#anyway. golden's parents had an arranged marriage that actually worked out pretty good for them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pillage-and-lute · 3 years

Note

(For next time you’re looking for prompts) I really like your writing, and when I thought of this I wondered what you’d do with it: Geralt and Jaskier are together, but agree to pretend not to be for their next stop. Maybe one of them wants to win an old bet, or Jaskier’s not 100% sure his betrothal to a local noble has been officially dissolved, whatever, (not homophobia), fluff and high jinx ensue. Anyway I hope something unexpectedly nice happens to you today.

Hi Dahliavandare! Thanks for the blessing in my inbox 🥰

This ran away from me, tons of backstory about Jaskier’s family. Just, way too much.

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“Geralt, darling,” Jaskier said hesitantly. “I have an errand we need to run, and I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

Geralt hummed noncommittally. They were resting at their camp outside of Hagge and the warm summer air and the feeling of Jaskier curled against him had lulled him into a warm, fuzzy stupor.

“You see,” Jaskier continued, fiddling with the buttons at his cuffs. “I’m a noble, and you know that of course.” He laughed awkwardly. “And I’ve been lucky enough to pawn most of those responsibilities off onto my much savvier sister, but there are certain niceties that landed families observe that--”

“Spit it out,” Geralt grumbled, although not bad naturedly.

“I’m betrothed,” Jaskier said. “And we need to go to Gwendeith to break it off.”

Geralt turned to look at his beloved. “You’re engaged?”

“Betrothed!” Jaskier yelped, then saw Geralt’s expression. “Oh, dear heart, there’s a slight difference in meaning, especially to nobles. Engaged implies an intent to marry--”

“And betrothed doesn’t?”

“Well, sort of, but I’ve been betrothed practically since I was born, engaged would imply I’m sort of planning the wedding. It’s a contract, a social contract. My family and my betrothed’s are pretty minor nobles, so really it’s just a way of saying ‘maybe someday our kids could marry’. It isn’t the hard and fast marriage it might be if I were, say, a prince.”

“Then why do it?” Geralt asked. Most of the time he was happy to understand as little of the lives of the gentry as possible, but Jaskier was important.

“Honestly,” Jaskier sighed. “I think Papa arranged it because he cared for me, Mama too.”

“It takes away your choice,” Geralt began.

“It doesn’t. A betrothal like mine and... Iliana, that’s her name, only met her twice, it’s sort of social insurance. Especially for her, but for me as well. Nobles are supposed to marry, so, if at some point neither of us had found love we could marry one another. For Iliana there’s the security of having a husband, although from what I’ve heard she can handle herself fine, and for me its assurance of heirs if that sort of thing concerned me, and companionship for us both.”

It sounded...mostly sort of logical to Geralt.

“But I love you,” Jaskier said. “And I don’t want to be betrothed to anyone because I love you and, someday, whenever you get over you allergy to the concept of commitment, I’m going to put a ring on you.”

Geralt hummed gruffly but said nothing. There was a slim golden band hidden away in his bags and he be damned if Jaskier got to propose first.

“I will. Anyway, I need to tell Iliana. I’m sure she won’t mind. I met her once when I was seven and again when I was nineteen.”

“Nineteen, when?” Geralt asked. Most of Jaskier’s nineteenth year had been spent at Geralt’s side. Most of every year after that too.

“Just before I met you. I had travelled east to meet her originally, and was going back west when we met.”

“Tell me about her?”

“Illiana? Oh, well, she told me that she was fine leaving the betrothal in place because it’s standard, but that she doesn’t care for men in that way so she’d never give me heirs and would have my balls nailed above her door if I ever told her she had to.”

“Sounds like she’d get along with Yen.”

“I fear they’d take over the world,” Jaskier said. “Anyway, I told her no worries since, honestly, heirs just aren’t important to me. Then we agreed that when either of us found love we’d break the betrothal and that would be that.”

“Hmmm.”

“No, Geralt, tell me what that means. Is that a ‘okay, let’s go to Gwendeith’ hum? A ‘I’m angry that you’re betrothed’ hum?”

Geralt shifted to poke the fire. “It’s a ‘I think there’s more you need to tell me’ hum.”

“Ah,” Jaskier rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s the thing. We have to go in person because a letter would be rude, but also...we have to pretend not to be together, while we’re in Gwedeith.”

“Why?”

“It’s politics, dear heart. It would be shaming to Iliana, socially. Personally, I don’t think she’d care, but it’s a courtesy thing.”

“I don’t do a lot of lovey stuff anyway,” Geralt said.

“You think you don’t,” Jaskier said. He began to unroll their bedroll.

“What do you mean, Jaskier?”

Jaskier turned to him, smiling indulgently and gilded in the firelight. “Our lives have molded around one another, my love. When I stand beside you your hand goes to my back or my shoulder. You order dinner for me because you know just what food I like. When I’m tired you don’t have to ask what’s wrong, you just lift me onto Roach behind you.”

Geralt hadn’t even realized he did, but he knew it was true. Jaskier leaned over and pressed a kiss to Geralt’s slightly furrowed brow.

“When my boots are wearing thin you buy me new ones before I even notice. When I’m cold you give me your cloak. If I fall asleep with my head on your shoulder you’d rather sit like that all night than disturb me.”

Geralt shrugged awkwardly. “You buy me beeswax,” he said. It seemed a fair retort. Jaskier bought him beeswax to put in his ears when cities or sometimes monsters were too loud for Geralt’s senses. “You only buy light scents, even though I know you like bolder perfumes.”

“Yes,” Jaskier said, taking one of Geralt’s large, scarred hands. “We love eachother very much, and it’s obvious to people who care to look.”

“That could be dangerous,” Geralt began, his head spiralling towards worry for Jaskier’s safety, but Jaskier cut him off.

“No, dear heart. It’s obvious to those who care to look. The sort of people who would hurt me for loving you, well, most of them think you can’t love, so they don’t look for love, and they don’t see.”

Geralt sat back. People saw what they expected to see, it was true.

“We’ll travel to Gwendeith,” he said. “And unbetroth you.”

Jaskier kissed him and his lips tasted like the jerky they’d eaten for supper.

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

The trip to Gwendeith was long. It was at the very edge of any map, past Posada to the east, tucked into the Blue mountains. They traveled along the Dyfne river, taking the occasional contract but making good time. This far from anything, there were few people to be troubled by monsters.

They stopped in Posada one night, eating dinner in the corner of a familiar tavern. This time, however, Jaskier was much better received and the bread ended up on the table rather than down his trousers.

Past Posada, and almost to the end of the Dyfne river, Geralt asked, “Why did your parents pick Iliana? How did they know of her?” Lettenhove was entirely the other side of the continent, a tiny island off the coast of Poviss with two villages and a couple flocks of sheep.

Geralt only knew of it from Jaskier’s descriptions, which were mostly stories of the ice cold sea and rocky cliffs. He tended toward calling it ‘idyllic’ and ‘picturesque’ altough occassionally ‘the arse end of the world’ and ‘colder than an ice giant’s ballsack.’ The first time Geralt had taken Jaskier to Kaer Morhen he’d feared for his bard’s safety in the cold of the mountains, but Jaskier hadn’t even blinked an eye, merely bundling up in a hugely wooly cloak and mittens.

“Ah, well,” Jaskier said. “Long story, but Papa was in Temeria, see, since nothing ever happens in Lettenhove, because we have more people than sheep, he get’s sent on diplomatic missions a lot. He’s good at it, and he can be spared. He loves it too, even though he’s sort of retired he still does them. Takes Ma, calls the trips his little “sunshine vacations”.

“You get your personality from your father, then?” Geralt asked. Jaskier didn’t talk about his family much, and Geralt got the sense that, rather than this being because they were horrible, Jaskier simply missed them too much.

“Definitely. Ma’s lovely, and brilliant with just everything to do with her hands, but she’s not good with people. I got her looks, though.”

“I should thank her, then,” Geralt said, smiling.

Jaskier chuckled. “Yes, she’s the reason for the long lives, too, fantastic story.”

“Finish the one about your father and Gwendeith first.”

“Right, so Papa was in Temeria, and so was Iliana’s father, sort of the mayor of Gwendeith, as I understand, although not back then. He’d gotten robbed, though, and Papa had won a horse and quite a lot of gold in a card game. It might have been Gwent, I can’t remember. If you ever meet Papa you should ask him. Anyway, he gave the extra horse and gold to Iliana’s father.”

“So your betrothal was a debt?”

“Goodness, no. This was years before I was born, Papa hadn’t even met Ma yet. No, they struck up a friendship, because when Iliana’s father got home he had a mage send a message to Papa to thank him and they struck up a friendship.”

“Sending messages by mage? That’s expensive for a penpal.”

“Ah well, that actually ties in to the story about Ma. Ma’s got magic, just a little, she’s a hedge witch of a sort. The issue is, hedge witches mostly use plants, and Ma couldn’t grow grass, so she mostly works with wood. Anyway, she has a friend, her very best friend, is a mage. They grew up together, and my Auntie Szarlotta sent my Papa’s first few messages back to Iliana’s father.”

Geralt smiled atop Roach. Jaskier’s storytelling pace was as familiar as Roach’s saddle, and it was calming in a way.

“So, Auntie was sending Papa’s message when Ma came in to visit. That’s how she met Papa, because she’d only just moved to Lettenhove. Auntie says it was love at first sight, but Papa insists that Ma turned up her nose and ignored him for months.”

“Which one is it?”

“Knowing Ma, probably both. She’s a little like you, so the second she realized she liked Papa she ignored him so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

Geralt huffed good-naturedly.

“Anyway, Auntie Szarlotta agreed to send Papa’s messages for free, and she even included a way for Iliana’s father to send them back, so long as he wrote his response on the back of the same paper. She always timed it though, so that Ma was over when Papa was there. And I guess the rest is history.”

“Except the immortality.”

“Right, well, Ma got really sick when she was pregnant with my sister, I was little so I barely remember but Papa was so worried, and Ma looked really pale. Well, Auntie got really worried, freaked out a little, and she found all these old spells to try to make Ma well again. I remeber the light, she was working in a room of the old lighthouse and I could see the light of her spells from my window. Anyway, eventually she tries some on Ma, but they don’t work, and she just keeps trying.”

Geralt had an image of a frantic sorceress being watched by a young Jaskier through a crack in a door.

“But I suppose some of those old spells need a little time to work because nothing at all worked and then they all sort of worked at once. There was this big, bright light and then Ma was well, and she and Papa haven’t aged a day since then.”

Geralt glanced at his lover, who looked the same at fifty as he had at twenty. “And you don’t age? What about your sister?”

“Ksenia hasn’t aged either. She looks like Papa, just so you know, grey eyes, blonde hair. She’s got two kids, now, but I haven’t met them.”

“Do the kids age?”

“Right now they’re very young,” Jaskier said. “I didn’t stop aging until nineteen or twenty, so I suppose we’ll have to wait and see.”

“How do you know she has kids?”

“Oh, well, Auntie Szarlotta sends letters to me, but we travel and it’s hard to send them right to me, so I just pick them up at Oxenfurt.”

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. He needed to go to Lettenhove. Jaskier had met his sort-of-family, he should meet Jaskier’s.

“I’d love to go see them...” Jaskier said, wistfully.

“Who?”

“My niece and nephew, they’re almost two and three years old now.”

Geralt picked Jaskier up by the collar of his doublet and placed him onto the back of Roach.

“We’ll spend the winter in Lettenhove this year,” he said as Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s waist.

“Really?”

“Hmmm.”

Geralt needed to ask Jaskier’s father for his hand in marriage, anyway.

