#however!!! at his old age he would not be saying sir to every male figure he meets- southern gentlemen use that to be polite | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowerwrites06 · 3 years

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break my mind’s eye VII — jjk

Plot: Jungkook thinks marriage is the only way to seal a deal.

Pairing(s): Druglord!Jungkook x Fashion Designer!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 7k+

Genre: Mafia | Angst/Smut/Fluff

Tags & Warnings (for entire series): drug dealing, marriage through trickery, explicit smut, drug use, dubious consent, prostitution, miscarriage, lots of manipulation, impregnation through manipulation

JEON JUNGKOOK TIES THE KNOT!

‘It’s a sad day indeed as the most eligible bachelor in the city is now officially married! The ceremony took place in a garden like-setting on the grounds of the old Jeon manor where we could see the cherry blossoms falling on Kim Belle’s veil.

The couple absolutely glowed in the afternoon light and Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes off his new bride. While this relationship came as a surprise to everyone, many sources speculate that the two had been liaising for years in secret. Leave it the Jeon family to be as extravagant yet discreet as possible.

As per the family’s tradition, they will be staying in the manor for two nights before going back to their shared home.

Belle’s dress had been a little underwhelming to some of us until we got word that her waistline is encrusted with approximately 96 5 carat diamonds, the whole dress designed and created by Madame Saito, her mentor and one of the leading designers of our country. So appearances are quite deceiving as we’re looking at an easily $20, 000 wedding dress adorned by the new heiress.

The whole ceremony moved as smoothly as the falling flowers. Definitely a step up from the previous few articles written for Kim Belle in poor taste. The new Mrs. Jeon takes the award for being the most elegantly majestic bride of the year.’

“Sorry, sir?” Yoongi asked to make sure he heard Jungkook ask him to come over to his office for a private meeting. There were two ways this could go. Either a bullet in his head or a bullet he has to put in someone else’s head. Namjoon told him a lot of stories of how newer members of any mafia made you kill someone at least once to test true loyalty. Because really one could die to save themselves from any more misery but living their entire life responsible for a murder was a whole other story.

Jungkooks’ expression did not falter in the slightest, still in his proper wedding attire with a light tint on his lips from Belle’s lipstick. “It’s only going to be a few minutes.” He walked past him having every expectation of being followed.

Yoongi did not hesitate to continue walking along the large regal hallway before turning right into a dark rustic office. A much older man already situated himself on the couch while two guards stood on each side of a figure resting on his knees in front of the table.

The usual bright and luxurious light in the rest of the mansion unfortunately did not reach this room. Scent of tobacco mixed in with expensive cologne and sweat swirling in a dark room adorned with deep brown furniture. This was a place of purely business. Despite the pretty lavenders on Jungkooks’ breast pockets matching the flowers in Belle’s hair.

“Park Jeongsu…he was found in midst of exchanging letters to the mayor.” The older male spoke in a gruff tone possibly from the smoke infecting his throat.

“Thank you, uncle.” Jungkook stared down at the wooden box lined in purple velvet. “Do you see that? That’s what you called loyalty.” Fingers traced the outline of some diagram on the top that Yoongi could quite catch but it shone in gold. “Chul has been mingling with the likes of our own gang…” He scoffed with a smile. “Clever.”

Yoongis’ heart seemed quickly tumble down into a tight cage situated somewhere deep in an endless abyss. There was more sources for the mayor. Just how many rats did they have in this place? The man understandably was given minimal information so it was easy for him to stay unknowing and a little confused.

“I despise disloyal people, Jeongsu. I really do.” He attempted to give the trembling male an apologetic look but anyone could sense there was no sincerity. “Especially on one of most joyous occasions of my life, I expected all my soldiers to stay by my side. To protect me as I have tried to protect you and your families. I’ve always tried to be a gracious leader.” Jungkook shrugged. “If it were my father, your own balls would be stuffed down your throat until you choke to death.”

The mere description and Yoongi saw the male on his knees breathing heavily, the cloth around his mouth inflating at every breath.

“Of course today I can’t get my hands dirty.” He moved both hands away from the box. “I need to be gracious and generous today in honor of my new beloved wife.” Jungkook leaned on the edge of the table by his hands. “Thankfully my uncle was nice enough to question you while I was gone…” He gestured towards his blood soaked shirt and swollen eye. “So if you’ve come this far to me, that means you’re of no use.”

The words barely settled into the room but muffled protesting began from the vulnerable target. Even if the cloth wasn’t hindering his clarity, Jungkook and his uncle probably would not have had any remorse to step away. This wasn’t a family or business of mercy.

Flickering open the wooden box, Jungkook in his most casual aura picked up the shining silver object. Each bullet placed inside with heartwarming care before the older mans’ voice slithered through the intimate moment.

“Jungkook…” His uncle warned with a stern tone, smoke riddling the air around him. “It’s bad luck to execute someone on your wedding day.”

“I know.” He muttered without sparing him a sideways glance. Once everything had been prepared, Jungkook walked around the table and stood in front of the traitor. The gun handed out in Yoongis’ direction.

All eyes were on the male now and he never felt more uncomfortable in his entire life. He had been stuck in a trunk before so that was saying something. Eyes flickered from the older man to Jungkook to the male who clearly had been on his side. Of course refusing to do so would end with both their lives taken and then this whole operation would combust back into nothingness.

You’ve shot guns before. Not at innocent people.

No one was truly innocent. At least that was sentiment he plastered in his mind hiding away all the warnings and alarms from his conscience. Padding closer to where Jungkook stood, his heart raced faster at every step swallowing down any protest struggling to push through.

The thrashing faded away into a meek sob as Yoongi faced the man. Much to his discontent, the lack of lines on his face and the broken brightness in his eyes showed that he was but a boy. Possibly a tad younger than Jungkook himself or his age. Either way his mind now haunted itself with the prospect of killing a near child for the sake of his operation. Was it worth to take a life for this?

He was not the only one risking things however. This boy was one of many who were already victims of Jungkooks’ rule, at least Yoongi knew the one kneeling before him had fought for a cause.

Clicking back the safety, Yoongi tightened his jaw ignoring the tears streaming down their cheek and the giant eyes staring back at him.

For a few seconds the younger male calmed himself to an almost peaceful breathing state. It was brief and hard to truly notice but Yoongi saw the little nod he gave him. Reassuring the older male that this needed to be done. One life to protect the many.

In a rush of adrenaline Yoongi pulled the trigger. It wasn’t as loud as the guns he received in the precinct. Perfect for quick and quiet executions especially during these occasions. For a moment he could pretend that nothing even happened. Though blood leaking from the hole made on the others’ forehead spoke a truer story.

To the side he dropped, light thud echoing in the room before nothing but silence plunged comfortably.

