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lol-im-done · 2 years

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Love in the Kingswood | Harwin Strong X Reader

Pairing: Ser Harwin Strong X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2489

Synopsis: Princess Rhaenyra's Lady in Waiting, Lady (Y/N) Vaelor, slays a boar to protect her cousin, upon her return to the royal camp she realizes she's caught the attention of Ser Harwin Strong, and as they go on their own hunt they fall in love.

Author's Note: Feedback and comments are always appreciated! Also any ideas for other one shots so I can be inspired to write more :). Can be found on A03 as well.

Never had you been so happy to see a forest as you were when you arrived at the Kingswood. After hours of awkward small talk, glares from Alicent and the uncomfortable bumpy carriage ride you were more than ready to disembark. As Lady in Waiting to Princess Rhaenyra you were a constant companion at her side and as a distant cousin you were welcomed into the inner circle of the Royal Family. King Viserys had recognized Rhaenyra’s increasing isolation after Queen Aemma’s death so he reached out to your father Lord Vaelor who quickly dispatched you to King’s Landing. It was daunting at first but you became fast friends with Rhaenyra, a comforting and supporting presence for her. As the royal carriage slowed you could hear the cheers for the babe Aegon outside, Rhaenyra already withdrawing into herself.

“Are you ready?” you asked softly, grasping her hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. After a few seconds she gave you a brave smile and nod before stepping off with you at her side.

The encampment was enormous with various tents and booths for Aegon’s name day celebration. Soon you found yourself in the main royal tent and after a quick conversation with King Viserys who doted on you as if his own daughter, you went on your rounds but kept a watchful eye on Rhaenyra. The King never explicitly stated you were to mind her but it became evident you were also responsible for keeping her in line, as spirited as she was. As you exchanged words with Larys Strong, you could see Rhaenyra speaking with her father, both voices increasing in tandem with their agitation. As their argument came to a crest, gathering the attention of the court, Rhaenyra stormed off.

“Pardon me, Larys I must go!”

Larys, understanding your role, nodded and stepped aside as you tried your best not to run in the tent, trying to make it through the maze of people. Once you were at the exit you broke into a sprint at the same time someone was walking in.

“Excuse me, I’m so sorry!” you apologized, not even recognizing the tall man you had bumped into. Ser Harwin Strong had seen you at court, a quiet shadow to the fiery Princess Rhaenyra, and had only formally met you when King Viserys had introduced you to the court. Watching you run after her he couldn’t help a small smile, he found your panicked state quite adorable. As he watched you go after Rhaenyra, his brother inched closer to him.

“Lady Vaelor is most kind, I’m sure she did not mean to leave in such a haste,” Larys noted.

“Do you spend time with her often?” Harwin turned to his brother. “We sometimes cross paths in the library and will have tea with others from court in the Godswood,” Larys replied.

“Do I sense romance?” Harwin teased but Larys rolled his eyes. “No. But from the way you constantly ask after her and the way you stared at her bottom as she walked past I’d say you had that notion in your own head,” Larys replied coolly. Harwin let out a bark of laughter, slapping his brother on the arm before continuing into the tent, the feeling of your body pressing against his, still on his mind.

“Rhaenyra wait!” you cried, lifting the bottom of your skirt as you tried to keep up with her long strides but she was soon galloping off into the forest.

“Ser Criston-,” you called out and you didn’t need to finish as he helped you up on your horse before mourning his own. Without wasting another minute your steeds were off, racing to follow Rhaenyra. You loved your cousin dearly, would defend her to the very end but sometimes you swore she was trying to give you gray hairs. Thankfully you were a skilled rider and even in your dress you quickly caught up with her. Criston grabbed the reins of her horse and she scowled as she was stopped.

“Gods above Rhaenyra give me warning next time you decide to run off,” you shook your head, patting the neck of your horse to calm it down.

“I just couldn’t stand it one more minute! I don’t want to marry,” she pouted, silver strands whirling around her face. Criston looked over to you and you both exchanged a serious look, shaking your head in disappointment but the air of seriousness broke as Rhaenyra smirked, making the forest come alive with your trio’s laughter.

Rhaenyra insisted on walking back but you were nowhere close to the camp by the time the sun had set. Thankfully your horses had food and water and a light blanket strapped to them so you assisted Criston in making the fire as Rhaenyra set up for the night.

“Do you think the realm would ever accept me as Queen?” Rhaenyra broke the calm silence as you all ate the bread and meat from your packs.

“The lords bent the knee to you Princess,” Criston replied but she didn’t seem satisfied by that answer.

“I think that you will be a great Queen. The realm never had a chance to be reigned by a Queen before. They may be uncomfortable at first but once you prove yourself to them they will love you as I do cousin,” you said making her grin. Before she could reply there was a rustle in the distance and the horses began to whine. Criston was up and peering into the darkness, sword at the ready for whatever it could be. From the corner of your eye you saw Rhaenyra bring out her glinting dagger and you cursed yourself for being unprepared. Suddenly you and Rhaenyra screamed as a large boar burst through the bushes and rammed into Criston sending him flying to the side. It barreled straight towards Rhaenyra, jumping on top of her as she let out another scream. The urge to defend and protect surged through you as you grabbed her dagger from the ground. With a cry you plunged it into the boar’s back with a sickening crunch. Blood sprayed everywhere, hot and sticky, and the squeals of the boar filled the air. Criston pulled Rhaenyra out from under the boar as you continued to stab it, not stopping until it went completely still. The dagger fell from your hands, and you looked down, eyes widening in realization. Blood poured down your face and neck and the light purple fabric of your dress turned maroon.

“Fuck,” you hung your head.

“Fuck indeed,” Rhaenyra whispered, as she held onto Criston tightly.

“Cheers to Lady Vaelor, Slayer of Boars,” Criston breathed out before you fell over in exhaustion.

The following morning your trio finally made it back to the royal camp, exhausted, dirty and in need of a bath. The only upside was your kill which was being dragged by Criston’s horse. It soon became clear to everyone who had killed the boar. Climbing off your horse you tried to keep your composure as dozens of eyes watched you. Thank the gods your mother was not here or she would have dragged you off by your ear. Judgment and shock were evident on everyone’s faces as you walked alongside Rhaenyra. She had some blood splattered on her boots but you were drenched. It must have been quite the sight, Lady (Y/N) Vaelor, Princess Rhaenyra’s Lady in Waiting covered in the blood of the boar she had slain. What caught you by surprise was that in the sea of judgmental gazes there was a man, smiling. He was grinning as he peeled the skin off a rabbit, eyes roaming over you in a way that sent a delightful shiver over your body. Then you quickly realized who it was- Ser Harwin Strong. Thankfully the blush that spread across your cheeks was hidden by the blood. You were acquaintances with his brother Larys but had never gotten the chance to spend time with the man they called Breakbones. There he was eyeing you with a mixture of awe and something else, a sort of hunger. Breaking away from his gaze you followed Rhaenyra to your personal tent for a long awaited bath.

Later that evening you mustered the courage to come out of your tent and eat dinner. King Viserys had publicly thanked you for the boar, which was cooked for tonight. Not used to all of this attention you kept to the edge of the feast, picking at your meal. A shadow passed over you and when you looked up, your heart began to beat as fast as a hummingbirds.

“Ser Harwin,” you curtsied, dress pooling around you, tongue grazing your teeth to make sure nothing was stuck in it.

“At ease Lady Vealor,” he replied seriously as if you were a fellow member of the Night’s Watch, making you giggle. “That was horrible, I apologize,” Harwin chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No, it was quite funny. How can I help Ser Harwin, if you are looking for the Princess-,” you began but he stepped closer to you, close enough that you needed to look up as he towered over you. “No, I was looking for you,” he said. Another blush spread across your cheeks and you found yourself at a loss for words. The most handsome man in Westeros (in your opinion because Rhaenyra would argue Daemon) was looking for you?!

“What do you say to going out on a small hunt of our own?” he asked hopefully. “I was impressed by your killing of the boar and I’ve heard you enjoy archery-,” he continued to ramble, as if afraid to hear rejection from you.

“I’d love to.”

Harwin paused, eyes widening with happiness and he suppressed the urge to sweep you up in his arms at the moment. Gathering his composure he stepped back, “Tomorrow morning then, I shall arrive at your tent at sunrise, My Lady,” Harwin bowed his head.

“See you then Ser Harwin,” you curtsied before dashing off to find Rhaenyra.

Morning couldn’t come soon enough and when Harwin announced himself outside your tent you were ready, flinging the curtain open. Harwin forgot what he was going to say as he looked down at you as he gulped. Gone was the usual purple dress, today you looked like a huntress. Hair braided away from your face, leather trousers, your house sigil of two spears embroidered on your vest.

“Good morning Ser Harwin, Princess Rhaenyra is spending the day with the King so it looks like I’m all yours today,” you greeted him with a shy smile.

“I’ll take any time I get with you Lady (Y/N),” Harwin smiled back before offering you his arm.

Your conversation had started light as you walked through camp, the usual pleasantries especially with so many ears around but as you made your way deeper into the forest you found yourself opening up more. Harwin was a great listener, nodding along to your stories and quite eager to learn more about you as he asked about your home, your life. It wasn’t long before you began to see evidence of rabbits in the area, Harwin insisting you take the lead on the hunt.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to be out there hunting down deer and wolves Ser Harwin, instead of hunting little rabbits with a Lady,” you teased as you crouched down. Harwin crouched down beside you, angling his body closer to yours.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be at this moment,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. Turning to look at him, you were entranced by the depth of his eyes and you resisted the urge to run your hand through his mess of curls, turning back to the task at hand. Harwin watched as you brought out your bow, silently parting the bushes to get a clearer look at your target.

Notching the arrow your eyes narrowed in concentration, as you prepared your kill. Slowly your breaths evened out and with a final exhale your arrow went flying before hitting the rabbit straight through the eye.

“Damn!” Harwin cheered, squeezing your shoulder. Other men would have chastised you for your skill, or felt their manhood threatened but not Harwin. Ser Harwin Strong was not like other men, and you could already feel the stir of love in your chest.

After a few hours you had amassed quite a few rabbits and hares, Harwin carrying them in a bag as you walked beside him. With every step your bodies inched closer, shoulders grazing one another’s. After a few more minutes you approached a small creek bed that led to the camp and before you could look for a log to cross over, Harwin offered you his hand. Thinking he would guide you through the small stream you took it, “Thank you Ser-,” you began but let out a squeak as he wrapped his muscular arm around your waist and hoisted you up against his body. Instinctively you curled up against him, arms snaking around his neck as he walked you both through the water. He did not let you go however until you came closer to the camp, not at all tired. As he let you down you fought the urge to pout, not wanting to leave his comforting grasp.

“I’ve had a wonderful time, truly,” you thanked him, looking up at Harwin.

“Please just Harwin,” he said, hand reaching out to wipe dirt off your cheek gently.

“Harwin,” you echoed.

“Can I ask you something?” Harwin asked a bit nervously, and you nodded. “Why did you say yes to coming with me? I know my reputation-.”

“I said yes because you’re not like other men. You asked me to hunt with you, not to watch you hunt. Your brother Larys speaks nothing but good things about you. You’ve been nothing but kind to me Harwin,” you said sincerely. It was Harwin’s turn to blush and he looked around quickly to make sure no one was watching. Leaning forward his hand came to cup your neck and for a moment you thought he was aiming for your lips but instead his lips pressed against your forehead in a sweet kiss, so delicate for someone nicknamed Breakbones.

“I will always be kind to you (Y/N), I will be by your side if you let me,” Harwin whispered as he stared longingly into your eyes.

“I want nothing more,” you whispered back before surging upwards to kiss him, not caring who saw. Little did you know your journey with him would not end there but your relationship would blossom and endure through a civil war of fire and blood. Ballads would be sung of his strength in battle and of yours in diplomacy and eventually dragon riding, and in the end your children would carry on the legacy of both your houses with pride and glory.

#harwin strong x reader #harwin strong #Ser Harwin Strong X Reader #hotd imagine #harwin strong imagine

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morallyinept · 4 months

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I mentioned on a previous Ask that I used to be a florist, (man, do I miss that job...) and lovely @doughmonkey suggested I should match the Pedro Boys with flowers... so, here you are! 🪻🌷🌻

Enjoy! 🖤

Jett's Pedro Boy Rambles Masterlist

Flora & Fauna Masterlist

The sunniest flower for our sunniest Pedro Boy, Javi. Sunflowers often represent the sun and Javi just beams like it, doesn't he? Sunflowers also bring good fortune, and represent a long life and lasting happiness. It is often seen as a symbol of faith and devotion, radiating positivity and hope. In some Eastern religions, such as Buddhism, sunflowers are considered sacred and represent spiritual enlightenment. Or, divine inspiration, as Javi would say...

Sweet Peas represent goodbyes and yearning. In Victorian England, for example, sweet peas were often given as a sign of departure or goodbye to a loved one. Considering Joel has lost Sarah, I'd say a Sweet Pea would be a good representation of a flower for Joel. Sweet Peas also can mean blissful pleasure, friendship and gratitude. They come in all sorts of colours too, such as shades of white, pink, coral, red, violet and blue, and some combining two colours.

More subtle than the bold traditional red rose, pink roses typically symbolise admiration, happiness, and love. Pink roses also symbolise sweetness, femininity, appreciation, and admiration - all traits that this handsome agent showers in abundance towards his love interest. I think receiving a bunch of beautiful pink, velvety roses from Marcus Pike would totally sweep you off your feet and totally convince you to go to Washington DC with him.

Red poppies are worn as a symbol of support for the Armed Forces community, and to remember our fallen military personnel. The poppy is a common symbol that has been used to represent everything from peace to death, and even simply sleep. Seeing as Frankie worked in the forces, he would probably tuck a red poppy flower behind your ear then kiss you sweetly, as he walks hand-in-hand with you through the local Veteran Day Parade.

In the language of flowers, wild heliotrope symbolises devotion and an everlasting love, which when you think about Whiskey losing his sweetheart and baby boy, this flower couldn't be more perfect for him. It has a delicious scent and the flowers follow the sun as it tracks across a winters day, hence the name "Heliotrope" which is derived from the Greek Helios meaning sun and tropos meaning 'turn' or 'direction'. Everlasting love is a journey that you rarely falter from the path, so I imagine Whiskey would choose this flower to place on the grave of his sweetheart and baby boy.

Passion flowers, not only look a little alien in their bloom, they also have healing properties, which Ezra could do with in abundance, right? Roman Catholic priests of the late 1500's named it for the Passion (suffering and death) of Jesus Christ. And Kevva, has this prospector suffered... Passion Flower can incite love and passion and help you attract companionship. A perfect flower to represent my main man Ezra, I think...

Colourful, fun and a little kooky looking, gerbera daisies are just flowers that make me smile in abundance. And so does Dieter Bravo. Yellow gerbera daisies tend to symbolize cheerfulness and celebration. Orange gerberas convey that the person you present it to is the sunshine of your life. Red gerberas represent an unconscious love or to be fully immersed in love. White gerberas symbolise innocence and purity. Pink gerberas are a symbol of admiration, adoration, or high esteem for someone. I imagine Dieter would love these because he would be attracted to the variety of colours and they would make him smile, even when high...

Black dahlias aren't truly black, but rather a very deep shade of crimson that appear black. They symbolise betrayal and sadness, so shouldn't be gifted lightly. It also represents inner strength, likely due to the plant's ability to tolerate such harsh conditions. Although a stunning flower to behold, the symbolism doesn't come without it's notoriety; they're associated with the infamous murder of Elizabeth Short (The Black Dahlia Murder) in 1947 in Los Angeles. Black dahlias and Dave York? Nuff' said.

A flower with a bite, just like Max. A carnivorous plant, this flower eats insects. They have simple nodding flowers and leaves modified as hollow pitchers, which function to passively trap insects, luring them with nectar, then digesting them or drowning them with fluids, later to be absorbed by the plant. So, although it looks pretty and alluring on the outside, beware whats hidden underneath - just like our feisty vampire, Max. Nom.

Anemones are my most favourite flower. It was believed that the flower sprang from the blood of the slain Adonis, who was a lover of the goddess Aphrodite. As such, anemones are often seen as a symbol of love and passion. And there's no-one more passionate a lover than Javi P, right? Anemone flowers are available in many colors with each symbolizing a different meaning. White anemone flowers symbolize sincerity due to their delicate appearance. Red and pink anemone flowers symbolize death or forsaken love. Purple anemone flowers symbolize protection from evil. I think Javi would be a purple anemone, due to the job he has... he'd definitely protect you.

With their vibrant orange, yellow and red petals, naturally marigolds are symbols of positive emotions, like joy and excitement. Marigolds also represent energy, good luck, warmth, creativity, prosperity and passion. Oberyn exudes passion in abundance so this flower would be prefect for him. Their vibrant colors and strong fragrance make them an essential part of various traditions, festivals, and rituals worldwide, such as Día de Los Muertos. A perfect flower to represent Oberyn, in both life and death.

The Ghost Orchid earned its name due to its ghostly white petals and the illusion of floating in mid-air when attached to trees, with no visible roots or leaves. The Ghost Orchid is considered one of the most elusive orchids in existence. Its scarcity and remote habitat have contributed to its mythical status among plant enthusiasts. Due to its unique growth habits and specific environmental requirements, sightings of the Ghost Orchid in the wild are extremely rare. A little like our Mandalorian here in the sense you never see his face, he, like the flower, is elusive and a rare specimen indeed. And when you do get an eventual glimpse of it, it is absolutely breathtaking...