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

They made it to Gwendeith just after mid summer, riding into the little town at noon. Despite the season, the little mountain valley was shaded and cool. Jaskier shivered slightly and Geralt had to resist the urge to pull his cloak from his pack. From that point forth, they weren’t supposed to be in love.

Fuck.

They had to request a meeting with the mayor, which didn’t surprise Geralt. In a town such as this, logging and mining were the main industries. Trading for food to last over the winter began early and was of the utmost importance. That left Geralt and Jaskier, unfortunately, sitting with a man who introduced himself as Sir Boris.

Apparently he was a retired knight who acted as a sort of captain of the guard, except there wasn’t much of a guard. His wife Lady Olenka joined them and the two of them talked about their grandchildren until Geralt could feel his eyes rolling back in his head.

At any other time, Jaskier would have placed one gentle hand on his wrist, which would have fortified Geralt, but they couldn’t.

“But you’re here for Iliana,” Sir Boris was saying. “Dreadfully sorry you can’t see her today, I’m afraid there’s been an issue with the lumber trade to sort out. You’ll just have to have my darling Lenka and I as company until that’s done.”

He sent a huge wink to his wife, a slim, elegant woman, who chuckled and playfully hit him on the shoulder, to which Sir Boris pretended to be wounded before throwing back his head and laughing hugely. Everything the old knight did was huge, he was a large man with a round, red face and large belly and a laugh that could shake walls.

“It’s no trouble,” Jaskier said. “I’m sure preparing for winter is a year round project here.”

“Oh of course,” Lady Olenka said. “But once it’s here we can all relax, and spend time with family.” She leaned forward as if imparting a delightful secret and said in a stage-whisper, “Boris has been our town’s Father Winter for the last four years.”

Jaskier made impressed ‘ooh’ noises and Geralt tried to at least look like he understood that.

Boris laughed again. “It’s this lot,” he said, slapping his round stomach. “Better than some old geezer with a pillow down his shirt, eh?”

Geralt hummed in agreement.

“And you must make a lovely Mother Winter, Lady Olenka,” Jaskier said politely.

She smiled, lines crinkling around her eyes as if drawing a road map. “It’s not as important as Father Winter, of course, but I rather pride myself that I plan a very good Midwinter festival.” Geralt got the sense that behind the modesty she was quite proud, and, he suspected, with good reason.

“But, you must tell me,” she said, modestly changing the subject. “Is there to be a missus Pankratz, now that you’ve come to see Lady Iliana?”

“I am a man in love,” Jaskier said. “And I am hopeful that an engagement will come soon, yes.”

“Oh dearie that’s just lovely,” Lady Olenka said, patting Jaskier’s cheek. “And you’re such a nice boy too, little young looking to be betrothed to our Lady Iliana anyway, although she’s a very dear woman.”

“We just love her,” Sir Boris said. “She’s a great mayor, not keen on marriage, but nobody minds, she just seems to have adopted the whole town as family.”

Lady Olenka patted her husband’s broad shoulder. “It was smart of you not to bring your love here, though. There’s some nobles here from Lyria, that’s who she’s been trading with, and I think they’d like any excuse to disparage here.” She lowered her voice again. “You know how those lot are about having women in charge.”

“I can’t relate,” Sir Boris laughed. “Lenka’s the ruler in our house.” That got a laugh because it had to, and because Sir Boris’s laugh was surprisingly infectious.

“Good on you bringing a bodyguard too,” he said once the laughter had abated. He slapped Geralt companionably on the back, which was like being hit by a friendly battering ram. “Witcher too, don’t get many up here, but I bet you’re the safest man in a hundred miles.”

“Oh, dear, don’t you know?” Lady Olenka said. “Lord Julian here is a bard as well, he goes by Jaskier and sings all about witchers.”

“Really?” Sir Boris said, looking at Jaskier. “Blimey, imagine that. Good on you, finding a niche in the market.”

Geralt’s ears were beginning to ache. Friendly though Sir Boris might be, he didn’t seem to have a volume level below ‘deafening’. He was tired and overwrought and he just wanted to cuddle up with Jaskier in a bed. It wasn’t even suppertime, though.

They sat through another hour of hearing about Boris and Olenka’s eighteen grandchildren.

“And three great-grandchildren,” Boris added proudly.

Geralt was thankful Jaskier could carry the conversation. He longed for a kiss, though. Now that he knew he couldn’t have one, his lips fairly ached for one.

Supper was a large affair, with one of Boris and Olenka’s children’s family over for dinner as well. Geralt was seated across from Jaskier between two small children who, apparently, needed to be separated at dinertimes to prevent bickering. They contented themselves instead by asking Geralt every question they could think of, often making him wrack his brain for child appropriate answers.

It wasn’t just witchering questions, either. He answered such questions as “Why is the sky blue?” (Because it’s Melitele’s favorite color). Immediately before answering “How big are dragon scales?” (The small ones are like pebbles and the big ones are like shields.)

Jaskier smiled at him over his bowl of stew, eyes sparkling. Geralt loved children, and Jaskier loved seeing them adore Geralt.

“So, Lord Julian,” Boris and Olenka’s daughter began. “Your lady love, tell us about her?” She smiled Lady Olenka’s warm smile and Jaskier did a good show of seeming bashful.

“My love is unlike any other,” he began. “And if you’ll pardon my saying so, I’m a poet, and so must wax poetic.”

“Wouldn’t settle for anything less, lad!” Boris bellowed cheefully.

“My darling has fair hair, like moonlight,” Jaskier said, and the table oohed appreciatively. Geralt felt his ears get hot.

“And eyes like summer,” the bard continued. “I could get lost in them. No eyes could compare.” Geralt kicked him under the table, but Olenka was sighing sympathetically.

“But of course,” Jaskier said slyly, my heart is best held by my love’s lips.”

Boris chuckled knowingly. “I’ll bet it is, my boy,” he said, winking. Olenka slapped his arm, but she was smiling. Geralt felt hot.

“I’m afraid, however that my lover is quite modest, and won’t appreciate me extolling too many virtues,” Jaskier finished. “So I must finish with, I love them very much, and it is for them alone that my heart beats.”

Therewith leaving every person at the table (those above the age of twelve, at least) with misty eyes, Jaskier helped Lady Olenka clean up supper. Geralt helped put the dishes away.

After dinner they were led back to the mayor’s house. “I’m afraid the negotiations don’t seem to be finished,” Lady Olenka said. “I had hoped they would be quick, but it seems not. If the issue wasn’t resolved today, I wouldn’t bet on them being resolved too early tomorrow, either. You two don’t have pressing business elsewhere?”

“No, my lady,” Jaskier said, although if they lingered too long they wouldn’t make it to Lettenhove for the winter, as it was, it would be close.

“I’m sure she’ll be able to see you soon,” the lady said. “Here’s your room, and Master Witcher, your room is just at the far end of the hall.”

She said goodnight and Geralt hoped she couldn’t see the slump of his shoulders.

Separate rooms.

Jaskier smiled ruefully at him and they parted for the night. Geralt’s bed was large and comfortable, with clean linens and feather pillows, but he barely got a wink of sleep.

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

The next morning found Jaskier and Geralt breakfasting in the tavern, owned, apparently, by another of Boris and Olenka’s grown children.

“Did you sleep well?” Jaskier whispered over a plate of sausage and eggs.

“Fine,” Geralt grunted.

“I couldn’t sleep a wink,” Jaskier said. “Want my last piece of bacon? I’m stuffed.”

Geralt took it gratefully, slipping Jaskier his fried slice as a trade. No matter how Jaskier protested that he was stuffed, he always had room for a fried slice.”

“Terrible woman,” said a nasal voice at the next table. “Just impossible to do business with.”

“I agree, overemotional, you know how they get,” agreed another voice. Jaskier made eye contact with Geralt. The accent was Lyrian.

“Not even married,” said the first speaker. “What a disgrace. If my daughter got to her age without children I’d just die of shame.”

Geralt pitied his daughter.

“Oh of course,” said the second man. “Attractive, though, for an old maid.”

The first man snickered cruelly. “Thinking a little wooing might soften her up?”

“It always does, women like that, they’re just angry because they haven’t found a man.”

“Won’t your wife mind?”

“Are you going to tell her?” Both men laughed unpleasantly.

A serving girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, came around the tables, presumably one of Sir Boris’ many granddaughters. She took their plates onto a tray and smiled when Jaskier slipped a few coins onto the tray as a tip.

At the next table one of the Lyrian’s snapped their fingers impatiently. The girl rolled her eyes. Geralt was pleased to see that, although she served him professionally, as she walked away she ‘accidentally’ tread on his foot.

“What pathetic pieces of shit, the pair of them,” Jaskier said as they stepped out into the sunlight.

“Hmmm,” Geralt agreed. Then he looked around quickly and pulled Jaskier into an alleyway, urging the bard deeper into the shadows.

“What? Geralt di-”

Geralt smushed his lips gracelessly to Jaskier’s, crowding him up against the wall. Jaskier’s hair between his fingers was so familiar and comforting, as was the little sigh Jaskier let out.

They pulled apart and Geralt rested his forehead against Jaskier’s. “That’ll tide me over for a while,” he whispered. Jaskier smiled.

“Are you master Julian?”

The pair sprang apart, looking in alarm at the red headed boy at the far end of the alley.

“Yes...?” Jaskier said.

“Only, Pa said to come find you, and he said you’d be with a big man dressed all in black.”

“And you found us here?” Jaskier asked.

“Didn’t know you’d be here, did I?” Said the boy, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets. “It’s the shortcut through to the tavern, but then, I figured he’s the only big man in black around.”

Geralt inclined his head, feeling his ears go hot.

“Lady Iliana has time to see you now,” the boy continued, oblivious to the awkwardness.

“By all means...lead the way,” said Jaskier.

They were led out of the alley and back to the mayor’s house by the messenger boy.

“Out of curiosity,” Jaskier asked. “Is your grandad Sir Boris?”

“Yeah, that’s him,” said the lad. “He made me a toy sword for my tenth birthday too.” He pointed proudly to the wooden sword tied at his hip with some string.

“It makes you look a proper hero,” Jaskier said. Then he pulled out his coin purse. “A copper for bringing us the message and...another to not tell anyone what you saw.”

The boy looked between the two of them shrewdly.

“Not even my best friend? I tell Mikhail everything.”

“Not until Geralt and I have left.”

“Three coppers total,” the boy said promptly. Jaskier handed them over good naturedly and the boy flashed a gap toothed grin before taking off.

Geralt and Jaskier shrugged at each other, before finding their way to the main room of the mayor’s house. A broad shouldered woman of about fifty poked her head out of a door.

“Julian?”

Geralt and Jaskier went inside.

“You look well,” Iliana said, sitting behind a large desk and gesturing to a couple chairs. “You havent’ aged a day.”

“And you look as lovely as I remember,” Jaskier said.

“Flirt. Come to ask me for heirs?”

Jaskier shuddered. “No, my lady. I remember your threat well. I think you know why I’m here.”

The two Lyrians barged through the door.

“Did I ask you to enter?” Iliana said, coldly. Geralt felt an unusual curl of fear set up in his stomach, she was a distinctly fearsome woman.

“Well,” said the first Lyrian.

“You were so beautiful, I couldn’t wait on seeing you again,” said the second, slimily.

“Oh I say!,” Iliana said, standing. She placed her hand over her chest in a delicately offended way, which was ill suited to her. “You sir are too bold, and in front of my betrothed too!”

The Lyrians looked, panicked, at the people sat in the chairs. As Geralt was seated in the chair nearest the door, and therefore nearest them, they came to the wrong conclusion. The blood drained from both their faces.