“The den in Gongneung needs to be put under heavy security. I remember him one of the boys who was patrolling there.” Jungkook nodded towards the unmoving figure before fixated his gaze on the two guards who immediately bowed in response. “And I want a private meeting with the person who brought him in as a tribute.” He finally turned to Yoongi, expression softening a little at how frozen the man was. Carefully he patted him on the back. “You did well, Yoongi. I know being a medical apprentice, this isn’t exactly your line of work but I need to see whether it’s safe to have you around.” A small smile played on his lips. “I suppose I can always trust Belle’s judgement.”

Yoongi forced him to meet the younger male’s gaze, an awkward smile flickered but quickly faded away as he dumbly watched Jungkook take the gun away from him and put it on the table gently.

The boy lay limp on the dark wood slowly being painted with blood, deepening its hue into a deep wine glistening in the lowlight. Definitely not a sight supposed to be seen on an auspicious day.

Jungkook watched the blood ooze across the room and merely stood over it to move closer to the door. “Clean this up. No more tasks until I get to the mansion.” He ordered simply. “Yoongi…”

His attention flicked back to reality in a rush of cold air before following Jungkook along like a confused puppy.

As the bright light almost burned his eyes, Yoongi pretended that he just woke up from a really bad dream and nothing ever happened. He learned how to do that very quickly in his career especially after he shot his first person in the field. Not the healthiest way to cope but his pay did not actually cover for therapy.

Jungkook dug his hands into his pockets looking out the window. A bright, perfect day to be married after so long of hearing one proposal after the other. It was finally done. Eyes flickered towards the raven haired male who finally caught up to stand next to him. “Unfortunately I have to ask you another favor as well, Yoongi.”

“Does it involve me killing anyone? Can I have a five minute break first?”

The younger male chuckled before shaking his head. “No…it’s—it’s a little more delicate than that.”

Yoongis’ brows furrowed, all of his attention now dissipated into what he was going to say. Though he hated to admit he had a small idea of who it involved.

Jungkook stammered before glancing around the hallway and sighing. “It’s about the wedding night…”

The first thing she took off was her heavy earrings as they were led into one of the private rooms to change into more comfortable clothing. Apparently Boyoung wanted to have a small word with the two of them before they went off to bed. Her limbs felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets with how exhausted she was. Who knew just wearing a heavy dress and walking around would take so much out of you.

Belle understand on a whole new level just how models felt having to create such a strong demeanor that even pain could not pass across their features. Hours spent on chatting people up and others admiring the now famous waistline on her dress. The girl loved the dress more because of the fact Saito made it just for her made her happy enough.

Jungkooks’ hand permanently set on the small of her back. The man had disappeared for a while during the party but from the way his face tensed when he walked back here, she knew it had to do with work.

The guide opened a door for them and they were led into a room similar to the one Belle dressed up in for the ceremony.

Giving a kind smile to the guide, she walked and placed her earrings on the small table next to the bathroom. For the moment the couple had finally stood on their lonesome with no one to disturb them.

The young lord took the opportunity to pounce at his new bride and take her lips into his.

Her veil toppled off her head from the force and Belle couldn’t help but giggle a little into the kiss. “Not now.” She whispered.

“A few minutes.” Jungkook breathed out pulling her veil off gently before pressing a few more pecks on her soft lips. Whatever strain tightened up his nerves significantly loosened being around his only source for relaxation.

Belle hummed in protest, pressing against his chest to have him pause. “Your aunt is going to be here in a few minutes. We need to be decent.”

Jungkook merely smirked and gave her another peck just at the moment the door opened.

Boyoung gave her nephew a cheeky smile as he backed shyly before closing the door behind them.

“What did you want to talk about?” Belle asked with a sweet smile gracing her lips.

The older woman let out a sigh but still kept a decent smile gracing her features. She looked over at Jungkook who hung his head for a moment. “Dear…” Her tone rung grim and serious. A rare sound coming from a lady who always looked extremely happy every day. Once again the usual habit of holding Belle’s hands when she spoke of something. “The Jeon family has been around for many generations. Possibly longer than the city itself.” Boyoung chuckled lightly. “So with that age and prestige, there comes…a few traditions that lived on for our family’s continual survival.”

Belle nodded, trying to search her expression with the hope that was just some simple task she had to undertake. Maybe eating more fruits or balancing stuff on her head. Except the other womans’ voice sounded far too serious for something like that. Eyes flickered over to Jungkook who had his arms folded over his chest and his expression softened.

“Family members must be married at 21…” Boyoung repeated the tradition the couple already fulfilled. “They also need to carry on the line of the Jeon family.” Her grip tightened on her hands. “Do you have any conditions that may prevent you from having a baby?”

She stammered lightly. “No—I don’t think so.”

Boyoung nodded before giving her a smile except it wasn’t as bright more consoling.

“Why are we talking about babies now?” Belle smiled nervously.

She glanced over at Jungkook for a moment who tightened his jaw, seemingly unable to look Belle straight in the eye. “You understand the world we live in, dear. At some point, you both will need to dedicate yourself to your own lives just like Jungkooks’ parents did. Which is why we make a point to marry and have children in their brisk days.”

Belle’s lips parted for a moment, sensing where this now dreaded conversation was headed. “When—when do you want us to have children?”

Boyoung took a deep breath as the younger female had the urge to yank her hands away. “There is a ceremony on the wedding night for every Jeon wedding. I’ve done it, Jungkooks’ mother has done it and many of our ancestors. You are to—lay with one another that will give you a child.” She spoke carefully. “Because of a few incidents in the past, there is a strict rule that this ceremony must have two witnesses. Preferably people that the couple trusts not to fib or lie about the consummation.”

Her whole body felt like it burst into flames but no one noticed or cared. A little voice inside her screamed out so loud, Belle was worried she might actually mimic the volume right there and then. She really thought this conversation would not happen until a few years after the wedding, maybe when her heart wore down to the subject. How much more of her naivety was going to be shredded to waste before she realized these people did not care who they hurt. Especially when it came to their ideals.

“I know it’s a lot to take in, dear but—we must prepare tonight.” She caressed her cheek.

Belle could almost feel a slight sting on her skin at the seemingly affectionate movement. Blood curdling screams still echoed through her insides but on the outside, she nodded as any captive trying to live would do. Just nod and hope it ends quick.

Boyoung immediately smiled using the minor response as a reassurance boost before grinning at Jungkook. “I will see you both bright and early tomorrow.” She announced walking out of the door.

The couple now standing in a pit of thick silence.

“You knew about this.” Belle whispered, eyes growing glossier by the second as they stood face to face with one another. “Is that the part you conveniently forgot? The part where I’m supposed to make children for you tonight too.” She winced while Jungkook was trying conjure up words that would be most appropriate to reassure her.

Unfortunately the way their family worked and the way society worked were so far off from each other that even he felt helpless against it. “Belle, we’ve been doing it without protection this whole time. What’s going to be so different now?”

“They want me to be impregnated!” She shouted making the male hurriedly glance over at the door worried someone might be listening in. “With witnesses…” She whispered under her trembling breath.

