his eyes.

His heart aches at your words, his fingers itching to wrap around you in an embrace. He wants you to feel loved . Feel wanted. He wanted you to know just how beautiful you really were. He wanted you to see yourself the way he saw you.

"That's fine. I don't care," he whispered, gently weaving his hands in yours. "Y/N."

You look up at him and he's left breathless again. To him, you’ve always been an understated beauty. Simple and sweet. Confident and strong. Perhaps that was the reason why your skin glowed. It was your inner beauty that lit your eyes and softened your features.

When you smiled and laughed he couldn’t help but follow along. To be in your company made him feel like he was more than just a mob boss. That he too deserved to be warmed in summer rays regardless of the season.

"You're very beautiful," he repeated and it feels more special the second time.

You chuckle while shaking your head, your hands still in his.

"If you're tryna get in my pants, kingpin, it’s not gonna work," you jabbed playfully.

He rolled his eyes, his lips curling in a playfully peeved grin.

"Can't I say something just for the sake of saying it?"

You smiled sheepishly, slipping off the stool and standing. "I guess you can."

Before he could even say another word, you pull him down to you and kiss him straight on the lips. Not on the cheek. But on the lips and it catches him completely off guard.

It's quick and chaste but it's something Steve's been dreaming of for a long time. Those pretty plump lips against his felt softer than heaven, sweeter than honey. When you part just a split second later, he feels lonely but content with the promise of another meeting.

You giggle sweetly, your breath mingling with his, tickling – teasing his lips to come closer for more.

"I should really get to bed," you said, standing a bit back. "I've got an early class."

"Yeah, of course," he nodded with a beaming smile. "Let me show you to your room."

Pulling you by the hand, he leads you out of the kitchen and towards the staircase. Everything seems so perfect at that moment. The dim light of a chandelier twinkling above, your hand perfectly intertwined in his, and his deep, soothing voice rambling that sounded more like the hazy tune of a sweet melody.

Never in your dreams did you think you'd get to share a moment like this let alone with a man like him. Dangerous for sure, but sweet and humble, generous and caring. All the good things about him seemed to outmatch the one bad thing. So what if he had a bit of notoriety? The world wasn't perfect and neither were you.

Sometimes you find the things you want most in life in the most unexpected of places. You found yours in him. Though small at the moment it could blossom into something more. And for that "what if" you were more than willing to stay.

“I think Lucky wants to sleep with you tonight," Steve chuckles as the puppy pushes his way through the door and your legs.

"I don't mind," you smiled at him making his way to the bed.

You reached on your tiptoes and gave Steve a kiss on the cheek. “Good night.”

Steve smiles sweetly not really wanting to leave. He plants a kiss on your intertwined hand, igniting a blazing fire across the skin of your arm. “Good night," he wishes.

Quentin stood by the science building on campus as he did every day, waiting for you to drag yourself to school like you did every day, but this time he finds something he didn’t expect. His jaw drops at the sight of you driving up in the passenger seat of a sparkling silver Corvette. It’s only until the car stops by him on the side of the curb does he really believe that it’s you.

"Y/N! What are you doing with him?!” he shouted with an accusatory point.

“Oh, hey Quentin," you got out of the convertible not really paying attention to him. You turn towards Steve. "Thanks for the ride, Steve and for letting me stay.”

“You spent the night with him?!” he hollered, waving his arms around.

“No problem, sweetheart," Steve chuckled sweetly.

“Don’t call her that!” Quentin shouted, standing next to you.

Your eyes are completely fixated on Steve and don't notice Quentin glaring at you. “See ya around sometime?”

“Yeah, I’d love to," the blonde agreed with a smile.

“Stop ignoring me!” Quentin huffed putting his hands on his hips.

“Do you hear that annoying sound or is it just me?” Steve asked, teasingly, earning a giggle in return.

“Y/N, what the hell were you doing with this criminal for an entire night?”

“It’s a long story Quentin I’ll tell you later,” you waved him off.

“I demand to know right now!”

You rolled your eyes with a huff. “I’ll tell you after class," you stated with emphasis.

“Hey,” Steve calls you back. “If anything happens, you call me right away. You hear me?”

“You have his number?” Quentin asked through gritted teeth. He just couldn’t process how you went from hating him two days ago to sleeping over his house.

You smiled with a nod. “Yeah, I’ll tell you don’t worry.” Steve takes your hand and kisses it.

“I’ll see you later then?” he asked again, running his thumb across the ridges of your knuckles and you wanted to melt right there.

“Call me when you’re free,” you told him with a sudden urge to kiss him again. But not right now, Quentin would raise hell if he saw that. As if he wasn’t already.

“What the fuck is happening here?” Quentin questioned. “You stay away from her,” he pointed at the blonde. Steve gave him a snarky smile that said: I do what I want twink ass bitch and it only pisses him off more. “And you stop looking at him like he’s your fucking Romeo.”

“I mean if the job’s open?” Steve shrugged, his Prada sunglasses hanging low on his nose and looking over at you. You chuckled as Quentin pulls you along by the hand.

“It’s not.” he bit back. “So leave before I call the cops.”

You bite your lip, highly tempted to skip class, jump back into his convertible, and have him take you wherever he wants to. Along lone country roads, feeling the wind twirl through your hair as he holds your hand in his, kissing it from time to time as he drives into a tangy orange sunset. You’ll take it one step further, pressing a kiss onto his cheek and along his jaw until you reach those pretty lips.

God, what was happening to you?

"What are you staring at?” Quentin hissed, bringing you back to your senses. He points upward toward the building. “Get your butt up those stairs right now!"

You follow your dad friend up the stairs as he goes off about how out of line you are. You turn around as he pulls you behind him. Your eyes meet Steve’s baby blues, twinkling under the sunlight. You chuckle at him as he waves goodbye.

You press your hands against your lips and send a kiss towards him flamboyantly. He clutches his chest and falls back onto his seat dramatically leaving you a giggly mess. It's a pity that you had to leave so soon.

You shoot one last smile his way before going inside and it's like Cupid's arrow shot him right through the heart.

TAGLIST (OPEN): @ashwarren32 @chuckennuggets1213 @scuzmunkie @siriusement @rootcrop @savedbystark @little-dark-empress @boxofteenageideas @great-goddess-of-sin @calwitch @achishisha @captainchrisstan @thirstybunz @littlebees-things @voltage-my2dlove @rinkashirikitateku @booktease21 @harleyscheekheart @emptyporsche @imsonick

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #mob!steve #mob!steve rogers x reader #mobster steve rogers x reader #mobster au #mob!steve rogers x you #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fluff

277 notes · View notes

novannna · 3 years

Text

Write Our Story in the Stars

so for school we did nanowrimo and i actually like the story I wrote so i’m posting it to tumblr :)

This story is about a girl and a princess who grow up together, closer than sisters. The girl wants only to be the princess’s guard so they can stay together forever. When she gets a chance to prove herself worthy to be the princess’s sole protector, she jumps on the oppurtunity. She and the princess leave on a journey to find a stolen treasure. While on the journey, the girl finds out a dark secret about her past....(cliche, ik)

tw: blood, death, violence, mentions of abuse in later chapters

wc: 2589

Chapter 1

This story starts like most fairy tales. It starts with a princess. But she is not the main character. No, our story is about the little girl who was raised in her shadow. This girl has never had an easy life. She was orphaned at an early age, and sent to live with an abusive family. At only ten years of age, she escaped her home and went to live in the great capital city. She found work in the palace, and quickly befriended the princess. You may think that being overshadowed in such a way would anger the young girl. It did the opposite. She never liked attention. All she wanted was the princess’s love as they were the closest of friends.

As time passed the princess grew older and had other duties to tend to. And the young girl was now no longer so young. She had a new goal in her life. She wanted to be the princess’s protector. The royal guards laughed and scorned her for wanting to become a warrior, but that did not stop the girl. She trained night and day, waiting for a chance to prove her worth. She was still ignored, but not by the one who mattered most. The princess saw everything her friend did. She watched, and her heart hurt for the girl whose life was so different than her own. The princess never knew the hardships the girl faced. She knew she would never face anything as hard as the girl. She could never suffer an equal amount of pain. And so, when a chance came for the girl to earn her place, the princess jumped on it.

Chapter 1

“Mallory, come on!” Talia laughed. “You’ve been out here for hours. Aren’t you hungry?”

“No.” Mallory gritted her teeth, and pulled another arrow out of her quiver. “I have to keep training. You know that.”

“Mal, come on. You have to eat sometimes,” Talia begged. “You can keep training tomorrow, but it's almost nine.”

Mallory ignored her. She let her arrow fly, and it hit the center of the target, running right through an arrow already there.

Talia groaned. “This is for your own good.” She pushed up her sleeves, and marched over towards the girl. “If you won’t come willingly, I’ll have to drag you in. And do you really want that?”

Mallory scoffed. “Will you?”

Talia bobbed her head up and down. “Yes. I will, thank you very much.”

Mallory sighed. “Listen, Tal, I have to train. I have to be the best if you and I want to be together forever. This is the only way we have a chance to stay together.”

“You are already the best. You’ve beaten every single person who’s fought you. You're the strongest person I know. Come in for the night. Please.”

“Fine,” Mallory groaned. “But I still have to train tomorrow. No exceptions.”

“Yeah yeah. Come on!” Talia tugged Mallory towards the door.

“Don’t you have boring princess duties to take care of?”

“They can wait. I feel like I never see you anymore. So… tonight we’re hanging out, just the two of us!”

“Yay,” Mallory replied with little enthusiasm.

“That’s the spirit. Race you to my bedroom!” Talia shot off, her hair billowing out from behind her. “Last one there’s a rotten egg.”

Mallory shook her head and chuckled. She started to sprint after her best friend.

---

“I won,” Mallory said breathlessly.

Talia pouted. “No fair, you took the servants path. That’s cheating.”

“No, I just thought smarter than you. We never said it wasn’t allowed.”

“Fine. But I’ll get you next time. Just you wait.” Talia pretended to glare at Mallory.

“I’m terrified,” Mallory dead-panned.

“Oh! I have something for you!” Talia grinned wildly, and reached under her bed.

Mallory smiled from Talia’s infectious joy. “Do you?” She held out her hands to grab the long parcel Talia dropped into them.

She started to unwrap it, but Talia stopped her. “Wait! Open this first.” She handed a heavy looking large bundle that clanked suspiciously.