Holding on to their shape and color long after being cut, strawflowers are said to symbolize immortality and are commonly known as 'Everlasting' flowers. Their endurance and strength is notable and we can compare this to our resident hero of the Pedro Boys, Marcus Moreno. Everlasting flowers symbolize eternal love, hope, and remembrance. They are often used in wedding bouquets, funeral arrangements, and other special occasions to express enduring sentiments and commemorate cherished memories. Considering Marcus is also a widower, this flower is a great choice to represent him.

The bird of paradise flower symbolizes joyfulness, freedom, anticipation, and excitement. Furthermore, it represents faithfulness, love and thoughtfulness while being the official flower of the ninth wedding anniversary. As someone who is often bogged down in the the dark gloom of investigations, a colourful, peppy flower such as this would brighten Tim's mood instantly after coming home from a long day of work.

Tiger lilies represent courage, strength, and confidence. The main red tiger lily meaning is passion. White tiger lily meaning can be described as purity. Pero would be of the red variety, considering he wields such strength, courage and confidence on the battlefield. Tiger lilies also have healing properties and the lance leaf tiger lily is native to China. Apt considering Pero fights there...

Giving someone one of these small blossoms is a pledge that you will never forget them and that you will think of them often. For this reason, they're also considered a symbol of fidelity and faithfulness. Forget-me-nots represent true love and giving someone this flower means you truly love and respect this person. Similarly to making a wish, if Max gifts you with these flowers, he's not likely to forget you in a hurry.

The most classic of them all, a red rose is a perfect choice for a significant other. This stunning shade most popularly stands for passion and communicates love. It's the rose of romance and deep feelings, but can also relay desire, beauty, victory, harmony, joy, luck, pride and martyrdom. Which if you're familiar with Silva and his traits, this flower is the perfect choice for him.

A flower that is not very common, Petunias display feelings of deep resentment and anger. Despite their amazingly striking appearance, they take people by surprise because of their shocking underlying meanings. And if you know a thing or two about Veracruz, you know he's just like a Petunia - beautiful on the outside, but sinister and resentful on the inside...

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oneatlatime · 3 months

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The Awakening

Season 3 let's goooooooooo

These Fire Nation cells are absurdly spacious.

I do love that Momo's first reaction is kisses.

Not a cell. Oops.

Well that was confusing. I was arguing so vociferously that the SWT weren't pirates and then they go and gank a ship.

Mai girl get it! Questionable taste in men, but I love to see a lady getting exactly what she wants.

Mai: "how are you?" Zuko: *existential dread* Mai: "babe. Shut up."

Aang says he's the only one who's completely out of it, but Appa's behind him in full faceplant mode.

Actually, by the hair growth standard established by Zuko, Aang's been out 5 days at most.

Season 1 bitchy Katara is back again. I hate season 1 bitchy Katara.

I'm impressed by how much of these characters' identities is tied to their colour palettes. I see all these water tribe guys walking around in reds and blacks and I have no idea who I'm looking at.

Aang's eyes are back to brown this episode.

I love that Katara has no idea how she healed Aang. Superpowered does not mean superlearned. So much more believable than supergenius tweens.

It's the old ladies! They're wearing croissants on their heads. Why not.

This is a cool way to do exposition. A royal proclamation narrating a flashback.

These Dai Li don't know shit about loyalty huh.

SONG! HI SONG! I MISS YOU!

CORNY BABY & FAMILY! HI CORNY BABY & FAMILY! I DON'T MISS YOU! My guy why haven't you unpacked yet.

Given the welcome Zuko gets from the Fire Nation crowds, I'm thinking the exact cause/terms of his banishment were never made public? They're hyping him up like a wrestling entrance. That doesn't track with someone known to be honourless.

I want whatever's in Bato's bowl. Those noodles have him mesmerised. He's staring at them like they're telling him the secrets of the universe.

Are you telling me that Appa successfully landed on the deck of one of these ships without sinking it?

I love how Gaang's reaction to everything going wrong is to go find their dad.

STOP GOING ON ABOUT THE INVASION PLAN. IT WON'T WORK. STOP.

"Yep! The whole world thinks you're dead. Isn't that great!" Sokka. TACT.

Sometimes Sokka's brain gets too far ahead of itself.

Poor Aang. Not many people whose deaths are wrongly cause for celebration live long enough to see those celebrations.

How do the topknots fit inside the helmets?

This is silly beyond words. It's a two second throwaway gag but they're so into it.

Aang saying "I hate not being able to do anything" to the girl whose whole existence was not doing anything until recently is certainly a choice. And honestly, wasn't Season 1 Aang's whole point not wanting to be the Avatar? Actual responsible adults are handling the problems for once. He should be ecstatic.

I just realised this Fire Nation disguise ship plan means there are people in the Southern Water Tribe who know how to run coal powered ships. Neat.

One of the things I really love about Avatar is how much love they put into the side characters. This guy on the left is a nameless mook, but in the three to four lines of dialogue he gets, we see a world of political and bureaucratic headaches and a bunch of normal, humanising emotions (who hasn't been angry at that one coworker who can never be bothered to email?). The writers didn't have to give him that much personality, but they did!

Also, how often do Fire Nation ships get captured, if two pieces of bureaucracy not lining up causes this guy to jump to that conclusion, rather than think the bureaucracy messed up?

Someone in the Fire Nation has invented extra buoyant metal.

Turtleducks are scared of Azula. Turtleducks are good judges of character.

An awful lot of this episode is flashback footage.

Toph is a missile launcher. This is all I wanted out of life.

For the first time ever, Aang gets to play the role that Sokka plays in every bending heavy battle.

Since when can Katara do bending moves this big?

Sokka once again harnessing his ability to speak the opposite of what he wants into existence.

They said they passed through the serpent's pass a few days ago. Clever foreshadowing I completely missed.

Don't you love it when all your problems cancel each other out?

Aang. This is not the hill to die on. Also please don't throw tapestries around in a room with unguarded candles until you can firebend.

Wow Aang is just taking all the wrong lessons from this. And he's stealing Zuko's lines.

Turns out the Firelord is just some guy with an unfortunate goat beard.

Katara finally gets a chance to be her age, complete with nonsensical emotions and misdirected anger. I hate bitchy Katara but I love seeing her expressing the root of that bitchiness. And I love how illogical it all is, and that she acknowledges that! Emotions ARE illogical and messy!

Contrasting Hakoda winning Dad of the Year with Ozai setting off every alarm bell known to man is a choice. A really good choice. But wow. Not subtle.

I knew Azula always lied, but to her own dad/Firelord too? That's a dangerous move.

Aang. What are you doing. Stop.

Leave the door open. Peak sibling move.

In a turn of events that should surprise absolutely no one, Zuko's been played like a fiddle by his sister and is now as trapped as ever. The surprising part is that Azula thinks she can get away with lying to the Firelord too. Don't know how that's going to go for her long term.

So much for me saying the Avatar universe doesn't do ghosts. This season opener is surprisingly backwards-looking.

No offense to ghost Yue, but I think the saving the world she's referring to is the time she and a massive fishman saved the world, not strictly Aang.

How did they get past the blockade and find the right island?

I cringed at Katara's knee slide.

How are they standing on that island or breathing the air if it's hot enough to do that?

Final Thoughts

...what was that?

Seriously. This episode was a disorganised and aimless mess with the occasional gold mine of characterisation bobbing around. Did the writers not have a plan for what would happen after season 2 ended? This episode feels like the writers had as much plan as the characters did. If I was feeling charitable, I would say that this episode was a hot mess as a metanarrative commentary on Aang and the world's state, but I'm not feeling charitable. I think this episode was just a hot mess.

First, the good bits.

I liked that Sokka was very in character. We've seen before how he can run away with an idea to the point that he forgets to mind the human element. This episode's Sokka felt very much like Sokka. I liked that the beat up Sokka quota was replaced with 'Sokka dares the universe to play chicken and actually wins for once.' His optimistic characterisation this episode didn't grate like his inexplicable optimism did in Ba Sing Se, because here he has a reason to be happy. He's got his dad and a plan. Being around his dad and their people has done him good.

I like Toph the Ballista.

I like the noodle hypnosis.

I loved Katara's emotional blow up. It doesn't matter how noble or important the cause, leaving your kids for a cause is still leaving. I love that she points out how illogical her emotions are being. And I love that Hakoda creates a no-judgement-all-comfort-safe-to-rant zone for her. She's been waiting to do that for a while, and some of it came out at Zuko last episode, so it's been established that she's at boiling point. Fun fact: Katara has now had emotionally fraught venting sessions at Hakoda, Zuko, and Jet if you squint. I don't know what to make of the fact that the show has grouped these men into the same category of 'safe for Katara to vent to.'

I liked a couple of the throwaway gags, and the throwaway characters.

I liked the framing of Zuko's reintroduction to his father. Great use of angles and shadows. We've had two seasons of build up to this guy as the Biggest Bad, and the scene of Zuko kneeling in the throne room while Ozai paces around and delivers the world's most menacing praise felt big enough to be the crowning glory of that payoff. Especially contrasted to the loving father daughter reunion of equals it was interspersed with. But...

The bad bits.

Why did they immediately undermine two seasons of hype and all of the episode's menace by showing the Firelord as a gullible idiot who can't spot a bold-faced lie coming from a tween? I am legitimately pissed off that they defanged him as a threat so soon after introducing him. And I don't think showing that Azula can successfully lie to the Firelord builds up Azula as a threat - I think it also undermines her, because it's a stupid move. This episode could have introduced the biggest bad and reinforced the threat posed by last season's antagonist. Instead, it completely neutered the biggest bad and made Azula look like an idiot. I am actually mad about this.

Other stuff I didn't like: Aang's whole deal. Of course he was going to lose his mind and not be ok about what went down in Ba Sing Se. But he's never this dismissive of his friends, and a huge part of his early character is the fact that he would absolutely love it if some qualified adults stepped in and did the job he was unwillingly born into. Aang this episode felt self-centred and out of character.

Zuko's usually not this dim. I had figured out the angle Azula was going for by the end of the turtle duck pond conversation. Why can't he figure out for himself why Azula has redirected the potential blame if Aang is found to have survived?

The pacing felt off. The A plot flipped between action set pieces and emotional stuff. The B plot was purely talking. But the action set pieces felt out of place in an otherwise quiet episode. I get that you need something to interest the 8 year olds hyped up on sugar who only want explosions, but I think this episode would have been a lot better without the 'Aang almost drowns but gets a pep talk from a couple of ghosts who say exactly what everyone else has already said to him for two seasons but for some reason Aang listens this time and it works.' Why couldn't we have had a quiet episode?

Speaking of, why are Roku and Yue randomly popping up? Last time Aang talked to Roku, it took a trip into the Avatar state and the destruction of a very stupid general's whole army base. The ONLY person who's talked to Yue since she died is Sokka, and that took a magic swamp. I just don't get it. I don't get why they were there, why they said what they did, why those particular words in that particular order worked on Aang when no one else's words were getting through. I don't get why hiding out in the Fire Nation is the plan of choice over chilling with the Southern Water Tribe (other than because the plot says no responsible adults allowed).

The action piece with the Snekky Boy was fun. Even if what set it off was contrived (which it was), I think it was a fun watch and the only action the episode needed.

This episode was also so dark that I spent more time contemplating how much I really need to clean my screen than watching stuff happen.

I got so pissed off at this episode that I totally forgot about Mai. Go Mai! I am WEAK for romance arcs that boil down to 'Girl sees boy. Girl wants boy. Girl gets boy." Go Girl! Like I said above, questionable taste, but if it's what she wants, then congrats on getting it. I love Azula noticed and is like 'my resident goth appears to be broken.'

I have decided that Toph carved an underground harbour like the refugee station on Full Moon Bay and stashed all the water tribe ships in there, because those ships are too pretty to scuttle.

If I could surgically remove that scene between Katara and Hakoda and insert it into some other episode, I'd never watch this one again.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #The Awakening #unlike my s1 & s2 DVDs this one isn't bilingual #I can only conclude that the Fire Nation hate the French

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mochiimadness · 4 months

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I wonder what it would be like for Splinter if he fell in love? This isn't an xreader thing, for obvious reasons. It's just a scenario I haven't really seen explored for his character, and I'm curious how you'd portray it.

Hello! I wasn’t sure which version of Splinter you wanted, so I did both! Also, I could write a splinter x reader if someone requested it (not sure what you meant by 'obvious reasons' /lh), I did not make this one a splinter x reader tho ^^

2012 Splinter

Oh Hamato Yoshi, a man of so little yet so many words-

It takes him a bit to actually fall in love

He is hesitant about pursuing another romantic relationship

Is genuinely traumatized from his last one

Rightfully so, he saw his wife die, daughter as well (or so he thought for years) all at the hands of someone he onced called his brother- only to get mutated soon after.

Yeah… not a very good experience…

But when he falls, he is absolutely devoted to his person

He is very formal, approaching his crush in a gentlemanly manner

Is kinda old fashioned

The type to bring flowers and open doors for his partner

When he was with Tang Shen, he ended up losing sight of what was important

And became very distant and dismissive

He knows better now, and makes sure to go out of his way to pay attention

He does still struggle though,

Often choosing to meditate over quality time

As his relationship grows, however, he becomes better at being present.

Makes sure to set time aside for his partner

He doesn’t mind doing whatever, but he does prefer quieter activities-

A drama show perhaps, or drinking tea together.

As he becomes more relaxed in his relationship-

His playful side emerges

And surprisingly- he can be very goofy

I mean- he has a cheese phone in a glass case. He chose that. It’s meant for serious emergencies- you can’t tell me he wasn’t making a joke about his current mutation.

He tells dad jokes- really corny ones too

And his laugh is a full-on belly laugh where he throws his head back

He enjoys making his beloved laugh,

Will sometimes even ask Michelangelo for any new jokes to tell!

Overall, he's very sweet, goofy and old-fashioned with his partner,

He is also incredibly protective- perhaps a bit over protective

But considering the fact that he and his family are being hunted down by the man who killed his last wife-

His over protectiveness is warranted.

Does NOT take chances- if his beloved is captured, he is going there and demolishing anyone who gets in his way.

Makes sure his beloved is okay, before taking them home to curl up and watch some old drama show

Cheese-sicles included.

Rise Splinter

This may or may not come as a surprise-

But I honestly think it takes him a while to truly fall in love with someone

I feel like he has some trust issues

Definitely has high walls when it comes to relationships

Being a popular celebrity back in day taught him a thing or two about letting people get too close

Most people were usually only after him for his fame and fortune-

Looking to use him to rise to the top themselves

So he made sure to keep a decent distance

Until Big Mama of course

Which only made his trust issues 100x worse.

If he were to fall in love again, it would only be after a long time

There needs to be a very strong, and very solid foundation of trust

He would like to avoid being locked up and forced to fight to the death again, thank you very much.

On top of his trust issues-

He has major abandonment issues

If he ever went through with trying to have another relationship,

There would need to be a lot of communication-

Lots of working on and assuring him that his partner isn’t going anywhere.

As for his behavior??

He’s very avoidant in a rather outgoing way

It’s kinda weird to witness actually

The second he realizes he actually has romantic feelings for someone- he’s panicking

Tries to avoid them but also makes sure to be nice

He’s nowhere in sight whenever his crush is around but if they happen to catch him?

He’s chatting up a storm, sitting them down for a cup of tea or some food

Casually handing them a slice of pizza and once their attention is on it

Poof- vanished from sight once they turn around.

Once he starts actually giving a relationship a try though??

Man is whipped with a capital W

THE BIGGEST SIMP EVER

Quality time??? Physical touch???? GIFT GIVING??!?!?!!

His crush is getting it all

Quality time is an absolute must, he always wants to be around them no matter what it is they’re doing.

Knitting? He’s there.

2am snacks?? He already has their favorite

Movie time???? He made sure his projector is completely repaired AND made the couch the comfiest spot ever.

Loves to cuddle and hold hands, generally likes to be in contact with his beloved in anyway he can

Will even wrap his tail around one of their limbs if his hands are full

*cough* or if he’s too lazy to move from his comfy position *cough*

And on top of that?? He actually has decent money from his time as Lou Jitsu

He can and will have his sons help him figure out online ordering.

His beloved is getting any and everything they want

Only the best for them, he makes sure to buy top quality items

A lot of the gifts are an eyesore to look at though- his personal taste is…. intense…

Thankfully, his family helps him out.

Overall a very attentive, but clingy, partner

Will proudly boast about his beloved to anyone who asks (or doesn’t)

Has one of those wallets with the long long photo strips

He shoves them in everyone’s faces

I hope you enjoyed!! Apologies for the long wait;;

#my writing #rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2018 x reader #tmnt 2012 x reader #2012 splinter x reader #2018 splinter x reader #rise splinter x reader #2018 hamato yoshi x reader #2012 hamato yoshi x reader #rise hamato yoshi x reader #tmnt fanfiction #rottmnt fanfiction

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 1 year

Text

New Year's Day | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Happy New Year('s Eve)! I'm not sure if its NYE where you are or if the clock has already struck midnight. Regardless, have a great 2023! I am hanging out with my parents and I will be kissing no one at midnight. Look out 2023, I'm wild.

Warnings: mention of alcohol, mention of anxiety, idiots in love

"There's glitter on the floor after the party

Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby

Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor

You and me, forevermore"

...

Bucky didn’t like parties. It wasn’t that he hated celebrations, nor was he a “fun crusher” as Tony often called him. He just didn’t like the crowds, the noise. Large social gatherings made him uncomfortable. And he had plenty reason to stay far away from any get-together of more than a handful of people. I

But this party- this was the exception. It was the New Year’s bash, the party of all parties. It was supposed to celebrate the end of the tumultuous twelve months you’d faced, and usher in a- hopefully better- year to come.