“Baby, calm down.” He raised his hands to cup her cheeks, give her some form of comfort that he could while still making Boyoung and the rest of his family happy.

Belle roughly pushed him away, her bracelet tinkling and tugging at the fabric of his shirt when she moved back. “No that’s why you chose me, isn’t it?” Voice shook down to her very core as she yanked away from Jungkook attempting to hold her hand. “You wouldn’t feel bad if I was in display as opposed to someone you actually cared about.”

The lord paused in his tracks for a moment feeling his heart clench at the dark thought swirling in his wifes’ head. “I don’t want to do this just as much as you, B.” His words faded more into a mutter trying to keep the conversation private because he knew with all his soul that there was one person pressing their ear against the door. Thankfully most of these doors in the mansion were decently sound-proof. “You think I want people to see us like that?” He grabbed her by the cheeks now forcing to keep her close, noses just brushing against each other. “This is my family. You should know more than anyone that we can do everything for family.”

“Don’t do that.” She shook her head, breathing out a small sob and attempting to pull away from him again but his hands were firm to keep her still. “Don’t do that, this is not the same. It’s a baby—”

“I know.” He whispered, her pulse pounding against his palm making his stomach drop. “I do care about you. I care about you a lot…”

“No you don’t—” Belle hated that she was not just feeling anger pump through her veins but fear. Genuine fear. The permanency of what they were about to do could terrify anyone but at least normal people had the chance to say no or turn back.

“I do.”

She took a deep breath gently pushed his hands away. “If you did care about me…we wouldn’t be married. And I wouldn’t be preparing to be bred like an animal.” Swallowing down the painful lump in her throat despite the tears already trailing down her cheeks. People cried at weddings after all but rarely for this reason.

Before Jungkook could say another word Belle rushed away into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard it almost made even him jump.

No. No no no no no no no no no this was wrong. Of all the fucking things Yoongi witnessed in his entire life, this made him nauseous even thinking about it.

Witnessing impregnation. That’s what they called it, the men quietly smoking at the open area near the bedroom it was going to happen. The excited bastards looked to be about the age when it was acceptable in their time to behave in this manner, chin sagging down to their toes.

So along with mass selling drugs, the Jeon family loved impregnating their women in front of other people. How unsurprisingly disappointing.

The worst part was that Yoongi had a feeling Belle wasn’t a long-time girlfriend of Jungkook. He wasn’t even sure if the two were a real couple. But a child is fucking real. This wasn’t a fantasy game anymore for status, this was solidifying a future that the woman probably didn’t even want.

Silence plunged into the room when from the corner of his eye a lavender adorned figure stepped in next to Jungkooks’ aunt.

His plump lips curled up into a smile at the older female, bowing down before a grim expression flashed across his face and Yoongi immediately knew why he was here.

Jimin looked around at the people in the room and his heart dropped seeing the chortling men at the corner. He prayed to the high heavens none of them were going to be in the booth observing this horrendous ceremony. Instead his eyes flickered to the man he hoped was Yoongi. “Witness?” He asked briefly. Much to his somewhat relaxation, Yoongi nodded.

“This your first time?” One of the older man asked the two males.

They both agreed shortly and the older man laughed.

“Oh it’s better than it sounds. In all my experiences, they both loved it. Sometimes it’s a sweet affair.” He smiled.

“And other times?” Yoongi asked daringly.

Unfortunately the men shifted uncomfortably, the slightly younger ones cleared their throats while the older ones looked more grim than normal.

“Virgins are the worst to endure.” The oldest one there spoke up, shaking and sitting on the chair. “Crying…blood…those are the ones you need to worry for the most.”

“We haven’t had a virgin in a long time though.” A more springy man spoke up. “A few of us suggested that the mating ceremony should not be mixed in with losing one’s virginity. Not much fun for the to-be mother or father.”

Yoongi swallowed down thickly, their casual tone about this whole mess making him even more nauseous.

The conversation was immediately paused when Boyoung padded back into the room. “It’s time now, boys. Into the booth.” She muttered almost under her breath gesturing towards to the gap on the left of the entrance.

Taking calculated steps one after the other, Yoongi simply followed the lavender adorned male through the small opening into a tiny booth. Their shoulders brushing against each other as they observed the beautiful designed window, vectors formulating the letter ‘J’ mixed with butterflies and flowers.

However through the window was something far less pleasant.

Silence diseased the large room. Belle was left to hear her own hurdling thoughts just to stay sane. From the corner of her eye she noticed the shifting through the open window with a designed barrier to create some kind of class to this horrid tradition.

His hand pushed her chin so her gaze could be fixated on him. “It’s just you and me, okay?” Jungkook whispered. “Just us.”

Like a brainwashing scheme where Belle was stuck in a river between a bank of fantasy and a bank of reality. They were not alone. She could feel the familiar eyes burning right into core. But what was so new about pretending? She pretended this to a point where her entire life was now dedicated to the man before giving no chance of another life.

If Jungkook couldn’t get out this then how could she ever think the same? It wasn’t like she could run away either, there was no one around to help her. No one to stop this.

Hand gently cupped her cheek before leaning in for an initiating kiss, light warmth spreading through her. His lips became so familiar for comfort nowadays that Belle lost a little of her conscious sense for her own peace of mind.

However this was not meant to be an act of love or even attraction. She was reminded of this when Jungkook pushed the fabric of her dress up without warning. “I’m sorry.” He whispered in her ear. No this was a responsibility. A chore to get done on a to-do list curated for the young lord.

Made to lie on her back, Belle’s vision grew blurry feeling her legs being spread apart with the utmost care but hardly any of the warmth she usually remembered. Then there came the burn through her entrance as he pushed in. A trembling breath passed through her lips struggling to keep composure in such a vulnerable position.

Walls ached the deeper he moved in, his one hand gripping at the sheets until his hips stilled once she was completely full with his already throbbing cock.

Her gaze flickered up to the cherry blossom paintings on the ceiling, pretending a cool spring breeze touching her face and the sound of water flowing. This isn’t real. For a second Belle forced herself to drown into a pool of fantasy. This wasn’t real. The pain faded minutes ago and so did her sense of consciousness.

She wasn’t here, arms pinned down by strong hands and hot breath cascading down her neck. No it was back at the boutique. Belle spending hours sewing her favourite daffodil yellow dress with a tall cup of iced coffee and her hair in a comfortable bun.

Her head was pulled back into reality when Jungkook pressed a kiss on her lips and it all poured back into her. Legs aching from the spread, her heat a little numb from the friction while no sound passed her lips except for light heaving.

Yoongi struggled to control his heavy breathing as the scene took place before him. The man felt like a prisoner witnessing his inmate being beaten. He just had to watch cruel reality play out it’s painful dance. Having the stomach for it was not his biggest issue. Except he knew Belle was not here out of unconditional love for Jungkook. He promised himself to always help people in need but truly aiding someone to freedom required a hefty journey in the process.

Right at this moment however that sentiment seemed like empty words.