“What is it?” Mallory asked nervously.

“Just open it!”

Mallory carefully tore away the paper. Gleaming metal and fabric shone up at her. A uniform. But, not just any uniform.

“Is this…”

“The uniform of the princess’s guard? Yes, yes it is.”

Mallory’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t believe it. Everything she had ever worked for. A chance to stay with her friend forever. A chance to be together till they died. This was her dream. Her dream ever since she had laid eyes on the princess. She knew it was silly. Who would ever let her, a nobody, guard the princess? But the gleaming armor was right in front of her.

“How?” Mallory asked, her face shining with joy. “This… this is incredible!”

“I pulled a few strings. But, you have to prove yourself first. It’s not a solid position yet, but you have a chance.” Talia said. “A chance for us to stick together, no matter what.”

Mallory’s heart fell. She did not get this because she had dedicated her life to this, she had gotten this opportunity because Talia had asked for her to get this. She didn’t earn this. But, it didn’t matter, she told herself. You and Talia both know you deserve this. Yes, it would have been nicer if she had earned it on her own, but she still had a chance. And she would not waste it.

“Talia, this is amazing. What did you mean by prove myself? Is there some sort of test or…” she trailed off.

“Nope.” Talia’s face brightened. “They have a job of sorts for you to complete. A weapon that was stolen from the treasury long ago. The jewel of Asno. And they want you to get it.”

“I’ll be away for a long time then. So why do you look so happy?” She asked. Talia was smiling ear to ear.

“Because… only someone of royal blood can touch it. Which means I’m going with you.” She slung her hands over Mallory’s shoulders. “It’s going to be so fun! You and me, on an adventure. It’s a chance for you to prove yourself, and a chance for you and me to go on a trip together.”

Mallory squirmed away. “Your dad is letting this happen?”

“That’s the beauty of it! He doesn't have a choice. The princess can choose her guard, and they can prove themselves in a task of her choice. So he has to let me do this.”

Mallory smiled slightly. “Thank you for this.”

“Of course! You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you.” Her eyes brightened. “Oh, wait. Don’t forget this!” She nearly shoved the long parcel into Mallory.

“...okay.” Mallory pulled out a beautiful sword from the parcel. “Oh,” she said quietly. “It’s beautiful.” The blade was made of an odd black metal, and the handle had pearl and gold inlaid in a criss-crossing pattern. Mallory drew her thumb across the blade, and hissed as red blood welled up.

“I thought you’d like it. It is really beautiful isn’t it.”

Mallory nodded mutely. “And deadly.” She jumped to her feet, and swiped the blade through the hair. It cut without a sound. A smile split her face. “Thank you Tal. Thank you so much. For everything.”

“Of course Mal. This is your dream. And you’ve earned it.”

“Not alone. I’d still be stuck as some lowly servant if you hadn’t seen me. I’d probably be dead. You encouraged me, and never let me down. Thank you so much for that Tal.”

“Well, of course I’d do that. You’re like my sister. I love you. Now,” She shoved Mallory lightly. “Go try it on. I want to see how my trusted protector looks!”

Mallory rolled her eyes. “If you insist.”

“I do.” She turned around. “I’m not looking, I promise.”

Mallory laughed and started to put the uniform on. It fit perfectly. She walked towards the mirror once she had finished, the metal barely making a sound. The uniform was beautiful as well.

Black pants with shining metal greaves, similar to the sword, tucked into black boots. A red shirt underneath a black chest plate. She tucked her hair up into a helmet with a vibrant red plume. Finally, she strapped her sword over her back.

“It’s beautiful,” Mallory whispered. “I- I can’t thank you enough, Tal. You’ve given me everything.”

“Can I turn around now?” Talia asked.

“Oh,” Mallory laughed. “Yes, you can.”

Talia leapt to her feet and squealed. “Oh, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.” She clasped Mallory’s hands tightly in her own, and spun around the room. “You did it Mal. You’ll be my guard, and wherever I go, you can follow.”

“Inseparable till the end.” Mallory took her helmet off, and set it down. It was far too hot to wear it there. “When do we leave?”

“A week’s time.” Talia sighed dreamily. “Oh, it’ll be amazing. Can’t you imagine.” She leaned her head on Mallory’s shoulder. “Green hills, and mountains, and deep blue lakes. It’ll be everything I dreamed of.”

“You’ve never really been out of Asnon have you?”

“Well… I’ve been to other palaces. But I’ve never been to the real world.” She spun around, her arms wide. “Isn’t it so exciting.”

Mallory laughed. “The real world isn’t a paradise princess. It’s got ugly parts too. Asnon is beautiful compared to other places. This isn’t going to be easy. We’ll be in danger the whole time. From the moment we leave the borders assume everyone hates you, and wants to kill you.”

“But I don’t have to worry about it. Because you’ll be there to protect me.”She returned to Mallory, and clasped their hands together. They leaned forward as one, and pressed their foreheads together.

“I’m so proud of you, Mal,” Talia whispered, her words warm on Mallory’s face. “You’ve deserved to get this from the second I met you. I love you so much.”

“Thank you for getting me a chance. I promise, I’ll never leave you. I swear, my life belongs to you, and I am yours to command.”

Talia giggled. “Well, I command you to come with me to the kitchen. I’m starving, and you must be too.”

“Your word is my command, princess,” Mallory replied with a bow. She extended an elbow, and the princess looped her own through it. “Shall we?”

“We shall.” They turned, and walked out the doors as one.

---

Back in the safety of her own room, Mallory began to take off her uniform. She had everything she had ever wanted, so why was she so disappointed.

She knew Talia loved her like a sister, and just wanted the best for her, but it still stung to get things only because the princess had helped. She had always wanted to be the princess’s protector, but she had wanted to get there on her own. She did not want the princess calling in favors or asking nicely. She wanted the captain of the guard to look at her and realize that Mallory was perfect for the job. She was hard working, and fierce, and tough. She was a better fighter than anyone in Asnon. But they still looked down on her. Because she was born a nobody. An orphan, sent to live with a family that didn’t want her. A family that hurt her, and told her she was worthless. Mallory had fought tooth and nail to live, and she wanted to earn her place in the world. She didn’t want it to be handed to her. Then people would question her right. No, Mallory wanted to fight for it. She wanted everyone to watch, and see she was the only person, woman or man, who was worthy enough to protect the princess. She sighed and flopped down, onto her bed.

She should not be complaining. Her life was perfect. She had a chance to win everything. She should not be disappointed. But she was.

Mallory was furious that the princess didn’t understand. She’d never understand.

And that was not her fault. Talia didn’t understand how much it hurt to know that everything Mallory had achieved was because of her. She didn’t understand, and she was just trying to help.

Mallory groaned and rolled over. She pressed her face into her pillow.

A knock sounded on her door.

Mallory grimaced, and slowly got up. She opened the door to find the captain of the guard and the king standing in her doorway.

Mallory dropped into a low curtsy.

“Your highness. What do I owe this… visit?” She asked uncertaintly.

“Good evening Mallory. My daughter has told me she wishes to make you her personal guard,” the king said in his deep voice.

“Yes. It is an incredible honor. I hope to serve her as best as possible.”

“I wanted you to know that I do not approve of her choice. I know that you two are close, but you have not proved yourself.”

Mallory bit her lip. She knew that most people would not approve of Talia’s choice.

“I understand sir…” She started.

“-However,” he continued. “I will give you the benefit of doubt. Talia and you are to travel across the land, to Monopya, to find a stolen weapon. That is your chance to prove yourself. In order for you to gain my trust, I’m sending the captain the captainwith you to ensure the princess’s safety, and observe your progress.”

The captain straightened, and nodded his head sharply at Mallory.

“Is this understood? This is your one chance to prove to me I can trust my daughter’s life in your hands.”

Mallory nodded. “I’d die for her your highness.”

“I am happy to hear this. I wish you luck on your journey.” The king nodded sharply, and spun on his heel. He marched off, the captain close on his heels.

Mallory shut the door, and slid down to the floor. Great. This was just great.

Her every move was going to be watched. And if she messed up, she’d never have a chance again. She’d probably have to leave the palace.

And the captain of the guard was coming. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the man, he had helped her train when she was younger. He never treated her like a kid. He had let her use his weapons and swords. He had helped her learn complicated moves. But he never offered her a chance to become something. And she was still hurt from that. He knew how much it meant to her, but he never said anything. And now he was going on a journey that was supposed to be just her and Talia.

“This is your dream Mallory. You can’t change it now, so go with it,” she said to herself.

Mallory sat on her bed and hugged her knees to her chest. She had gotten so far already. What was one more mountain? She’d conquer it the way she always did.

Still. The sting of knowing it wasn’t her skill that had gotten her there still hurt. But not enough. Not enough to make her turn away.

Besides. Mallory did not trust anyone else with Talia’s life.

Mallory lay down on her bed, and shut her eyes. “This will work,” her mind whispered. “It has too. If it doesn’t, then you're out of luck.” Everything was on stake. Her very life could be. She would not fail Talia. She would not fail. She could not fail.

#my own writing #my oc's #write our story in the stars #Mallory #Talia #let me know what you think!#Nanowrimo

12 notes · View notes

tjkiahgb · 5 years

Text

Episode Recap: 3.15, “Unloading Zone”

Two recaps in two days? The things I do for meaningless internet points.

Bex, Bowie, and Andi sit around the apartment looking at their phones when Bowie suddenly declares it movie night. Everyone’s like, kinda excited about movie night, but not enough to move or do anything about it.

That’s the way we like to movie night.

Bowie says it’s a family night, where they all stare at the same screen. They debate what to see and where to see it but basically realize everything is bad.

Backed into a corner, they realize their only recourse is to take to their phones and the internet to try and find something to watch.

Andi shoots that idea down with a sarcastic “Sounds riveting.”

I take it she’s never seen footage of a swarm of monarch butterflies tearing a cow to shreds in a matter of seconds. I’m talking down to the bone!

They all go back to their phones with the sort of silent resignation that they aren’t going to watch a movie that night and also that they, and frankly all of us, will never stop staring at our phone screens from now until the moment we die. We are prisoners to technology. It is a cage we constructed by mistake and trapped ourselves in permanently by reforming our society around it. It is a karmic form of punishment for our hubris and it will one day be our destruction.

Anyway, please follow me on tumblr dot com, and don’t forget to give my posts likes and reblogs as my self-esteem is built almost entirely upon this.