Throngs of people planned to gather in a luxe penthouse in Manhattan and party until sunup. And while that wasn’t usually Bucky’s idea of a good time, he wanted this night to be special.

On more occasions than he could count, you sat out of Tony’s parties because of Bucky. You stayed home while everyone you knew- and many you didn’t- had the time of their lives. And while you never complained, Bucky feared you’d resent him. That you’d get tired of coddling him and his anxiety.

Not that you’d ever feel that way about him. You stayed home from every party because you wanted to, not out of obligation. You wanted to be with Bucky. And if that meant foregoing a Stark party, you didn’t mind. Even if you went without Bucky, you knew you wouldn’t have any fun. You’d spend the entire night missing him, wishing he was there. Attending Tony’s parties wasn’t worth it unless Bucky was there, too.

With the NYE party looming over him, Bucky decided he needed to attend. He knew you wanted to go. Any time someone mentioned it, you perked up. It was subtle, but Bucky noticed. He knew you were itching to celebrate the new year and party till sunup with the rest of the team. And while just the thought of fireworks and large crowds was enough to make him sweat, he was determined to make it work.

Plus, he wanted to kiss you at midnight. He wanted to ring in the new year with your lips pressed to his. He wanted to stand on the balcony overlooking the city with you- just you- and tell you how he felt about you.

But asking you to be his date proved harder than he expected.

“I think we should go to the party,” he told you one day over lunch. “It sounds fun.”

A blank stare stole the light from your eyes. You blinked once. Twice. “Okay, wait. I’m sorry- what? Did you just way you wanted to go to a party?” You laughed, “are you on drugs?”

Bucky rolled his eyes at you, “No, I’m not on drugs, doll.” He chucked his balled-up straw wrapper at you and made you squeal. “I wanna go- with you, I mean. I want us to celebrate the fact that we somehow made it through this fucking year alive.”

He wasn’t exaggerating. Between the Flag Smashers, a slew of nightmarish missions, and a nearly fatal run in with a Zola apologist, the past twelve months hadn’t treated either of you with kindness. You’d reached your quota on near-death experiences and stays in the med bay- but you survived. And Bucky wanted to commemorate it.

He gave you an expectant look, “What do you think? You wanna go together?”

You let out an excited laugh- a scream, really. “Hell yeah, Barnes- Oh, I have to text Wanda!” The clicking of your nails against your screen echoed through the space as you fired off a message to Wanda. “She, Nat, Maria, and Sam are going as a group! I bet we can tag along.”

It sounded fun, but Bucky wanted to smack himself upside the head. Of course, you didn’t realize he intended it to be a date; he never actually said the words. All he said was that you should go together- but the two of you went everywhere together. Based on the way he phrased his statement, this was no different than his request for you to accompany him to Trader Joe’s.

It would’ve been an easy fix. A quick, “Would you like to be my date?” would surely correct the situation in less than a minute. But Bucky was already in too deep. He’d worked up all his courage and spent it on asking you- incorrectly- to accompany him. And now his tank was empty. And he couldn’t retroactively ask you to be his date now; it would seem like an afterthought. You were never an afterthought.

“Wanda said we can go with them,” you shot Bucky a warm smile. “I’m so happy we’re going!”

“Good. Me too.” He matched your smile, regardless of the anxiety eating away at his insides.

Without warning, you grabbed Bucky’s hand. “I know you’re not really much of a party guy, though, so we’ll just play it by ear, alright? If at any point you wanna leave, that’s totally fine.”

Bucky gave you an overly casual shrug, “Oh, don’t worry about me, doll. I’m-”

“There’s gonna be fireworks…”

Bucky nodded.

“Are you sure you wanna go?” Your eagerness to attend Tony’ party disappeared at you thought about Bucky’s past. You didn’t want him to be uncomfortable- even for a second. “We could get away from the city for the night, instead. Maybe stay at Clint’s cabin?”

Bucky gave your hand a squeeze, “I’ll be okay. I promise. How bad could it be?” The words ‘will you be my date?’ swarmed inside Bucky’s head like a cloud of angry bees; he could barely hear you over the buzzing. Lunch ended without him asking, without you agreeing to be his date.

Bucky found the answer to his question the moment he stepped into the party. How bad could it be? Bad.

Hordes of people, loud music, champagne bottles popping at every turn. Cameras flashed left and right. Glitter and confetti littered the floor, making it slick as you walked through the crowd. Bucky was nearly sweating through his suit jacket. Drunk partygoers stumbled into the two of you time and time again. And while Bucky didn’t like being touched by strangers, he wanted to take the brunt. He didn’t want anyone knocking you down or stepping on your feet.

He was uncomfortable to say the least. Just like he knew he would be. Just like you feared. Part of him wished he’d opted for the cabin getaway you offered at lunch. But you grounded him. Every time you looked at him, every time you laughed at one of his jokes or rested your hand on his arm, his world righted itself. You helped him find solace, peace- even amongst the chaos.

And though he’d seen you dressed up before, this way different. He loved way your shimmering gold dress caught the light. He loved the glittery make up that adorned your skin. You were radiant. Breathtaking. Perfect in every way. Hundreds of people filled the penthouse, but he only saw you. Only you mattered.

“You good?” you shouted to Bucky over the roar of the crowd.

He nodded. “Why?”

“You’re staring”, you yelled. “I thought I had something in my teeth!”

Bucky’s head fell back in a laugh that got lost in the noise of the party. He shook his head and brought his lips to your ear, speaking so that only you could hear him. “You just look really beautiful. That’s all.”

A rush of warmth flooded your cheeks. You couldn’t believe someone as perfect as him thought you were beautiful. He looked so good, so unbelievably handsome- it shouldn’t have been allowed. The way his suit fit his body nearly made you salivate. And thought you’d seen him in it before when you helped him pick it out, it still made you weak in the knees. It was the perfect material to compliment the dress you and Wanda selected for you to wear.

And you knew the fabric would feel incredible as you gripped his lapels and pulled him in for a New Year’s kiss.

Everything seemed to be going your way for once. Every time you had the chance to tell Bucky how you felt, something sabotaged you. Bucky was always getting phone calls from Fury at the wrong times, and Wanda’s unannounced drop-ins coincided with your confession on more than one occasion. Part of you worried that it was the universe’s way of telling you not to say anything. Maybe he didn’t have feelings for you. Maybe you were better off as friends.

But you had to try, didn’t you?

“Hey, Buck. I was wondering if-”

Bucky couldn’t focus. He knew you were talking to him, knew that he needed to pay attention. But all he could think about was kissing you. Inhaling you. Making you his. He’d been through enough waking nightmares that nothing scared him anymore- except you. Why was he so nervous? He could run into gunfire and jump out of planes but telling you how he felt flooded his system with fear.

He couldn’t do this. His brain screamed at him to abort the mission.

“I’m gonna run- um, I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he suddenly blurted out. “Be back in a minute.”

Before you knew what happened, he dashed through the crowd and disappeared. You stood on the dance floor- alone- with strangers bumping into you every few seconds. This had to be cosmic sabotage; the universe clearly didn’t want you to be with Bucky. But you didn’t care. You’d had just enough liquid courage to give you the tenacity you needed. The universe could get fucked, in your opinion. You balked in the face of fate and destiny and divine intervention and set off in Bucky’s direction.

He leaned over the bathroom counter and splashed cool water on his face. His cheeks were slightly flushed and his tie askew. This was just sad. Pathetic.

He was the Winter fucking Soldier- why was he scared of something so normal? So low stakes? People did this every day; they kissed the people they loved. But to him, this wasn’t normal. And the stakes had never been higher. He never thought he’d find such a great friend- and definitely never thought he’d fall so deeply in love with her.

He wasn’t prepared for it, didn’t know how to handle these feelings. And if his confession of love or his request for a midnight kiss scared you away, he’d never forgive himself. There were plenty of reasons for you not to want Bucky romantically, so many that he couldn’t even list them all. And of course, you’d let him down gently. You’d be kind about it and would never make him feel bad. But he knew it would change your dynamic forever, and he didn’t know if he could stomach that reality. He couldn’t let you become a stranger.

Partygoers eyed you as you searched high and low for Bucky. They gave you weird looks and whispered about you as you called out his name. They must’ve thought you were an obsessed ex or a crazy fangirl- some of them probably wondered why you were allowed into the party. But you didn’t give a fuck. You were going to find Bucky if it was the last thing you did.

Things got quieter as you moved farther from the massive crowd. Soft music played, you spotted Tony and Pepper sweet talking one another in a quiet corner. Finally, you could hear yourself think. But it was 11:58, and this penthouse was bigger that your childhood home. There was no way you were going to be able to find Bucky in time.

But you weren’t going to give up. As you rounded the corner down a long hallway, a wall of muscle bumped into you. Its mass nearly sent you crashing to the floor, until an arm wound around your waist. “Oh, shit- sweetheart, I’m sorry.” Bucky saved you from falling and pulled you close to his body. “Are you alright?”

There was no time for small talk or pleasantries, you had a mission- and your time to accomplish it was running out. “Buck, would you be my New Year’s kiss?”

Bucky stared at you, “What?”

“There’s like-” you checked your phone, “there’s like less than two minutes till the ball drops and I- do you want to kiss me at midnight? Yes or no?”

Bucky gave you a smile and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Doll, you’re drunk-”

“I’m not. We both know I’m not.” He was trying to get out of it- to find an excuse, wasn’t he? Embarrassment flared inside your chest.

Bucky could’ve suffocated in the tension. His heartbeat pounded so loud in his ears it drowned out the music. The raucous crowd.

“It feels embarrassing to ask a third time, but you haven’t technically answered, so-”

“Yes,” Bucky nodded. He gave the area a cursory glance and found it less enchanting than he would’ve liked for such an important moment. “But, don’t you wanna go back to the party and see the ball drop? Or stand on the balcony to watch the fireworks?”

“No. I wanna be here. With you.”

The crowd began their countdown.

“FIVE…”

And all Bucky could do was stare at you.

“FOUR…”

He hated that he ran away, that he lost his nerve.

“THREE…”

But here you were.

“TWO…”

Because you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

“ONE…”

And he was going to get his wish

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

People cheered, music blared, fireworks exploded. But neither of you noticed

Bucky took your face in his hands and brought your lips to his. It was the kiss you’d always dreamed of. The one you waited your entire life for. Your mom always said that when you found the right person, you’d know just by kissing them. And while you’d known Bucky was your person since you met him, this just confirmed it.

Kissing him stole your breath- but gave you life at the same time. Was it possible that you’d been holding your breath your entire life, just waiting for this moment?

An intense warmth filled your every cell and lightning struck in your chest. You melted. He knew exactly what you wanted and gave it to you without hesitation. And just as you suspected, the fabric of his lapels felt incredible in your hands as you tried to pull him closer. But there was no ‘closer’. Any closer, and the two of you would become one.

Bucky could’ve died right then. If this was what awaited him over the past hundred years, he was glad he lived so long. You were worth it- all the pain and suffering and sadness. You were worth all of it.

When you finally pulled away, no one spoke; you weren’t sure you remembered how to. And Bucky was too lost in the taste of your lips to conjure words. It didn’t matter that you were in a random hallway or that several hundred people were screaming Don’t Stop Believin’ just a few rooms away. This was private. Intimate. Just you and Bucky. As it always should’ve been.

“NEW YEARS SHOTS!” Nat yelled as she and Sam barreled into you, knocking you further into Bucky’s grasp. “We’re all doing shots! Happy fucking new year!”

You eyed Bucky, “Um… that’s okay, Nat. I think we’re just gonna-”

Nat put you in an arm bar and marched you toward the alcohol. “If you don’t do a New Year’s shot, it’s bad luck! You wanna end up dead at the bottom of a cliff or something?” She pushed you in the direction of the bar, separating you from Bucky.

Sam nudged Bucky with his shoulder and motioned for him to wipe your lipstick off his face.

“Finally kissed her, huh?”

Bucky nodded.

“Can’t believe it took you that long- you’ve been making googly eyes at her forever-”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “alright, alright. I haven’t been ‘making googly eyes.’”

Sam gave a laugh that echoed down the hall, “yes you have, Barnes, stop lying to yourself. They pop out of your skull every time you look at her.”

Bucky gave Sam a very shiny middle finger.

The party wound down with you managing to get away with taking only one shot. Getting drunk didn’t seem like the best idea, not when a very important conversation with Bucky loomed on the horizon.

He stayed close to you for the remainder of the party, staring at you like you hung the moon. He craved the taste of your lips, the feel of your skin. Part of him feared that this was all a dream, that he’d wake up on the floor of his shitty apartment. Alone. Missing you.

But no matter how many times he pinched himself, things remained the same.

The DJ packed up and went home. Most of the partygoers flooded through the lobby and into taxis. Only the team remained. Tony, Nat, and Maria drank and laughed. Wanda taught Sam her “rave hands” as he often called them. And you rested on the couch, leaning against Bucky.

“Hey… doll, you still with me?” he gave your hand a squeeze and roused you from your slumber. “You wanna just stay here tonight? Stark said there’s a bunch of empty rooms.”

You blinked your eyes clear and gave your head a shake. “What? No, I’m good. I’m fine. You forced a smile and struggled to get your eyes to focus, “Not even tired.”

Bucky laughed, “You were literally just asleep on my arm.”

“I was not,” you said. “I can hang!”

Bucky gave you an affectionate eyeroll and laughed at your protests. You absolutely could not ‘hang’, especially not with Tony, Nat, Sam, and Wanda. They were the partiers of the group. You, on the other hand, were a lightweight.

“Well, I cannot hang,” Bucky yawned. He knew just how to get to you, “So I was just gonna sleep here. But, by all means, you stay up with the crazies. I’ll see you-”

“Oh, well in that case…” Spending the night with Bucky sounded like the perfect way to start the new year. “Yeah, I’ll just sleep here, too.”

A quiet laugh rumbled out of Bucky’s chest as he helped you from the couch. He wound an arm around you and pulled you into his side with a quiet “come on”. And the two of you took a stroll through the penthouse. Bucky ensured you didn’t fall when your heel caught the lip of a marble stair, and he kept you upright when exhaustion tried to pull you down.

He made you feel safe. Taken care of. Protected.

“Here we go,” Bucky flipped on the light of a lavish bedroom and motioned for you to enter first.

You flopped on the bed with a loud sigh and allowed Bucky to help you free your feet from your uncomfortable shoes. Everything after was a blur, as though laying down for a split second turned your brain off completely.

Bucky helped you under the covers and made sure you were cozy. He placed your phone on a charger. And when he was sure you were settled, he pressed a goodnight kiss to your forehead. While he wanted to climb in bed with you, he wasn’t sure it was right. Yes, he’d shared a bed with you a few times. But that was before he kissed you.

He decided that sleeping elsewhere was his best bet. It guaranteed that you’d feel safe and comfortable when you woke the next morning. But as he turned to leave, you hand exploded from beneath the sheets and snatched at his wrist.

“Where’reyougoin?” You words were clumsy and tired, but Bucky understood.

He rested a hand on yours before gently removing it from his wrist. He tucked it back under the covers with the utmost care, and left another kiss on your forehead. “I was just- I was gonna find another room…”

This woke you. Suddenly, your eyes flew open. You were fully alert. Almost alarmed. You wanted Bucky by your side- always. And he’d already kissed you, what difference did sharing a bed make?

“Would you stay, Buck? Please?”

“Of course, doll. If that’s what you want”. He ran a hand through his hair, “But, are you sure? You’ve been drinking, and I-”

“I had a total of three drinks over the course of like…” you struggled to do the math in your foggy, tired brain. “Um, like, six hours. I’m not even near drunk. I’m just tired.” Once again, your hand escaped the covers and made a grab for Bucky’s arm. You gave his sleeve a gentle tug, “No pressure if you don’t wanna sleep in here with me. But if you want to, I’d be more than okay with that.”

Bucky’s heart leapt into his throat. This was all he wanted. While your kiss at midnight was, indeed, incredible, he didn’t crave moments like that. He wasn’t after the sensational. He wanted quiet, vulnerable intimacy with you. He wanted to hold you when you’d had a rough day. To share a bed with you every night.

And at your invitation, he joined you.

He shed his jacket, tie, shoes, and belt, and climbed into bed. Normally, he slept in just underwear. But stripping down to his briefs felt like the wrong move. He’d sleep in his dress pants and his button down- no matter how uncomfortable it was- just to make sure you felt safe.

You wriggled in your dress and tried to get comfortable. It was tight in all the wrong places, the fabric itched. But you couldn’t shimmy out of your dress and sleep in just your underwear- not when you weren’t even sure how Bucky felt about you. He’d planned to sleep in another room, and it took him three tries to agree to kiss you. Maybe he didn’t like you that way. And if that were the case, keeping your clothes on was the least you could do.

“Goodnight, Barnes,” you yawned.

“Goodnight, Doll.”

“Yo, checkout in ten,” Tony called from the hallway. “Get up and get out.”

Bucky woke with a start, nearly headbutting you. Your face rested inches from his. His metal arm draped over your side. Your hands laid on his chest.

He couldn’t wake you- not yet. He needed to drink in the moment. You slept peacefully, your hair messy and your make up smudged. This was what he’d always dreamed of, what he feared he’d never get. But here you were. And you were prefect.

“Hey, sweetheart…” Bucky swept a thumb over your cheek a few times, “we gotta head out.”