“What an insult!” Iliana continued. “You should be ashamed! What a lack of diplomacy!”

Beside Geralt, Jaskier snickered. She was laying it on a little thick.

“Why,” she continued. “I ought to write to your king! I’ve never been so insulted. And I’m sure my beloved will want to sort out this insult too.” She fluttered her lashes at Geralt.

Geralt nearly jumped out of his seat, but thankfully his brain caught up. He stood, growling a little theatrically and placed one hand on the hilt of his steel sword.

“Our apologies my lady,” the first man said hurriedly.

“Our mistake, we’ll just--” they dissappeared out the door.

“What a fearsome couple,” Geralt heard whispered as the door swung shut.

Iliana sighed satisfactedly and kicked her feet up on her desk. “It seems I should thank you,” she said. “That is going to make negotiations much easier.”

“I’m sure you always get good deals,” Jaskier said.

“Yes. I get the deals I want.”

“You know why I’m here,” Jaskier said.

“Yes.”

“Do you agree?”

“To disolve the betrothal? Of course. Never found a lover for myself so I never bothered but, well, I just don’t do romance.”

“Some people don’t,” Geralt said, thinking of Eskel.”

“Indeed,” Iliana said, smiling warmly at him. “Not all of us have a soulmate to sing us songs.” She laughed at their surprised faces.

“Oh you fooled them, and you may have fooled Boris and Olenka, but I’ve heard your songs, Julian. It’s written right into everything you do.”

She began rummaging in one of the drawers in the desk. “I don’t mind, of course. So few people know we’re actually betrothed...there it is.” She pulled out an old piece of paper. “I’ll just rip it up if that’s fine by you. You’ll have to do the same to yours of course.”

“We’re going to Lettenhove this winter,” Jaskier said. “I’ll do it as soon as I find it.”

Iliana smiled again. “Father always did say that your dad had a horrible filing system.”

“He filed all his papers on the floor, yes, although I imagine my sister is neater.”

Iliana tore the paper in half without ceremony and placed the contract in the waste paper bin. “Lettenhove is very far away, Julian, will you get there in time?”

Jaskier glanced at Geralt.

“I don’t know,” Geralt said.

“No matter,” said Iliana. She began writing something on a new sheet of paper. “Our logging teams float lumber all down the Dyfne and Pontar rivers. Show this to the dockmaster at the tip of the Dyfne and our riverboat captains can get you to Novigrad.”

She pulled out another sheet of paper. “Once you’re in Novigrad, show this to the harbormaster and he’ll get you to Lettenhove.” She looked at their shocked faces and smiled. “Our lumber is the best, and it’s used in everything, including ships. I’m willing to cash in a favor in order to get rid of a useless betrothal.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Jaskier said bowing deeply. “I’ll have my Aunt Szarlotta send a message once our betrothal is fully extant.”

Iliana stood and shook his hand. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Our fathers were penpals,” Jaskier said. “Perhaps we should keep up the tradition?”

The mayor inclined her head. “I’d like that. I may be too busy to write often.”

Jaskier waved a hand. “I can only pick up messages when I pass through Oxenfurt, but I like to make friends with powerful people.”

The two of them shared a smile.

“Not to rush you out my door,” Iliana said. “But I do have a lot to do, winter comes early up here, and I know it does as well in Lettenhove. even with my help, you two should leave soon.”

Geralt and Jaskier left that afternoon, just after a hearty meal at the tavern.

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

Across the continent and some weeks later, Jaskier and Geralt stepped onto the docks in Novigrad.

“I don’t think Roach liked the river boats,” Jaskier said as Geralt led her off. Roach whinnied and shook her mane emphatically.

“Sorry, girl,” Geralt said. “You’ll have another long boat journey, and this time I doubt we’ll stop so you can run about on land.”

“Nah,” Jaskier said, as they walked toward a tavern for supper. “Boats from Novigrad to Lettenhove stop around the coast on the way, she’ll get plenty of exercise. It’s something to do with the currents.”

He petted Roach’s muzzle softly as they stabled her at the inn beside the tavern and Geralt felt his heart go out to his bard. Jaskier cared so much for Roach. Geralt thought again of the gold band in his pack.

“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s eat.”

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

Slightly more than a month later, after a slow, coastal boat journey, and then another between Inis Porhoest and Lettenhove, Geralt, Jaskier, and their faithful horse, stepped off the final boat.

“Welcome home, Master Julian,” said a fisherman on the dock.

“Does everyone here know you?” Geralt asked.

“Pretty much, there’s only about three hundred people here.”

News spread fast among three hundred people and Jaskier and Geralt were greeted enthusiastically at the door to the very small castle. A blonde woman who could only be Ksenia, Jaskier’s sister, flung her arms around him, and withing a moment Geralt was being gathered into the hug by a slightly older looking couple.

“Julek,” said the blonde man, pulling back. “My boy, you’re home, and you brought this stunning man, wow, what a looker.”

“Papa, don’t be embarrassing,” Jaskier said. Geralt flushed clear to the roots of his hair. Apparently when Jaskier said he had his father’s personality he meant all of his father’s personality.

They had dinner as a family, including Jaskier’s niece and nephew, Cecylia and Prot. They had questions for Geralt, and he was grateful for the practice he’d had in Gwendeith. It was an enjoyable meal over all, and afterward Jaskier was distracted by his Aunt Szarlotta while Geralt slipped away to ask Mr. Pankratz a very important question.

The two of them returned to the main hall to see Jaskier pretending to be a dragon, while Cecylia and Prot bravely fought him with butterknives, but he straightened up when he saw the look on Geralt’s face.

Geralt took his hand and Jaskier squeezed it three times, it was their code, asking if Geralt needed to go somewhere that wasn’t so hard on his senses. Geralt smiled and shook his head, swallowing nervously around the lump in his throat.

He got down on one knee and pulled out the gold band. “I’m...I’m not good with words.” Geralt swallowed again, wishing he could borrow Jaskier’s eloquence for five minutes or so. “Marry me?”

The words were barely out from his mouth before Jaskier was tackling him to the ground, pressing kisses all over his face.

“Oh Geralt!” he said. “Wait--”

Jaskier looked up at his mother, who smiled and was handed a paper by his Aunt Szarlotta. Mrs. Pankratz ripped the betrothal contract in half.

“Yes,” Jaskier said, laughing. “I will marry you!”

Then they kissed on the chilly stone floor.

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

Dear Lady Iliana, Mayor of Gwendeith

The former contract has been voided.

Szarlotta of Lettenhove

P.S. Geralt and Jaskier are engaged and send their love.

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

Holy Cow. 5603 words. I...I don’t even know what to say. I hope you like it.

#the witcher #geraskier #reverse fake dating #fluff #geralt #jaskier #ask box answers

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tripleaxeldiaz · 4 years

Text

all was golden when the day met the night

chapter 1/5

for @hearteyesforbuck (it’s for EVERYONE but definitely for eli)

read on ao3

Eddie’s bad at words.

He can talk, of course, will happily go on for hours about how great Christopher’s latest art project is, can give a sermon about the Rangers’ chances of winning the World Series. But when it comes to discussing what’s happening in his brain, the gloomy, sticky parts that follow him around and keep him awake, he clams up. Keeps them locked in because it’s easier than exposing to anyone just how gross it all is, how dark everything is, how dark he is. He wants to talk about things, he does. Wants to make sure Chris knows that he should talk about his feelings, especially the bad ones. And he does his best to be open with him as well, but he’s the only one he seems to be able to do that with. Anyone else — his parents, Abuela, Shannon — he just...can’t. He’d rather save them the trouble.

Eddie’s bad at words, but he’s good at flowers.

He partially blames Abuela for making him spend hours with her in her garden when he was a kid. She taught him different planting methods, how to cut the flowers so they stayed alive longer, and a few basic meanings she learned from Good Housekeeping. After his first tour, they didn’t have the money for him to even try and get into med school, so he got a job at a local flower shop to help with their landscaping team. The owner, Mrs. Negrelli, saw he was better with the roses than the mulch and took him under her wing, teaching him everything she knew. When she retired shortly after Shannon left, she handed him a check with a lot of zeros and said, “It’s time to go plant your own seeds.”

So he did. The Greenhouse has been up and running for just over a year, and it may very well be the best year Eddie’s had in a long time. They’re in a small plaza just outside of LA proper, with an apartment above the shop that makes early morning deliveries much less horrible. Chris is doing great in school (“very popular and excellent in all subject areas”, according to his homeroom teacher) and he’s made some good friends with the other local business owners. It’s the peaceful, quiet life he always dreamed of having when he finally got out of the Army.

Peaceful except for—

“Morning, Diazes!”

“Dad! Buck’s here!”

Eddie pokes his head through the doorway from the back room in time to see his son crash into his friend’s legs, Buck scooping him up and throwing him over his shoulder. Chris laughs loudly, echoing through the whole shop, and starts talking animatedly about his latest drawing when Buck sets him on the counter. He listens intently, throwing a wink towards Eddie when he catches him lingering a few feet away.

As usual, Eddie has to school his face into something other than heart eyes as he watches the two chat. Buck’s in his standard uniform of ripped black jeans that hug his thighs in all the right places and a t-shirt featuring some grungy rock band he’s never heard of. He’s a stark contrast against the rows of hyacinths and magnolias currently on the wall, and Eddie feels a blush rise on his cheeks as he tries (and fails) to stop staring.

When he first met Buck, he was pretty sure he was getting robbed. When a six foot whatever stranger in all black and combat boots and covered in tattoos comes barreling into your newly opened flower shop, that’s kind of the first place your mind goes. He had 9 and 1 dialed on his phone before the stranger ran up to the counter and frantically asked, “What kind of flowers can I buy to apologize to my very intimidating adoptive mother for sideswiping her brand new car?”

Eddie figured an actual criminal would have bigger problems to worry about than his mom’s Nissan.

They formally met the next day, when Buck came to thank him for the bouquet (a small arrangement of broom for humility and common rue for regret; all the yellow tended to make people happier and more likely to forgive you for being a dumbass). He told Eddie he could come by the shop anytime for a tattoo, on the house.

He’d been in Armageddon Tattoo when he was first looking for a space, had met Maddie, the co-owner, and Chimney, their head artist. If he had known the other co-owner looked like Buck, he would have signed the lease much faster. Faster still once he saw how quickly and easily he and Chris got along.

A year on and Buck’s in the shop almost every day, either to buy a bouquet or to give Chris tips on a drawing or to complain about an annoying customer who changed their mind about a design after it was halfway done.

For all the peace that Eddie’s found, Buck is the one chaotic spot that keeps his reflexes in check. He’s a microburst, a runaway firework, an ATV rolling through a field of wildflowers. He blasts his music as he drives in in the mornings, and he opens doors so hard they almost fall off their hinges.

Eddie is painfully, unbearably in love with him.

Which is funny, really, because his whole life, Eddie has always been “the good guy” or “the good son” or “the good soldier”. He was homecoming king, set multiple records on courses in Basic, and became Staff Sergeant quicker than any of his superiors had seen in years. He was always by the book, always tried to be the best, and he usually was the best.

Until he wasn’t. Until his brain was so full of sadness and horrors that it was a battle to get out of bed each day. Until he was missing so much of Chris’s life that he might as well not have been in his life at all.

Until he wasn’t enough.