Speaking of self-esteem: Cyrus.

He and Buffy watch TJ and Kira from afar at the park, where Kira attempts to blind TJ.

Buffy’s trying to figure out if they’re together now, but Cyrus doesn’t know, as they haven’t been hanging out lately. Kira’s been around him almost non-stop and Cyrus is not interested in being around her.

Kira jumps on TJ’s back, providing another stunning metaphor.

My God, she’s got him in a chokehold. She’s attacking him in public! Won’t someone do something?! Basketball boys in the background! Help!

Buffy reassures Cyrus that this won’t last. Kira’s not a nice person, she says, and TJ will figure that out eventually.

At Cloud 10, Andi checks to see if Bex and Celia have made up. Bex doesn’t know, so she checks with Celia to see if they made up.

No.

Bex tells Andi to stop using all the non-sample makeup. Andi’s like, ok, I’ll just take the ones I used. Bex wants to charge her.

Andi, look around! Once again, there are no costumers in the store, just employees and family members. The business cannot afford to bleed money like this!

Andi implores Bex to go talk to Celia, partly because she wants the two to mend their relationship and partly because she probably wants to sneak some more makeup out.

Bex tries to talk to Celia but Celia is cold as ice. Andi makes a joke about it.

That, surprisingly, doesn’t help the situation, so Andi sees herself out.

Bex tells Celia that she knows she’s furious with her for cancelling the wedding, but she would like this whole thing to be over. Celia says it is over. Bex asks her to say something nice to her to prove it.

I dunno, something like, “You are my only daughter and I love you no matter what. I’ve had at least a day to think about it and realized that barn weddings surrounded by alpacas aren’t the most important thing in the world, your happiness is. I would never want to force you into a marriage you weren’t ready for. You have to do what feels right to you. It’s your life, not mine.” I mean, you know, whatever. That’s just a rough draft. I’m open to notes.

But Celia instead sighs and says she’s got nothing.

At the park, TJ sneaks away from Kira long enough to talk to Cyrus alone.

TJ feels like Cyrus has been avoiding him but Cyrus says he hasn’t, TJ’s just been so preoccupied with Kira. TJ’s like, I’ve just been spending some time with her, but Cyrus says it’s the bulk of time. He thinks the two are hitting it off and he’s happy for them.

Don’t put that on me! TJ’s like, we just talk about basketball, the least romantic of the sports! Cyrus asks about the piggyback ride, but TJ says that was because Kira bet him he couldn’t do it and he was like screw you, I have a strong back. I can lift things!

TJ proposes Cyrus hang out with the two of them, but Cyrus isn’t so sure, and to reinforce that point, Kira tracks down TJ using the GPS chip she hid in his pocket and gets real cold, real fast with Cyrus.

TJ’s like, Cyrus should hang out with us, right?

Wouldn’t that be fun if all three of us hung out?

Kira says yes through gritted teeth and TJ’s like, boom! Great! Cool! We can all hang out.

But Cyrus gets the message and decides to scoot.

Do’s to thing.

TJ is sad to see Cyrus go, which Kira notices. She tries to cheer him up by reminding him that she’s still around.

To which TJ is like...

...oh. Yes. Yes, you are.

Later, at The Spoon, Andi comes bursting in and tells her friends to take a look at this!

And they’re like, that’s a phone! And Andi’s like, oh.

The point is not the phone, it’s what was once on the phone: words. And those words tell the story of a clothing store called Mint Chip which burns all the clothes they don’t sell.

The gang enter into a long discussion about capitalism and branding which I don’t understand because I got a C- in my Econ 101 class.

Then Buffy says Mint Chip burned $35 million worth of clothes last year and everyone gets outraged.

Can I just play devil’s advocate here? Maybe they were burning it for warmth?

Buffy says there’s a way to settle this, and they all head to the Rage Cage to smash junk.

No, wait, I mean, they head to a junk cage to... rage smash? Shoot, I feel like I almost had something there.

Point is, the kids get in the dumpster. Buffy tries to but her foot betrays her. Wonder if this has to do with trying to run a marathon on nothing more than moxie.

She plays it off like not a big deal. She says she’s fine but I’m not so sure a-boot that.

Cyrus, now in the dumpster, finally asks if they’re allowed to be doing this.

Ignoring the trespassing charge? The crime is called garbage theft. It’s real. I know that because I got an A- in my Criminology 101 course. Feels like someone should’ve done a quick Google search to make sure they weren’t doing something illegal.

But I guess the time for Googling was before everyone got into the dumpster, because everyone just laughs off Cyrus’s suggestion that maybe they could get in trouble for this.

They find bags and bags of new clothes and wonder what to do with them. They all stare at Andi.

Because this was your thing! You made us care! You’re the reason we’re in the dumpster!

Andi says they all need to figure this out. It’s a group project. Then everyone gets real quiet and stares at one another and a few seconds later, Andi comes up with an entire plan by herself. Go team!

They return that night and steal all the clothes out of the dumpster and ride away with their treasures.

I like how they each got their own special vehicle for the job. Jonah’s got his skateboard. Andi has her quirky wagon. Buffy has a practical cart. Cyrus has an awkward wheelbarrow. Perfect.

Well, okay guys, you’ve committed a crime. A couple, actually. Trespassing and garbage theft, but I think you can still get away with this if you play it cool. I assume the next part of the plan is something low-key. Go around town making anonymous donations to thrift stores and shelters probably. Gets the clothes to people who need it, gives them a new home. Mission accomplished, right?

Oh, no? Not that? Put up a huge, extravagant public display in the middle of the sidewalk on the main street of town instead? Big ol’ gaudy signs saying where you took the clothes from? Large, colorful signs that scream “FREE TO TAKE”? Great idea! Nothing gathers more attention or raises more suspicion than big signs with the word FREE on it.

By the way, where is Mint Chip? Is it nearby? Within walking distance? Within seeing distance?

This is like newlywed bank robbers robbing a bank and their getaway vehicle is their wedding car with all the cans dangling off of it and big writing on the back window that says “JUST MARRIED! DAN AND TIFFANY JOHNSON”

This is like a guy throwing a brick through a department store window but wrapping his photo résumé around the brick. And when you unwrap the résumé it has his name and phone number and email address, and underneath “Special Skills” it says “Microsoft Word, Microsoft Excel, Doing Crimes”

This is like a kidnapper mailing the finger of the person he kidnapped to the police and putting his home address on the package in the return space.

I assume this is all to prove a point to Mint Chip but the way it’s executed, it just feels like they want to get arrested for doing crime.

This lady comes by and rubs her two brain cells together.

Very good question, lady! Why are these children giving away clothes free to whoever walks by? Why do all these pieces of clothing still have their tags on them, as if they were stolen? Why--

IS THAT A WINTER COAT?! NO MORE QUESTIONS!

Andi assures her she can have the coat and that’s good enough for her.

Andi meets back up with Cyrus and Buffy and they all delight in how nice it is to give people stuff that isn’t yours.

We get a fun montage here of the gang committing crime with smiles on their faces.

Jonah gives answers to three telepaths, who wordlessly asked him questions about the clothing.

Look at these criminals.

Laughing at what they’ve done. Thinking they’ve gotten away with it. Makes me sick.

Bex, meanwhile, arrives home to find Bowie and a package. It’s addressed to both of them and Bex realizes it’s a wedding present. Bowie jumps back like Bex just said the box was full of spiders.

They’re going to have to get one of those bomb disposal robots to come take care of this.

They decide to open it. They’ll return it but have to know who sent it first.

Bowie sees it’s from Celia. She sent it with a beautiful note. They open the box and pull out--

JESUS CHRIST!

An exact recreation of the proposal?! Down to the clothing, hair, and camera angle? How in the world?! I mean, really? Even if they described the scenario to her, HOW?! She even placed the pillows on the couch exactly as they were on the night!

The level of detail on this is haunting.

She even put in the Cat!

This was a really cute idea that’s just unsettling in its execution. This is a supernatural occurrence. This is the kind of thing someone stumbles upon in the attic of spooky house and realizes it contains the trapped the souls of these people inside of it. If you hold your ear to it, you can hear them faintly shouting “Help! Get us out of here!”

Bex and Bowie are far more taken by this display than I am though. Bex gets emotional. She goes to get the Thank You note stationary Celia gave her. Bowie gives her some space to write a message.

Back at the pop-up crime scene, Cyrus approaches Buffy with a shirt. He wants to give it to TJ.

He texts TJ a picture of it. Cyrus hopes TJ will like him it. Buffy asks why not just give it to him, but Cyrus says he’s not sure how much he’d want him it. Buffy’s like, he wouldn’t want a free shirt? Cyrus is like, I don’t know if he’s gay he’d like me giving him a free shirt.

Buffy figures it out. She’s like, you know how you can find out if he’s into you he wants a free shirt? Go for it Give him the shirt. Maybe it’ll mean something to him, or maybe it won’t, but either way it’s a nice thing to do. Cyrus agrees.

TJ texts back at that moment.

No, he gives the shirt a thumbs up. Cyrus invites him to the crime show he and his friends are putting on, but TJ tells him he’s at the park.

Cyrus wonders what that means. Buffy tells him it’s that he wants to meet him. Cyrus waffles on whether to bring the shirt.

Yeah, I mean, the shirt’s a thing now, you gotta bring the shirt.

At the park, Kira wants to know who TJ’s texting with. He tells her no one and suggests they go feed the ducks. Kira suggests they go on the swings first. TJ’s like, are you sure I can’t interest you in some ducks? But she wants to swing.

TJ resists but Kira persists. She taunts him that he can’t swing as high as she can. That works, somehow.

Guess his competitive spirit is such that all you have to do to get him to do something is say he can’t.

“I don’t want to give you a piggyback.”

“Why, ‘cause you can’t?”

“Get on my back! But I swear I’m not getting on the swings.”

“Because you don’t know how to swing?”

“Get out of my way, I’m getting on them swings!”

Boy, if either Reed or Lester had figured out this weak spot, they could’ve just said “Bet you can’t not say anything to the police about this gun, chicken!” and they’d be running free somewhere right now instead of locked up in supermax.

So TJ gets on the swings, just in time for Cyrus to come walking by and see.

Heartbroken at seeing his crush being heterosexual in public, Cyrus takes his shirt and does a sad Charlie Brown walk away.

He looks back first though.