Against your will, you stirred. It was too early, and you were far too tired. You snuggled closer to Bucky, nearly bringing your lips to his.

He ran a hand up and down your spine and tried again, “Doll, we gotta get up.”

With a groan, you pried your eyes open. But seeing Bucky first thing in the morning perked you up better than coffee.

“Good morning, Barnes.”

“Good morning, doll…”

He wanted to kiss you- but a sudden epiphany hit him like a train. What if that kiss was a one-time thing? What if you just wanted him for New Years- nothing more? The thought pulled Bucky from your side. He shrunk away and slipped out of bed. If he was never going to kiss you again, he needed to escape the intimacy you shared. It was a method of protection, of self-preservation. Otherwise, he’d drown in his longing for you.

“Stark said we have to be out in ten minutes, so…”

It was odd, the way he snaked out of bed so quickly after you woke. No good morning kiss. No soft touches. Nothing. But apparently, there was a ticking clock. The two of you had ten minutes to get out of the luxurious penthouse and rejoin the real world. And though you would’ve preferred a nice, slow morning with Bucky, you had a time limit.

You wriggled out of bed and took inventory or your appearance. Your dress was completely cockeyed and crooked from a night of sleep. Your hair was a mess. And your aching feet were covered in red spots and blisters.

“Not to be that girl, but I’m not putting these things back on,” you said to Bucky, taking your shoes in your hand. “Walk of shame vibes for me today.”

Bucky gave you a quiet laugh as he righted his shirt and put on his belt. Something about him seemed off. He was quieter than usual, not as warm. Clearly, he regretted the kiss, and now he felt uncomfortable around you. You kicked yourself for jeopardizing what you had with him. Why did you have to be greedy? Why did you have to ask for more? Things were good as they were- great, even. And yet, you couldn’t resist screwing them up.

A dull ache pulsed behind your eyes. You were exhausted, hungry, and definitely dehydrated. You dug into your purse in search of advil, but a memento from the night before distracted you. You’d slipped it into your purse and forgotten all about it. Until now.

Bucky caught you smiling down at your bag, “What are you looking at?”

“Oh, um…” your cheeks grew warm with embarrassment. It was too late to come up with a lie- Bucky saw the smitten look on your face. “It’s just this. Here…” You reached over the bed and dropped a polaroid on the sheets in front of him. “Wanda took it last night.”

It was a picture of the two of you; Bucky staring at you with an adoring smile while you threw your head back in laughter. It was the perfect encapsulation of your relationship. Bucky wished he had a copy of his own. He’d take it home, put it in a frame. He wanted more- more photos with you. More moments like this.

He stared down at it, letting the frozen moment in time wash over him. And then- “Why did you kiss me?” It was abrupt. And awkward. Bucky regretted it the moment the words came out of his mouth. But he needed to know.

“What? Oh, did you not want me to?” Regret pooled in your chest. Had you violated him? Coerced him into kissing you when he didn’t want to?

“No, I- I wanted you to.” Was he really going to do this now when you were both exhausted and still wearing the previous night’s clothes? His talent for finding terrible timing truly was impressive. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time. A really long time.”

“Oh,” your stomach did a backflip. “Okay, well-”

“I just need to know why you kissed me,” Bucky said. His words picked up in pace, his hand developed a slight tremor. He was nervous, really nervous. “Did it mean something to you? Or was it just a New Year’s thing? If it was just because you wanted to kiss someone at midnight, I get it. And that’s totally fine. I just-”

“It wasn’t just a New Year’s thing.”

The two of you stared at each other from across the bed. But it felt like he was miles away. Slowly, you took a few steps in his direction. “I mean, yeah, I wanted to kiss you at midnight- but I mean, I wanna kiss you all the time.“

Bucky’s heart stopped.

“Buck, I’ve wanted you- wanted to be with you- ever since we met. I want to be yours. I want to kiss you- not just at midnight. Not just on New Years.” You took another cautious step, careful not to spook him. “I just didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

“You can’t scare me off."

Butterflies swarmed in your stomach. "Oh. Well, good. Cause I think we're pretty fucking great together."

Bucky couldn't disagree. You brought out the best in each other. You cared for each other. Bucky trusted you more than he trusted anyone else, and you felt the same. The connection you shared couldn't be broken or damaged.

But Bucky couldn't escape the doubt that chipped away at his resolve. You'd spent a perfect night together and woke up tangled in each other's arms. Surely, you were just letting the previous night's festivities get to you. Influence you.

"You know, I think we should just talk about this another time- tomorrow maybe?" Bucky said. "We're both tired- and I don't want you to say anything you might regret-"

"No. I love you." Your words were steady. Even. No sign of uncertainty or question. "I know what I'm saying. I won't regret it-"

"Doll-"

Bucky didn't want to stop you; he'd dreamt of hearing you say these things since you met. But he needed you to take pause. He needed you to be sure. If you were still under the influence of the perfect night you shared, it would be easy to let those feelings cloud your judgement. He knew he couldn't handle it if, in a few days, you revoked everything you said.

"Buck, listen to me: I've known for a long time that I love you. But every time I try to tell you, something gets in the way. For a while, I thought it was the universe trying to tell me that we're not supposed to be together, but-"

"Fuck the universe."

Bucky closed the gap between your bodies and pressed his lips to yours. His hands grasped your waist, tangled in your hair. It was desperate and hungry and left you seeing stars.

He pulled away and stared at you. Watched you catch your breath. He kicked himself for trying to stop you, for doubting you.

“I didn’t mean to run from you last night," Bucky said. The words tumbled out of his mouth faster than he intended. "But, I panicked- I promised myself I'd ask you to be my date to the party and that we'd kiss at midnight. And I swore I'd finally tell you that I love you...”

Finally, he said the words. You breathed a sigh of relief and felt the knot in your stomach untangle itself. "You love me, huh?"

He nodded. "A lot. But I let the party get to me. I wasn't exactly comfortable with all the people and the noise and- I lost my nerve."

You took his face in your hands and brought his forehead to yours. "Hey, that's okay. I wasn't going down without a fight, anyway." You thought back on the night before, on the ridiculous way you'd run through the party in search of Bucky. "I chased after you like a madwoman. People probably thought I was a crazy stalker or something."

Bucky laughed and pulled you tight to his body, “well, thanks for looking crazy just for me, doll.”

"Any time, Buck. Happy New Year."

He pulled you in for another kiss, knowing that there would be many more to come this year. More sleepovers. More photos. More moments spent wrapped in one another.

"Happy New Year, baby"

————————————

Taglist: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @purpleshallot @seitmai @itvy5601 @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @evangeliamerryll @buckys-metal-arm @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @vrittivsanghavi @idkitsem @avengetheunnatural @rassvetsky @hereforbuckyandsteve @barnesselo

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yanderes-galore · 4 months

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FNAF 1 Bonnie yandere alphabet? I love him and he needs it lmoa

Sure! Looks like I'm back to primarily writing on mobile now since things look like they're back to normal :) As a celebration, you all get an extra fic before I'm back on my normal schedule (Which is writing then immediately posting instead of writing them the day before)

Yandere Alphabet - Bonnie The Bunny

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Manipulation, Violence, Murder, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Possessive behavior, Blood, Death, Isolation, Forced companionship.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Bonnie is one of the more intense yanderes of the original FNAF crew due to his persistence. He means well with his affection but quickly comes off as smothering. He just wants you two to be friends!

Yet you keep locking him away… which makes him more aggressive when pursuing you.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

As messy as he needs to be. He wants to play an innocent bunny act, but in reality he can get dark.

If someone thinks they can take his best friend from him, then he may just have to get rid of the issue.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Bonnie wants to care for you. Well, as best as he can when it comes to you being locked in the pizzeria with an animatronic rabbit.

He would not mock you.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He tries not to but his actions probably come off as such.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

I'd say Bonnie is clingy which is a vulnerable trait. He's honest with how he sees you and gets upset with others around you. For the most part you can read him.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Upset and confused. In Bonnie's mind he thinks he's treating you well! Are you two not friends anymore? What did he do?

Perhaps he should try to fix this….

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Not a game and hates when you try to escape.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

This one is shared with all the FNAF 1 members but here it is.

If he wants to keep his darling to himself he may feel he should hide them somewhere. If you keep trying to escape he may shove you into a spare suit. This is bad for a variety of reasons.

One, it's easy to die this way. Two, even if you didn't you can barely move.

That's probably the worst experience for him or any of the FNAF 1 crew.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Bonnie, no matter his intentions, will always call you "best friend" or "best pal". He wants to play with you forever and be your friend forever! Unfortunately...

Forever may include your death.

Yes and he'll cope before lashing out later. He twitches and glitches when irritated. Then, if he gets alone with the person he considered to close to you, blood may splatter across his blue/purple fur.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Affectionate and playful. He makes songs for you and often tries to sing outside your door. Other times he'll patiently wait by your office door while staring through your window.

He just wants to play!

Why do you lock yourself away from your best friend?

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Bonnie would make songs for you and often asks to play games. He's childish with you. His courting is more like befriending.

Bonnie is friendly but impatient... test his patience too long and he may get twitchy.

A little. He has a friendly persona and a more aggressive persona.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Isolation and sticking you in the spare suit. He hates punishment. As a result he'll try to limit it. Ironically his punishments line up with the worst experience category.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Due to the situation, most if not all but not intentionally.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Moderate patience, although leans towards impatient.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

He'd have a hard time moving on if you died/would not move on from it.

He lost his best friend, no doubt to his own hands.

Of course he feels bad/guilty, even as a sentient robot.

A little but no.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Unknown, loneliness most likely.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Bonnie would immediately try to comfort. He's supposed to make you happy, not sad! As a result you're smothered with bulky hugs and nuzzles. Even though you keep struggling.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Yes, his whole character is different.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Surviving until 6 AM and never coming back.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Unintentionally.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Not a worship yandere but clingy enough to keep you with him, even through murder.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

The entirety of your job until you're about to leave.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Unintentionally, yes.

#yandere five nights at freddy's #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf 1 #yandere bonnie the bunny #yandere bonnie

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free-for-all-fics · 1 year

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Just binge watched the IWTV series and it gave me many thoughts. No pun intended when I say it made me very thirsty. So I wrote some prompts! Warning: Some of these contain spoilers for the AMC show! Most of these prompts are written with the AMC show in mind, but they can probably be used interchangeably for either the 1994 movie or the 2022 tv series. Whichever version is up to you. Please tag me if you’re inspired by or write any of these ideas. I’d love to read it! ❤️🩸

Content Warning: Almost all of these prompts contain dark themes! Including: Toxic behavior, unhealthy relationships, power imbalances, abuse, racism, murder, and incest. If Dark! Fics aren’t your thing or you can’t handle such themes, that’s okay. These prompts just may not be for you, so ignore them and kindly move on. If you don’t like, then don’t read. Please don’t act as morality police and harass me or others. Don’t start arguments in the comments. Thank you.

1. You meet Lestat and Louis at a ball celebrating your arranged engagement to an odious man you don't love. While taking turns dancing with them, you're rudely dragged away by your jealous and controlling fiancé. Seeing how innocent and miserable you are, they later kill your unwanted groom and take you from your home, eventually giving you the choice to live with them and have a better life as a vampire.

2. You were Lestat's lover and companion heart when he was human. You were forcibly separated when he was abducted and turned into a vampire by Magnus. He believes you later perished in the French Revolution, until he’s delightfully surprised when he finds you in New Orleans while living with Louis and Claudia. You don’t look a day older than when he saw you last, and he realizes you had faked your death over a century ago. As he watches you seduce and feed on a couple of unfortunate humans, he falls in love with you all over again. You’re even more beautiful as a vampire.

3. Lestat feeds on you and drains you of blood to the point of near death. He gives you a choice: Join him in eternal life as his new companion heart and lover, or don't. Help him adapt to the modern world, or he will leave you to die and move on to someone else.

4. Haunted Mansion-esque AU: When Lestat was human, he was deeply in love with you, a black or mixed woman, despite it being unconventional and illegal. You may have had many plans for the future, but your love was like playing a most dangerous game. It ended tragically with you killed and him kidnapped by Magnus and turned into a vampire. But what if you’re reincarnated looking exactly the same as you did before in the early 20th century. Lestat becomes obsessed with you at first sight, discreetly following you around or using his powers to hypnotize you to come to him.

He acts overprotective and possessive when he courts you. Even if you don’t remember him or your past life yet, he’s undeterred in his advances. He’s determined to keep you safe with him and not let such a cruel fate befall you again. If that means turning you into a vampire, so be it. You’re his forever and he’s yours. You may hate him at first, but you’ll thank him for the dark gift in the end. He has loved you in death as he did in life and whether your memories come back or not, he’s going to stay by your side. What if in this life, you’re Louis’s neighbor/friend and he loves you too? Maybe not romantically, but there are many forms of love.

5. You’re Lestat’s younger sister and the only other person he loves in his family apart from yours and his mother. He cherishes you so deeply that he often protected you from your abusive father and other brothers by taking countless beatings and starvations to spare you. While you were only a teenager, you’d tend to his wounds and bring him food and drink. He insisted you came with him and Nicolas to Paris, where he would look after you as your legal guardian until you could be free as an adult woman. But after he was turned into a vampire, he tried to stay away. For years, he kept his distance and watched over you from afar as you blossomed into womanhood, while using his inheritance to send money and lavish gifts so you could live comfortably. He still wanted to provide for you, give you everything he felt you deserved but couldn’t have while living in poverty.

Until something happened that made him hyperaware of your fragility in your mortal state. He realized he was too selfish and loved you too much to condemn you to permanent death. He couldn’t bear it if you were lost to him forever, so he snuck into your house and turned you into a vampire. You live together for many decades before you go off on your own to explore the world. But you still correspond and visit regularly. You’re surprised and delighted when you stop in and discover your brother has a lover and a…sister? Daughter? Are you an aunt now? You’re not really sure what the family dynamic is but you’re happy for him.

6. Crimson Peak/Flowers in the Attic-esque AU: You’re Lestat’s sister. You sought comfort and protection from your abusive father and other brothers through each other, and your unhealthy coping mechanisms spiraled into a toxic incestuous relationship. After taking countless beatings and starvations, you’d tend to Lestat’s wounds and he to yours. While locked away together, you’d silently admire your bodies and touch each other gently, mindful of your scars. Your curiosity gave way to darker thoughts, and neither of you could help the urges you began to feel. Lestat and you are so fucked up. You’re overly co-dependent on each other, you both can be manipulative to get what you want, etc. You and Lestat are aware you might love each other too much, since you’ve had ugly fights fueled by jealousy where you’ve threatened to kill the other.

“If I can’t have you, no one can!”

“Do it, coward. You won’t. You and I both know a life without me would be even more unbearable.”

But neither of you would ever actually go through with it. Despite your issues, you cared for each other and wanted to get into a better situation. Even after Lestat became a vampire and inherited endless wealth, he couldn’t let you go. So he snuck into your Paris bedroom and seduced you. Afterwards, he used his powers to render you immobile so he could kidnap you. He turned you into a vampire and your bond can never be severed now. You may have been livid with your brother for turning you, but even that argument ended with angry hate sex to blow off steam. It’s no different than the many times he killed or otherwise drove away all the men and women who vied to be your lover while you were both still human. You were angry with him then, and retaliated by doing the same with all his lovers. These kind of sibling spats are common. If there’s one thing you both hate, it’s competition.

But still you slept together and all was soon forgiven. As vampires your lovemaking can be bloody and violent but it hurts so good. You can’t hear each other’s thoughts, but are so in tune with one another that you still know exactly what the other is feeling. When everything is good, you either hold hands or embrace without needing to say anything. You have your own coffins, but often crawl into each other’s so you can cuddle within the enclosed shared space where you spend hours talking into the early morning before going to sleep. You’re addicted to each other’s company. To the outside mortal world you may act as husband and wife. This is your eternity. You both fear loneliness and abandonment more than anything in the world, so as long as you stay together, neither of you will be alone and you’ll both be fine.

7. You’re a whore and have threesomes with Lestat and Louis. Unlike Lily and the others, you’re a woman of many talents with a unique spirit, so Lestat and Louis want to keep you forever as theirs. What started out as purely transactional sex and pillow talk has become so much more. They’re addicted to you and each other. Being a human and having sex with two vampires is on another level you never knew existed. Levitating in the air while your body is sandwiched between the two handsome devils, Lestat feeding on you while Louis may refuse to at first before Lestat convinces him to do it. Un petite coup, they call it. The little drink. Not enough to kill you, but just enough to keep them fit. The feelings of intimacy it awakens in you is beyond words. And all your senses are only heightened once your lovers turn you into a vampire. While you have your own coffin, you sometimes share a special coffin that’s big and spacious enough to fit 3 people.

8. You’re a human who willingly lets Louis feed on you in modern day. What Daniel doesn’t know is that you actually live in the house with him and Rashid. They take good care of you after the feedings and it’s like a poly relationship. Daniel doesn’t know how to respond as he watches Louis feed on you while you just nonchalantly talk to him like nothing is happening to you. He finds it so off putting how you hold eye contact with him.

Spoilers: Or you’re actually a vampire who pretends to be human by putting on a good show of acting faint and woozy after Louis feeds from you. You go by a fake name and wear contacts just like Armand. Louis and Armand are your lovers.

9. Phantom of the Opera-esque AU: You’re an opera singer or a First Chair in the orchestra and you’re elevated in Lestat’s eyes due to your immense musical talent. You’re one of the few human attachments Lestat keeps. He acts as your patron, providing you with money and lavish gifts. He visits you in your dressing room before and after performances, where you often get hot and steamy. He sometimes takes you back to his home where you sing and play piano (or another instrument) together. You may not know about his vampiric nature yet, but make no mistake: He will inevitably turn you one day.