This was not Belle’s world. The idea itself was what caused a pit in his already upset stomach. She didn’t grow up in this life nor did she choose it. It was never supposed to a part of her but now she had to deal with evil test of fate.

Jungkook intertwined his fingers with her loose ones, pressing reassuring pecks on her jawline as his hips snapped against hers. Sneaking a free hand between her legs he rubbed onto her clit hoping to give her some kind of pleasure while his own orgasm rolled to the edge.

A light tickle shot through her but stopped midway when she could feel him reaching his release. The way his face contorted and his thrusts grew desperate but sloppy.

This isn’t real. Fingers fisted at the sheets. This isn’t real. A light groan uttered under his breath. This isn’t real. More tears burning and gathering at her overflowing eyes.

This is real.

The man stilled as his release burst through his veins.

Her body lay compliant as she felt herself being filled up to the brim. Belle sucked onto her bottom lip, closing her eyes almost trying to turn back time somehow.

Jungkook hesitantly leaned in and tried to press a kiss on her cheek.

“Get off me.” She whispered. “Please.”

The male paused feeling a burning behind his eyes when she still tried to be kind despite what he did. Pulling out of her gently, Jungkook got off the bed with a shaky sigh curling his hands into fists when he couldn’t comfort her. How could he? He was the reason she needed comfort in the first place. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jungkook turned away to the bathroom.

Yoongi didn’t realize he had been gripping onto the grill of the window the whole time, until he felt something wet on his palms. When he pulled away it felt like taking a splinter out tiny little bleeding holes interrupting the lines.

His ears pricked up at the trembling sigh the other let out.

When he looked over at him, his cheeks were already stained with tears while a few more flooded at the brim watching Belle slowly shift to the middle of the bed. “I have—” The male whispered before swallowing down painfully. “I have to go to work after this.”

The both of them helplessly watched the girl shake and force herself to sob quietly as she fixed her dress.

“Please…go see if she’s okay. If you can.” The pleading look in Jimin’s eyes mimicked the ache in his exhausted heart. They both knew Belle didn’t deserve this mess. They both witnessed her kindness and now saw her pain.

Yoongi nodded even though it was clear there was nothing any of them could do for her right now. Not at this moment. God if he could just tell him right there and then that he was trying his best to help her out of here.

But when he saw the way Belle curled into herself and tried to take to deep breaths while tears were still streaming down her face.

He knew he had to do a whole fucking more than his best.

Two nights later.

Sun felt warm on her skin, shoes crunched against the pavement as she relished in the murmurs and cheers of the market. How long had it been since the woman had just walked through this corner of wonders? All the high fashion shows, sleek garments and elegant wear were almost nothing compared to the raw simplicity of the red cotton or hand crafted jade jewelry. Belle remembered how she used to create necklaces out of flowers and little stones giving it to Taehyung as a gift because he was the only one who would accept it.

No matter how high she went in this pillar of success, this still brought a warmth in her heart without fail.

Wandering eyes paused on one clothing stall in particular. Padding closer, she saw the smallest pair of yellow shoes shining in the sunny day just at the edge of the display. A smile tugged at her lips when she noticed tiny daisy details embroidered onto it. Carefully the woman picked the pair up almost worried that it might fall apart because they looked so delicate and innocent.

“You have child?” The lady at the stall smiled at her kindly as she waved herself with a fan to waft away the heat.

Belle smiled, relishing the soft fabric under her fingers pads almost acting as a therapeutic substance. “Not yet.” She chuckled softly. “How much is this?”

The lady boxed the shoes up carefully before handing it to her with a bracelet for free. When Belle tried to refuse, she waved it off with that same sweet smile. “It’s for good fortune.”

With slight reluctance the girl thanked her again and moved onto the other stalls. As her eyes wandered, she stopped at the sight of a familiar figure walking out of the market area towards a pay phone. Forehead knitted and curiosity peeking, Belle moved to the more crowded areas so she could see what was happening without being caught. Sneaking around was not the most elegant behavior but at this point, the girl lost all care of what was proper and improper.

Pausing behind the payphone Belle hugged the bag to her chest finally catching Yoongis’ voice speak into the call.

“Jeon family is more traditional than you think, man. They had witnesses to watch the consummation.” Anger was clear in his tone especially in the way it rasped a little more when he tried to lower his volume. “Jungkook handpicked the damn witnesses, what kind of fucked up family is this?”

Belle felt a strange air of relief hearing someone else say those words other than her screaming it over and over again in her mind. Despite the urge to thank him for reassuring her sanity, she stood still to listen when he spoke up again.

“Jungkook is adding extra security to the Gongneung den, all his strongest supplies are there. He knows there’s rats in his empire so we need to get this done before he finds a way to hide all of it again.” His voice was much lower than before.

The woman still caught all the words that were needed however. Heart pounded against her ribcages padding closer to the payphone until the worry of Yoongi seeing her did not resonate anymore.

Yoongi gave a few more words of encouragement to Namjoon before doing his checks again and the sound around him numbed. He saw a familiar reddened and teary gaze fixated on him. For a moment he wanted to believe that she just arrived not hearing a word of their conversation but he knew better than to be so naïve.

Before he could think up a strategy, Belle rushed over to the male in a huff and stood merely a breath away from him with her back pressed slightly against the phone. There was a flash of anger on her face before it faded into something that made Yoongi wish the anger could come back again so he could endure it better.

“You’re a police officer?” Bottom lip trembled and her already exhausted eyes flooded with heavy tears. “And you just watched that happen?” Belle knew why Yoongi couldn’t just burst into the room and stop the event just like she couldn’t stop Jungkook or Boyoung from going on with tradition. But the sensible side of her lost its way that night and now the girl found it far too difficult to find it.

“If I could, I would’ve shot all of them right there and then.” He murmured feeling his stomach drop at the way her voice couldn’t keep any of its usual composure anymore. “I want you to get out of this. I really do. But we need to—we need to work together if this is ever going to stop.” His words dialed down to a whisper now that their faces were merely a breath apart. It took a few minutes for him to realize that his hand was caressing her cheek, sloppily wiping away the tear that flowed down to his thumb.

How long had it been since she wanted to hear someone say those words? Someone that could help her get out of this. A part of her would have agreed in seconds, for the first time falling into another’s arms and feeling like she did not have to do anything. But the tiny yellow shoes in the bag grew heavy on her. “Yoongi—” Belle breathed out staring down at her purchase, hands shaking.

Confused eyes flickered down to follow her gaze and immediately saw the miniscule box inside the bag. “What’s wrong?” He opted to search her expression now. “Belle?” Some side of his mind tried to shout that his hand should be back in his pocket. If anyone saw the two standing this way then they would both be in trouble and none of this would be worth it. But she felt so warm and broken that he was afraid they both would fall apart if he moved even the slightest away.

Belle stammered trying to form the words somehow before sniffling. “I’m pregnant.” She sobbed lightly.