Which, as we know, indicates he likes TJ, though it feels kinda superfluous because it’s following an episode where he was watching TJ from afar, being jealous that TJ was hanging out with someone else, and getting TJ a gift for no reason other than he thought it would look good with his eyes. Yeah, man, we get it. You like TJ.

Cyrus returns to the theft shop. Buffy asks him what happened and he tells her he found TJ with Kira.

Buffy promises him it won’t last, but Cyrus is like even if it does... he’s still straight, though.

Buffy asks him what he’s going to do with the shirt. Cyrus decides to give it to the last straight boy he crushed over. He asks Jonah if he wants it.

I know that this is more to complete a metaphor of sorts, but Jonah has to know that’s one of the shirts they pulled out of the dumpster, right? He’s like, oh, this is awesome, where’d you get it? The trashcan, Jonah. With you. Last night. We’ve been giving them away all day. There’s eight more over there on the rack.

Andi shows up and is like, it’s weird no one got mad at us for this whole thing, right? And Jonah’s like, oh yeah, someone came by and asked a lot of questions about it and I told her everything!

They’re like, no, you shouldn’t have done that. Which, I mean, yeah. He needs to keep his mouth shut. That’s the first rule of crime doing. But in fairness to him, what was this plan anyway? If someone came around asking, what answers were they planning on giving that wouldn’t implicate them in wrongdoing?

They don’t have time to think about that because a cop shows up. Andi tells everyone to stay calm, because they didn’t do anything wrong, but Buffy’s like, we might have. Bet we feel foolish we didn’t stop for a quick Google before all this, huh?

Officer Penn, a.k.a. Budget Clint Eastwood, wants to see their permit, but they say they’re not selling anything, so no permit necessary. Budget Clint Eastwood then tears through their legal arguments fairly quickly.

They say Mint Chip is a store that destroys the clothes they don’t sell and if you really think about it, isn’t that the real crime?

No. No, it’s not. Garbage theft is the real crime. Garbage theft. Officer Penn hauls four children off to jail.

Vivian the Winter Coat Lady, meanwhile, walks into Cloud 10 to look around. Celia compliments her winter coat. Vivian thanks her, saying she just got it under mysterious circumstances, but didn’t bother asking any questions.

In fact, all she really wants to do is go back and get more clothes under mysterious circumstances.

Bex pulls Celia over and tells her she loved the wedding present. She gives her an envelope full of thank you notes she started and stopped because she couldn’t put into words all her feelings.

But Celia is still pretty cold about all this. Bex wants to know how long it’ll take to be forgiven.

Can I knock it down to two if I run some errands for you? Take you to the airport or something?

Bex’s phone buzzes. It’s someone calling from jail, telling her they have her daughter. Bex panics. Celia steps up.

Looks like Andi’s going to have to bring them back together once again. They head off for jail.

The episode ends and then we get a sneak peek at the main title sequence of the spinoff show featuring the Good Hair Crew and Jonah in prison.

Andi Mack: Lockup, coming this fall.

#Andi Mack #Cyrus Goodman #Buffy Driscoll #TJ Kippen #Jonah Beck #Bex Mack #Bowie Quinn #Celia Mack #Kira #Vivian the Winter Coat Lady #Officer Penn #episode recaps

234 notes · View notes

the-desolated-quill · 4 years

Text

The Quill Seal Of Approval Awards - The Best Of 2019

Hey guys! I’m still alive!

Sorry for my two month absence. Things have been pretty difficult at home lately. I’ve been having a really hard time at university lately, my mental health has suffered as a result, and oh yeah, there’s a worldwide pandemic going on and we’re all probably going to die!

So thanks to this Coronavirus, my uni has been shut down, which means I now suddenly have a lot more free time. So I thought I’d take this opportunity to catch up on things I’ve missed. Yes it’s once again time to hand out the most coveted and prestigious of awards that every writer, producer and director so desperately craves (or at least they would if they actually knew this existed). The Quill Seal Of Approval Awards. Where I list the very best the creative industry had to offer over the course of 2019. (yes I know it’s now March 2020, but if Jon Campea can release a best of 2019 list in February, then I should be able to get away with it). For there is no greater honour on this planet than to have your work of creative artistry praised and acknowledged on an obscure blog by an anonymous snob. That’s the dream, isn’t it?

First a couple of parish notices. Obviously due to various other commitments, I haven’t had the chance to experience everything 2019 had to offer, so this list will be limited to the media and literature I personally got to experience. So sorry that HBO’s Watchmen TV series won’t be on this list. I know everyone loves it, but I’ve only seen one episode so far (and will be posting a review on that soon) as I’ve only just gotten around to watching it. Also bear in mind this is my subjective opinion. If you disagree with my choices, that’s fine. Go write your own list. I won’t be upset. You have every right to like what you like.

...

But if you disagree with me, then you’re a philistine and a poopyhead. That’s not my opinion. That’s a scientific fact that’s been proven in a lab by grown-ups. Sorry. The truth hurts, I know.

Shazam!

Do you remember the days when superhero films used to be fun? When they weren’t some heavily militarised, dark and angsty loners with all the charm and charisma of a pub toilet at closing time? If you do, then you’re going to love Shazam. A funny and moving film about a kid that can transform himself into a Godlike chosen one figure through space magic.

Joking aside, Shazam is an exceptionally good movie with a strong cast, great writing and a very personal and intimate story about self worth and finding your place in the world. For those who have grown sick of these soulless, big budget, CGI heavy superhero flicks with world ending conflicts that end up meaning nothing in the grand scheme of things, Shazam serves as the perfect antidote.

John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum

I’m very much late to the party when it comes to John Wick. I’ve never exactly had the highest opinion of Keanu Reeves as a credible action star and I’ve always found the Matrix movies to be overrated trash with delusions of grandeur, but after constant nagging from my friend @dicapitoe I eventually gave in and watched the first one. I loved it so much, I watched the second one immediately afterwards, and then the following day I went to see Chapter 3 in the cinema. Now I think it’s safe to assume I’m a fan.

I actually don’t want to say too much because I want to do in-depth reviews of these films at some point, but needless to say, John Wick: Chapter 3 earns its place on this list. Hell, the whole franchise deserves a Quill Seal Of Approval Award. John Wick is a masterclass in visual storytelling and worldbuilding, and Chapter 3 continues this exciting and dramatic narrative with great confidence and skill. Oh and Keanu Reeves, I take back every snide comment I’ve ever said. You sir, are a national treasure. Can’t wait for more :D

Joker

No! No! Stop! You, yes, you, the one who’s about to comment saying how wrong I am and that Joker is a derivative, dangerous movie. May I remind you once again that this is my list. It’s fine if you don’t agree. In fact I can understand completely why some people really don’t like this film. That being said, I very much enjoyed it and I feel it represents a unique achievement for the comic book movie genre. As superhero movies from The Dark Knight to Captain America: The Winter Soldier to Black Panther have been slowly and steadily proving that these films can not only be socially relevant, but can also be considered high art, Joker represents the genre’s apotheosis. It’s a smart and sharply written film that doesn’t shy away from exploring its themes of mental health, social neglect and narcissism, and it demonstrates the reason why characters like Batman and the Joker have been a staple of popular culture for so long. Even after all this time, we’re still finding new ways of reinterpreting them and exploring them. Combined with Hildur Guonadottir’s amazing score and a career defining performance from Joaquin Phoenix, Joker is truly a force to be reckoned with, much like the title character himself.

Elementary - Season 7

CBS’ brilliant adaptation of Sherlock Holmes sadly came to an end in 2019, but not before one last excellent season.

Elementary has always stood head and shoulders above its BBC counterpart in terms of quality, but personally I always felt that the show never managed to live up to the heights of its very first season with Moriarty. While Moriarty ultimately doesn’t return sadly, we get a great substitute in the form of Odin Reichenbach, a tech mogul who uses social media for his own ends in his misguided pursuit of justice. He serves as a great source of moral conflict for Sherlock and Joan, who have been known to use morally questionable tactics themselves, and is a compelling antagonist. Under showrunner Rob Doherty’s expert direction, Elementary ends on a high as we see the stories of Holmes, Watson, Gregson and Bell conclude in an emotional and satisfying finale. It’s sad to see a great show like this end, but it felt like the right time to stop and I’m glad the Elementary team kept their high standards throughout and were allowed to finish the show properly on their own terms. You will be greatly missed.

The Outer Worlds

Have you heard the news? Single player video games are dead! Nobody wants RPGs anymore apparently! It’s all about ‘live services’ and multiplayer looter shooters. Nobody wants a story driven, single player RPG these days.

Wait! What’s this? A story driven, single player RPG?! And people actually like it?!?! OMG!

Yes, from the people that brought you Fallout: New Vegas comes a new IP that makes a mockery of the AAA industry and their greedy trend chasing. Introducing The Outer Worlds. Set in the Halcyon Colony in the far future where rampant capitalism has taken over and disrupted society, you play as a colonist that’s been recently released from cryogenic suspension and has been tasked with saving the colony from the Board who are hellbent on taking away humanity’s civil liberties and destroying lives all for the sake of profit. The lore and setting is beautifully realised and the writing contains the same wit and satirical charm as Fallout. It also boasts a wonderfully diverse cast of characters, including a very unorthodox vicar and an openly asexual companion. Add to that some super smooth first person shooter combat and a great amount of freedom in customisation and roleplaying, The Outer Worlds proves definitively that single player isn’t dead. Take note Bethesda.

And there we have it. 2019 is finally over and done with. Now we can finally look forward to 2020. Assuming we’re all still alive by the end of the year :S

#the quill seal of approval awards #the quill seal of approval awards 2019 #best of the year #review #opinion

6 notes · View notes

weaselle · 4 years

Text

Money Talk

Imagine a drug dealer. He lives with 20 people - a cook, a bar tender, a massage therapist, a person who sells clothes, etc. Every month, they all give him money for drugs. And every month he spends that money on food, liquor, massages, clothes, etc.

The money in this example is a medium of exchange, which is the whole purpose of money. You can imagine it like a tide, washing back and forth between the dealer and the other people, lubricating a cooperative system of exchange and mutualism.

BUT. I used a drug dealer on purpose. Clearly the drug dealer has an unfair advantage. But wait. The food person has one too. And so does whoever they pay rent to. Not to mention the doctor.