10. In the books, Lestat mentions bedding a whole lot of women before he was turned so it’s possible he had children he never got to know. He finds out he had a secret accident baby over a hundred years ago when you, his daughter, show up at his and Louis’ home after tracking him down. Lestat being Lestat, he may not believe you at first, but you have substantial proof: A birth certificate, old belongings of his, miniatures of him and your mother, handwritten letters from the 18th century, etc. And then there’s your uncanny resemblance to him in both physical appearance and personality/mannerisms that even Louis points out. You’re not only a grown adult, but frozen in time. Maybe you had a family of your own before your vampire transformation, maybe not. But Lestat tracking down his descendants could make for an interesting story. Because he’s not your maker, you can hear each other’s thoughts. Lestat wants to know everything about you: Who your maker was, how you lived after parting ways with your maker, etc.

He doesn’t want secrets. In hypocritical fashion, he’ll probably keep secrets from you, but he doesn’t want you to keep secrets from him. You and your father are alike in so many ways, and sometimes that causes you two to butt heads and get into petty quarrels. It’s like an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. It’s like two walls trying to get the other to move. Whenever your father annoys you too much, you’ll block him out of your mind or he’ll do the same to you. From what your mother told you about him, you were expecting him to be a bratty and spoiled prince. She used to say you were his perfect copy and called you princess to annoy you. He does love you and you do love him, it’s just expressed and shown in very weird, unusual ways that don't make sense to anyone else. Your form of affection is unique to only you two.

11. You and Lestat are vampires in a complicated love-hate and co-dependent relationship. It can get very toxic and manipulative, especially since both of you are varieties of possessive and jealous or vain and narcissistic. Sometimes if either of you are bored, you do your best to goad each other into losing any sense of decorum or restraint. Like playing with each other’s emotions is a game. Your arrangement of, “You can fuck whoever you want as long as you come home to me.” quickly becomes “I thought we could have an orgy. You can fuck them and I can eat them.” Your sex life is full of depraved fantasies and decadence you indulge in. A hedonistic existence of drink, drugs, and parties. You’re both different flavors of fucked up, but you’re addicted to each other. You want him dead, you want him all to yourself. He wants you dead, he wants you all to himself. It’s far from healthy, but it’s all you know and neither of you care. You’ve let go of human attachments ages ago.

12. You’re a vampire who’s in a romantic/sexual relationship with Lestat and in his own twisted way, he actually cares about and loves you along with Louis. You were given the dark gift by your maker when you were a full grown adult, unlike Claudia. So you’re like an older sister or aunt to her. Claudia is envious of your mature body and asks you questions of the female sort that you do your best to answer, no matter how awkward they are. Some of the questions she has are similar to ones she writes in her diary. (If you know, you know.)

13. Ghost of Thornton Hall-esque AU: When Lestat was human, he was in love with you, a renowned singer. During a masquerade ball celebrating your birthday, a fire started that quickly spread out of control. You got trapped in the burning building and were killed. You’re the only person Lestat has cried rivulets of blood over in his vampire life. All Lestat has left of you is a necklace you always used to wear. That’s why he’s hesitant to turn Claudia after Louis saves her from the fire and tries to make excuses that she’s too charred and he doesn’t know where to bite. During the Mardi Gras ball, Lestat hears your voice whispering and singing sweetly to him. He may be losing his mind due to fasting, but he swears he can see you in the crowd, wearing the same blood red dress that you burned up in. Your black lace mask hides your eyes from him. He follows you, but keeps losing sight of you in the crowd when other men and women get in his way. It’s like trying to follow a ghost. Finally he catches up to you. When you turn around, you are indeed wearing the very same red dress you wore when you “died”. It’s now charred and black in some areas. He removes your mask and looks into your eyes - your vampire eyes.

14. You and Lestat go out to Lover’s Lane because it’s one of your favorite spots to hunt. The many lovey-dovey couples fueled by passion and sexual desire makes your meals that much more tasty. After you feed together, who could blame you if you also wanted to get romantic and passionate yourselves and make love outdoors or in the car of some victims before you disposed of the bodies? It’s practically like going out on a date anyway. Lestat and you go on date nights like this often. Your dates have also included going to the movies, sometimes watching vampire flicks to laugh at them and have a good time. Lestat uses his vampire powers to make an annoying movie goer who keeps shushing you start slapping himself repeatedly, just to entertain you and himself.

15. The relationship you have with Lestat is…complicated, to say the least. You’re human, but musically talented or have something else about you that makes him very possessive and obsessive over you. Maybe you remind him of his first love, Nicolas. He fears loneliness more than anything, so he tries to make you dependent on and love only him. He tries to isolate you and prove that he’s all you need. He can take care of you and give almost everything you desire. Toxic Lestat is so against you leaving because he doesn’t want to be alone. He lets you know of his plans to make you a vampire, whether you like it or not. It’s inevitable, he’s more than clear in no uncertain terms about that. But instead of rejoicing at his plans to give you this most precious and coveted dark gift, you tried to run away. He killed all the other passengers of the train you tried to stowaway on and blamed you for their deaths. You made him do this by acting out and being ungrateful, their blood is on your hands.

He used the conductor’s head as a macabre puppet to scare you before he coerced you into coming back home. You should be thankful he’s still respecting your compromise to stay human for a little longer after you pulled that stunt. You should show him some appreciation for all he’s doing for you, instead of acting like a spoiled and bratty princess. One time, you get into a nasty fight that ends with Lestat dragging your weak but still alive body outside, leaving a bloody trail. He then uses the Cloud Gift to fly high up into the sky while holding you in his arms. He tells you, “How I’ve waited. I have patiently waited in vain for you to love me as I love you.”

“Let go of me!”

“Anything for you,” he says as he strokes your cheek and wipes away your tears before letting you fall from the sky. As your heart pounds loudly in your ears and can be heard over the whistling wind, you thought surely you’d splatter on the ground below and be nothing but an unrecognizable mess of mangled flesh. But no. Lestat wouldn’t give you the mercy of permanent death. He only let you free fall for a few seconds before swooping down and catching you. As if to teach you a lesson and further prove his point that you need him. You need him to protect you from others and yourself. But who’s going to protect you from him, you think to yourself as you lose consciousness in his arms.

16. During the Mardi Gras Masquerade ball, Lestat had Tom appoint you, his vampire bride, as Queen while he was Raj. After fasting for three days before the ball, you play your part well. Both men and women try to crowd around you and vie for your attention, but you’re very particular about who you hand out boutonnières to. You can see Lestat surrounded by middle aged women he seduced but can’t remember from 10 years ago. They’re still fawning all over him. Ah, these must be the ladies from the Women’s Opera Society. They’ve gotten so old and wrinkly in such short time, poor dears. You use your hand fan to hide your smirk as you try not to laugh when you overhear their voices coated with sympathy. So they really believed him to be ill all those years? Just when he asks which of the ladies did he pull under the stairs during that dull lecture on Don Giovanni, you take that as your cue to pull him away. You can feel the ladies’ questioning and jealous gazes on you as you loop your arm through his and kiss his cheek then his lips.

You’re so radiant, all dressed in white and diamonds. But all the women’s eyes are drawn to the matching rings on your and Lestat’s fingers. You love putting on a good show. Even more so when you’re covered in blood during the after party when you and your vampire family start feeding on the selected victims from the ball. While you walk towards them in a straight line and assert your power, they run and scream in terror. In vain, they try to break down the locked doors and windows. It’s a massacre, a bloodbath, and one hell of a good time. (Whether you know of Claudia and Louis’ plan to kill Lestat or not is up to you.)

17. Vamps inspired AU: You’re a vampire who was turned against your will. During the 1970’s, you met and fell in love with Daniel, a fresh young journalist who was aspiring to achieve more as a writer. You were only together for a few short years before you left. As much as it pained you to do so, you knew you had to leave him before he noticed you weren’t aging and got suspicious. He could have a normal life and hopefully find another love. You loved him so much that you didn’t want to be selfish and condemn him to vampirism. So you parted ways both for his sake and to protect your secret, before he had his first interview with Louis.

Now it’s 2022 and Daniel is an old man. When he’s interviewing Louis again, he’s surprised to see you, seemingly either living with or working for the vampire, just like Rashid. When he questions you, you lie. You say you’re not his past love, but her daughter, and that your mother died. It isn’t until much later in the interview, after Rashid reveals his true identity as Armand that you also come clean. You tell Daniel that he was right about you, and that you’ll answer any questions he has. You spend a great deal of time catching up as you ask him about his life, family, career, etc. And he asks you about your own life, why did you leave, why didn’t you tell him or turn him, etc. (Maybe you’re Armand’s sister and over 500 years old so the sun has no effect on you either.)

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crimxonwrites · 2 years

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Billy’s girl | Eddie Munson x fem!reader | part 1 - ❝ Fuck that, fuck Billy.❞

A/N: Hi! This is literally my first fic ever so I am hoping it’s not too bad. !! English is not my first language!! feel free to point out any spelling/grammar mistakes. Thanks ♥ (Eddie is sooo goddamn hot) and yes, I am making this a series.

☇ summary: You are trying to get over your ex-boyfriend’s death by getting high out of your mind. Your plans fail as you realize that you don’t need drugs to forget Billy, you need someone to make you forget.

☇ warnings: drugs, sexual innuendos, mmm some sexual tension, some throuple confusion? TRAUMA, bad coping mechanisms, season 3 spoilers

☇ pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader (ft. clueless Robin and Steve.)

Part 2

დMasterlist

…

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N!” Robin’s raspy voice snaps you out of your trance. “What is going on with you?”

Everything.

“Nothing.” You answer quickly and start picking up the movies and placing them on the shelf in front of you.

Truth is, you are mourning. After everything that happened last summer… You were silently mourning. The events that took place at Starcourt have changed your life. Sure, the idea of another dimension and creatures existing intrigues you, but suddenly losing your almost-boyfriend, Billy, not so much.

You and Billy got close at the beginning of senior year. He’d drive you around the town, get drunk with you and listen to you speak about your passions, dreams and goals. You were in love with him. Not that you knew what love was, but Billy came close to it and besides… Billy was not perfect. Far from it, actually. He wanted all the benefits of dating you but without actually making it official. You two would go to parties together, sure, but he wouldn’t touch you in public. He would not hold your hand; he wouldn’t even wrap his arm around your shoulders. Nothing. And one day, in early summer, he stopped contacting you.

He started a new job as a lifeguard and stopped hanging out with you. The last conversation you two had was when you confronted him by the pool. You were so angry and so, so drunk. Your idea of “confronting Billy” was yelling mean things at him and throwing weak punches. Billy never showed any sign of emotion. He just stood there, watching you. With one last “I hate you”, you left and that was the last time you saw him.

And then Starcourt happened. And Billy died. And you got cold. Very cold.

“Do you know where I can get pot?” You ask Robin, who has been staring at you for the past minutes.

“Pot?” Robin raises her eyebrows. “Are we celebrating anything? Oh my god, did I forget your birthday?”

“Birthday party?” Steve’s voice is coming from behind the register.

With a big frown on your face, you turn to face Steve. “My birthday is in October.” You answer.

“What?” they both ask in unison.

It’s not their fault. You never told them your birthday, how could you? You befriended the two last summer and after the events that happened at the mall, you spent your birthday getting drunk, ugly crying and watching tv in your room.

“Yea…” you pause, watching their surprised faces. “Anyways, can you guys hook me up with someone?”

“There is this weirdo that is hanging around Henderson and Mike. Some D&D fella.” Steve speaks.

“Cool… I’ll drive.” You take Steve’s car keys and start walking towards the door.

“I still can’t believe you never told us your birthday.” Robin adds, following you into the car.

---

“Ah, Harrington, heard a lot about you.” The long-haired boy speaks as he sits down on the wooden bench.

The boy, who introduced himself as Eddie Munson, is wearing a “Hellfire Club” shirt and a denim jacket. He weirdly reminds you of Billy. Except, he is nothing like Billy. Billy wouldn’t smile that often and he would definitely not smile at you like that in public.

“Who are these two beautiful ladies?” Eddie asks and opens his metal tool box, revealing a bunch of green and purple buds.

“Robin and Y/N.” Steve answers.

“I’ll take this.” You pick up the small plastic bag and look up at Eddie. “How much?” you ask.

“Slow down, beautiful.” Eddie stops you and takes the bag out of your hands. “What are you guys? A three-way couple? A throuple?” he asks.

“What?” Steve scuffs.

“No.” Robin laughs nervously.

You roll your eyes and pick up another bag from his tool box. The buds are purple, this time.

“How much?” you ask again, making eye contact with Eddie.

Leaning on his elbows, Eddie’s smile fades as he comes closer and closer to your face. Taken aback by his sudden movement, you lean back. “Do you even know how to roll?” Eddie smiles again and returns to his original position.

You don’t know how to roll.

Why would you? You’ve only started smoking once Billy got in town and you befriended him. He would always roll the joints for you as you watched carefully. As a contribution, he would let you lick the thin paper before lighting it up.

Come to think of it, you have not smoked ever since Billy passed away.

“No.” Robin answers for you.

“Here’s the deal. I will give this…” he picks up the original bag of buds. “And that.” Eddie points towards the bag that you are holding. “For free. And I’ll roll the joints.”

“What’s the catch?” Steve asks. “Come on, you’re not gonna give them to us for free.”

“Ouch!” Eddie gets up suddenly, pretending he just got shot in the heart. “You’re hurting me, Harrington.” He walks over to your side of the table. “The catch is, I get to smoke with the throuple.” He laughs.

“I’m out.” Robin gets up, throwing her hands up in defeat.

“Robin…” You catch her by the wrist. “Stay, please?” you practically beg her. You really need a distraction right now, and you would rather do it with your best friend.

“Yes, Robin, stay.” Steve adds.

Robin sighs and sits back down on the bench.

“Perfect!” Eddie exclaims and sits down, opposite of you.

You hand him the bag of buds and watch him quietly as he starts grinding the weed. His technique is gentler than Billy’s. Eddie mixes the weed with tobacco and rolls it carefully, making direct eye contact with you as he licks the paper.

You wince, giving him a confused look. He smiles and starts working on the other joint. Is he flirting with you? Why is he flirting with you? Doesn’t he know? You’re Billy’s girl.

You were Billy’s girl.

No, you weren’t.

Billy is gone, Billy is dead.

After Billy, you didn’t really think about going out with other guys. You weren’t looking for other guys. Robin and Steve always wondered why you’d never give any guy a chance, but you couldn’t just tell them why. They both hated Billy with every bone in their body. Steve tried his luck with you, but you made it clear that you were not interested. Robin even asked you if you were into girls.

“Would you like to make the honors?” Eddie places a joint between his lips and hands you a lighter.

You light it up and he takes a small puff, handing you the joint. The familiar smell of weed reminds you of the late nights you spent with Billy, smoking in the back of his car.

Fuck that, fuck Billy.

The reason you wanted to get high is to escape him.

You take a puff, inhaling it quickly and holding it for a few seconds before exhaling. You hand the joint to Robin. She takes it and you give her a forced smile.

“Stuff’s good.” You speak, shifting you gaze towards Eddie, who is watching you closely.

“Shouldn’t we smoke in my car? You know… to max out the effect?” Steve speaks and lets out a little cough.

---

Although the car only made you think of Billy at first, the effects of the pot finally started kicking in and you could literally feel your body melt into the car seat. Your vision is a bit clouded but you manage to get the small joint from Robin’s hands. You take another puff.

“It’s dead.” You speak, handing the remaining filter to Eddie, who is sitting in the passenger’s seat.

He pulls the other joint out of his pocket and lights it. “Come here.” He points at you and leans towards the backseat.

You feel like you are on autopilot, so you manage to lift up your body, moving closer to the long-haired boy. He takes a big puff and you can feel the cold rings against your skin as he cups your face. “Open.” Before you know it, your mouth opens and he gets closer, blowing the smoke into your mouth. His lips almost touching yours.

He takes his hands off your face and you immediately sink back in your seat, shakingly exhaling the smoke.

“Should… we give you guys some privacy?” Robin laughs, looking at you and Eddie.

Your brain just registered what happened. Does Eddie like you? Does he do this with every girl? He didn’t do it with Robin. You feel your cheeks heating up and quickly move your gaze to Robin, who is sitting besides you in the backseat. She has a lazy grin on her face.

“So, you are telling me you hang out with these beautiful ladies and you are not dating any of them?” Eddie laughs, looking at Steve.

“I like girls.” Robin speaks making both you and Steve look at her.

You didn’t know if it was the weed, but Robin has not been open with her sexuality with anyone but you and Steve. So, for her to just confess like that makes you worry.

“Yeah uh… I am not dating anyone at the moment.” Steve chuckles nervously before passing the joint to you.

“I’m…” you speak before taking a puff. “I’m Billy’s girl.”

Oh, shit.

Realization hits you after a few seconds. Shit, shit, shit. Speaking before thinking, nice job, Y/N. Both Steve and Robin are now staring at you.

“I mean, I was…” You cover your face with your hands. “I’m single now.”

“Billy? Billy Hargrove?” Steve speaks, raising his voice. “When? How?”

“Why?” Robin adds, freaking out.

“Isn’t the kid dead?” Eddie asks.

You hand the joint to Robin before opening the car door.

After what felt like minutes, you step out of the car, inhaling the fresh air. It’s dark now, and your mind is still fizzy. How are you going to explain to your best friends that you dated the man they hated? You start to feel your knees weaken as panic invades your entire body. It’s not a good time to open up to them. Not now.