The news lingered heavily in the air between them and Yoongi felt like the wall of his mind close into this one thing. All of the things—all of these goals now stripped down to these two words that he prayed would not be true. He knew it might be possibility. He saw the whole thing happen with his own two eyes but for some reason a more naïve part of him—whatever was left of it—wanted to believe they had time. Yoongi took a deep breath before shaking his head. “It’s okay…we’ll figure it out.” He made her meet his gaze. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

She closed her eyes, nodding while her tears seemed to take their own freedom down her face. “Okay.” Words came out in a whisper.

The older male couldn’t help but mimic her nodding for a moment, slowly moving his hand away and hoping no one in the town recognized them. “Do you need a ride home?”

Quickly the girl shook her head feeling an ache in her belly calling the place ‘home’. It would be their child’s home. She would have to accept that someday. “Can we—” She glanced over at the bustling market. “Can we walk through the market for a little bit?” A sad smile tugged at her lips though her eyes glinted with desperation to capture any sense of false joy that came across the path.

Yoongi swallowed a small, unexpected lump in his throat before glancing at the market. “Yeah…of course.”

Maybe a few more minutes of blinded excitement could redeem that little piece of sanity.

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downtonabbeyrevisited · 3 years

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Season Two Episode Two

Following a typically chaotic opener, Episode Two of Season Two strikes a far more sombre tone. The arrival of Henry Lang as Robert’s valet brings the first of this episode’s three plot points that address the impact of WW1 on the mental health of its soldiers. There is nothing funny to say about either shell-shock or suicidal ideation both of which are vast, complex issues that, for my money, Downton Abbey isn’t the vehicle explore in (because they require more time and depth than the pace of the plot in Season Two affords) and it certainly isn’t my place to make light of them in this rather irreverent corner of the internet. So I’m going to have a go at treading a fine line here. Forgive me if I stumble.

Lang is clearly in the grips of something awful and yet in an attempt to avoid the indignity of having maids in the dining room, he is bumped up to footman duty. He struggles throughout, culminating in him depositing his cargo on Edith’s dress. Mrs O’Brein has firmly taken Lang under her wing, recognising that he is struggling and offers him assurance and comfort that she has never gifted to Thomas.

Across the Village, Lieutenant Edward Courtenay is in the hospital having been blinded by gas. The use of gas (both chlorine and mustard) had a devastating impact on soldiers in WW1 but was also the root of the development of Zyklon B. Frtiz Haber, a German Jewish chemist, enabled chlorine gas to be used a weapon in WW1 and his research was later developed into the Zyklon process which was used by the Nazis to murder millions, including his own family. This is only one of a dizzying number of appalling ironies to be found in the World Wars but as I said last episode, I’m not a military historian so I’m going to leave it there. Edward had plans to return to the country after his graduation from Oxford to pursue the simple life (although one gets the feeling that his idea of the pursuit of a simple life will still be one that is very well upholstered). Thomas has taken it upon himself to read Edward’s letters to him and together with Sybil is helping him to adjust to living life with a different set of parameters. But growing pressure on the hospital’s limited capacity means that he is to be transferred elsewhere. All three voice their dissent at varying volumes to Major Clarkson who falls back on the very real backlog of wounded men. After Edward has died, Major Clarkson, Isobel and Sybil talk about a renewed need for the Abbey to become a convalescent home, an idea that has been bubbling under the surface for a while now. Meanwhile, Thomas has been left on his own to process both Edward’s death and the implications of witnessing a lack of support given by his own physician to those with depression.

The usually reliably jovial Mrs Patmore also has a more somber episode with her pursuit for the truth about the death of her nephew Archie. Robert finds that he has been shot for cowardice. Not only does this mean that her family is in mourning but they will now have to navigate the stigma and undue shame that came with having a relative die in this way. So entrenched in British life was the derision levelled at those who were shot for cowardice or desertion that it was only in 2006 that pardons were offered by Britain for 309 of those that were executed by firing squad during WW1. I know I said I’d leave it there with the military history, but that felt like an important bit of context.

We are now in 1917 and Matthew is still in the same trench that he was in 1916 (a detail I hadn’t actually noticed until I got the screen cap for this) so it looks like his strategy of downing tools mid-fight and continuously popping back to Blighty for important plot developments isn’t really paying dividends. Perhaps the addition of William to the ranks will help him? William certainly seems to think so and if the speed at which he moves through the various stages of his ‘relationship’ with Daisy is any indication of his tactical prowess, the British Front will not only be well within Germany’s borders but will be breathing down Russia’s neck in a fortnight. In any other episode, this would certainly get the award for oddest relationship dynamic but Sir Richard Carlisle exists.

Sir Richard makes his debut at Downton, having been introduced in name only in the previous episode. He and Mary met at Cliveden which is a regular haunt of mine, giving me hope that one day I too will from a strategic alliance with a newspaper magnate. He may know how to talk his way around a boardroom but he is lacking in the sartorial department. Whilst Sir Richard manages to avoid catching fire in his tweed, Lavinia is not free from the heat as he threatens her with his connection to her uncle. He may not know much about navigating the niceties of Downton, but at least he has cottoned on to the fact that any major disagreement should occur under a specific tree. Whilst Mary’s signature move is weeping into her gloves, Sir Richard’s is grabbing women by the forearm. A female friend of mine told me that one of her favourite things about the pandemic and the compulsion to keep 2m away from anyone (and not just emotionally) is that she has not been ’steered’ by a male hand on her lower back since 2019. It turns out that she can enter and exit rooms just fine on her own and I get the impression that Lavinia could get the gist of Sir Richard’s rage without the vice like grip of a man probably about twice her age.

Twinned with the ’tree of emotional conflict’, the ‘platform of romantic uncertainty’ provides the backdrop for Sir Richard’s proposal of marriage to Mary which is a declaration that really feels like it should come with a series of well-formatted charts. Mary’s heart, however, is still very much with Cousin Matthew. After being counselled by Carson in a type of conversation I cannot imagine her ever having with her father, she is on the verge of coming clean with Matthew. But in the second round of Lavinia vs. Mary, Lavinia declares that she ‘could not go on living’ without Matthew and Mary winds her neck in.

Also having a romantic entanglement this episode is Edith. Drake, previously of dropsy fame, has lost his farm hands and Edith turns up to offer her help in a wildly unsuitable trouser and heeled boot combo. But she soon gets down to it by pulling up a tree stump and flirting in a barn whilst a rather lovely border collie looks on (I’m currently trying to talk myself out of getting a border collie and this incident has done nothing to help things). After showing Drake that she can drink from a bottle like literally every single other human on the planet, the two share a kiss and some highly awkward dialogue that only slightly resembles ‘Carry on Downton’.

Whilst Edith is more than happy to crack on in a barn, Mr Molesley is much more backwards about coming forwards. Apparently having predicted the creation of ‘The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society’, he figures that a book is the perfect kindling for romance when you exist in a glossy depiction of the past. Sadly neither Elizabeth nor her German garden can lure Anna from Bates who is fast shaping up to be schrodinger’s boyfriend. Anna proceeds to make some odd analogy where she compares Mr Bates to her moon-based child, revealing a rather unhealthy amount of codependency in that particular relationship.