Now, some people will say that if you introduce competition, “the market” will balance itself. In other words, if there are ten food vendors and ten doctors and ten landlords etc, if one of them is taking advantage of people, the public will choose to do business with a different provider instead. Let me tell you why that doesn’t work.

Perpetual systems are extremely rare - most systems (all, on a long enough time scale) tend toward entropy; they want to fall apart. That’s what makes balanced ecosystems such treasures. And you can’t achieve a balanced ecosystem if you make “the market” an entity by giving it agency. Everything in a balanced ecosystem has to survive, but “the market” does not have to survive, it is not a true participant, therefore you cannot give it agency and you especially cannot give it responsibility for the livelihood of people and the health of the planet. Yes theoretically “the market” is the will of the people, because it represents people’s choices, but those choices are not free. If the cost of raising a child and running a household is a struggle for a large number of families, then they are going to give their money to the cheapest food vendor, for the good of their children, and the cheapest things are always achieved by means we are against. Like slavery, land theft, economic extortion, militant international fuckery, tax evasion, and fucking up the environment just to name a few.

The market is just the medium of exchange. The money is just the lube, not one of the people having sex.

SO. If instead of a drug dealer and his village of twenty we look at a bigger picture, we can substitute concepts for the people. Not a cook, but a food industry, not a landlord, but the system of landlordship, not massage but the service industry, not a clothes vendor, but the textile and fashion industries.

Now it IS true that the market drives certain kinds of development (so does war but we don’t want that). For example entertainment industries are always innovating and developing into greater things fairly quickly. And we do want a certain amount of competitive growth availability. So let’s keep some capitalism. Let’s just tame it, domesticate it. And you do that by removing it’s ability to kill people.

That means, there has to be food available. It has to be reasonable food sufficient to keep one healthy. There has to be good healthcare. There has to be housing, and clothing, and education and access to information, because these things are all necessary to live in our society. THEN you can have a robust market on top of that.

So, for example, nutrition is provided. Rice and beans form a complex protein, you can flavor it a whole lot of different ways, add a couple kinds of veggies and/or some vitamin supplements, include some basic alternatives for people with stricter dietary requirements, and now nobody is starving. NOW you can let the market decide how much other food costs, because people are truly free to choose to not eat it. But they WANT to eat it, people are going to want avocados and steaks and things, they just won’t be at the market’s mercy for their survival. That’s balance.

When you apply that across the range of human requirement, you get the best of both worlds -- a morally just capitalism with competition driven advances, as well as freedom of choice for consumers and freedom of risk for innovators: a person with an idea for a new style of music or a new kind of energy production can afford to stay in their room all day working on that instead of needing a job for survival. But if they want more than basics, if they want steak, if they want clothes that aren’t government issued jumpsuits, they’ll need to earn some money.

Also, the market will be FREER. Because ALL money will be spendable. You can literally spend your last dollar on whatever it is you want, because that choice will never result in you living on the street or starving.

For these same reasons, this concept fosters entrepreneurship: because the public’s money is all available for spending on any new goods or services and people are free to take risks -- such as quitting their job and trying to start their own business, or spending all their money on inventory they’re trying to sell, or al their time on developing an invention they have an idea for.

Taxes are one way to acheive this, and I am all for progressive tax rates and other tax reformations. But I also have another idea.

Let’s move the majority of landlordship over to public control, administered by elected officials and held in trust for the public it houses.

So right now, cities are funded largely through property tax. Which is about 2% of the value of the property. Let’s say you buy a house for a little over 100k (for easy math). Your monthly payment comes out to over 6,000 a year. Your property tax is about 2,000 a year. Plus, those monthly payments over 30 years actually come out to twice the original amount, which means you actually pay the bank 200k for your 100k house. And that’s not even getting into renting and slumlords and everything.

But what if the city was leasing all the housing directly to the public?

So, say you have a city of a hundred thousand people (again for easy math). That’s about one tenth the size of San Francisco. For math’s sake, lets assign a value of 120 thousand to each property and make each house one bedroom one bath. People are paying about $600 a month to live in those houses, rent or mortgage. And under the current system, the city gets about $200 each every month also. So the city gets $240 million each year to provide education, pave roads, and deal with things like homelessness. BUT. If the public was the landlord of the city, with the property administered in trust, then the full monthly payment would go directly to the city. So the city could keep the housing cost at 600 a month, drop the tax (saving each person 200 a month) and STILL have $720 million to use on providing for it’s public.

To review. In the above situation under the current system, the city gets 240 million to provide for the public, and the public pays $800 a month in housing costs. Under the new system, the city gets 720 million and the public pays $600 a month in housing costs.

The extra 720 million comes mostly out of the pockets of big banks, who already have all our money all the time anyway. Who, let me remind you, already went bankrupt and got bailed out with our tax money.

If the city has enough people and they do it right, they might be able to provide all those basics for their public: food, shelter, clothing, education access to information, and healthcare. If they can do THAT, entrepreneurship will flourish there, because people will be free to take risks, and all money will be spendable.

In this way, housing is provided, and as discussed at the top of this post, housing is one of the things that confers an immorality when presided over solely by private entities, just like food and healthcare -- because we need those things to live

Doesn’t have to be a city, could be a county or a state. But also, doesn’t have to be the whole country changing all at once - single cities can institute this all by themselves without exiting the countries capitalistic system in any way.

Cities can use local eminent domain to buy the properties; that way current owners get a one time buyout to exit landlordship with wealth in their pocket: fair value for their property. More cities might copy once it shows to be successful. Once popular enough the federal government could “buy” cities and turn them over to the local government (where elections are more involved, your single vote carries more weight, etc). After all, if the cities (or counties, or even whole states?) can pay for their own streets, their own healthcare, and their own education, etc, the federal government is less complicated and cumbersome, needs less money, can be streamlined and made more efficient and targeted.

Just one of the concepts I’m working with trying to find a path to the positive change we need so badly. Catch me on another post explaining my other solutions, which function independently but are designed to also work together.

#moulin noir #revolution

7 notes · View notes

trinuviel · 5 years

Text

Winterfell’s Daughter. On Sansa Stark (part 13)

I’ve previously written a series of essays that analyse Sansa Stark’s narrative arc in Game of Thrones - during season 1 (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6) and during season 2 (Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10) and now during season 3 (Part 11, Part 12).

One of the important themes in Sansa Stark’s narrative arc in season 3 is her political importance. In season 2, Theon Greyjoy conquered Winterfell and when Bran and Rickon Stark managed to escape him, he killed a pair of peasant boys to deceive people into thinking that the two Stark boys are dead. Thus, in the eyes of Westeros, Sansa is now Robb Stark’s heir apparent to Winterfell and that makes her a very important piece on the political chessboard. If Robb dies without an heir, Winterfell goes to Sansa and whoever manages to secure her in marriage - and there are several power players who are interested in her: Petyr Baelish, the Lannisters and now the Tyrells who are emerging as a new power in King’s Landing with Margaery set to become Queen, her courting the goodwill of the common folk and her family not only supporting the Lannisters militarily but also feeding the starving populace of King’s Landing.

In my previous post, I looked at how Olenna and Margaery Tyrell’s initial interest in Sansa was solely motivated by some nasty rumours about Joffrey that worried them as Margaery is set to marry him. However, in episode 4 Lord Varys encourages Olenna Tyrell to take a further interest in Sansa after he learns that Baelish has plans to spirit Sansa away from King’s Landing. Varys approaches Olenna Tyrell and he broaches the idea of a marriage alliance between Sansa Stark and House Tyrell. He says he wants to help Sansa but his main motivation is to keep her out of the hands of Petyr Baelish.

This is the first time that Sansa is referred to as the Key to the North in the show, but it will not be the last.

As previously stated, Sansa is Robb’s heir apparent and as such her political value is very high - and Varys seeks to keep the Key to the North out of the hands of Petyr Baelish whom he deems to be one of the most dangerous men of the realm. Thus, Sansa becomes a political pawn in the shadow war between Varys and Baelish, between one who wants to serve the realm and one who only serves himself.

COURTED BY THE TYRELLS

The scene between Varys and Olenna is immediately followed by a scene where Margaery seeks out Sansa as she’s praying at a tree stump, the sad remains of Godswood in King’s Landing. The segue between the two scenes makes it clear that Olenna has sent Margaery to charm and befriend Sansa once again since Olenna managed to alienate the girl during their lunch in episode 2, a scene that I covered in my previous post.

Margaery approaches and uses her status as the future Queen to send away the Lannister soldiers that guard Sansa so they can have a private conversation.

Margaery: What did you pray for?

Here Margaery whispers to create an atmosphere of intimacy between them.

Sansa (smiling): I can’t tell you.

It is important to note that even while Sansa is genuinely friendly here, she doesn’t really trust Margaery. Even when Margaery presses her again on this subject, Sansa refuses to reveal anything about her personal feelings and hopes. Sansa is understandably wary about the Tyrells after the upsetting luncheon where she found out that they weren’t really interested in being kind to her for her sake but that they only sought out her company because they wanted something from her - and Olenna was pretty aggressive with her. So now Margaery has her work cut out for her.

Margaery tells jokes and anecdotes, making Sansa laugh. With these little secrets and inconsequential stories from her childhood she creates a sense of intimacy and companionship – as if Sansa is indeed a treasured friend, which is something that is incredibly enticing for a girl as lonely and abused as Sansa is.

Margaery: I want us to be friends.

Here the camera cuts to a close-up of Sansa, looking at Margaery with an almost incredulous smile on her face. She almost can’t believe that anyone would want to be her friend anymore. Sansa is THAT isolated in King’s Landing.

Margaery goes on to paint a very attractive image of Highgarden, featuring all the things that Sansa loved before she came to experience the hard truth beneath the glamour of the capital. When Sansa doubts that Cersei will let her leave King’s Landing, Margaery invokes her future status as Queen Consort, implicitly promising that she’ll make sure Sansa can leave King’s Landing after the royal marriage. Then, Margaery mentions the real reason for her seeking out Sansa:

Margaery: And if you were to marry my brother Loras… your place would be at Highgarden, wouldn’t it?

Sansa’s smile grows bigger as Margery is now offering her an escape from her abusers at court. But Margaery offers even more than just an escape, she offers the promise of family.