You contemplate running away and never talking to them.

Chills run down your spine when you decide to open the car door and sit down.

“Y/N…” Steve speaks, softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” He adds.

“I’ve never told you guys. I’m sorry.” You apologize.

“Should I give you guys some privacy?” Eddie speaks, emphasizing on the “I”.

“No, no, it’s fine.” You brush it off quickly before you take the joint from his hand. “I don’t want to talk about it.” You take a puff. “Should we listen to some music?”

As Steve turns on the radio, you can’t help but stare at Eddie’s side profile. You also can’t help but replay the previous moment in your head. The way his hands felt against your skin, the way your lips almost touched his, the way your body just obeyed him.

Maybe you don’t need drugs to distract you from Billy. You need someone to make you forget.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #billy hargove x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #robin buckley x reader

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nuka · 3 months

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No but I need to actually talk about the title "Our Flag Means Death" and why I love it so much!!!

Before I watched the show, I thought the name was about pirate flags. About someone being on a ship, and then seeing another ship and realizing their flag is a pirate flag, and knowing they're going to attack and kill everyone. Seeing a pirate flag at sea equals death.

Then I started watching season one and I realized the show was actually about a ship full of queer people. And I thought, oh, the name makes so much sense, because being queer is so often a death sentence. We're so often facing violence, or the threat of violence, just for being queer, for wearing our pride flag.

And then it turns out to be a show about queer joy, which I did not expect, at all. About choosing love and kindness and hope over any amount of violence and death that the world might throw our way. About choosing to accept and celebrate who we are. About choosing to heal and live.

To me, the show's name means that we're hoisting our flag, knowing full well we might face death for it, but choosing to do so anyway, because we're not going to live in fear and shame anymore. We're not going to hide and make ourselves small. We're going to live true to ourselves and protect each other, and always choose joy over tragedy, and believe that one day the world will have changed and then our flag won't mean death anymore.

Because we've discovered our flag can mean so much more than that.

#ofmd #our flag means death #save ofmd #adopt our crew #our flag bbc #renew as a crew #i've literally cried about the show's name before because it just means so much to me #even if dad chose it at random! we can give it meaning!#and i don't think anything the creators come up with is ever Completely random #i think some creative choices they make are subconscious and we just find a way to put their meaning into words

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qiutls · 11 months

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TNGDH 014

The festival began in earnest in the North, and the celebration was lively enough to forget the coldness of the winter.

'Hmm, why are they holding such a big festival when it's not even the season of harvesting?'

It's hard to get flowers during this time of the year, since the cold wind blows day and night, it must be expensive to buy them from outside. It's not even thanksgiving, nor spring... Why is the festival celebrated during this cold season?

"Because the day is short."

Sen answered my question clearly.

"It's a period of time where there's less stuff for people to do. And people tend to get depressed easily when the amount of sunlight is reduced. Lethargy makes people sick; the poor starve to death and the pessimists often kill themselves."

I see. I've never thought of that.

I looked up at the red sky beyond the castle walls. The sun was already setting even though it was still early in the day.

"So, His Highness deliberately makes the coldest and darkest times lively. Spending this week, by generously releasing food collected throughout the year and buying people's goods at a high price. Aristocrats from the city are also invited to spend money for the merchants to earn their keep. It's like giving a gift to the people of the estate in order for them to keep enduring until spring."

That means, while Kyle's not hanging out with me, he was taking care of everyone in the estate. I honestly admire it.

"Soon, His Highness will deliver a speech to commemorate the charity event. Do you want to go and see it?"

I nodded.

There's still time left anyway. I tried to meet Belial, but unfortunately, I still couldn't, so I just looked around the castle. Since the time for "Summon" was doubled, I can enjoy this luxury.

"Are they selling food on the street?"

"Have you not tried the festival food? Oh, this can't do! Come on, follow me. I'll treat you today!"

The place Sen led me to was teeming with people and stalls.

'Wow, there's really a lot to eat.'

There're orange-colored candied apples, grilled barbeque and lots of fried snacks and sweets covered in caramel sauce. My eyes, nose and mouth are all satisfied with all the food surrounding me,

'Life in the north is better than I expected...'

Only when there's delicious food can a heart full of love for the estate be born. I watched the vividness of the street while taking a bite at the food Sen bought me.

"Your Highness!"

"Thank you so much, my lord!"

The festival was more exhilarating than I thought, and so was Kyle's speech, which we watched from afar.

It was good to watch him from a distance that could be reached at any time if I wanted. But the Lord of Blake, exuding greatness, who could only be seen from afar, is also pretty cool.

He looked at his subjects from the stage with a blank expression that seemed cold to anyone else.

If you didn't know anything about him, you would misunderstand and think he was a villain or a tyrant.

But I know that's not the case at all. I haven't been with him for a long time, but I already know him well. What more for the people who have been living in this estate for years.

"It was really a good choice to come to the North."

"Who said otherwise? If it wasn't for Your Highness, we would have all starved to death a few years ago."

This was someone's vivid life, which cannot be explained by just a few lines in a novel. The reality is that the energy and passion of the people does not cool down despite the harsh winter wind. Their indomitable determination to live and breathe keeps them going.

"Who said you were a cold and unfeeling Duke of the North...."

If you look at him at any angle, you'd obviously see otherwise. Of course, I like it better like this than what the book described.

"Here, eat this too Shu."

As I stared at Kyle, Sen came to me with honey-coated fruit skewers on both hands.

I took a big bite of what looked like Tanghulu. It was crunchy and juicy, the fruit itself tasted almost fresh, perhaps because of the cold northern climate. Before I knew it, I've already eaten all four of the skewered fruits.

It was a fruitful hour, I ate delicious food and met new people. It almost felt like I was free from everything.

But now it's time to go back, I looked back at everything with regret. My eyes which scanned the street landed on Kyle, who was distributing rations directly to the people.

Hmm, it was a good choice that I decided to save you.

"The only problem is, can I actually do it..."

"What did you say?"

"...Ah! It was nothing. I was just talking to myself. Thank you for the snack, I'm off now."

Sen tilted her head and asked,

"Why are you always in a hurry to leave every day? I haven't even seen you for more than an hour."

"That- It's, well it's complicated."

I want to stay longer too. There's a pile of food to eat from here to there. That beer, that homemade sausage, and beef jerky? Just imagining them is already making my mouth water.

I eventually returned to the castle with a bag of snacks.

'I should get home before Kyle comes back.'

I shouldn't make him worry this day, or else he might turn the study upside down trying to look for a hamster.

However, there was another problem I overlooked.

"Cashew Nut, as long as you're healthy, I have nothing else to wish for."

I ate too many again, so I went home full and turned a blind eye to the nuts left in the bowl. Kyle put the macadamia near my mouth trying to make me it, but I really couldn't take another bite.

The magicians came and said they still didn't feel any mana from me, and Kyle's face became dimmer at the suggestion that he inject more magical power to me.

Kyle wrapped a handkerchief around me and brought me to sleep with him in his bedroom. But what do I do, I can't sleep since I slept a lot during the day.

I spent the whole time tossing and turning around Kyle's sleeping face.

'You're quite handsome...'

This is what they mean by being full just by looking at a handsome face huh?

I can't get enough of it.

I have a lot of worries.

I did locate Belial's room. However, it was embarrassing to even pass by because of the knights guarding the door.

Is it tradition for the royal family to set up guard posts outside their bedroom? You live a strict life.

Agh! Listen people, I'm trying so hard to save your lives, but how is it a possible that not a single one of you take me seriously? That villain like chandelier! I get so upset looking at it. That item doesn't care for anyone's safety!

It has already been three days since I discovered Belial's room and have walked nearby to chance upon the prince. What can mulling over it do, I can only confront him and say it upfront.

Now that the banquet is just around the corner, if I keep wasting time like this, I'll end up sacrificing my body when the time comes just to prevent the accident.

There's nothing I can do, if I can't see you today, I'll have no choice but to enter your room through the window.

"Oh-"

Just then, I saw Belial walking at the hallway on the other side. There were several knights around him, but I could see his face when I tip-toed.

I apporached him in a heartbeat. There was no time to think. This is my last chance. My desperate voice called out,

"Prince!"

With a snap.

Belial's green eyes landed on my face the same time his knights drew their swords out and placed them near my neck. I could feel the cool sensation of the blades tightening on all sides of my neck.

If this continues, I might get cut just by swallowing saliva. Please go easy on me hmm. I was just calling out to the prince.

"Uhm, this is a little..."

Isn't this too much for someone who doesn't even have a weapon? Even if I was really crazy and tried to kick Belial, my legs wouldn't even reach his head.

Belial raised his hand.

"It's fine."

The problem was that even though the prince was amiable, the knights were not and started shouting at me as soon as they placed their cwords back.

"Be polite to His Highness!"

What? Why? Is there something I should do before greeting? Should I kneel?

Judging from the atmosphere, it seems like I should. When I stood up after kneeling, the atmosphere seemed to be better.

'I got it. I got it.'

I'm like a dirty, low-ranking commoner.

"I'm sorry to disturb His Highness' business like this but..."

I lowered my head and said,

"Please don't go to the banquet."

I'm not that good at talking, so rather than explaining my actions and why I'm asking him to do this, it's better to just say it directly.

Belial took a step closer to me. His shoes came into my view of the floor. Compared to my shoes which were dirty, his were sparkling clean. Is this the saying children from different families are different.

"There are only two days until the banquet, you don't want me to attend all of a sudden?"

"Yes."

"Even though I just received the invitation from the Grand Duke?"

"Yes."

I answered carelessly.

Why do you keep asking me ah? Are you going to block that falling chandelier with that invitaiton? If you get one shot, you should shoot it. If I can save you, then I'll save you.

I lifted my head slightly.

"I'm just informing the prince." The future of the North can only be protected if you are careful. I know nothing aside from that, I'm just a pet hamster who doesn't even pay for its own food.

"You're saying that as if someone has planned to hurt me at the banquet."

Belial whispered near my ear. His voice was clear and gentle, yet his words were cold and rough.

"That's not true."

I answered casually.

"If you're thinking that His Highness Kyle has plotted to kill you, he wouldn't wait and cause trouble at his own banquet to do it, Your Highness."

And Kyle will never want that to happen. He is a person who will never do that nor even think that in his mind.

He is the leader of the North. His actions are closely linked to the future of the people in this estate. And Kyle knows his responsibility. He is quite different from you who just came here and tried to cause a scandal.

"That's funny."

Belial laughed quietly, as if I had said something weird. Him and Kyle say the same stuff as if they were brothers.

He slid his arm and grabbed my chin with his fingers, tilted my face upwards and made eye contact with me. I thought a man couldn't be both gentle and rough, but he can definitely do it. In this sense, you could say he's a great man.

But of course, to other people, he probably just looks like a gentle and fairy like prince tilting my head to see my face.

"What a strange face. It looks unique."

It's because I'm a native Korean. Your Highness, if you go to Hongdae, or Sangsu or Hapjeong, you would find 500 people who look like me.

"Why are you stopping me from attending so desperately seeing as you're not even from the North?"

What should I say.

I can't just say, I don't want you to get hit by the chandelier and lead the North to destruction.

I feel like I've seen my future in a book if I do say those words to you, my life will end with a sword slicing my throat.

Somebody help me!

Is it possible that there's someone who's fate is tied to Belial, will step in for me, just coincidentally.

"Perhaps..."

They're here.

"They just didn't want you and the grand duke to be upset during the banquet."

I turned my head in delight and saw Sen, who was holding hamster toys and snacks in her arms.

'That's right!'

[ (*≧▽≦)ﾉｼ ]

'... Although I'm still quite nervous.'

It isn't a lie that I'm happy right now.

Sen came closer to me with a smile. Is it just me? There seemed to be a halo around her right now.

T/N I do hope Sen/Serena stays this way and doesn't harm Soohyun/Shu or Kyle in the future ☆ｏ(＞＜；)○

novel ⠀✿⠀ next

#tngdh

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 1 year

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Five Times John Wanted to See a Movie, and One Time Kayne Made it Suck - a Malevolent Podcast Oneshot

In which Arthur struggles with right and wrong, bemoans the Hays Code, tries (and fails) to define love, and gets a second chance.

Spoilers up to Malevolent ep. 31.

AO3

----------

In January, John says, Arthur, I want to see a movie.

“Damn it, John… fine. You know what? Fine! We’ll go sit in the dark and be perfect targets for someone! Is that what you want?”

He gives in, though.

Arthur can be stubborn. He can be foolish in refusal, often saying no just to say it.

But to this?

To an innocent request, almost childlike in its intensity, and in its expectation of reply?

Arthur can’t hold out for that long.

Not when it seems to bring John such uncomplicated joy.

The movie is called Dancing Lady, and Arthur already knows nothing will ever be made like it again once the Hays Code has its way.

It’s a ridiculous love triangle, a “tarnished” woman (a concept Arthur finds absurd) torn between a rich sponsor and a poor lover, both of whom, at least, see her talent for what it is.

There are some scenes in this one. At one point, Clark Gable massages Joan Crawford’s leg, raising it above his shoulder, only hinting at the things that must surely be on display from Gable’s point of view.

Yowza.

It’s hard not to imagine Joan Crawford making the kinds of faces John describes, and Arthur can’t help a little bit of distracting response.

He focuses on his popcorn instead of anything else prone to explode.

“Those guys are a lot of silk hats and silk socks with nothing between,” says Clark Gable on screen, and Arthur laughs.

John huffs. Why are they being so particular about this?

“Particular about what?” says Arthur.

Tod, Patch, Janie. Why the fuck doesn’t she just lie with both of them? Why do they give a fuck?

Arthur is completely taken aback. “Well, it… I mean… she can’t do that.”

Why not?

Arthur has never in his life considered this question.

It’s about offspring, John decides.

“Ah… no, it’s not really—”

They demand monogamy so there can be no question of inheritance.

“She’s a dancing girl. She has nothing to inherit.”

Sure, but Tod does.

“Yes, but… that isn’t it, John.”

Then what is?

Arthur’s really not sure how to answer. What’s he going to say? That it isn’t the Christian thing to do? “I… it just isn’t done that way. Generally.”

Though in his musician days, he witnessed some truly unique romantic configurations.

It’s a lot to think about.

Stupid, pronounces John with fiendish delight, and continues to tell Arthur everything that’s happening on screen even though Arthur does not reply.

In February, John says, Arthur, I want to see a movie.

Arthur sighs. “John. I’ve been fucking stabbed.”

Only a little, says John. The three stitches are fine. You’re fine.

He is fine, honestly. It wasn’t that bad, and in the end, they took out the giant bug-thing that poked him.

He’s pretty sure he isn’t poisoned. Maybe that alone deserves celebration.

Arthur sighs. “Well. I suppose an evening of distraction isn’t such a terrible idea.”

Of course it’s not a terrible idea. It’s mine.

Arthur rolls his useless eyes, but can’t help a little smile.

This movie, though. This movie hits different.

Death Takes a Holiday is about Death himself, who is tired of being misunderstood, and decides to go slumming among humans for a few days to see if he can figure out why.

And he falls in love.

With a human.

Which can’t end well for that poor lady.

Arthur forgets his popcorn.

The drama is absolutely contrived and thoroughly effective. The struggles of the inhuman to understand the human—

The choice of the human to understand the strange—

“And tonight, I must go back to my distant kingdom,” says Fredric March, whose portrayal of Death is passionate, quiet-spoken, and rife with tortured drama.

“Will you take me with you?” says Evelyn Venable, who plays Grazia, the love interest, and whose name means grace.

“Take you?” says Death, who is pretending to be something he is not, who is carrying on a wild con with the goal of… enlightenment? “Take you? I should be so unhappy alone. Take you? Oh, no, no… don’t tempt me. But Grazia, give me one hour of you—let me hold you once, and feel your life.”

Holy shit, Arthur thinks, because he’s pretty sure he knows how Grazia feels.

Sort of. He’s no damsel, and whatever he and John are isn’t romantic, but still?

“Now you see me as I am,” says Death, at last revealed as shadow, as monster, as darkly divine.

“But I've always seen you like that! You haven't changed,” says Grazia.

She chooses him, knowing what he is.

She chooses him, knowing what it will cost.

The music swells, and Arthur finds himself tearing up. “Then there is a love which casts out fear, and I have found it! And love is greater than illusion… and as strong as death!” Death declares.

John cheers. She goes with him! She went with him! Yes, Arthur!

Does John see the parallels, too?

Arthur isn’t brave enough to ask.

He wipes his eyes, amazed, moved. Almost envious of that stupid made-up girl.

Yeah. This one hit different.

He can’t help wondering, silly as it is, if this movie was based on something that really happened.

Death and Grazia, reaching across the gap.

It’s not him and John.

But then, who can say just what they are?

In March, John says, Arthur, I want to see a movie.

Arthur is tired. “Really? Now?”

Why not? We owe ourselves a little treat.

They do, but after Death’s little romance, Arthur’s not sure he’s ready.

He has decided “friend” is the word for them, but only because he doesn’t have a better one.

Its problem is, it’s not strong enough. It’s nowhere near strong enough.

Arthur is well aware that facing off against the damned pallid mask cult again is the reason for his mood, but what he needs to remember is they failed.

He’s alive.

John is still here.

John did not take his exit, his gilt and crafted fire escape, much to the cult’s confusion.

When Arthur destroyed their framework of magic and bone, John cheered him on.

John doesn’t seem to miss them, or regret Arthur’s success.

That means a lot.