Romantic declaration of the moment

Again, it feels like anyone but Sybil and Branson should get this but I am an agent of chaos and here we are. Branson defends Sybil’s will to work and has ample opportunity to see her shine in her chosen field. The admission that she will not be returning to her old life is a little chink of light that Branson basks in.

Expressive eyebrow of the week

I nominate Carson’s entire face when he realises that he has taken on too much and goes an impressive shade of red. As Carson frets about spoons, sauce, and something I can’t quite fathom, he starts to resemble a man who is re-arranging the deckchairs on the Titanic. Carson’s battle to get a cork out of a bottle and knocking into chairs is a warm up to his rather dramatic collapse which is accompanied by a pretty disturbing groan. Sybil springs to action and he is soon efficiently ensconced in his own quarters.

Wait, what?

“I got a lot done on the train” Clearly Richard was on a train that was unencumbered with the wifi issues that plague the Pendolino.

“It takes a good deal more than that to shock me.” Mary’s shock-o-meter is a pretty odd instrument. It is unresponsive to corpses of diplomats but goes into absolute meltdown at the notion that she might have to live in a cottage.

“Let's hope my reputation will survive it.” I’ve not checked (and I categorically never will) but I would put money on the fact that someone has created a rarepair out of this.

“How can Matthew have chosen that little blonde piece?” Is Lavinia blonde? Women’s hair is not really my forte but I would have thought she was more akin to Tim Minchin than 1998 Justin Timberlake.

“I believe in this war. I believe in what we are fighting for.” William seems to have a better grip on what all of this is about than I ever did in high school history. The ‘A’ that eluded me is heading his way.

“I thought he might've died for love of you.” How I love snipey Thomas. It’s good to have him back. To borrow a quote from Bottas (another man who is currently living a life in which his destiny is his own demise) ‘traditions’.

“Fold it in, don’t slap it” The more season two goes on, the more I think that Moira is just an amalgamation of some choice elements of Julian’s kingdom.

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fictionturnedherbrain · 3 years

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Marguerite

Full name: Marguerite Blakeney, née St Just

Nick-names: Margot; ‘little mother’

Age: 25 (‘scarcely five-and-twenty’, in September 1792)

Born: August 1767

Place of birth: France

Education: Convent school, Paris; travelled to England to study the language

Currently lives: Blakeney Manor, Richmond, England

Height: ‘Tall above the average’, perhaps 5’ 6”; slender, regal figure

Eye colour: A very fluid blue!

Hair colour: Strawberry blonde (‘reddish-golden’, ‘ardent’)

Facial features: ‘Classic brow’, ‘sweet, almost childlike mouth’ with ‘full lips’, ‘straight chiselled nose’, ‘round chin’ and a ‘delicate throat’

Marital status: Wife of Sir Percy Blakeney, Bt. They met at Versailles, during a banquet held for the Flanders regiment on October 3, 1789. Two years later, they were married at the Church of St Roch, Paris, ‘just like that’, ‘without a soirée de contrat or diner de fiançailles’

Family: Brother, Armand St Just (eight years her senior). Parents died when Marguerite was ‘but a child’

Occupation: A gentlewoman. Formerly an actress with the Comédie Française. Also a member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel, 1792-1795 (‘You are a member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel. The most adored. The most revered amongst all’)

Interests: Society hostess (balls, routs, suppers, etc.); music (operas, particularly Glück’s Orpheus); reading (contemporary novels, such as Fielding’s Tom Jones); setting the trend in fashion (‘She wore the short-waisted, classical-shaped gown, which so soon was to become the approved mode in every country in Europe’); the company of her friends, Suzanne Ffoulkes, Juliette Deroulede, Yvonne Dewhurst

Passions: Time alone with her husband (‘Moments like this, when she was alone with him, were the joy of her life’); the late night drives from London to their Richmond home (‘a source of perpetual delight to Marguerite’)

Character: Once an enthusiastic republican and feted actress, courted by men such as the Scarlet Pimpernel’s arch-enemy, Citizen Chauvelin (‘one of the many satellites that revolved around brilliant Marguerite St Just’ ), Marguerite gave all up for love. Yet despite exchanging the Paris stage for London and Bath society, she still holds true to the ideals of the Republic, even after personal experience has made her detest what people will do in the name of liberty. She does not judge by wealth or class, only by individual intelligence and creativity – and how these gifts are utilised. Marguerite is also very impulsive in her actions, and is often guided by instinct, whether wisely or foolishly. She has a passionate and loving nature, dedicating herself wholly to those she cares for – her brother Armand, and her husband, Percy. Her selfless concern for others has on occasion actually imperilled those she would give her life to save, so forceful is her desire to actively protect the people she loves. Her loyalty to her husband, the Scarlet Pimpernel, has never wavered, and has been tested many times. Initially insecure that his love for her, though great, was not as devoted as her own for him (‘He loved her and went away!’), Marguerite has learned to trust in her husband’s seemingly boundless good luck and ingenuity, supporting his dangerous mercy missions instead of trying to hold him back (‘the noble-hearted woman, whose very soul was wrapped up in the idolised husband, allowed herself to ride by his side on the buoyant waves of his enthusiasm’). She has even taken an active role in the League’s adventures, preferring to face her husband’s fate rather than be left without him (“If you go, I go with you”). If she sometimes gives into the emotional strain, and pleads for Percy to put her needs first, it is only because his love has come to shape Marguerite’s life (‘ the one man who had made her so infinitely proud and happy in his love’) ; from a young girl who thought herself incapable of love, and who claimed to have married for wealth and position, she has matured into a woman who is happiest in the company of her husband, and who will suffer any hardship to be with him. Marguerite has suffered greatly since learning of her husband’s dual identity, but she has also found a soul mate and earned the love of a noble-hearted, adventurous, and intense individual - somebody a lot like herself (“Are we not one, you and I?”) She understands that Percy’s honour is bound up in the reputation of the Scarlet Pimpernel, and that the strength of his love for her is proven by his dedication to others: ‘Nay, it intensified it, made it purer and better’.

Marguerite is not unaware of her physical charm, as it has helped to advance her career and attract admirers who flatter her vanity – but how much of her confidence is natural, and how much an act? Does she believe all that people tell her, about her beauty, wit and talent, or is she hiding behind a studied role?

Actress Vs. Child Marguerite definitely has a pampered ego, and will not let her guard down in public. Her republican philosophy that ‘money and titles may be hereditary, but brains are not’ seems to stem from her own self-image, rather than any political influence: she has only equals in society, never betters. When the aristocratic Comtesse de Tournay crosses Marguerite in public, the bourgeois actress regards her with ‘hard, set eyes’. Yet when the Comtesse refuses to let Marguerite speak to daughter Suzanne, a childhood friend of Marguerite’s, a ‘wistful, almost pathetic and childlike look’ replaces the defiant glare. This is Marguerite’s core: the young Mme. St Just within the haughty, practiced Lady Blakeney, and few are allowed to penetrate her perfect facade; only when she is alone can Marguerite relax, like one ‘long oppressed with the heavy weight of constant self-control’.