This is where Sansa becomes visibly overwhelmed, smiling through unshed tears as Margaery offers not just an escape from her torment but also friendship, family and sisterhood - things that Sansa has been without for too long. It is interesting that Margaery uses the same lure as Petyr Baelish: the promise of family. However, Sansa choosing Margaery’s offer doesn’t mean that she’s abandoning her family. It simply means that she’s choosing the less dangerous option of gaining protection and getting out of King’s Landing. Not only is it very dangerous to flee secretly, she has also been explicitly warned about Baelish by a person she trusts (Shae). In contrast, Margaery offers the protection of House Tyrell through marriage and the Tyrells are on the rise. They hold considerable political power as they are feeding King’s Landing and Margaery is set to be Queen. It is not unreasonable to assume that the Tyrells can secure her safety and happiness without exposing her to additional danger - unlike what Baelish offers.

This scene really highlights Sophie Turner’s stellar acting. She has a wonderfully expressive face and she manages the delicate balance between smiles and tears beautifully. Thus, Margaery successfully cultivates Sansa’s friendship and gratitude through a carefully deployed charm. What remains to be seen is whether Margaery’s friendship is a genuine offer.

In the very next episode we see Sansa and Margaery bonding as they watch Loras at weapon’s training. Once again Margaery assures Sansa that she’ll be able to influence Joffrey to let Sansa marry Loras and leave King’s Landing for Highgarden.

Sansa: Joffrey won’t let me leave. He’s got too many reasons to keep me here.

Margaery: And only one to let you go. Because it will please me.

However, I do think that Margaery is somewhat over-confident here because she doesn’t really know just how much of a monster Joffrey is because Sansa never told the Tyrells that Joffrey didn’t just kill her father and forced her to look at his severed head, but that he also has her publicly beaten by his King’s Guard.

This scene is immediately followed by a scene where Loras has sex with the squire Olyvar who is also in Baelish’s employ - and Loras lets slip that he is set to marry Sansa. This piece of secret information is subsequently conveyed to Baelish by Olyvar - and therefore Sansa’s new dream is already set to be crushed since Baelish has his own plans for her and that leads him to inform Lord Tywin of the Stark-Tyrell marriage plot.

“I FEEL LIKE I’M IN A DREAM”

Margaery is not the only Tyrell who tries to charm Sansa. Her brother Loras also courts Sansa, rather awkwardly, in the gardens of the Red Keep in episode 6. The setting is lush and romantic but their interactions are rather stilted and awkward, mostly because Loras is very uncomfortable whereas Sansa is all happy and soft-eyed.

For her this betrothal seems like the fulfillment of all her girlish dreams: a handsome knight for a husband who understands the codes of chivalric romance - like when he singled her out at the Hand’s Tourney and presented her with a red rose in season 1, thus enacting a tableau from the romantic songs that Sansa loves so much.

Sansa: I feel like I’m in a dream.

Sansa is, as said, all wistful and soft-eyed. This is, in a sense, a return to her earlier, girlish self since it seems as though those romantic dreams that she once entertained will come true – but it is also leavened with the prospect of a safe harbor from her tormentors as well as the promise of family and friendship that Margaery presented her with.

It is a scene that I feel very ambiguous about. One the one hand, I think that it is important that we get to see a hopeful Sansa since it will be so much more heartbreaking for us when her hopes are so cruelly crushed. Then there’s the contrast between the lush, romantic setting and Loras’ visible discomfort. While the betrothal represents both an escape as well as a fulfillment of her dreams to Sansa, it represents something very different to Loras since he is homosexual. On the other hand, the way the writers reduces Loras to a gay stereotype is downright offensive.

The placement of this scene was initially a bit puzzling to me since it takes place AFTER Olenna already has agreed to marry Loras to Cersei instead of Sansa! In fact, this very scene begins with Tyrion and Cersei watching Loras and Sansa as they lament their upcoming marriages, Cersei to Loras and Tyrion to Sansa.

Loras is clearly unaware of this development since he wouldn’t be courting Sansa if he was. Thus, from a Watsonian perspective, the placement of this scene doesn’t make much sense. However, I think that the placement of this scene within the narrative is due to Doylist reasons – it is designed to tug at the heartstrings of the audience. We already know that Sansa’s hopes will be crushed, that she won’t escape her tormentors and this lends a certain poignancy to the scene in terms of audience reception.

The thing that kind of ruins this scene for me is the fact that the writers decided to use Loras’ homosexuality as a punchline for a number of stereotypes about gay men as effeminate, i.e. excessively invested in subjects that are usually considered explicitly feminine. Thus they represent him as being pedantic about his jeweled accessories as well as have him wax poetic about his very detailed boyhood dreams about a large and lavish wedding.

This reduction of Loras to a gay stereotype is rather galling since it is not only a crude way to approach the representation of homosexuality but also has no foundation in the source material where Loras’ sexuality is never represented as effeminate. In the books, he embodies the ideals of manhood in his society in that he is a brave and accomplished warrior. This kind of crude joking at the expense of a character’s sexuality undercuts the poignant aspect of the scene, not to mention that it is simply a downright offensive representation of a homosexual man.

To be continued...

(GIFs not mine)

#game of thrones #sansa stark #winterfell's daughter #character analysis #margaery tyrell #loras tyrell #sophie turner

134 notes · View notes

365daysofsasuhina · 5 years

Text

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Thirty: Under the Tree ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Divine Light ] [ AO3 Link ]

Almost immediately, it became his favorite spot.

The castle grounds were left frozen in time: both a gift and a curse from the Elemental of light, Luxeria. When the coup unfolded so many decades ago - far before any of their times - everyone fled...and the god-like creature extended their power to encase the sacred grounds in a barrier of light: shielded from outsiders that would return to seek its treasures, and left to sleep until the return of elemental balance.

Of course, they hadn’t achieved said balance when they arrived. But the presence of a lux mage - a direct descendent of one of the Elemental’s chosen disciples - had been enough to wake the city from its slumber. It had cracked and shattered like glass into dust, baring the castle to the outside world for the first time in centuries.

...they hadn’t expected that.

Ever since then, the Luxerian capital has been a mess of activity. For months, preparations have been made to begin looking for those who would form the new Council of Elements.

Already Itachi and Hinata have agreed to take the mantles of their elements. Water, fire, and light now have representatives. But getting word out - gathering the el’ven out of hiding - will be a slow, arduous process.

Which means, for now, Sasuke is stuck in the capital. Because so long as his brother remains, so too will he. But all of this hustle and bustle is often too much for him.

This isn’t what he signed up for. He wanted his brother’s illness cured, and then they would return home to his family’s little house hidden in the woods, away from the cities, from the crowds of el’kor that have shunned their kind since the coup.

But all else aside, Sasuke will admit...this place is beautiful.

Seemingly formed out of marble that flowed into place, the entire palace - it’s walls, rooftops, spinnerets, pathways - gleams a near-blinding white. Glass features everywhere: high and wide windows that let in the light and give clear views. Atop a tall hillock, it overlooks a wide plain framed by a forest, the entire thing down in a shallow valley walled by low mountains: a natural ring of division. The city adjoining blooms outward from the fortress, its streets and buildings just as immaculate. Pale wood and the same brilliant stone are used everywhere.

And in the center of the castle grounds - mostly framed by the building itself - is a large courtyard filled with all manner of flowers and trees, even featuring a spring that flows into a pond.

He’s taken to retreating under a birch with branches so long, they drape to the ground and provide a perfect curtain to hide himself beneath. For hours he’ll just sit against the trunk, head craned back and eyes closed as he listens to the water, the birdsong, the breeze in the leaves.

It reminds him of home. A bit of sanity amidst the chaos the castle has become.

Sasuke knows well enough any of the mages here can sense him. It wouldn’t take much to find him. But most know better than to disturb his little hideaway. The lux mage knows well enough his lingering annoyance with her and her scheming. Itachi, having followed her right into it, also seems a bit guilty.

Hinata, however, eventually breaches his sanctuary.

Parting the branches, she glances around the space beneath before looking to Sasuke. He’s in his usual spot against the trunk, eyeing her blankly.

“...so this is where you’ve gotten to.”

“Mm.”

Picking up the hem of her sapphire and cyan dress, Hinata tucks hair behind her lengthy ear as she makes her way inward. “What a beautiful spot under here. I can see why you spend so much time here.”

“Better than wasting my time and energy in all that mess inside.”

She gives him a hint of a look. “...important work is h-happening in there.”

“Tch…”

Heaving a small sigh, Hinata makes her way to the trunk and eases herself down beside him, turned a bit to lean against the tree. “...do you really want no part in this?”

“I’d rather not.”

“May I ask why…?”

It’s Sasuke’s turn to sigh, but his is far more agitated. “...the only reason I came along was to keep an eye on my brother. The lux mage promised she’d bring him here, and heal him -”

“Which she has. The dragon left to sleep here was able to overcome it. Itachi is well, now.”

“Yeah, and that’s great. But what I wasn’t expecting was for him to tell me he’s staying here! I want to go home, Hinata. I never asked for any of this.”

She looks to him carefully. “...you could go.”

“No I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t leave my brother here alone. I promised my parents I’d bring him home. Prove he’s well.”

“Itachi’s a grown man. While I’m sure he would m-miss you, he’s chosen a path, as is his right as an adult. And that decision doesn’t hold you to it, too. He can write home. They can come visit - so could you. If what you want is to go home, then...you can go.”

Something in Sasuke’s expression gains an edge. “...you wouldn’t try to make me stay?”

“...I’d miss you. But I don’t want you stay in a place where you’re n-not happy.” Glancing over, she gently rests a hand atop his knee. “...I want you to be happy. I care about you, Sasuke…”

Teeth gritting, he jerks his leg from her grip, standing and stalking off a few paces. “So you care enough to let me go, but not enough to go with me?”

“Sasuke…” Hinata’s expression falls. “...that’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not! None of this is fair! The only reason you two are caught up in this is that damn light mage! Her hare-brained idea is shackling you to her!”

“No, we’ve made our choice. Sasuke...our people have been scattered and afraid for far too long. Things have a chance to change, now…! We thought two of the twelve elements were gone…! But she’s proof that there’s still hope - that we can have balance again. Peace…! And if I can play a part in that - if I can help bring those dreams to life - then...I want to stay. I don’t want anyone else to have to flee their homes like I did. Like we did. We can make a better future. And I...I’ll do what I can to help.”

He stares at her, expression tense but unreadable. “...it really means that much to you?”