His marriage crumbled from there. He knew any path he and Shannon tried to take to move forward would be foggy with the guilt of all he hadn’t done in the past to help their family, so when she left, he didn’t go after her. And that guilt — knowing that he could have fixed it if he tried, if he had just been better — follows him wherever he goes now. He second guesses himself with Chris all the time because he knows one wrong move will lead to whispers among the PTA moms about the single dad who isn’t doing it right. He almost withdrew his lease application for the shop four times because he was constantly worried that it wouldn’t work, that he’d invest all this money and time and effort and it wouldn’t matter. He had done things by the book for so long because that was supposed to be how he succeeded. But now the books are empty and he’s in free fall, hoping he finds a soft landing before splatting on the asphalt.

When he met Buck, the complete antithesis to doing anything “by the book”, a voice whispered in his head that’s your landing. He’s the opposite of everything Eddie knew how to be, and that was thrilling to see. Freeing. To see someone living a happy life by making their own way and not giving a shit what anyone else thought. Not to mention that he was gorgeous, a gentle soul armored in chains and ink, and so unabashedly himself that he drew everyone to him like a magnet.

So Eddie fell, hard but quietly. Because on top of all that, Buck is the best friend he’s made since moving to LA, and he’ll be damned if he screws that up for himself or for Chris.

He finally gets himself moving to the counter, pulled by that damn magnet, where Buck is now showing Chris his latest tattoo — a small skull with a string of roses weaving in and out of the eye sockets and mouth on his right bicep.

“Does it mean anything?” Chris asks, running a small finger over it, taking in the detail.

“Chim says so, went on and on about how it symbolizes life after death and blah blah blah. I just thought it looked cool.”

“Peach blossoms would have been better.” Eddie mutters absently, eyes glued to Buck’s arm and the pale skin under the ink. He blinks as his words register, meeting Buck’s eyes and internally wincing. Thankfully, Buck just looks amused, not mad. “They’re a sign of longevity and immortality in some Eastern cultures. Would’ve fit the life after death idea a little better.”

“See, this is why I need you and your flower wisdom on retainer at the shop. You’d save me a lot of time researching, and our stuff would be even cooler because it would make sense.” He leans down to stage-whisper to Chris. “Between you and me, I think roses are the only flowers Chim knows how to do anyway.” Chris giggles, and Eddie huffs out a laugh too.

“Any real flowers today, Buck?” Eddie asks. He grabs the craft paper, already knowing the answer.

“Of course! Whatever feels right to you.”

Buck gets a bouquet for the shop about once a week, claims they’re good for inspiration and help some of the more nervous clients relax among the black leather chairs and tattoo guns. Sometimes he has very specific requests (“I just want orange. Like so much orange you could die.” or “Someone asked for tulips on their arm, can I get those in every color so I can practice?”), other times he tells Eddie to put together “whatever feels right”. At first, Eddie never put too much thought into those, just used whatever he was running low on and still looked okay together. But one day, one particularly dark day, when all Eddie was doing was feeling, he took Buck’s words to heart. It was a pretty morbid bouquet — cyprus for despair, peonies for the anger that never seemed to leave him, vervain as a plea to whoever was listening to protect him from the evils of his own mind. His internal mess must have been written all over his face too, because when he handed the flowers to Buck, he just looked at him for a while, like he could feel the sadness that Eddie had physically given him, like he knew the weight of what he was holding, even though Eddie knew he didn’t really. When he said thank you, it was more sincere than usual, laced with something like empathy that Eddie wasn’t ready to look at too closely.

Buck kept those flowers alive for three weeks, said he just couldn’t bear to let them go.

Luckily for everyone, Eddie is in a much less terrible place this week. With his son’s laughter still floating in his mind, he puts together crocuses and daisies, youthful joy and innocence, and ties them together with a dark blue ribbon, Chris’s favorite color. He wraps them in paper and hands them to Buck, who beams as he helps Chris down from the counter.

“Oh, these are beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the man who arranged them.” Eddie feels his cheeks get red and sees Buck’s smile turn smug. “How much do I owe for this masterpiece?”

“Please, you haven’t paid for anything here in months.” Eddie stopped charging while he was only using almost bad flowers, and told Buck as much. He just didn’t tell him when he started using the good stuff.

“I know, but I’m a gentleman, I always have to try. Remember that when you’re older, buddy.”

“I will.” Chris replies. “Dad, we’re gonna be late for school.”

“Okay okay, go grab your backpack.” Chris heads towards the back room as Buck heads towards the front door.

“Well, I’m off to stab people with needles for fun. See you later, boys! Bye Hen!”

Eddie whips his head around and sure enough, there’s Hen, leaning on the far side of the counter, looking far too smug for Eddie’s liking.

“When did you get here?”

“My shift started 20 minutes ago, boss. Glad I got here in time for the show.”

“The show?”

“Yeah, the show. You really should get an Oscar or something for how hard you act like you’re not head over heels for that man.”

Eddie’s jaw drops and Hen cackles. He doesn’t even have time to explain himself before Chris returns with his backpack and starts shoving Eddie towards the door.

“Don’t worry,” Hen calls as she opens the register for the day, “at least you’re cute when you blush!”

Eddie pointedly ignores Chris’s questioning look as he drives, his face and neck still blazing.

He can only hope Buck is less perceptive than Hen. If not, they’re going to have to move cities. Maybe countries. Maybe to the moon.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic #9-1-1 fic #9-1-1 #9-1-1 fox #SHE'S HERE FINALLY #i'm updating it every week!!#ficcery #the flower shop

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hwanscung · 4 years

Text

is that [ JU JI-HOON ] no, that’s just [ HWAN HYUN JOON ]. [ HE/HIM ] is [ THIRTY-FIVE ] years old and is a [ COO OF HWAN CORPORATION ]. rumor has it they’ve been in town for [THREE DAYS ]. on a good day, they’re [ INGENIOUS & URBANE ]. but watch out! they can also be [ DOMINEERING & INSENSITIVE ]. [ POWER IS POWER BY SZA & THE WEEKND ] plays in my head whenever i think of them. can’t wait to see them around springhill!

hellooo, it’s me li with my second bby. joon is the elder brother of lee and i’m apologizing for him now because watch out, he can be an asshole. not that he doesn’t have his reasons. this is also my first Korean bby i’m actually really nervous about it and i’m sorry if i messed anything up!!

[ triggers: high-risk pregnancy tw & death tw ]

GENERAL INFORMATION.

NAME →hwan hyun joon AGE → thirty-five DATE OF BIRTH → april 13th, 1984 PLACE OF BIRTH → seoul, south korea EDUCATION → business law degree from harvard & seoul school of law ZODIAC → aries GENDER → male LANGUAGES → korean, english, mandarin, & japanese ORIENTATION → demisexual, demiromantic RELIGIOUS VIEWS →buddhist ( & hints of folk religion passed down )

PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES.

FACE CLAIM → ju ji-hoon HEIGHT → 6'2" WEIGHT → 172 lbs HAIR COLOR → black EYE COLOR → brown BODY TYPE → slender, fit

FAMILIAL INFORMATION.

FATHER → hwan jung-soo MOTHER → lee mi-kyong YOUNGER BROTHER → lee hyun hwan ( westernized name ) YOUNGER SISTER → hwan ( up to player )

WIFE → oh seo-yeon ( deceased )

PERSONALITY.

POSITIVE TRAITS → ambitious, ingenious, urbane, & calculated NEGATIVE TRAITS → hidebound, domineering, sarcastic, & insensitive INTERESTS → reading, cooking, boxing, & cars DISLIKES → being lied to by those he trusts, cleaning, & coffee AESTHETICS → pressed designer suits, the sound of rain on the roof, the way the city looks from a plane window that’s just taken off, unanswered texts left on read, & a glass of scotch after a long day. MORAL ALIGNMENT → lawful neutral PERSONALITY TYPE → INTJ-A ( the architect )

BACKSTORY.

joon was born in south korea to a wealthy family who expected nothing less than greatness. the family-owned their own very prosperous natural resource company and they’d been grooming their eldest son to take it over long before he could even understand how any part of the business worked.

just before he turned thirteen, his family made arrangements to expand their company and move to the states. his pregnant mother left for new york not long after where she gave birth to his younger brother lee. the family wasn’t reunited until the following year in their new home in the states. soon after came the final addition to the family, a baby girl.

growing up, joon was expected to provide nothing but the absolute best example for his younger siblings and failure was never an acceptable option. he was without question what others would refer to as the golden child and it caused a rift between joon and his siblings. that as well as the large gap in their ages.

there’s almost nothing joon is better at than being obedient to his parents. especially his father. all his father ever needed to do was call and his son would be there, which only led to his loyalty and obedience being taken advantage of time and time again.

he’d always been quite intelligent and had a thirst for knowledge that couldn’t be quenched with just any ordinary business degree. he wanted to be an asset to his families company in ways others couldn’t or wouldn’t be. he wanted to have an edge over everyone, even his father in the end. after graduation joon attended harvard where he studied business law before continuing his education back in south korea at seoul national university school of law. after law school, he stayed in south korea for many years to handle his family's affairs from there at their headquarters, happier to be in the country he truly considered his home as opposed to the states. it was also the place his wife preferred to live.

while studying in seoul, joon met the love of his life. she was the first one to really get him to open up and even want to change a little. of course, not in any serious way, but around seo-yeon he was open to the possibility and eager to more open-minded like she’d always been. she made everything in his life seem light and easy; she was perfect. too perfect for this world, he came to learn.

two years after their marriage, at twenty-eight, joon was called away to the states on business by his father, but he was more than just hesitant to leave his very pregnant wife. initially, the eldest soon refused--the first and only time he’d ever said no to his father. but it was something that didn’t sit well and less than three hours later he was flying first class to jfk.

seo-yeon went into early labor the day after joon left south korea and wasn’t expected to return until after the weekend, a whole three days away. upon his return to seoul, joon found that his life was in nothing more than shambles. his wife had been taken to the hospital, but it already proved to be too late for their unborn child and then to make matters worse, seo-yeon died on the operating table due to complications from the cesarean section. joon knew the high-risks she was facing due to the pregnancy but made the choice to leave her on her own anyway and it’s something he’s never been able to forgive himself for. if he’d stayed with her, he could have made sure she made it to hospital in time. he could have saved his family still.

joon moved back to the states the following year to rejoin the rest of the hwan family as he found the idea of staying in the house they’d made home without those he loved most to be too unbearable. he threw himself into his work more than he ever had before but the seed of resentment he felt towards his father began to grow slowly over the years without him even truly realizing it. unable to stop himself from thinking about how his father had left him with no other option except to abandon his wife. it was something he simply couldn’t forget. or forgive.

outwardly, things certainly seemed to be business as usual for refined young man, but internally a dangerous storm was brewing. though as time past, joon learned to control his anger and emotions once more, the thing he’d been so good at before he’d met seo-yeon. he began to box as a way to channel his frustrations and has since become very invested in it.

joon will still do whatever his father or mother asks of him, but there are times where he now questions those things and when the requests do come in they’re far and few in between. the man can’t help but wonder if it’s because his father truly feels guilty or sorry or merely because his father can sense just how far joon as drifted from the rightful place at his side. just before his thirtieth birthday, his father promoted him to the chief operating officer of the company and joon took the opportunity to immerse himself in work even further than he already has, which was rather difficult all things considered. it wasn’t long after this that his mother truly began to worry about the well-being and mental state of her eldest son. she even started to try and find him a new wife. something he’s not been overly eager about dealing with.

the years began to pass quickly, most of them blurring together for joon in a rather unhealthy way which left even his father concerned. his parents decided to try and put some space between the company and their heir who was set to inherit it all by asking him to track down his younger brother and to find out what exactly was going on. and joon knew he could do nothing but agree to help. after all, lee was his family even if they’d never exactly treated each other as such.