Friend? Sure. In lieu of a better word.

Arthur sighs. “What do you want to see?”

Jimmy the Gent is bonkers.

Arthur half wonders if it pushes the bar so hard because the Hays Code is breathing down Hollywood’s collective neck, threatening to end artistic freedom forever.

He also wonders if anyone but James Cagney and Bette Davis could have pulled this plotline off.

Cagney plays an unscrupulous man who seeks out wealthy folks who died without a will, then produces heirs to rake in the moolah—heirs who aren’t even real.

The main conflict is his girlfriend balking at his techniques, bailing to join a competitor, and coming back again when the eponymous Jimmy shows himself to be slightly less wicked than the other guy.

There isn’t actually a hero. It’s not black and white; it may be comedy, but it’s comedy gray.

“The only thing he's got that I want is you, and he took you away from me,” says Jimmy.

Oof. Those are some words to hear, and Arthur struggles not to apply them.

“He's got ethics,” says Davis, the dame Joan.

“I don't care if he has carbuncles. The only difference between him and me is he's got a smoother line,” says Cagney as the eponymous Jimmy.

Haha… ah. Wow.

“You can't make yourself clean by making him dirty,” says Joan, and Arthur’s stomach twists.

Arthur slowly exhales. This is a poor allegory for the King in Yellow and him, isn’t it?

But it maybe isn’t so bad for him and Larson.

He’s a little bit better than Larson. Just a little. Is that enough to make him good?

John, funny enough, doesn’t wrestle with morality at all in this, but has a blast with the humor, and praises the cleverness of the characters. He particularly appreciates the way Jimmy puts on airs to win back his lady love. Goal achieved, intimacy earned, all for the price of a barrel of determination and a pinch of deceit.

Arthur is uncomfortable as fuck, and eats all the popcorn at the film, too much popcorn, and gives himself a stomachache.

Somehow, he feels it is deserved.

In May, John says, Arthur, I want to see a movie.

They end up picking one all about deceit, romance, and false identity.

The Thirty Day Princess is a heck of a ride.

Are you trying to tell me something? Arthur thinks at a god he doesn’t believe in, thinks at the King in Yellow who is and is not John.

“She Reminds Me of You,” croons Bing Crosby as the hero dances with the princess-under-false-pretenses, who’s filling in for her sick counterpart for a total of thirty days.

Who looks exactly like the ill royal, but most definitely is not her.

I'm standing all alone I've got nothing to live for She reminds me of you And she reminds me of you And it breaks my heart in two

Dear fucking gods.

John is not the King in Yellow.

Except that he is.

Arthur hasn’t processed this. Hasn’t figured it out.

I am the King in Yellow, sounds John’s voice in Arthur’s memory, and Arthur ends up physically ill at the end of the film.

John is quite concerned, but Arthur doesn’t know what to tell him when he asks what’s wrong, and leaves all his questions unanswered like unraveling thread.

In September, John says, Arthur, I want to see a movie.

Enough time has passed that Arthur’s resistance has worn down.

He refused two months in a row. He rejoiced (in silence) that the madness with the Order of the Falling Star prevented any such frivolity through August.

But now that’s done, and Kayne has another poorly defined deal that began with an entire group of cultists violently dead, and Percy has Arthur’s blood in a jar for some reason and a promise of future contact, and it’s done.

For better or worse, it’s done.

And it’s quiet.

And John wants to see a movie.

“You know what?” says Arthur, who could use the distraction. "There’s one I want to see, too. Do you know the poets Elizabeth Barret and Robert Browning? Well… Elizabeth wrote some of the most wonderful verse about love and longing that anyone ever has, and apparently, there’s a movie about it, so let’s go see.”

The Barretts of Wimpole Street turns out to be completely not what Arthur expected.

Love disallowed by a sex-repulsed parent, physical illness barring the freedom afforded any ordinary adult, a stressful and creepy scene with incestuous undertones, and a decision to kill a beloved pet dog (which fortunately did not pan out) leave Arthur feeling absolutely weird about the whole thing.

The movie tiptoes a lot about morality, about right and wrong, about societal norms and familial expectations.

At least some of it reminded him of arguments with Daniel, after Bella had come down pregnant.

At least some of it reminded him of arguments with James, the day Faroe was born.

All of it reminded him of whatever he has with John, and he doesn’t know how to interpret that.

Norma Shearer as Elizabeth asking, “Robert, have you ever thought that my strength may break down on the journey?”

Frederick March as Robert answering: “It had occurred to me, yes.”

Arthur feels so very mortal, these days.

“Supposing I were to die in your hands?” she says.

“Are you afraid?”

Yes, thinks Arthur. I’m very afraid.

And then comes the line that hits hardest. “Yes,” says Robert Browning. “I am prepared to risk your life, much more my own, to get you out of that dreadful house and into the sun and to have you for my wife.”

Was that an okay thing to say?

Arthur doesn’t know.

He feels like he and John have each made that decision for each other, more than once.

But nobody’s a wife.

Or something.

He’s not really sure what he’s internally protesting.

“I'm sick of fighting alone. I need a comrade in arms to fight beside me,” Robert says.

“But not one already wounded in battle,” Elizabeth says, who feels lesser, who feels so weak.

“Wounded but undaunted, unbeaten, unbroken. What finer comrade could a man ask for?”

Undefeated.

Arthur swallows hard. Maybe this one was pointed at him, after all.

That was kind of depressing, John pronounces with great cheer as they leave, having enjoyed every moment, and described it all to Arthur in an effort to help him enjoy it, too. I can’t believe he wanted to kill the dog!

“Well,” says Arthur. “Some people are… cruel… when they lose.”

Someone should kill him instead, John says, and he is joking.

Probably joking.

It feels like John’s moral compass is more reliable than Arthur’s own, these days, so Arthur decides to just let that one go.

In October, Arthur says, “John—I want to see a movie.”

Really? You do? You want to hear one, you mean? says John, who’s being clever.

Arthur is able to laugh. “Yes, you whacko.”

John’s pleased. Arthur can feel it. I know you are, but what am I?

Arthur laughs again.

The back-and-forth is ridiculous, but feels so damn good in spite of that. Easy; effortless. Affectionate, knives long stashed.

Three whole weeks have passed since the Rancid Ruby case, and their successful retrieval of the jewel (and the minister’s daughter, whom they hadn’t even known was missing) has brought them enough business and enough income that Arthur has begun to believe John is right: they’re going to be okay.

It’s also put the final nail in the dismissal of their murder case. The minister stood as a character witness, and finally swayed the judge. Who knew?

Parker and Eddie’s deaths have been officially attributed to a burglary gone wrong—backed by Arthur’s wrecked car, miles from the scene; by hospital proof that Arthur, unidentified, had been in a coma; and by Arthur’s indisputable claim of amnesia, causing his disappearance for many months.

Larson is MIA, having been carried off by the monstrous thing he summoned.

The Butcher is retired, having philosophized himself into a monastery, eager for hypocritical redemption and literal flagellation.

Kayne hasn’t called his favor, but right now, it’s hard to look toward that with horror.

Even this latest case worked out, with a wild showdown in Central Park, loads of witnesses, and the Jade MacGuffin returned to its owner.

It’s all coming up roses. Arthur is almost able to hope.

So what did you want to see? says John.

“Well, they’re saying this will be one of the last great movies—the Hays Code, and all,” says Arthur, who has tried to explain it, and shared John’s frustration at the enforcement of false human experience and morality on screen. “It’s about the great Egyptian queen Cleopatra—a tragic love story, and one that’s inspired all manner of art, music, poetry, and more for centuries.”

Sure. Sounds good. The theater on 15th has popcorn, you know.

That’s all Arthur needs to hear.

And it isn’t pointed, it really is not. But it sort of fits how he’s feeling, anyway.

“Together, we could conquer the world,” Cleopatra says, Elizabeth Taylor making every word so sensual that Arthur could drown in any one of them for a week.

“Nice of you to include me,” Warren William’s Julius Caesar replies, and Arthur chuckles, and John says, Hahaha! You can do better! and it’s such a beautiful, perfect shared moment.

And of course, she can do better—in the form of Marc Antony, played by Henry Wilcoxon.

Arthur loses himself in it all, even though he can’t see. The cast is huge. The effects (via John) are jaw-dropping. The music score is moving and expertly done.

When Taylor says, "On. Your. Knees,” Arthur feels some things he really doesn’t know what to do with, but the moment passes quickly.

Cleopatra is everything Arthur wanted in an evening of self-indulgent escape, and John’s continued enthusiasm only makes it more sweet.

Arthur sniffles at the tragic ending, even though he knew it was coming, which Taylor plays to the hilt.

It definitely doesn’t feel pointed like the other movies did. Arthur figures out why when it’s done, while he’s waiting for everyone else to file out so he can leave the theater unhindered.

A lack of communication and irreconcilable core values led to the tragedy on screen.

That’s not him and John. Well, it used to be; but Arthur is certain it’s not anymore.

John says, I think I understand her.

“Her? Cleopatra? How so?”

And with that unnervingly good memory John sometimes demonstrates, he quotes: ‘So Rome would forgive and take you back? And all they demand is for us to part. Why don't they ask the sun to fall right out of the sky?’

Arthur swallows.

That’s how I feel about you, says John, who has never said he loves Arthur, but has shown it, repeatedly and without hesitation.

Arthur has some thoughts on that. "I feel the same,” he says, who has never said those words to John, even though the King in Yellow called him on it months ago.

But Arthur’s fairly sure he’s shown it, too.

He's been thinking a lot about love, of late.

About what it really is, and how it is expressed.

About how the movies usually portray two kinds: romantic, and familial.

This love is neither. It’s different, loaded with unknown spice, broken free from a mold Arthur cannot name.

But it is absolutely real, and Arthur has come to a conclusion that shakes him to his core: he was already willing to die for John, many months ago, yes. But now?

Now, he’s willing to live for him.

Even if Kayne decided to offer me a body, I’m not going anywhere, John says out of nowhere.

“A body?” Arthur isn’t sure where that idea came from. “I doubt he’d do that.”

John says nothing.

Arthur tries to bridge whatever unexpected gap this is, squirming with things in the dark. “It shouldn’t be too difficult to obtain papers for you, if that happened. Make you all legitimate.”

Really. Is that so?

Arthur has to poke. “I’ll say you’re from Montana. That should explain away any obvious social gaffes.”

Gaffes! I’ll have you know I’m far better at handling people than you.

“Well, I suppose we’ll see, won’t we? In this theoretical future that probably won’t happen.”

There’s another slight pause. Arthur frowns.

I want my name on the business, John suddenly says.

Arthur snorts.

Arthur! I’m serious!

“Yes, yes. I don’t see why not.” Arthur is more concerned he might not get his sight back than that John’s name is painted on frosted glass. “Lester and Doe, Private Investigators For Hire.”

Doe and Lester.

“Excuse you. I was in it first.”

But I’m clearly the smarter partner.

Arthur laughs. “You dork.”

And will probably be better-looking, too.

“Now, that’s going too far,” says Arthur, chuckling.

You’ll see. I’ll draw everyone’s attention with my glorious form, and that’ll give you time to riffle their drawers.

“That’s… not a horrible idea, honestly, though there are a few problems with that—namely, you have no body, and even if you did, I’d still be blind.”

Well, I… well, we…

“Gotcha,” says Arthur, smug, because it’s easier to laugh at this possible future than actually deal with any of it, though even the shadow it casts hurts.

You did not. That’s not even a point. Half a point, maybe.

“Lester and Doe, it is,” Arthur says, because it’s fun to poke the bear.

Instead of answering, John gasps.

Arthur knows John. Knows him well. And immediately stops walking.

“You know, just when I think you two can’t get any cuter, you go and wrap a bow on your dicks and call it Christmas,” says Kayne so close that Arthur can feel breath on his lips.

Arthur staggers back a few steps, then stops himself. Running won’t help. “What do you want?”

Kayne must have kept pace with him, because he speaks just as close, an inch away. “It’s your lucky day! Oh, did you tell him, snippet? Did you? I assume you would have by now, I mean, it’s not like you had half a year or something to figure out how to broach the topic.”

Oh, no. What?

It’s like the ground under Arthur’s feet is shaking, ground he’d thought was solid, but hides a deep and jagged fault line. “What is he talking about?”

Arthur, I—

“Too late now!” says Kayne, and there is a whoosh of air.

Arthur staggers. He didn’t move, but he did, and the sounds and smells tell him he’s no longer on the sidewalk, but in an alley.

And then comes a voice he hates.

A drawl, casual and arrogant, and it doesn’t even matter that it’s coming from waist-height, because his immediate urge is to attack it at once like a bird in a mirror.

“Well, this isn’t what I expected,” says Wallace Larson.

Arthur takes a step.

John reaches across his chest and grabs his arm, hard, like a physical restraint.

“Oh, the webs we weave when we practice to deceive,” says Larson, who sounds fine and dandy, if a little shorter than before.

Arthur, says John, evenly. He’s not alone. He’s strapped to a weird, short table, barely fitting into the alley, and his legs are jammed against the wall. And he’s not alone.

And because this wasn’t fraught enough, the next voice is identical.

Identical. But it isn’t John.

You! Murderer!

“Yellow?” says Arthur, shock stealing sound and sense from this moment, tingling through his body so his face feels numb.

Kayne bounces something light off the side of his head.

“What?” Arthur startles.

“Sorry, thought you’d open your mouth for it, like a baby bird. Popcorn?” Another one hits right under his eye.

“Stop it! What are you doing?”

It’s time for justice! Yellow declares.

Oh, shut the fuck up, John snarls.

Traitor! bellows Yellow.

And Larson starts to sing. Insultingly, it is a hymn.

“Bury my body,” Larson croons in a surprisingly pleasing baritone. “Lord, I don't care where they bury my body. Lord, I don't care where they bury my body, ‘cause my soul is gonna live with God.”

Arthur is going to kill him. The rest of this can sort itself out. He takes another step.

“Hold on there, boyo,” says Kayne in the Butcher’s accent, and takes Arthur’s hand. “You’ll need this.”

That is the handle of a knife. A knife, pressed into his right palm, which means Kayne wants him to do this, and that pours cold water all over the whole operation.

The handle burns, but Arthur ignores that.

Go ahead, says Yellow. You’re already a killer. I see it in your eyes. I know you, Arthur Lester!

This can’t be happening.

“It is, though,” whispers Kayne in his ear. “Looks like Little John didn’t tell you anything, did he? That’s a real foundation for trust.”

“What?” says Arthur, who feels stuck like a skipping record.

You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, says John.

I do. He confessed. He murdered that man and fucking ATE HIM.

He did that because of you! John roars at Yellow. You’re the one who put him in the pit! You’re the one who sent him the gods-damned cannibal! What did you want him to do, just sit back and be eaten?

“What?” says Arthur, weakly.

Because for Yellow to have done that means—

I did? says Yellow, sounding as confused as if he’d been thocked on his phantasmal head.

“Oh, oh, oh yeah,” sings Larson.

Arthur needs a moment.

“I’m not leaving,” he snaps before anybody can yell at him, and turns to stand at the entrance to the alley, just breathing.

He’s very, very glad he had no alcohol with dinner tonight.

“I dunno, pal, it might’ve helped you out,” Kayne says.

“What is this?” says Arthur.

“Isn’t it clear? No, I suppose it’s not—guess good old Liz (or maybe Henry) redirected the blood from your brain to elsewhere. You’re here to kill your enemy, my boy! End the torment. Flip the switch. Bring that hammer down.”

Arthur swallows. He’s tasting metal again—a thing he’s noticed only happens when he’s on the verge of panic.

Which he is. He doesn’t know what’s going on.

Arthur, I can explain.

“Shhh,” says Kayne, and touches Arthur’s lips.

Arthur tries for him with the knife.

Of course, it only hits brick, jarring his hand. “Ow,” he mutters. “Damn it!”

“He’ll get to explain it all after. For now, however, you, being the key in this situation, being fully entangled with him, and thus, his representative with a physical form, have a job to do.”

“What job? I haven’t agreed to—is this my favor? For killing those cultists?”

Kayne laughs. “No, you sweet thing. It’s his.”

“His?” Arthur’s voice is small.

I… Arthur, I…

Get back here! Coward! Yellow calls from the alleyway.

“I have questions,” says Arthur, but he honestly can’t think of one.

Kayne tsks at him. “I can see you’re in shock, you tender soul, you, so let’s make this simple. Do this, or John’s gone.”

“Gone?” Arthur’s voice cracks.

“Removed. Incised. Purged, if you will. It’s what he agreed to.”

“John?” says Arthur.

This is what you wanted him in New York for? John says, sounding incredulous.

Arthur’s brain has skipped parts of this conversation like it touched an electrical fault, and he blurts, “Yellow is the King in Yellow, isn’t he?”

Kayne laughs. “Wow, are you behind! They’re both the King in Yellow, my darling rose. Snippet, what have you been teaching him? What, nothing? Well, this is on you, then.”

Get back here! howls Yellow. We’re not finished!

“I said all right,” Larson starts singing again. “You know it's alright. It's alright, c'mon.”

And it calms Yellow. It calms the piece of the King in Yellow, the copy of John that Arthur betrayed, that Arthur ruined so badly that he’s refused to think about it because there’s no fixing what went wrong.

“You are correct on that one,” Kayne confirms. “This is fun, and all, but boys… you’re losing my patience. It’s time.”

Arthur finds himself walking back into the alley.

It’s easy to follow Larson’s voice.

To follow the sweet-syrup sound of that most hated man, who is awfully damn calm about this, and that is the one thought that surfaces. “You’re awfully damn calm about this, Larson,” Arthur snarls.