Love The key to earning Marguerite’s love is to win her trust. For all her brilliance and popularity, the twenty-five year old actress-turned-lady is emotionally insecure; before meeting Sir Percy, she had already consigned herself to a life alone: ‘I naturally believed it was not in my nature to love’. Why should such a beautiful, successful and young woman have closed her heart to happiness? After her rather unexpected and unconventional marriage, it was claimed that Mademoiselle St Just was a ‘brilliant matrimonial prize’ for which ‘there had been many competitors’, and this can be believed – but how many men might have proposed, how far they got, and what happened to them, seems not to have affected Marguerite. Even when speaking of Sir Percy, in the early days of their marriage, she can only say that she would have allowed herself to be ‘worshipped’ and ‘given infinite tenderness in return’; she does not speak of her love for him, because, at that point, she is not able to recognise it in herself (‘A woman’s heart is such a complex problem’).

Marguerite’s concept of love, as with her support of the revolution, is purely idealistic: she has notions of how it should be, but her upbringing has sheltered her from gaining any experience of the realities. Her formative years were spent in a Paris convent, where she was educated alongside the wealthy children of noble families, such as Suzanne de Tournay. After her education (she and Suzanne travelled to England, at one point, to study the language), Marguerite became an actress, making her debut at the Comédie Française when she was eighteen. Yet instead of succumbing to the attentions of male admirers at the theatre and perhaps becoming somebody’s mistress, she seems to have immersed herself in the romance and morality of the plays in which she acted, waiting for a ‘perfect love’ which might not exist. Percy’s slavish devotion to her flattered her vanity, but also appealed to her romantic imagination: when she talks of the Pimpernel, unaware of the connection with her husband, Marguerite reflects that ‘there was a man she might have loved’, the ‘shadowy king of her heart’ so like a character upon the stage in his bravery, chivalry and anonymity. She admits that she was ‘vain and frivolous’, attracted by Percy’s wealth and position, and takes advantage of all the trappings of her new lifestyle when he withdraws his love. Material possessions and a grand home in which to entertain a new court of admirers, however, are only superficial distractions; as Lady Blakeney, Marguerite is ‘lonely in the midst of her grandeur’.

Though praised for her beauty, wit and talent, Marguerite has always felt secretly undeserving and mistrustful of anything more than token flattery. Her vanity can accept compliments with ‘inimitable grace’, but she is wary of having to give anything in return. Though initially attracted to Sir Percy’s ‘curious intensity of concentrated passion’, it is the fact that she perceived him as ‘slow and stupid’ – or safe and submissive – which allowed Marguerite to overcome that main obstacle and agree to marriage. A clever or busy man would soon tire of Marguerite’s charms, her looks and her witty conversation, but she believed that an unquestioning slave such as Sir Percy would always worship her as a goddess, and bend to her will – which she accepted as no more than her due.

When Percy rejects her as soon as she becomes his wife, Marguerite is lost. She is ‘grateful’ to him, for his generosity, unceasing civility and polite attentions, but cannot comprehend the change in his attitude towards her. Loneliness, fear and a bruised ego cause her to defend herself in the only safe way she knows – by hiding her feelings behind a mask, and acting the role of her own life: ‘she, too, had worn a mask in assuming a contempt for him’. To maintain her dignity in public, and to try and rouse a strong reaction from her husband in private, Marguerite takes to mocking Sir Percy, who has similarly retreated behind the guise of society fop: she tries to ‘goad him to self-assertion’; ‘even amused herself by sharpening her ready wits at his expense’. When he merely accepts her taunts, she tries to stir his jealousy by flirting with other men, but Percy leaves her alone to do as she wishes, ‘to flirt, dance, to amuse or bore herself as much as she liked’, such is his pain over her apparent deception. Marguerite, like a vindictive child, wants to hurt her husband as much as the unexplained withdrawal of his love has hurt her, and says ‘cruel, insulting things, which she vaguely hoped would wound him’, but it is only her vanity that has been insulted. She assumed, before they married, that he would accept anything she did or said. Burdened with the guilt of her rash act of revenge, Marguerite told Percy of her part in the execution of the St Cyr family, trusting that her ‘boundless power’ over him would suppress his judgement of her, and took his silence as a lack of comprehension. Blinded by his devotion, Marguerite didn’t bother to learn about her husband’s true personality, just as he idolised his own image of her; only when she confronts her husband, after a year of estrangement, does she realise that her initial hesitation in confiding in him shattered his illusion of the ‘angel’ he married. When the permanence of marriage breaks the spell of their brief courtship, they begin to find out who it is they think themselves in love with. Percy learns about Marguerite’s human failings through her denunciation of the Marquis, and Marguerite must accept the exaggerated persona of her husband’s pride as his true self.

Armand ‘Her love for her brother, Armand St Just, was deep and touching in the extreme’: Marguerite is mother, sister, friend to Armand, and because he is the only person she can trust without reserve, ‘whom she dared to love’, the bond between them becomes like a lifeline to her. Losing their parents at a young age blurred the roles of their relationship: Armand, elder by eight years, became a father figure and chaperone to his young sister, and Marguerite, when she was old enough, provided a maternal influence in her brother’s life. Having Armand ‘near her to love and protect her, to guard her from the many subtle intrigues which were raging in Paris’ has obviously been a regulating factor in Marguerite’s unconventional upbringing. It is possible to imagine that he has saved her from her own guileless and impulsive nature, steering her away from unwelcome attentions on more than one occasion. Marguerite is naïve and sensitive beneath her cool attitude and arrogant beauty – she needs the advice of others to help her actively confront difficult situations, otherwise she is content to let events happen to her. And when she does act on impulse, to avenge her brother and her own injured pride, she is blind to the consequences until it is too late. Her denouncement of the treasonous Marquis de St Cyr, an unfortunate combination of her own petty desire for revenge and gullible nature, is the event which separates Marguerite and Percy immediately after their wedding.

Armand’s pivotal role in her life, however, makes Marguerite afraid to release her brother and trust in anybody else. Before he is to return to France, she holds him with ‘sudden strong, almost motherly passion’, and pleads with him that, “I have only you to care for me”, when what she probably means is that she has only Armand to love her. Her protective over-reaction is understandable, considering that Armand’s life is constantly under threat as a citizen of revolutionary France, but neither does Marguerite want to be left ‘alone’. Her brother’s first visit since beginning her new life in England as Lady Blakeney can only have intensified Marguerite’s feelings of loneliness and estrangement as a Frenchwoman in exile; her brother is her ‘home’, a link to the life she left behind. Already convinced that she will never love another being as wholly as she does her brother, ‘the only being in the whole world who has loved me truly and constantly’, her sisterly and maternal concerns for his safety are multiplied by her own fears of losing the last member of her immediate family, and being completely abandoned in a strange country with a husband who is cold towards her. Armand tries to reassure her, understanding ‘the reserve which lurked behind her frank, open ways’, but he is not as dependent upon her as she is with him.