IMPORTANT FACTS.

being the very traditional korean that he is, he doesn't like being called joon by those who are not family members or close friends. he often corrects people of this when in the states and will grow to dislike those who disregard his correction. he prefers mr. hwan or by people he knows and if comfortable with they may call him hyun joon. (( call him just joon multiple times and i make no promises of his reactions lmao ))

he’s always preferred to work alone and finds he can get more done this way. a big part of why he enjoyed working from seoul rather than the states.

he has a shiba inu named baek and he loves that dog more than anything else in his life at the moment. he was the last gift from seo-yeon.

he is very perceptive and has always been good at sensing another's kibun and also how to use it to his own benefit when it comes to business meetings and personal gain. but his abuse of his nunchi is something that has gotten him into LOTS trouble with his father for a long as he can remember as his father always like to remind him it’s quite the opposite of harmonious

living in the states definitely made him more insensitive to others feelings and more importantly their kibun because it wasn’t something that mattered in the same way in the states like it did back home. it’s probably the only real american/western thing about him

he’s quite the cocky and an arrogant person, ( but when you’re raised being told you’re place is above others, it’s pretty dang hard not to think like that ).

he still travels back to korea often for work, but his trips are usually short-lived and he doesn’t do anything really except work when he’s there.

for the time being, joon is just staying at a local hotel as he doesn’t expect to have to stay around long. ( ohhh how that will change lol )

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

executive assistant

friends

rivals

colleagues

i’m down for anything, i just can’t think of too many atm!

#springhillintro #about joon.#(( ahhhh! i'm so nervous to post this. i'm sorry if anything in it is wrong! ))

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crispy-crowley · 5 years

Text

Ketubah (Aziraphale/Crowley)

Aziraphale grabbed the mug by its porcelain wings. In the next second, it nearly went falling towards the ground. Above the desk, there, by the window, hung a lively and ornately drawn Ketubah. The only problem with that was… well. He didn't really remember getting married.

Thanks to the lovely @theirdarkreturning for the prompt! Hope you enjoy :D

After things went sideways and the Ineffable Plan overtook the Great Plan, things were supposed to go back to normal. They went back to exactly how Adam had viewed them before. No horsemen, no Gabriel, and no antichrist involved.

Some things were different, admittedly, and Crowley was pretty sure he was the first person to notice.

He was sitting in the back seat of Mr. Young’s car, five minutes past the “end” of the world, after he’d begrudgingly agreed to give him and Aziraphale a ride back away from the air base. There was a faint buzz of the car as he looked out the window towards the darkening fields around them.

“My. To think what would have happened if the young boy really had been Warlock,” Aziraphale said. Crowley took a sharp intake of breath at that. Well. That certainly was a thought. He pulled his hand up, going to grab the bridge of his nose, when his reflection in the car mirror caught his eye.

His eyes. Specifically his eyes. They were blinking, his usually snake-shaped golden eyes, and yet the pupils were more… round. More human-like. They had the same color irises, and the pupils were still kind of slits, in a way, but rounder than they were meant to be. His head tilted in the reflection. Well. That's awful strange, isn't it?

Some things, like the Bentley and the Bookshop, were a Godsend. Their own little slices of home were returned to where they were meant to be. Some things, though, weren't quite so black and white.

The people killed by the Kraken were still dead, but the government was trying to cover that up as a “mass illusion.” Probably cell phones, insisted the Prime Minister. Aziraphale had been certain she had to be having a laugh at that, but then again. Who could tell these days. Heaven and Hell weren't quite as clear cut as they used to be.

It was Crowley who had suggested the body-swap idea to bring back some more normality, and frankly, Aziraphale couldn't be happier that he did. The whole matter was rather stressful, but that didn't mean it didn't spruce up the day a little. He was very proud of his performance, actually. He did do a mean Crowley impression. In fact, there was no one he knew better.

So, finally, things were going to be okay. He could return to the bookshop, left alone by angels and demons alike, just him and Crowley. Finally. As it was always written.

Aziraphale shut the door behind him, leaving the streets of Soho and the Bentley behind. A few weeks had passed already, and he and Crowley had just gone for some truly scrumptious pastries in Greece. He rather missed Greece sometimes. True, Rome was where he made his home most of the time during that era, but the ancient Greeks? They were quite a people.

There was a certain smell the bookshop possessed. Aziraphale took a moment, letting it wash over him as he walked past the doorway. He couldn't help but smile at his new books Adam had made appear. Prophecy books were always his favorite. It was rather sweet of him, really, to think of him like that. Perhaps it was an oversight, but Aziraphale saw it as a thank you of sorts. A way of saying he was valued.

He gently removed his coat, placing it on the back of his chair. Oh, dear, he'd left his cocoa out again. He really should learn to clean up after himself. After all, it had been over 200 years since he'd been living here, and it was about time he began to act like it! He grabbed the mug by its porcelain wings. In the next second, it nearly went falling towards the ground.

Above the desk, there, by the window, hung a lively and ornately drawn ketubah. The only problem with that was… well. He didn't really remember getting married.

It is of note that Adam Young was indeed raised Jewish. His father, of course, with a surname like Young, was a Jewish man. His mother was not, and that technically made him goyishe, or legally “not Jewish.” That said, he grew up in the Temple in Tadfield, and he was raised like any other Jewish boy in the town. Wensleydale in particular would get confused, sometimes, when he spoke about things like a mezuzah, or Hanukkah, or specifically the Ketubah. Adam didn't mind explaining. He thought it was kind of cool, in a way.

His mom and dad had theirs proudly displayed in the kitchen. It's a handwritten document, all the way from Israel, stating the true and faithful nature of his parents’ marriage. As far as eleven-year-old Adam was concerned, every married couple had one.

This, coupled with the fact that he was entirely certain that Crowley and Aziraphale were his godfathers, lead to a fairly simple conclusion: They, of course, were married, and as such had a ketubah in their living room.

Truth be told, it was a lovely ketubah. Adam’s imagination must really be something. Not that surprising, considering he was the antichrist and all. But really, it was something beautiful. A large black oak tree stood on one side, a silver-white birch on the other. They intertwined together, the Hebrew text on either side. There were ruby red leaves on both trees.

And underneath, in his very own handwriting, Aziraphale recognized his own signature.

On top of that? He recognized Crowley’s.

His phone was in his hand before he even had taken off his shoes. It rang once, twice, before Crowley picked up. “Miss me already, angel?”

“Not… quite. You, erm, may want to see this.” With that, he hung up, eyes still lingering on the wall. If Hell found out about this-- if Heaven found out about this-- there was no way the bodyswap trick would work twice. They were doomed.

So they wouldn't find out, then.

Crowley opened the door to find Aziraphale pacing in the front of the bookstore, several books on religious lore scattered around his feet. He was holding one open in his hands as he walked, nervously scanning over the words.

“My, angel. What's got your panties all in a twist?” Crowley asked. Truly, the little store looked like a construction zone.

Aziraphale’s head jerked up. “Crowley. You are a Sheyd, correct?”

“Well, I suppose. I mean, most people use the blanket term demon for all of us at some point, but I am one of the sh--”

“But you are experienced in Judaism, yes?” Crowley narrowed his eyes.

“Yes?”

“Right. Good. Right and good. Now, um, how does one cancel a ketubah?”

Crowley paused. His confused expression grew to rather incredulous. “I'm sorry, cancel a ketubah? It’s not an Amazon order, dear, you can’t just—“

Aziraphale shut the book in his hands with a sigh. Well, if he couldn’t tell Crowley, he couldn’t tell anyone. That person could read him quite like a book, if he had ever read.

“I, um. Funny story, really, we, heh. You know about the whole apocalypse?”

“Yeees?” Crowley raised an eyebrow. Of course he knew about the bloody apocalypse. It had only been last week, for Satan’s sake.

“Well, as Adam arranged things, it seems he sort of, hm, bridged a gap of logic? I suppose? And he… well, he sort of--”

“Spit it out, angel.”

“Crowley, we’re married.”

Wait. Married. Married? Oh, come on, Adam. Crowley had at least wanted to break a glass and throw a party at his wedding. Then again, considering who his and Aziraphale’s in-laws were, it was probably best they didn't.

A courthouse wedding suited him anyways. He always wanted to run off and do something wild and rebellious, but now, during their “lay low” period, probably wasn't the best time.

“Well, I suppose it is a long time coming,” Crowley said with a shrug. “I mean, I would've assumed it would happened ages ago.”

“You what? Crowley, we are not in a-- in a relationship of any sorts! That's preposterous!”

“Is it though?” Crowley asked, giving Aziraphale a moment to think. Well. There was no one else he could really trust or relate to, and the humans lived such tiny lives, and Crowley was his best friend, and he had been madly in love with him since the early 1940s. So… wow. Maybe he did have a point.

“Well what will we tell Heaven and Hell? Surely they would disapprove.”

“Oh, angel, please tell me you don't care what they think. They’ve revealed their true colors, who cares if we reveal ours?”

Aziraphale looked slowly around the mess the room had turned into. His glance meandered up to Crowley with a sigh. “Say. How's about we get drunk?”

A smile cracked over Crowley’s face. “Oh, my dear, I thought you'd never ask.”

Two hours had passed, and they had made their way over to Crowley’s home in attempts to find more alcohol. Of course, being a demon of sorts, he was loaded with the stuff. Amber scotch bottles sat empty around them, and knowing the situation, it was a minor miracle they weren't numbering in the double digits.

“And don't get me started on Gabriel. He's such a shvantz… a schmuck. A putz. A…” Aziraphale trailed off, a giggle falling into his voice. “A penis .”

“Wow. You sure showed him, huh? Is that the best insult you've got?” Crowley asked. He casually threw a leg on the table, taking another sip of his whiskey.

“Yes, I rather think it is,” Aziraphale said with a smile. “At this rate, I could be a proper demon, even!”

“Sure you could, Zira,” Crowley remarked. “Y’know, I'm fairly certain two demons can't get married, so then we'd be in even more of a ruddy mess. Can you believe the Duke of Hell trying to fill out paperwork on that one? I think Hastur would gouge my eyes out.” Aziraphale nodded solemnly, his smile slipping just a little. Crowley, who was convinced he knew everything about the angel, noticed straight away.

“You alright, dearest?”

Aziraphale shrugged, his eyes set rather steadily on his glass of scotch. “‘M fine.”

“Ah-ah, angels can't lie darling. Tell me what's the matter.”

Aziraphale momentarily met his gaze before his eyes sunk down again to the drink at hand. “I just wish we could have done this differently.”

Crowley paused, lowering his foot off the table. Oh, shit. This was going to be serious, wasn't it?

“You know, the whole marriage thing. It's supposed to be special, isn't it? A ceremony, a bouquet, a lovely gown. Seven circles, a father walking a betrothed down the aisle. Not just… I don't know, my best friend and me framing a marriage certificate. I wanted to--!” Aziraphale trailed off. He set his glass down with a start. “I wanted to kiss you, Crowley! On my own terms! I wanted to be the one to confess to you, and I wanted a lovely little honeymoon down in New York, and maybe a nice little stop in Vienna. I wanted things to play out slowly, nicely, not… so fast. Why is everything so fast ?” Aziraphale’s voice was cracking now, his gaze steadily on his drink. He didn't think he could say any of this looking Crowley in the eye. He thought he just might break.

Crowley slowly reached for his sunglasses, pulling them down off of his nose. He put his other hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, giving a small smile. “Hey. Hey, there. It's alright, I promise you.” Aziraphale looked up slowly, their eyes finally meeting.

“Your eyes. They're… they're human,” he muttered, looking at the round pupils, the amber irises.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley continued, glossing over the comment. “You and me. We have an eternity to figure this out. We don't have to take it my speed, doll. I'd slow down time for you.” Aziraphale nodded, his fear all but melting out of him.