“Of course I am, my boy. I’m about to enter immortality. Little hard not to face that with some sorta joy, given all I paid for it.”

“Paid for it!” Arthur’s voice breaks. “You didn't pay for it! Your daughter did!”

“So did yours,” says Larson, who shouldn’t know that, who must have been told by Kayne. “We both got to where we are through that most unfortunate necessity, didn't we?”

Murderer! Yellow declares.

Six months ago, that would have been it.

Arthur would have lost it. Gone feral, melted into violent goo, stabbed and tore and shouted until he was covered in gore, until Larson was unrecognizable, until the form could compete with Uncle for mess and mayhem and pulp in bad places.

Today, he pauses.

It’s not the same, says John, calm, because this is only for Arthur. You know it’s not. We’ve been over this.

He killed his daughter! says Yellow.

He made a mistake and she died—and what the fuck are you crowing about? Your guy sacrificed his on purpose! One’s an accident and the other isn't! Fuck, how stupid are you? Did I get all the intelligence, is that it?

What? says Yellow, again taken aback, again stuttered to a halt in the middle of rage.

Arthur realizes with a little gut-twist that Yellow is weirdly naive.

Gullible. That’s the word. He just accepts what anybody says in the moment, then applies that black and white, childish morality.

Yellow would not understand half the movies they’d seen of late.

Why? Why was this?

“Because he didn’t get to spend a month all alone, silly,” says Kayne. “Isn’t that neat? It’s all about godhood and nature versus nurture and all that kind of thing. If you’d been awake the whole time, your John would be even screwier than he is. It’s almost like your bad luck scratches the itch of some eager, chaotic observers. Anyway! What’s the hold up? That’s the guy who hurt you, Arty. That’s the guy who made your teeth loose. You really gonna hesitate now?”

That’s the guy means Yellow, not Larson, and this just got more complicated. “What happens to Yellow if I do this?” says Arthur, because he never asked that before, and he should have, and it’s probably too late, but that’s just how his life goes.

“Hm? Oh, he’ll die,” says Kayne.

John gasps.

Shit. “And what happens to John, then?” says Arthur.

“Heck if I know. This is all new territory, which is why I’m being so patient. Don’t want to miss a thing.”

“Lead me, Jesus, lead me,” sings Larson. “Why don't you lead me in the middle of the air, and if my wings should fail me, won't you provide me with another pair?”

“So you’re crackers,” says Arthur. “Barmy. Lost your damned mind. This isn’t Jesus. This is Kayne. He’s not going to do anything good for you.”

Kayne gasps. “Such ingratitude!” And he laughs. “Next, you’re going to say you don’t want your office filled with music boxes.”

Okay, that—

Okay.

Arthur needs another moment.

“You don’t get one,” Kayne whispers in his ear. “It’s time. John didn’t tell you, and I’m glad he didn’t, because you are fucking glorious this upset, but it’s time. Kill him.”

“Why?” whispers Arthur, and means so many things.

Kayne doesn’t bother to reply.

I… Arthur, I….

“Will you be all right, John?”

I don’t know.

Arthur grips the knife. Its burning leather handle creaks, and Arthur accepts the pain in his palm, because something this messy should not be easy.

Yellow gasps. You’re going to do it in cold blood?

“I’m sorry, Yellow,” says Arthur, because Yellow is not really the King in Yellow, any more than John is. “It seems I fucked up for you all over the place.”

You’re a killer. I don’t expect anything better from you.

He’s human, says John. He’s made mistakes, and stayed alive. Your guy’s no better.

Yellow seems stunned again. He’s not?

Larson laughs. “Little guy, it’s all right. This is where it was always going. Why do you think I had to get you to New York? You’re my final step. My sacrifice. Your death’ll elevate me, son. Mister Lester, I’m fully ready. Do the deed. Let’s get this over with. Then, when I’m ascended, and I’m a god, I’ll be sure to stop by and say hi.”

Arthur’s throat is tight. “He can’t be serious.”

“His deals aren’t for you to know,” says Kayne. “Also, you’re out of time.”

“Wait,” says Arthur.

“Say goodbye to John in three,” says Kayne.

“Wait!” says Arthur, who has an idea, who suddenly thinks—

“Two,” says Kayne.

With a choked, miserable sound, Arthur cuts Larson’s throat.

But not with the knife Kayne gave him.

“Oh, foul!” Kayne cries. “Oh! Oh! Cheater!”

Andrew! says Yellow, sounding distraught. Andrew! No! No!

What did you do? says John.

“Improvised?” says Arthur, who has no idea what he’s done, except he had to save John, except the knife Kayne gave him was maybe special, except this complete guess was the only hope he had, and he’d only had time to stuff Kayne’s knife away and grab his own instead.

Larson gargles. He sounds like he’s trying to laugh.

Andrew! Yellow sobs it. Andrew! He doesn’t seem to be dying.

So it worked?

So Larson doesn’t get godhood?

Arthur’s hand is warm with blood. He doesn’t know what to do. He tries to clean that knife inside his jacket, where he hopes it won’t show.

Kayne sighs. Paces.

Kayne punches the wall.

It’s a bad sound, cracking, crumbling. Something inside the building crashes down, and there are screams.

Arthur shakes.

“You know,” says Kayne. “I’ll give you this one. I’ll hand it to you. Didn’t predict it. That’s awful rare. So I’m really pissed at you, and you’ll feel that soon enough—but I can appreciate a good scam.”

“I didn’t pull a scam,” Arthur says, quieter, because Yellow has begun to sob.

It is an ugly sound, wretched, utterly unselfconscious.

He’s doing that because Larson is dead.

It doesn’t feel good. None of this does. Arthur isn’t the same as he was in Addison. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Yellow doesn’t stop crying long enough to answer.

Kayne shoves him suddenly, bruisingly, against the wall. “I am… really… mad at you. I won’t get to pull an experiment like this again for who knows how the fuck long. But… that was the deal. You did the deed. Technically, you’re off the hook. But you, Arthur—you still owe me a favor.”

“I won’t kill Yellow,” Arthur says.

Arthur!

Arthur takes Kayne’s knife back out of his pocket and throws it down, and the clang it makes in the alley is weird, wrong, otherworldly. “I won’t. I’ve done enough to him! Fuck you, I—”

He chokes.

There is a fist is in his throat, impossibly swelling, knuckles distending, expanding, distorting, threatening to tear him from the inside. Can’t swallow around it. Can’t—

It stops.

Arthur gasps, ragged.

“Better idea,” says Kayne, and suddenly, Yellow’s sobbing is inside his head.

“John!” Arthur manages, gagging, terrified John was swapped into the dead man’s body.

I’m here! I—what the fuck?

Leave me alone! Yellow howls.

They’re both in there, equally loud, equally growly, and it’s too much, there is a weight to the fulness of an eldritch god in his brain, and his own soul feels pinched and battered and stepped on, and he can’t breathe, and—

“This should be fun,” he hears Kayne say, and then he passes out.

The arguing is what wakes him.

That doesn’t matter. I don’t care.

Then you’re a hypocrite of the highest order, John snarls.

What does that make you?

Look, you moron, just calling me things doesn’t make it—Arthur! The change in tone is remarkable. Arthur—are you all right? Talk to me, Arthur.

The sharp concern in John’s voice—tenderness mixed with violence, crafted for him.

Arthur recalls Yellow weeping over Larson, and he aches for him, and wonders if his own inner compass has gotten even more broken over the last day. “I’m… I’m here. Fuck, I sound strangled.”

He does. Haggard, raspy.

Larson could out-sing him at this very moment, and he won’t be able to sing to calm Yellow for a while, and that is such an odd thought to have that Arthur’s face burns, and he rolls over to press it into the cool pillow.

Wait. Pillow?

Lucky, says Yellow, low and bitter. Yours woke up.

I told you he would. He’s remarkable.

Andrew was remarkable.

Wallace Larson was a motherfucking cheat who traded children and people’s lives all the time to seem interesting. Arthur does it all on his own.

Arthur feels not all on his own a little too much, right now. “Yellow.”

What? says the new voice, and the tone is fearful, and challenging, and tight.

Is he doing this?

He’s doing this.

Arthur already decided he’s doing this, and he may be many things, but he doesn’t easily change his mind. “I’m sorry.”

Both the voices in his head are still for a moment.

What? they say together.

“I’m sorry. I met you when I was… I was at the worst of myself. I lied to you, and tried to control you, because I was so afraid of losing you again. Losing… John again. Kayne told me you were him, and I thought… you know, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I fucked up, Yellow. I’m sorry.” It feels weak. “That’s all.”

There is a trembling inside, a non-corporeal shaking that feels like maybe the fault line has been transplanted into him.

How dare you? Yellow says.

I told you so, says John.

How dare you lie to me! You just murdered my… you killed him!

Arthur sighs. “I did. I wasn’t letting John get taken. No matter what shape I’m in, that’s… just how it’s going to be.”

That trembling again.

Larson was ready to sacrifice you, like I said—but you’re safe now, says John to Yellow, which Arthur did not expect. You’re me. He won’t hurt you.

That’s more faith in Arthur than Arthur has for himself.

I’m not you. We can’t even merge, Yellow says.

“You can’t?” says Arthur, who’d forgotten that was a thing until this moment.

No. We… we’ve both changed too much. We can’t.

There is sorrow in John’s voice, deep and aching, a finality that communicates loss Arthur can’t fully comprehend.

It’s a farewell to a thing Arthur cannot even imagine needing.

He has no idea how to engage with it, so he goes for familiar ground. Not a poem, but the movie they just saw—a way to say, I love you, without saying those words. “‘You choose me, Cleopatra, against the world,’” he says.

John practically surges to respond. ‘Then we'll meet it! We'll smash it to pieces, put it together again and call it ours!’

Yellow is, understandably, confused. You’re going to smash the world?

“No, we… no. It’s a movie.”

What’s a movie?

John scoffs. Your asshole of a guy didn’t even take you to see a movie? We’ve seen six in just a few months!

But what is one? I want to see one! What is it?

Arthur is not going to see a movie right now. He feels like his head weighs a thousand pounds. “How did I get to a bed? Did Kayne bring me here?”

There is a distinctly guilty pause. So, says John. When you’re fully unconscious, uh. We. Um.

We have control of your hideous form, Yellow informs him. You’re in your hotel room.

“What? Wait, what?” Arthur sits up. He feels the same. Blind, left hand and foot numb. Head too heavy, but—“What?”

When you’re unconscious, repeats John, we have control. So we got you out of there, because there’s a dead body, and we don’t need to face the police again.

Cowards, both of you, says Yellow.

Maybe he should take Yellow to see some morality plays before the movies, or something. “Where’s the knife? It had my fingerprints.”

Fucking Kayne took it back. It was weird, Arthur. I’m glad you couldn’t see it. Even with me looking through your eyes, they bled.

Arthur stiffens and reaches up. Sure enough, there are dried tracks of blood from his eyes down his neck. “Fuck. Can you see?”

Yes. You seem all right. Just… that knife was bad.

Why—Yellow stops.

“Why what?”

Why didn’t you use it?

Arthur’s not sure he’s in any shape to verbalize this. “What I did to you before wasn’t right. What Larson was doing to you now wasn’t right. It’s time someone didn’t do the wrong thing by you, is all.”

Silence in response.

Whatever that means.

Arthur stands, shaky as a newborn lamb, and feels his way to the bathroom. He strips as he goes, dropping clothing in a trail.

Is it time for a rite? says Yellow, oddly hopeful.

Rite?

He’s naked.

So?

This is too weird, and Arthur does not engage. He turns on the shower.

But… humans get naked for rites.

John scoffs. He told you that? What the fuck?

They don’t get naked for rites? Yellow sounds lost again.

“So what you’re telling me is fucking Larson never washed his arse,” Arthur mutters, and John laughs.

Don’t you know anything about humans? says John then, disgusted.

Of course I do! More than you!

They are clearly going to be at this for a while.

Arthur lets them, hoping they tire themselves out.

He’s scraped from the bricks in the alley. Bruised from Kayne’s manhandling, and, he thinks, inside his throat. His right hand, disturbingly, seems to have been slightly burned where he held that weird knife. He can’t be sure, but he thinks he’s lost his fingerprints.

But he’s okay. He made it.

He always makes it.

And for the first time in his life, weirdly, he feels like he might have a second chance at something he truly fucked up.

They’re still fighting about naked humans. It’s obviously a cleansing rite!

You’re a moron!

“Yellow,” says Arthur. “I’m sorry you lost your person. He was a monster, but… I get it, and I’m sorry. Good, bad—they don’t matter when there’s grief.”

Another trembling pause as the steam rises, and Arthur washes away the blood, the sweat, the dubious stickiness he finds where Kayne grabbed him through his suit jacket.

I… didn’t like it, says Yellow, soft.

“I know. I think we’ve all… we’ve all gone through some loss here, through no fault of our own.”

Don’t tell me you feel bad for taking that fucker out, says John. You’ve been wanting him dead for months.

Arthur knows clarification is needed, and it is the hardest thing to do, but he has to make this second chance count. “Since I learned he sacrificed his daughter for power, yes. It made me think of losing my little girl, and though that was… that was an accident, I couldn’t… imagine someone doing it on purpose. I went a little insane.”

A little? scoffs John.

“A lot insane, then. Still. Yellow wouldn’t have landed in him at all if I hadn’t been such an ass.”

Actually, says John. About that.

Arthur has been thinking. “You made a deal with Kayne.”

I… yes.

Why? says Yellow.

To get back to Arthur.

Why? Yellow says.

He’s mine, says John.

“And, what? It was just about getting me to New York?”

Yes. He said if I did that, I could stay in you. He even hinted he might give me a body, if I paid his debt right, though it wasn’t… worded clearly. If I failed, and couldn’t get you to New York, I’d… I’d go back to the Dark World. But then we were here, and nothing happened, and I… I sort of hoped he’d forgotten.

“You could’ve told me.” It hurts a little. More than a little.

I’m sorry.

Arthur sighs. “I forgive you. We made it through. Just tell me anything else like that, all right?”

I will. I promise.

Yellow is quiet.

Arthur has no idea how this conversation might stack up against whatever else Yellow has heard.

He dries off and limps back to the bed, where he falls face-first into the pillow. “No joyrides while I’m out. I need rest.”

You adapted to that news pretty quickly, says John, suspicious.

“I have not adapted at all. I’m simply too damn tired to engage with it right now. Tomorrow, I’ll have a proper panic over it, but for the next few hours, I mean it. No joyrides.”

Fine. No joyrides.

But what if we—

We promised. No joyrides.

I didn’t promise, Yellow grouses.

I did, and we are both the King in Yellow, and that’s our word. Shut up.

They are never going to stop.

Weirdly… it’s not that hard to tune them out.

It reminds Arthur of the strangest thing: those noisy, chaotic, wonderful days when Faroe’s “friends”—really just toddlers her age, in the neighborhood—came over, and everybody was yelling and squealing and laughing and demanding, and all the other parents (mothers, they were all mothers, and Arthur never fit in) clustered like chortling geese to add to the ruckus.

And it shouldn’t have been peaceful, but it was.

It shouldn’t have been the kind of noise he could sink into, but it was.

Why this is like that, Arthur doesn’t know.

Maybe he doesn’t need to know.

For some reason, John is now telling Yellow the plot of The Thirty-Day Princess. And then the Baron said, ‘We are on a wild goose egg!’

Yellow laughs.

Is it safe, to leave them unmonitored like this?

Then again, maybe they need it.

Arthur certainly needs it.

He has no idea what to do with this. He has no idea if he can keep them both in there. His skull feels oddly… strained.

But now, right now, he needs sleep.

John promised no joyrides. (Arthur will deal with that horror tomorrow.)

John’s promise, in spite of today’s unpleasant surprise, is good enough.

Yellow’s grief is real. That’s going to take time to navigate. Arthur feels he owes that much.

So… is everyone safe now? At least until Kayne returns?

Maybe.

Arthur doesn’t know how this works, and he’s no longer arrogant enough to assume he ever will.

Maybe he doesn’t have to know.

Maybe it’s enough to survive, and listen, and forgive, and try to make up for mistakes.

To take his chance to make up for one, and hold it with all his heart.

Arthur drifts off to the sound of John’s attempt at a Ruritanian accent.

Maybe it really is coming up roses, after all.

--------

NOTES

Of course, I had to do ridiculous research for this so it would all be accurate.

It's part of my self-indulgence. Hush.

Dancing Lady on Wikipedia, and you get to see the scene that made poor Arthur hot and bothered right here on YouTube.

Death Takes a Holiday is on YouTube in terrible resolution here, BUT if you skip to 1:04:44, you get to see where Grazia chooses to go with Death.

The romp that is Jimmy the Gent. The quip about ethics and carbunkles is right here, at 1:25.

The Thirty Day Princess was hard to track down, but I found a solid review of it, a clip of the Ruritanian accent, and of course, Bing Crosby's She Reminds Me of You.

The Barretts of Wimpole Street, including that DEEPLY uncomfortable clip where the father seems to think all sex is evil, then gets weirdly handsy with his daughter. Yowza.

Oh, Cleopatra... they don't make movies like this anymore. On. Your. Knees.

As for Yellow... well, I saw how he responded to Larson at the end of 28. He just... accepted whatever Larson said - weirdly innocent about it, which made Larson even creepier to me. I sort of figured without a chance to reset and think (like John had during the coma), he wouldn't be able to grow the same way.

The hymn Larson was singing, My Soul is Gonna Live With God. In your dreams, asshole.

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