“It does. Itachi too. It’s why he’s made that same choice. Our world is changing, slowly...but with our help, we can help that change along. I...I want to go home, Sasuke. I want to see my oceanside city again. I can barely remember it...but it was home. If working hard is what it will take, so be it. I won’t turn my back on the f-first chance I’ve had to make a difference…! No more hiding, no more being afraid. Isn’t that what we all want…?”

A moment longer of looking, then he glances away. “...it just all seems so...far-fetched.”

“It was, until we found her. There are still lux mages. Which means there must still be tenebris mages, too. They can’t be one without the other. If that’s true...we can reforge the council. Bring back peace. Then we can all go home.”

Sasuke heaves a sigh. This isn’t what he wanted...it all seems too vast. Impossible.

But...if it’s what his brother wants - what Hinata wants - then...maybe…

“...what could I even do? Itachi will represent the igni mages.”

Perking slightly in hope at his change of tone, she replies, “Each dignitary still needs a council of their own. People to speak with, seek counsel from. We want the power to be balanced. Maybe you could be part of your brother’s.”

“...maybe. For now...I need to think about it.”

She gives a soft smile. “I understand...it’s a lot to consider. But I hope you’ll stay. Great things are happening here...and we can help make them happen.”

As she moves to get up, Sasuke cuts her off with a hand, making her pause. “...stay? Just a little while?”

“...okay. I’ll stay.”

Omg I'm tired @~@ So I'll be brief. More Divine Light. Not the most popular, I know...but it's what came to me. Sorry Sasuke, the plot's not over yet! First you got to go adventuring. Now it's time for...politics! Woo! Aaanyway, I need to sleep lol - thanks for reading!

#sasuhina #uchiha sasuke #hyūga hinata #divine light [ au ]#365daysofsasuhina

20 notes · View notes

tessatechaitea · 5 years

Text

Metamorpho #1

I'll be disappointed if this series doesn't contain at least on Francium joke.

Ha ha! "Donated" by Rex Mason. What a complete and utter dick.

I get how exciting it must have been to be a looter of other countries' treasures. I did play a lot of Dungeons & Dragons as a kid and I never once thought about the poor orc whose home I was invading so I could shove a sword up his ass and steal his precious copper pieces (which I was absolutely disappointed in). Sure, it seems fucked up when you think about it like that. But that's before you remember the alignment system! The orc was automatically the bad guy with his evil alignment! Anything you wanted to do to him was just fine! He was the bad guy! If he didn't want me stealing his copper, maybe he should have made a show of giving up his evil ways and took on the trappings of man and elf! But no! He was content to sit in his dirty hole with his dirty family eking out a dirty living being a rotten, evil monster worth a few lousy experience points. You can't make me care about that stupid orc no matter how many John Gardner wannabes write Grendelesque fan fiction about how the bad person was just a regular ordinary person who got the short end of life's dumb stick! It's fucking propaganda! Wicked, my ass! Don't go making excuses for that witch! She knew what she was doing when she chose a life of flying monkeys and stealing shoes!

"Ha ha! Found. More sherry?"

It's weird to think that Western Civilization has mostly come to the realization that all of these treasures in museums were found at all. Sure, the people in power and the people in charge mostly aren't coming to that conclusion because why would you when you own everything now? But we understand the context of archaeological theft much better. But even as kids watching Raiders of the Lost Ark, how did we not realize Indy was obviously stealing that golden idol right at the beginning? It was in a secure location guarded by traps and after he stole it, the owners tried to chase him down to stop it. And he was as good a guy as you could get in 1981! I guess when one of the greatest tenets of capitalism is "Finders keepers, losers weepers," it's understandable that we all rooted on a terrible thief of cultural artifacts. Rex Mason has given up his exciting career of liberating treasures from dolts who don't know the value of their sacred religious objects because stealing from primitive people and Yetis who just want to be left alone has become too easy. Also he's full of guilt over having a son. His son must live in quarantine since he can turn whatever he touches into other elements. Sapphire's right breast is now polonium. I'm not even going to be distracted from reading this comic book by pondering how Metamorpho had a kid. Last I checked, spermatozoa wasn't on the periodic table of elements. The greatest female archaeologist, Jillian Conway, arrives to tell Rex she's found a cure for his condition (and probably his son's too!). Apparently the Orb of Ra won't kill Metamorpho; it'll cure him if he allows himself to succumb to its power. And she knows this because she was exposed to the meteorite too!

Gross. Can't she make herself hotter by becoming platinum?

Rex agrees to go looking for the Orb of Ra (which was stolen from Stagg) with Jillian. At first, I thought things were going to get romantic. And then I thought things might get alchemic. But then Rex decided the first thing he should do is kidnap his son and bring him on the adventure with them. So I guess this is going to be one of those kinds of stories. A wacky family comedy where dad has to handle the baby all by himself on a trip around the world while the too-disgusting-to-look-at love interest gets ignored. Rex leaves a note for Sapphire but her father trashes it and just tells her Rex kidnapped their son. Why she might believe him and how she came to marry Java, fuck if I know. This was back when DC actually allowed characters to have involved and intimate relationships that led to weird freak baby children!

I didn't realize it was canon that Sapphire Stagg is the best looking woman in the DC Universe (followed closely by Abigail Arcane).

Metamorpho #1 Rating: A-. Not a bad start to a nice little story about fatherhood, capitalism, and second marriages. It might also be about ugly people because all but one of these characters are hideous freaks. Sure, most characters would be hideous freaks compared to Sapphire Stagg. But even disregarding her ethereal beauty so powerful that I've already struck Erin Esurance from the top of my list of cartoon characters I want to touch in a sexy place, they're all disgusting monsters. I just made that list up. It doesn't actually exist. Never mind what I'm holding behind my back.

#Metamorpho #DC Comics #DC

1 note · View note

plounce · 6 years

Audio

here is my molly playlist! fair warning: my approach to playlists is not “good for public consumption” but instead “songs i already like that could possibly potentially apply to this character if i focus on these lines only.” there are NINE mountain goats songs on here.

it’s in a vague order of “carefree approach to life,” “gender,” “relationships with yasha & the others,” “thoughts on backstory,” “being glorious and vivacious and kind of self-destructive because of that and the desperate desire to feel and be alive,” and “death.”

annotated tracklist under the cut!

1. cabaret - cabaret

“What good is sitting along in your room? Come hear the music play / Life is a cabaret, old chum / Come to the cabaret!”

“What good's permitting some prophet of doom / To wipe every smile away?”

“Start by admitting from cradle to tomb / It isn't that long a stay / Life is a cabaret, old chum / It's only a cabaret, old chum / And I love a cabaret!”

2. na na na - my chemical romance

“Let's blow an artery / Eat plastic surgery / Keep your apology / Give us more detonation!”

“Oh, let me tell you 'bout the sad man / Shut up and let me see your jazz hands! / Remember when you were a madman, thought you was Batman / And hit the party with a gas can / Kiss me you animal!”

3. dancing through life - wicked

“Dancing through life, skimming the surface, gliding where turf is smooth”

“Dancing through life, no need to tough it when you can slough it off as I do / Nothing matters but knowing nothing matters / It's just life, so keep dancing through”

“Dancing through life, mindless and careless / Make sure you're where less trouble is rife / Woes are fleeting, blows are glancing, when you're dancing through life”

4. we are golden - MIKA

“Teenage dreams in a teenage circus / Running around like a clown on purpose / Who gives a damn about the family you come from / No giving up when you're young and you want some”

“I was a boy at an open door, why you staring? / Do you still think that you know? / Looking for treasure in the things that you threw / Like a magpie, I live for glitter not you”

“Now I'm sitting alone, I'm finally looking around / Left here on my own, I'm gonna hurt myself / Maybe losing my mind, I'm still wondering why / I had to let the world, let it bleed me dry / We are not what you think we are”

gender is fake: 5-7

5. the man - the killers

“They kiss on the ring, I carry the crown / Nothing can break, nothing can break me down / Don't need no advice, I got a plan / I know the direction, the lay of the land / I know the score like the back of my hand”

6. sexy, naughty, bitchy me - tata young

“I'm the kind that your momma and your daddy were afraid you'd turn out to be like”

“I may seem unapproachable but that's only to the boys who don't have the right approach or ride that makes a girl like me wanna hop in and roll”

7. true trans soul rebel - against me!

“All dressed up and nowhere to go / Walking the streets all alone / Another night to wish you could forget / Making yourself up as you go along”

8. nearly witches - panic

9. oh girl you’re the devil - MIKA

“She's a girl with a bag full of hearts and a devil's eyes / Crazy kids in the wild on the run to the county line / Shotgun for a tongue but says just what she likes / Oh, girl you're the devil”

“And I said follow me / Whoever you want to be / Don't care where you where you go / As long as you stay with me”

10. today - john denver

“Today while the blossoms still cling to the vine / I’ll taste your strawberries, I’ll drink your sweet wine / A million tomorrows shall all pass away / ‘Ere I forget all the joys that are mine today”

“Well I’ll be a dandy and I’ll be a rover / You’ll know who I am by the songs that I sing / I’ll feast at your table, I’ll lie in your clover / Who cares what tomorrow may bring?”