“You know,” Crowley said, “you're the bravest, the most interesting person I've ever met.”

All of a sudden, Aziraphale couldn't take it anymore. He leaned forward, firmly pressing Crowley’s lips to his. Crowley floundered for just a second, surprise and astonishment taking over. But then he pressed back, eyelashes fluttering closed and heart leaping in his chest.

They'd take things slow. One step at a time, always, until they're both as happy and content as any married couple.

And maybe one day, Crowley would dawn a long black dress and watch as Aziraphale walked down the aisle in a suit of white. Maybe he'd circle his husband seven times, before a glass is broken and they're both hoisted up on chairs among friends. Well, they'd need friends first for that, but maybe. Only the future would tell. And ever since Anathema burned the new ones, no prophecy could predict what would happen next.

But as Crowley leaned forward to kiss Aziraphale again, his strange and ineffable husband, nothing that far ahead mattered. What mattered was this very second.

Crowley was done moving too fast. For Aziraphale, he'd slow down time.

@litttlebrave @madhbh

#aziracrow #fanfiction #good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow fanfiction #aziracrow fanfic #fanfic #good omens is jewish and so am i #phale #original post #text

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crazynekochan · 5 years

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Omegaverse Fantasy AU: There are two kingdoms, one far more prosperous than the other, but the less prosperous kingdom has an skilled army, and a climate & terrain that would make any sort of military campaign pure misery (like if you combined Russia in the winter with the Vietnamese jungle) so they keep the peace by consistent trade for magical resources and technological components that the less prosperous kingdom can’t really use that much but the more prosperous one desperately needs if they want their very advanced magic-tech to keep running.

In the less prosperous kingdom, Mechana, omegas are not very well respected and seen mostly as wanton hussies that need to be controlled lest they shame their families, excepting some border towns. Heck, in more rural and poorer towns, having only an omega child is seen as a sign of weakness on their sire’s part (it’s not true, but this is superstition; stuff is never true). Quite unfortunately for Kazuichi and Mikan, as they both live in those sorts of rural towns and their families take out their frustrations on them.

In the more prosperous kingdom, Novoselic, omegas are pretty much the ideal mates and even common-born omegas can rise to the level of nobility through marriage. To abuse an omega is seen as a great disgrace, especially with the quite low omega birth rate making them very valuable as martial assets (though the omega has final say in who they marry, since they’re going to be stuck with their mate til death do they part). Some nobles are even willing to pay top dollar for the chance to mate an omega.

Seeing a golden opportunity to make some money (pranks and housing get expensive and half the organization was dirt poor before they joined), Kokichi and his organization DICE (which actually does have 10,000 members) create a business to bring omegas over from Mechana to Novoselic and arrange their marriages to high-ranking and/or wealthy sires, with the omegas getting full say in who they meet with and eventually mate, of course. No one’s quite sure if this is considered human trafficking, since the omegas are willingly going, but no one’s gotten arrested for it yet so it’s not against DICE rules.

The DICE agents in Mechana make habits of going into the regions where omegas are more likely to be treated poorly and they ask around about which families have omega children that they want to get rid of. When they find families willing to give up their omega children, they trade the kids for a hefty chunk of gold (which is a hunk of copper with some gold dust on it, of course) and then leave town when the omega is ready to leave (in the case of some highly abused omegas, right after the ‘gold’ changes hands). That the families most often suffer quite unfortunate “accidents” after the DICE agents are at least a couple miles away is a complete coincidence, they swear.

When the DICE agents (for this trip, Miu, Kaede, and Kaito, though they’re technically volunteers) come to Kazuichi’s village, Mr. Souda quickly volunteers Kazuichi up in exchange for the “gold”. Kaz would protest but defying his father rarely ends well and this is an opportunity to get away from his father and a village that has never treated well in his entire life, so he packs up his meager things and climbs onto the DICE covered wagon.

They head out and arrive in the nearby town where Mikan lives, while Kazuichi is lying on his side in the back of the wagon in pure misery from motion sickness, while Kaede is busy trying to use her healing music to help him fix it, if not stop him from barfing all over the back of the wagon (they have another town after this, then they have to get through the border and the smell stays in the wagon, no matter how much you clean).

Mikan comes aboard, very meek and shy, and quickly give Kaz some healing herbs that, while he’s still a bit dizzy, fixes his nausea. And when Kaz thanks her, she starts crying since no one had ever been that nice to her, much to the worry of everyone else in the wagon (Miu wishes she made the “accident” befalling the Tsumikis bigger, just for that).

Finally, they get to the last town on this trip, which is actually quite well off compared to the other towns in the region, the kind of town that Kazuichi and Mikan would define as a small city (it’s closer to a mid-size town, really). Miu is staying with the cart this time and is actually getting to know Mikan pretty well and has gotten on with Kazuichi like a house on fire. They’re in the middle of messing around with a test engine, with Mikan providing worried commentary, when they hear a massive argument approaching them from the town square entrance.

They turn and see that Kaito and Kaede are in the middle of a quite nasty yelling match with an alpha male with long dark hair and blood red eyes, while a brunette omega male is pulling on the mystery alpha’s sleeve to keep him from actually punching Kaito. As all the omegas are quite easily terrified, they hide and watch the argument by peering around the wagon cover hole.

The alpha is Izuru, who is very much against his brother going off with some shady alpha and beta woman to have god knows what happen to him. Hajime wasn’t really sold so much as he volunteered, since their family was greatly in debt and they very much needed the money they would get from DICE (Kaito and Kaede gave them actual gold after hearing their story), which Izuru vocally opposed all the way from their home to the square, where the argument has reached a boiling point.

Izuru notices Miu, Mikan, and Kazuichi peering at them from the cart (and they immediately go back into hiding because scary angry alpha) and gets angrier, convinced that this is actually an omega trafficking scheme (and it technically is, they haven’t worked out the whole “is this legal” thing yet). Because they’re causing a scene and this might actually turn into a fight, Kaede speaks up and suggests that Izuru come with Hajime as an escort, since that would prove that this isn’t a trafficking scheme (what idiot traffickers would bring the highly overprotective alpha brother of one of the omegas they’re trying to traffic, after all?). Hajime agrees to get Izuru to calm down, which makes Izuru reluctantly agree, giving threatening glances to Kaede and Kaito all while wishing their parents goodbye and getting in the wagon.

Kaz, Mikan, and Miu all scoot as far away from Izuru as they can in the (not very roomy) wagon, but Hajime is much more personable and by the time they reach the border checkpoint, they’ve all become friends. They get let through the checkpoint relatively quickly and, after another day’s worth of travel (by which point the herbs that Mikan gave Kazuichi have all run out and worn off, so now Kaz is suffering from motion sickness again), they all arrive at the DICE Matchmaking Service HQ (which looks a lot like a love hotel, something that makes Izuru distinctly unhappy).

They finally disembark and are greeted at the front by part-timers Komaru and Aoi, who usher them to the rooms that they’ll be staying in while the matchmaking process goes on. When the group has gotten settled, they have dinner and meet with Shuichi and Kyoko (who are the part of the screening process for the agency) after. They meet individually, with each omega telling the two detectives what they want in a partner (Mikan apologizing and crying all the while) and the two detectives note their reactions, special traits, and personalities to better check for compatibility.

When their meetings are done, the detectives wish the newcomers good night and head to Kokichi’s office with their findings. After giving Kokichi the basic rundown of each omega’s personality and appearance, Kokichi turns to his big board of sires and planned matches, looking extensively over it until he places some cautious pins and string connecting Kazuichi to Gundham (the princess’s best friend and the court animal trainer/sorcerer), Mikan to Ibuki and Chiaki (Ibuki (alpha, sorry) is a very famous bard and Chiaki is one of the most prominent gamers/mages in the continent, looking for a third in their relationship), and Hajime to Nagito (Grand Duke and the king’s nephew on his mother’s side). After looking over the connections, Kokichi tells Kyoko to tell Gundham, Ibuki, and Nagito in the morning that they’ve got a match.

Kazuichi and Mikan have never been in housing this nice or had food that good, so they’re really happy but scared about what the future may bring. Hajime and Izuru, who are still pretty cautious about this whole enterprise but needs to put on a brave face for Kaz and Mikan, who are much more nervous, act pretty happy too but when Kaz and Mikan are asleep, they have a quiet discussion about what would happen if this turns out to be a terrible idea. Izuru swears to protect Hajime before he gets hurt, they hug and then head to sleep, a bit worried and already preparing ways to escape with all of them alive and intact in case this goes sour.

(AN: And that’s where I’m ending it because good god, I need to sleep. I’ll probably send more asks about this Matchmaker AU, but this initial set is way too long for an ask chain. Please leave some feedback!)

—

Mod: I am so in love with this. I actually read this one a few times over the last few weeks. Though I always go “poor baby” when I read it, because I feel so bad for them all ;-;

Anyway, that is a very awesome idea and sadly the first time I saw it in such a way. I saw many prompts and fics with such omega matchmaking services, but they never were voluntary on the omega’s side. So it’s such a wonderful change to see one where it’s all about rescuing omegas from their bad homes and letting all the say in their hands

Kokichi would be so boss at his job at finding the perfect match, since he is after all a very analytical person and deeply caring, even if he never really shows it. But by god he would have the time of his life making the omegas’ shitty families miserable for mistreating their children for their dynamic (What would make it even more badass if we added in my personal HC that Kokichi would also be an omega, but that is of course up to you) Also great call to have Kyoko and Shuichi do background checks on everyone who comes into the matchmaking service to make sure that everyone is safe

Truth to be told, I could actually see Sonia funding DICE’s projects since she does have a high sense for justice. And also because her best friend and cousin are after all also trying to find a match through the service

I loved how you put in Izuru and why Hajime decided to go there. It fits them both well, and the thought of Nagito later on trying to court Hajime while Izuru is literally giving him death stares since he doesn’t trust him for a moment is funny as hell. Btw. there is no need to feel sorry for having a character have a dynamic that isn’t my personal HC. This is your story and I’m not some dictator who decides on headcanons ^^ So in short, feel free to change things up as much as you like ♥

I wonder how the courting of all the characters would look like, considering the background of how they met and especially their characters. I could imagine Nagito not feeling like he is actually deserving of someone like Hajime, while Izuru is as mentioned giving him constant death glares. Gundham is seriously questioning just what in god’s name made him sign up at the matchmaking service when he gets the note that they found a match, which he really doesn’t believe, until he meets Kazuichi and his brain just deep fries. While Mikan would probably hit it right off with Ibuki and Chiaki, however her trauma would be the biggest problem in their case

#submission #friendlylifecherry #soudam #komahina #nanatsumioda #omegaverse #omega matchmaking au #prompt

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starsailorstories · 5 years

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So about the Vega-Revonis, I’ve been working on the bit of vol. 2 that involves them and I need to do some slight reconning of who’s who I think BUT they’re very fun in a like...eccentric faded aristocracy, seedy underside of the upper crust way, and interesting from a worldbuilding standpoint because in many ways they represent and are striving for Ideals of Altamaian culture (which heavily informs Basilean culture) specifically. They’re so fun (and have such nifty ultra-traditionally altamaian outfits) that I even drew (some of) them. But anyways might as well hit you with the facts

The Vegas and the Revonis have lived on this one plateau on Altamai since the settlement of Altamai, shortly after which settling they each noticed the other and decided they had 2 options: they could all sword fight each other constantly until both family trees were cut off at the root, or they could all marry each other and only sword fight sometimes when that shit inevitably went south. They went with the latter.