“I can’t be contented with yesterday’s glory / I can’t live on promises winter to spring / Today is my moment and now is my story / I’ll laugh and I’ll cry and I’ll sing”

“Well I’m just as restless as wind blowing westward / I can’t stay in any one place for too long / I live for today and I’ll leave you tomorrow / By morning you’ll know I am gone”

11. bulletproof heart - my chemical romance

“Gravity don't mean too much to me / I'm who I've got to be / These pigs are after me, after you / Run away, like it was yesterday / And we could run away, if we could run away / Run away from here”

“Me and your runaway scars got a photograph dream on the getaway mile”

“How can they say / ‘Jenny could you come back home?’ / Because everybody knows you don't ever want to come back / Let me be the one to save you”

“Are you going to be the one to save us from the black and hopeless feeling? / Will you mean it when the end comes reeling? / Hold your heart into this darkness / Will it ever be the light to shine you out or fail and leave you stranded? / I am not going to be the one left standing / You aren't going to be the one left standing / We aren't going to be the ones left standing”

12. lollipop - MIKA

yasha&molly songs: 12 - 15. these are all platonic obviously

13. you told the drunks i knew karate - zoey van goey

14. wonderful wonderful - the killers

“Motherless child, follow my voice, and I shall give thee great cause to rejoice / Motherless child, be of good cheer / My arm is reached out, I am here / I'll crush every doubt and every fear / Clothesline the shame and you will answer to the name: / Wonderful wonderful, wonderful wonderful / Motherless child I am with thee, thou wast never alone”

15. futile devices - sufjan stevens

“And when you play guitar, I listen to the strings buzz / The metal vibrates underneath your fingers / And when you crochet, I feel mesmerized and proud”

“But you are life I needed all along / I think of you as my brother, although that sounds dumb / And words are futile devices”

16. i will - mitski

“I will take good care of you, I will take good care of you”

“And we’re not out of the tunnel / I bet you though there's an end”

17. chasin’ honey - wild party

“Some parts of my brain are probably still sleeping / I wish I could tell but I'm probably still sleeping / I look to the window, I look through your eyes / I can see my reflection but I can't close the blinds / It's like someone's determined to change how I think / But if I just close my eyes I'll wake from each dream”

18. idylls of the king - the mountain goats

“My dreams are haunted by armies, armies of ghosts / Faces too blurry to make out / Numbers far too high to measure”

“Your eyes, twin volcanoes / Bad ideas dancing around in there / All of them, all of them, all lined up”

19. bury me face down - grandson

“When I go into the ground, I won't go quietly, I'm bringin' my crown”

“I've been counted out, left for dead / Wanted with a bounty on my head / But somehow, someway, I'm-a keep movin' along, movin' along”

20. survival - ajj

“And I gave a beer to a bum that was drinking / And I gave some sauce to my bestest friend for cooking / And I gave water to all I thought were thirsty / And that's how I learned how to survive”

“And I fed false information to the audience”

“I just handed you a giant load of gibberish / And I give love to a lover quite deserving of it / And I give thanks to all of you for listening / To the story of how I learned how to survive”

21. color in your cheeks - the mountain goats

“Come on in / We haven't slept for weeks / Drink some of this / It'll put color in your cheeks”

“They came in by the dozens / Walking or crawling / Some were bright-eyed, some were dead on their feet / ... / But they came, and when they finally made it here / It was the least that we could do to make our welcome clear”

22. mercury - planetarium

“Carrier, friend - where do you run to?”

running from the past: 23-28

23. same old blues - phantogram

“I keep on having this dream / Where I'm stuck in a hole and I can't get out / There's always something that's pulling me down, down, down”

“Today, I lost my future to the past /... / Never getting far away enough / Like a shadow on the sidewalk, I can't shake it off / You can never change my mind”

24. thank you for the venom - my chemical romance

“I wouldn't front the scene if you paid me / I'm just the way that the doctor made me, on / And on, and on, and on / Love is the red the rose on your coffin door / What's life like, bleeding on the floor?”

“You’ll never make me leave / I wear this on my sleeve / You want to follow something / Give me a better cause to lead”

25. rio - MIKA

“The book has long been written, but I'd rather be just about anyone else but me, I hope you see / It doesn't mean I'm not a fighter, it's just that I wanna be a little lighter”

“Maybe I'll be myself when I'm somebody else”

“Anything you can lose I can lose better / Do my best with what life gave to me”

26. kill all your friends - my chemical romance

“And you can sleep in a coffin, but the past ain't through with you”

“Cause we are all a bunch of liars / Tell me, baby, who do you wanna be? And we are all about to sell it 'cause it's tragic with a capital 'T' / Let it be, let it be, let it be!”

“Cause we all wanna party when the funeral ends / And we all get together when we bury our friends”

“You'll never take me alive, you'll never get me alive / Do what it takes to survive, and I'm still here!”

27. how to embrace a swamp creature - the mountain goats

“Got out of bed, could not remember my own name"

“I stand where the flashing swords gleam / And I try to shake my head clear of the dream”

28. we don’t want your body - stars

“I've watched you take your make-up off / Your face grows hard, your eyes grow soft”

“Sleep now and dream of who you'll be / When you finally become someone”

29. nobody - mitski

“And I don't want your pity, I just want somebody near me / Guess I'm a coward, I just want to feel alright / And I know no one will save me, I just need someone to kiss / Give me one good honest kiss, and I'll be alright”

30. never quite free - the mountain goats

“It's okay to find the faith to saunter forward / With no fear of shadows spreading where you stand / And you'll breathe easier just knowing that the worst is all behind you / And the waves that tossed the raft all night / Have set you on dry land”

“It's so good to learn that from right here the view goes on forever / And you'll never want for comfort, and you'll never be alone / See the sunset turning red, let all be quiet in your head / And look about—all the stars are coming out / They shine like steel swords / Wish me well where I go / But when you see me, you'll know”

31. amy aka spent gladiator 1 - the mountain goats

“Do every stupid thing that makes you feel alive / Do every stupid thing to try to drive the dark away / Let people call you crazy for the choices that you make / Climb limits past the limits / Jump in front of trains all day / And stay alive”

“Play with matches if you think you need to play with matches / Seek out the hidden places where the fire burns hot and bright / Find where the heat's unbearable and stay there if you have to / Don't hurt anybody on your way up to the light”

“People might laugh at your tattoos / When they do get new ones in completely garish hues”

“Make up magic spells, wear them like protective shells”

32. townie - mitski

“And I want a love that falls as fast as a body from the balcony, and / I want to kiss like my heart is hitting the ground / I'm holding my breath with a baseball bat, though I don't know what I'm waiting for / I am not gonna be what my daddy wants me to be”

33. cry for judas - the mountain goats

“Speed up to the precipice and then slam on the brakes / Some people crash two or three times and then learn from their mistakes / But we are the ones who don't slow down at all / And there's nobody there to catch us when we fall”

“... Can't learn how to behave / Still won't know how in the darkness of the grave / Long black night, morning frost / I'm still here, but all is lost”

death

34. save yourself, i’ll hold them back - my chemical romance

“I hope you're ready for a firefight / 'Cause the devil's got your number tonight / (They say!) ‘We're never leaving this place alive’ / But if you sing these words, we'll never die!”

“Get off the ledge and drop the knife / Not a victim of a victim's life / (Because!) This ain't a room full of suicides / We're believers, I believe tonight”

“I'll tell you all how the story ends / Where the good guys die and the bad guys win / (Who cares?) This ain't about all the friends you made / But the graffiti they write on your grave”

“So just save yourself, and I'll hold them back tonight!”

35. hebrews 11:40 - the mountain goats

“No ground is ever gonna hold me / ... / Bodies reassembling down where the worms crawl / Make your own friends when the world's gone cold”

“It gets dark and then / I feel certain I am going to rise again / If not by faith then by the sword / I'm going to be restored”

“Blood calls to blood as the hours draw down / Invent my own family if it comes to that / Hold them close, hold them near / Tell them no one's ever going to hurt them here”

“Steal the treasure and try to leave town / Fight my way back down, don't want to hurt anyone / Probably gonna have to before it's all done”

“Take to the hills, run away / I'm gonna get my perfect body back someday”

36. dead! - my chemical romance

“And if your heart stops beating, I'll be here wondering / Did you get what you deserve? / The ending of your life / And if you get to heaven, I'll be here waiting, babe / Did you get what you deserve?”

“So long, 'cause now you've got / Maybe just two weeks to live / Is that the most the both of you can give?”

37. the spine song - cake bake betty

“On your birthday you woke up / The snow was on the ground"

“You will steal all the smells / That cut through your nose and excite all your cells / When it's time to escape / You realize you've waited until it's too late”

“You pleaded, ‘Oh, kind sir, please let me say goodbye’ / Your soul ripped from your stomach / You gave an awful cry”

“And when I have died, will you use my spine to swing from tree to tree in search of places pleasing to the eye?”

38. back pack - ajj

“You were dead by the time that I had found you / Your blood was spilled on the couch where we had first kissed / So I carried you West to the sea, so I could wash you / Your body felt just like a backpack”

“You lived large till the day they finally caught you”

“And I wanna build a tower to all the nicer things you could have been / But I don’t like it”

39. fourth of july - sufjan stevens

“The evil, it spread like a fever ahead / It was night when you died, my firefly / What could I have said to raise you from the dead? / Oh, could I be the sky on the Fourth of July?”

“Sitting at the bed with the halo at your head / Was it all a disguise, like Junior High? / Where everything was fiction, future, and prediction”

"Did you get enough love, my little dove? / Why do you cry? / And I’m sorry I left, but it was for the best / Though it never felt right / My little Versailles."

“The hospital asked should the body be cast / Before I say goodbye, my star in the sky / Such a funny thought to wrap you up in cloth / Do you find it all right, my dragonfly?”

"Shall we look at the moon, my little loon? / Why do you cry? / Make the most of your life, while it is rife / While it is light”

40. the coroner’s gambit - the mountain goats

“When death came calling today / I heard the gentle grace of his cadences / And I couldn’t say no, I couldn’t say no”

“When he showed me his new silk scarves / Laid out on a shiny black plastic tray / Couldn’t say, couldn’t say, couldn’t say no”

“And I'm sorry I couldn't / Do you know how badly I wanted to? / Didn't want, didn't want, didn't want to lose you”

“But his smile was dazzling / And his eyes were sparkling / Like moonlight on the water at midnight”

41. wallowa lake monster - sufjan stevens

“Spathiphyllum on his grave / And like the cedar waxwing, she was drunk all day / We put her in the sheet, little wreath, candles on the crate / As the monster showed its face”

“As she waits for her children in the shade / Demogorgon or demigod, the ghost parade / No oblation will bring her back to our place”

42. the last song ever written - stars

“This is the last time that there'll be a last time / You'll wake up to the day without it / This is the last time that you're gonna lose someone / After this, it's you and your friends / It's you and your friends”

“We didn't know we knew you 'til we lost you / You tried to leave us all alone, we wish you had failed”

43. best friend - ajj

“Everything makes me bleed / The sparkle won't shine if you don't feed it light / Balls deep in reality / I spend all my time getting strung out on life”

“Your dead best friend is walking up the stairs / He's walking up the stairs with you”

“What is the wind saying? Does it tell who isn't there? / Do the spirits haunt us by blowing through our hair?”

44. dead hearts - stars

“Tell me everything that happened / Tell me everything you saw / They had lights inside their eyes”

“Did you see the closing window? / Did you hear the slamming door? / They moved forward, my heart died”

“Please, please tell me what they look like / Did they seem afraid of you? / They were kids that I once knew”

#chirps #robcr #mollymauk tealeaf #sorry about this

35 notes · View notes