On an adjacent, slightly lower plateau closer to the cloud line is a city in which the commoners/peasants who serve (“and are served by!” Aethema would promptly interject because that is the fantasy world she lives in) both families, and also other folks, live. Most of them are descendants of the same colonies as the title-bearing families.

Because of their historical marital connection with the planetary High Queendom, they’re at least nominal favorites of the exiled queen and are at least nominally prepared to rush to her defense if she ever does come home. In the meantime they’re doing all the Royalist Things like naming their oldest daughter Fidelity and worshipping the specifically Altamaian-politics-related goddesses the loudest

They’re Old School and don’t use clone labor, and are actually pretty proud of giving their servants a good situation, but the social and economic climate makes that kind of a weird thing because of course a good situation is supposed to be reciprocated with Gratitude and Loyalty. All their long-term help swing back and forth between affection and silent resentment for them and they’ve probably had a conversation amongst themselves in the linen room where someone finally brought up that dynamic and everyone sighed with relief and were like “you too?! THANK GOODNESS i thought it was just me”

The Vegas’ bit of it is called Fortune Flats and it at one point looked a lot more castle-like than it currently does. They had some new roofs put on and installed some gaslights but it’s got like, walled gardens and high parapets and domes and fountains all over the place, it’s intense

Living in the house at the time it becomes relevant to the story are:

HER GRACE MAXIMATA CANTATIA FORTEFEMEN VEGA, Chivalry’s grandaunt, daughter of the Mother who connects the Vega-Revoni alliance with the pre-empire royal line and adoptee into the royal household at one point, who is incredibly grand and dignified and stylish but also VERY old and pretty out of it. Still entertains a great and personal bitterness about the coup which she has passed on to the whole family. Usually holds a post somewhere in the gardens and tells circuitous stories of Motherworld’s golden age

Maega, Cantatia’s devoted assistant, whom she calls Avia, the name of her previous assistant who got married and moved away decades ago. Very patient but definitely subtly fed up with all of their nonsense

Otemia Fortefemen Vega, First Daughter of the daughter of Cantatia’s late wife and inheritor of her Mother’s title and her grand-demimatri’s royal dignity (which is a thing that can be passed down the line of succession as the Queen’s daughters don’t marry just anyone and those relationships are likely to be l o n g). Born and brought up in the immediate wake of the coup that sent the Fortefemens into exile and instilled with a heavy sense of her Duty and Obligation, which she reportedly rebelled against at every turn when she was Chivalry’s age but has now really dug her heels into.

Aethema Revoni, Second Daughter of Maxima Alouine Revoni, who was entered into an arranged marriage with Otemia to ensure a piece of that royal dignity (which can no longer be inherited after the last link to the queen’s family in a noble house has died--it makes sense once you accept that primogeniture is about who raises you as much as who births you) stuck with Maxima Alouine’s granddaughters. Like Otemia, she had a very strict upbringing with a very strong sense that the future of Altamaian Tradition rested on shoulders such as hers, and while she’s never really questioned that, she is very determined to be less rigid and distant than her own parents were. She’s not like the other noble sennamiae, she’s a cool noble sennamia

Ell, a lady’s maid who’s worked at Fortune Flats for centuries. When Otemia’s Jenya-born betrothed moved in with her packed social calendar and extensive wardrobe, the older generation agreed that it should fall to Ell to take care of her, but she and Otemia have been good friends since they were teenagers, so in practice she takes care of both of them. Even though she didn’t at all sign up for it she is sort of their therapist/marriage counselor. It’s...she’s paid well.

Loriane Revoni, the First Daughter of the current Maxima Revoni; she’ll have the title too someday. Although their parents didn’t Promise Them To The Future Of The Alliance like the previous generation did, she and Fidelity grew up kind of obsessed with each other of their own accord and got married as soon as they came of age. Jury’s out on whether that would’ve happened if they hadn’t been the only kids the same age for hundreds of miles in any direction. Loriane’s actually a really sweet person, and she and Chivalry get on well, but she’s also probably the most neurotic character in the thing who’s not actually coming off of major trauma.

Fidelity Vega, who is Chivalry’s oldest sister, the heir to Otemia’s title and the next Mother of their colony--which is to say, she’s sheltered, coddled, and performatively adored by almost everyone around her. She’s nearly thirty (quinturns) and she’s got kids already, and in a lot of ways she’s the picture of everything a titled Mother “should” be without trying, so she’s doubly determined to be the most perfect leader for the colony and the family that she can be. The only thing is that what that looks like? Is something that’s been dictated to her entirely by her own parents, by Cantatia and by her own Mother, who all have their own agendas and who are wrapped up in a very immoral system. Fidelity has a selfish side, but she’s also realizing that nothing she does occurs in a vacuum.

The colony midwives, who I feel bad for discussing as a unit but like, there’s 6 of them and I haven’t written dialogue for any of them yet. “Midwife” is my like....herstory-respectin’ translation of an Altamaian word that perhaps more literally means “Mother’s attendant.” Three of them served Fidelity’s Mother, and three of them are new and under their mentorship. When there are new babies who haven’t been adopted out to the colony yet they help take care of them, and the rest of the time they’re just basically handmaidens for Fidelity and Loriane and nannies for Jenyata (see below)

Dignity Vega, who is the middle kid between Fidelity and Chivalry, and that alone is its own kind of heroism. Loriane got her a job taking care of equipment for the current Altamaian Royal Guard, who currently are not guarding anything because the in-their-opinion rightful Queen is in exile in the Milky Way. They still show up every day and take their posts on the palace grounds to make sure no miscreants get in and everything is ready for their lady’s return. Dignity is understandably ready for something to shift already.

Chivalry Vega who you’ve met already

Jenyata Vega, Fidelity’s First Daughter, who is somewhere in the 6-quinturns-old department and is giving Cantatia a run for her money as the true Great Lady of the house

Iva, the gardener, who was a soldier and a gunner on an asteroid trawler before this but didn’t really have anyplace to retire to and somehow got this setup. No one remembers who officially hired her, it was probably Maega honestly. Despite being Very Big and having a voice like she smokes 4 packs a day she’s a notable sweetheart and basically Jenyata’s best friend.

#sweet chariot #hmmm idk how to tag this bc they're all just in this one bit #they're not likely to need bigger character tags #i'll just go #chivalry vega #vol. 2

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the-gedonelune-times · 5 years

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Part Of The Family

This request took a bit longer to post than expected. I apologize for the delay as sickness might have gotten the better of me and hindered any and all progress on writing projects. I will be working on the other requests that I’ve gotten, but it might take a little while longer to get them posted until I’m feeling better than what I am.

Anyways, despite all that, I’m happy to be posting a fluffy Golden Bacon fic! I hope you guys are having a wonderful day and enjoy this short little fic.

“Will you stop pacing back and forth like that? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you have no reason to be getting so nervous.”

“I have every reason to be getting nervous. I’m about to meet your parents for crying out loud.”

“Your point?”

“My...my point?! Isn’t it obvious? I’m about to stay at *the* Goldstein estate. I mean your family is the noblest in all of Gedonelune. I just worry that I’m going to make a bad impression.”

“I highly doubt it. Besides, you’ve already met Elias and Klaus.”

“But only briefly. I haven’t spent a while trying to get to know them.”

“Well, I can tell you already that you have nothing to worry about regarding those two, or my mother.”

“What about your father?”

“I’m positive that he’ll accept our relationship and you into the family.”

“Ugh...I hope.”

“Just trust me. Now hurry up and finish packing your stuff, we have to leave soon if we want to make it there at a good time.”

“I know, I know.”

Once packed, the two of them hurried on out for the train station where they waited to board the next train. It wasn’t too long of a wait, but for Caesar, it was agonizing. The worst part was when he got on the train, knowing that there was no turning back now. Yes, he had reassurance from Alfonse that things were going to be okay, but even so, it didn’t stop the anxiety that was making it hard for him to breathe or think straight.

As the scenery zoomed by, so did his thoughts. The only thing keeping him from having a total meltdown was the fact that Alfonse had kept a tight grip on his hand the entire ride so far. It offered the little bit of comfort that he needed and he soon found himself leaning his head on Alfonse’s for the rest of the ride to the estate.

Once they arrived at their stop, they were greeted to a rather fancy styled carriage. The crest of the Goldstein family seemed to shine proudly on the side of it and for some reason, Caesar was beginning to feel a knot in his stomach.

“Caesar? Are you coming?”

Alfonse, who was already in the carriage, held out his hand for Caesar to grab onto.

“Oh...yes. I am.”

Taking hold of his hand, Caesar stepped into the carriage and took a seat opposite of Alfonse. The coachman shut their door before hopping into the front, grabbing the reigns, signaling for the horses to begin their journey. The ride along the road was a bit bumpy here and there, but for the most part it was rather relaxing, except for the rather eerie silence that was beginning to fill the carriage. Caesar wanted to speak up, to try and ease the tension that was brewing, but it seemed that Alfonse beat him to it first.

“So, how are you holding up?”

“I’m alright.”

“I know you’re lying.”

“H-Huh?”

“It’s written all over your face and in your body language. I mean, you’ve been bouncing your knee up and down this whole time.”

“Have I really?”

Caesar looked down to see that Alfonse was right, his leg was bouncing up and down and he found himself getting a bit embarrassed. He knew he shouldn’t be this nervous, but try as he may, nothing seemed to be calming him down. He still had so many fears and it was all becoming much too overwhelming.

Suddenly, the carriage came to a rather bumpy stop and when Caesar looked out of the window, he could see that he was already at the estate. Once they exited the carriage and grabbed their bags, a woman with medium length hair was practically rushing over to where they were.

“Alfonse! Oh, my sweet boy, I’m so happy to see you again!”

The woman then pulled Alfonse into a hug and when she pulled away, she looked over in Caesar’s direction.

“Oh? I assume this must be the handsome young man that I’ve heard so much about?”

“Yes.” Alfonse smiled before gesturing at Caesar to come over.

He was a little hesitant but moved closer to where the two were standing. Much to his surprise, Mrs. Goldstein pulled him into a hug and began to laugh.

“Oh, I’m just so happy to meet you! You seem like such a sweet man.”

Marissa pulled away from him and then took a step back before smiling at the two.

“He really is, mother. That’s why I’m happy to announce that he and I are actually engaged and have been for a couple of months now.”

“Well, then he’s practically a Goldstein already! Oh, your father will love the news.”

Mrs. Goldstein clasped her hands in front of her as she began walking back towards the front of the estate, leaving Alfonse and Caesar to fall behind as they walked a bit more slowly.

“I told you everything would be fine. My mother already adores you.”

“Yes, it’s a relief.”

“But you’re still worried, right?”

“Not like before, nothing even close to that. I think now my worry is saying or doing something wrong.”

“I highly doubt that will happen. But if by some crazy reason it does, then know I have your back. You’re not going through this alone. To be honest… this is the first time in years that I’ve come back to this place. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried as well. But you see, that’s alright because going forward and seeing what happens is better than staying behind and asking the question of ‘what could have happened.’ I want to take this chance. Sure, this place holds many memories, some good, some bad. Back then, I was in a bad place in my life, being forced into an arranged marriage and practically having my life plans being laid out by someone other than myself...it was too much, so I ran and I left the people I loved so much behind and filled with sorrow. But I’m in a new chapter of my life, I’m doing what I love to do the most and I’m living my life to the fullest. But the best part is that I get to share everything with you.”

“Al.”

“Sorry.” Alfonse chuckled. “Guess I went on a little ramble. The point of the whole thing is that sometimes, trying to get out of your set comfort zone to do things, can open a door to new paths to happiness and adventure.”

“Once again Al, you’ve blown me away with your advice giving. Have you ever thought of being a professor?”

“No, I’d much rather be out helping others.”

“I had a feeling you’d say something like that.”

“Oh, what are you? A mind reader now?”

Caesar nudged Alfonse as the two of them continued walking and chatting about. When they reached the front door, there were already maids waiting for them so they could take their luggage to their rooms.

Walking into the estate, was like walking into a palace, the marble flooring, and white walls with gold accents adorning the top and bottom, gave off such a regal feel. So much so, that Caesar was beginning to feel like a king.

“So this is the inside of the famous Goldstein Estate? It’s breathtaking.”

“Yeah, but it also feels dull. But then again, perhaps the reason I feel that way is because I’ve grown accustomed to my life outside of the noble aspect.”

“Alfonse.”

A low and authoritative voice called out to Alfonse from across the room. There, walking towards them was none other than Mr. Goldstein himself.

“Oh, hello, father.”

“It’s been a while since the last time I saw you.” Mr. Goldsteing paused for a second to look over at Caesar.

“Oh, father, this is Caesar, he’ll be staying with us for the next few days.”

“What a familiar name...ah, yes. Now I remember. You were the one that the Ministry was after. The Star Saphire incident I believe. I heard it through my son and his branch in the Ministry.”

Yep. It was official, Caesar was about to literally throw up after hearing that statement. He thought he could forget that point in the past, but it seemed like there was just no forgetting it. Especially now. But the most craziest part was when Walter wrapped an arm around them both and smiled.

“I can tell from your pale face you’re probably thinking I’m mad or that I’m thinking poorly of you. But it’s quite the opposite. Hearing the story of you breaking a curse that has been passed down for generations, and even taking on the Ministry. You’re pretty brave to do something like that.”

Then, he leaned over and whispered to Alfonse.

“You’re planning on keeping him, right?”

“Of course, but how did you..”

“Your mother told me. The moment she came in here, she practically ran into my office and began talking about how you were engaged.”

Alfonse chuckled. “I’m not surprised.”

Walter smiled before releasing the two.

“Well now, I’d say that it’s time for dinner to begin shortly. So why don’t you go up into your rooms and get settled in before dinner.”

“Hold it right there you two.”

Mrs. Goldstein had just come into the room and in her hands, she held a camera.

“We should take a picture to commemorate this moment!”

“Marissa…” Walter sighed and placed a hand on his forehead.

“Elias! Klaus!”

Mrs. Goldstein began to shout out and about a minute later, both Klaus and Elias were walking downstairs to where everyone else was.

“Is something wrong.”

“Yes. You boys need to go over and sit on the couch. Walter, you too. Oh and Alfonse I want you to be by your brothers, oh! Klaus, scoot a bit over to this side…”

Mrs. Goldstein began putting everyone in their places before she got into hers. But only after getting the attention of a nearby maid, asking her to take the picture of them. But right before the maid was about to take the picture, Mrs. Goldstein stopped her.

“Caesar, why don’t you scoot in closer towards Alfonse and he boys. You’re practically family now, no need to be shy!”

Caesar’s eyes went wide when he noticed that everyone, even Walter himself was smiling at him. The whole time he had been nervous, wondering if he’d be accepted into the family and here they were, already calling him part of the family without even a hint of hesitation. Had he been alone, he might have shed a tear, but since he was in front of everyone, he wanted to remain calm and collected.

Once he scooted in, the maid began a countdown and at the final number, the camera clicked: a brief flash of light following after. After the photo was taken, Mrs. Goldstein was already moving from her spot to take back the camera, before going around and scouting for a good area to place the new family photo. Meanwhile, Alfonse took hold of Caesar’s hand and pulled him to the side, away from the now starting commotion.

“Feeling better?”

“More than what you can imagine.”

Alfonse chuckled before leaning a bit into Caesar.

“So what are we going to do now?”

“Well, dinner isn’t due for another hour or so. Perhaps you and I should make use of that time and head upstairs to unpack and rest up a bit. Believe me, we’ll need it, I have no doubt that my parents will be pestering you with questions. Not to mention all the outside activities and stuff they’ll probably have planned for us.”

“Outside activities?”

“Yeah, we sometimes throw an outside party around this time of year for relatives, sort of like a reunion. Oh, and we have a trail meant for horseback riding, hiking, and even camping. Believe me, there’s a lot we’ll have to keep us busy.”

“It all sounds fun and all and believe me, I can’t wait to partake in them...well, I might be a little nervous about the reunion part. But… I would like to spend at least a whole day of doing activities that you like, Al.”

“I’ll be sure to have that arranged.” Alfonse smiled. “Now come on, let’s hurry up and get unpacking.”

#alfonse goldstein #caesar baroque #golden bacon #fluff #wizardess heart #fic request

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gaycharr · 5 years

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some tweaks / recapping of Marina’s backstory now that I’ve developed her a bit more:

-im thinking the Renworth name probably is more business than political. think old money and a bunch of old traditional humans. have lots of business connections everywhere and an influential name. your average “rich corporate family who really only care about profit at this point” types

-noble father, i think marina’s mother probably wasn’t a noble though. her mother was her dad’s second wife. family didn’t really like her mom much either, for various reasons (most of which could be chalked up to the family being assholes and pissed off that the dad didn’t marry another noble to further strengthen the name / bloodline)

-older half sister, diff mothers. sister’s mom was a full noble (i think her and the dad had an arranged marriage, but they really did care for each other greatly), but she passed away when Marina’s sister was pretty young (probably 3-5).

-I think she’s probably about 6-7 years older than Marina? so she might have been off doing school and various other things a lot when Marina was really young, but even so the two are very close and Marina’s sister never hesitates to stand up for her. she kind of relishes arguing with her family. fuck them.

-family favored her sister more and she was the ‘golden child’, but her sister also renounced the family name when Marina was prob about 15 or so and left to go do her own thing and join the Seraphs and stuff b/c she hates the noble culture and tradition of her family. Marina’s sister was always very vocally opinionated and not afraid to argue, but up until then the family had just brushed it off and let themselves believe it was something that she’d grow out of, preferably just in time to settle down and marry.

-they also kind of judge Marina b/c her dad met her mom shortly after his first wife passed away so there was low key lots of rumors and venom about how he MUST have been cheating and what not (the reality is just that shit happens. his wife died and then he met marina’s mom while away on a business thing a few months-a year later and fell in love hard)

-a very smart child. also oddly naive and innocent (its the adhd). when she got old enough to realize that people might perceive her in a negative way it really changed her worldview in a shocking way. before about 8 or so she’d p much always approached everyone openly and happily, ready to bond or talk with anyone. Suddenly aware of the disapproval of others, she becomes really quiet and withdrawn after this and a bit of a people pleaser.

-Marina and her parents actually had a really good relationship. Her mother passed away when she was a young teen I think though? It really affected her, because her and her mother were both one of the few ‘commoners’ to enter into the family and her mom often protected her from family criticism and was basically one of Marina’s best friends. (not that the family is very kind to one another to begin w/ but still)

- ^^ that being said, her father is also v supportive but he’s the oldest son of the current family head so esp after his second wife died and his family started putting more pressure on him following, he wasn’t around very much at all after that (often away on business and what not). like he’s there for his daughters but he’s not there. He’s trying to appease his family and live up to / off his own guilts and shames

-Marina always had a great interest in magic (something her family considers frivolous and unimportant at best and dangerous / evil at worst). When her mom was alive it wasn’t so much an issue, her mom probably argued for her behind the scenes (as well as her sister), and so the worst Marina experienced was probably scoffs and remarks about how it was something she’d move on from. but after her mom passed away the pressure from her family for Marina to take up more ‘useful’ interests / hobbies only increased as time went on.

-Since her family wasn’t that supportive though she never really got proper schooling on magic at this point, though she did have open access to all kinds of resources, so she was able to do quite a bit of self teaching. didnt often focus on one kind of magic, instead her interest kind of jumps from type to type. consumes information and books at a scary rate

-didn’t have really any friends her age. she was kind of a socially awkward person at this point, so she wasn’t very good at reaching out to her peers. the most peer interaction she probably had was being tutored in the same classes as other noble children. her being a ‘weird’ noble child who sometimes talked too loud or was too eager and had weird interests in magic didn’t make her very popular to begin with as well.

-For a while Marina DID try to be the ideal noble heir for her family after her mother passed. With her dad being the next head of the business, and her oldest sister having revoked the name already, she did have quite a bit of weight on her irt her family now placing their expectations on her shoulder’s instead of her sister’s. They were harder for her to please though because again, they had favored her sister and already didn’t agree w/ her interests (and after her sister left, they REALLY started being vocal about how anything but doing what the family expects is bad)

-Eventually though, with help from her sister and undercover assistance from her dad (him squirreling away money for her, helping her invest and get her own revenue coming in . . .just in case she upset the family too much or broke away like her sister), she ended up seeking to join the priory even though it angered her family (they didnt agree / understand why she wanted to go research impossible magical things when there was the option to go to a nice business school instead. or maybe even arrange a political business marriage)

-I think she had already had an instant interest in necromancy. Not for any specifically deep reason (though perhaps the early death of her mother contributed subconsciously to her being more into it later on ?). I think she just happened upon a book about it when she was reading random magic tomes as a kid and was just immediately into it. the intricacies and uses are just appealing to her, its a lot you can puzzle out and work with.

-Perhaps a part of her was also drawn to it simply because she knew that of all the magic to REALLY take up, necromancy would probably displease her family the most. like adhd rsd is a bitch especially when you’re younger and don’t realize that’s what it is, so she REALLY hated disappointing anyone, especially authority / familial figures. but even so that didn’t stop her from realizing that they were kind of jackass hypocrites and wanting to rebel and do her own thing

-anyways she joins the priory probably when she’s like ? maybe 17-18? at this point she’s probably managed to get some official magical schooling by herself but nothing that deep. Her family name helps her get the attention of the Priory, and a quick proving of her intelligence / aptitude for magic, PLUS the fact she was mostly self taught till now, means she joins rather easily.

-probably a novice in the priory for about a year or two? then she becomes a magister. at this point, with actual teachers and proper resources (not to mention hands on experience), she’s become REALLY good at magic. She’s excelled at necromancy, able to use it with the comfort and ease that belies a lot of study and practice. She’s also well versed in p much all the other schools of magic, at least in theory. Even if she doesn’t know how to actually USE it herself, she has a fair bit of knowledge on p much all subjects and is always open to learning more about anything.

-her and Sieran were probably bff’s and often got in trouble together. maybe they kissed once ? idk. i need to learn more about Sieran tbh pfff.

-being in the priory and surrounded by others who shared her interest though really helped her bloom from that socially awkward girl who never talked to anyone out of anxiety to a socially awkward girl who loves to socialize anyways and tries not to worry about being a little loud and rambly at times. Even though she doubts herself she really starts to cultivate this natural charisma that just draws other towards her. There’s just something about talking to someone who is as open as Marina is, who isn’t worried about being a little awkward and doesn’t mind some word fumbling from the person she’s talking too, that can really put one at ease.

-she is still connected to her family and still has to deal with them. not sure why she hasn’t left yet, but i think she’s often pondered the idea of taking over her family’s business and turning it into something Good. Either way, i think it’s understandable that even considering it all she’s hesitant to break from her family as her sister did. she still tries to please them, but only enough so that they don’t outright hate her and try to disown her (though it would be hard since her father is the head of the business now and certainly wouldn’t allow that)

#c: marina #long post #sorry i got kinda carried away i was just typing #anyways this is all her backstory development for now #your sister in game is named Debbie right ? i still havent decided if that's canon or not for marina's sister hm.

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