Marguerite reveals to Armand the truth of her marriage, and hints at how unhappy she is in her new life, but her pride will not allow her to break down completely. After only a year apart, Armand finds himself locked out of his sister’s deepest confidence, and has to form his own conclusions based on his understanding of Marguerite’s nature. He realises that she has misjudged and underestimated her husband, not recognising that he could be as proud and headstrong as her until it was too late, and that her bargaining on a ‘fool’ might have been miscalculated. Armand regrets the distance between them, but as Lady Blakeney, she will not let down her guard, even to her brother.

Fate

Until she follows her husband to Paris to save his life, attempting to redeem herself by repairing the consequences of her actions, Marguerite tends to view the choices she makes as being beyond her control: ‘Fate had decided, had made her speak, had made her do a vile and abominable thing’. Without the support of a third party to ‘shift from her young, weak shoulders this terrible burden of responsibility’, Marguerite disassociates herself from her actions, in a defensive bid to spare her conscience: ‘What had she done to have deserved all this?’ Perhaps the greatest example of this is her view of the St Cyr executions, and the extent of her role in their downfall. The Marquis was a traitor to his country, a royalist and an aristocrat seeking military intervention from Austria, and this information was known by other people before Marguerite learned of it ‘amongst her own coterie’, but this doesn’t change the fact that she then, with ‘a few thoughtless words’, denounced the Marquis to the Assembly (probably via Chauvelin). Nor was her desire for retribution motivated by patriotism or political ideals – the Marquis’ crime was personal: ‘what her brother must have suffered in his manhood and his pride must have been appalling; what she suffered through him and with him she never attempted to even analyse’. Still naïve and immature, for all her renowned salon wit, Marguerite failed to foresee the fatal consequences of her actions, although her ‘friends’ were fully aware (‘they trapped and duped me’). ‘Horrified’ at the repercussions of her ‘thoughtlessness’, Marguerite ‘strain[ed] every nerve, us[ed] every influence’ to reverse what she had set in motion and save the St Cyrs, but it was ‘too late’. Satisfied that she had done all she could, Marguerite was able to convince herself that ‘fate had merely stepped in’, and that she was actually ‘morally innocent’. Spiteful, ignorant and easily influenced, she probably didn’t think beyond humiliating the Marquis, who had punished her brother, and therefore insulted her own bourgeois background, for being socially beneath his family – but that she did so in a petty bid for revenge makes Marguerite far from blameless.

Entirely free of false humility, Marguerite is equally aware of her attractions and her failings. She complains to Chauvelin about the incongruence of living in a land of ‘fogs and virtues’, and observes to the Prince of Wales that ‘virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant when it is crushed’. Marguerite’s bohemian lifestyle as an actress, earning a living in deception and courted as a republican mascot, contrasts sharply with her strict and pious childhood in the convent, and the dichotomy of the two goes a way towards explaining her liberal yet penitent attitude to life. Whereas there is no doubt that Marguerite enjoys life, as the ‘darling of a brilliant throng, adored, feted, petted, cherished’, with ‘the joy of living writ plainly’ upon her face, her generous and compassionate spirit is easily disturbed by the cruelty and suffering around her. Her cynical wisdom and sharp wit display a pensive and distrustful side to her youthful personality, as she warns her brother that ‘little sins are far less dangerous and uncomfortable’. An ardent supporter of the ‘lofty virtues’ that inspired the Revolution, Marguerite welcomed the new Republic, but when the words and visions of philosophers like Rousseau and Mirabeau were replaced by the harsher realities of violence and executions, she was horrified and quickly abandoned the bloody excesses of France for the security of England.

Class

Marguerite is trapped between social plateaus in ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel’: proclaiming herself a republican with ‘an enthusiasm for liberty and equality’, she is originally from a middle-class background, elevated in her own sphere by her beauty and wit, and then removed from her queenly position in Paris to become a pretender to the aristocracy in England upon her marriage. Sir Percy is a baronet, on the next to the lowest rung of the peerage, but his wealth, good name and novelty value in the Prince of Wale’s court ensure that he is accepted amongst the higher ranks of society (at least two of the League are lords). However, this still makes rather a hypocrite of Marguerite, who, despite professing that ‘money and titles may be hereditary, but brains are not’, seems to enjoy her new status. She accepts ‘jewels and luxuries’ from Sir Percy, in place of affection and a happy marriage, and adapts to the privilege and insularity of English society within a year. At Brogard’s inn, when she and Sir Andrew travel to Calais to warn Percy that Chauvelin is on his trail, Marguerite is disgusted by her fellow ‘citizen’, thoroughly acting the part of the pampered aristocrat as she holds her handkerchief to her ‘dainty nose’ and stares ‘in horror’ at her surroundings.

She and Chauvelin are both idealists, preferring rhetoric to action; when the diplomat seeks to enlist her patriotic assistance in Dover, Marguerite asks, ‘What can I do, here in England?’ Overhearing her confrontation with the haughty Comtesse de Tournay, Chauvelin confronts Marguerite with this typical example of social injustice in the hope that her bruised pride will make her an ally, but Marguerite can defend herself. Instead of betraying the brave Pimpernel to punish the undeserving aristocrats he rescues, such as the de Tournays, Marguerite calls the Comtesse’s bluff with the aid of the Prince of Wales, ‘with a wealth of mischief in her twinkling blue eyes’. As a bourgeois actress, Marguerite has suffered the prejudice and arrogance of the aristocracy, inspiring her faith in the Republican creed of ‘liberty, equality, fraternity’, but her popular reception amongst the London ton, and the Royal protection she enjoys as a friend of the Prince of Wales, tempers her vehemence. Marguerite’s primary motivation is safeguarding the security and happiness of herself and those closest to her: to avenge a brother, she spoke out of spite, and to provide for her future, she turned on her homeland. Money and titles may not matter to Marguerite, but neither will she renounce personal advantages on principle; without ‘her rank, her dignity, her secret enthusiasms’, she is always Marguerite St Just.

#the scarlet pimpernel #marguerite st just #lady blakeney #sir percy blakeney #character study #suzanne de tournay #armand st just #merle oberon #leslie howard

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wychive · 4 years

Text

𝙨𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 ─ 𝙠. 𝙮𝙨.

pairing(s) // yeosang x fem!reader

genre(s) // fluff, a little angst, royal!au, childhood!au

word count // 2.9k

author's note // this is my debut story on tumblr so it might not be up to standard but nonetheless i hope you all like it <3 this if for @noya-sannnn whom i love so much. p. s. listen to calming guitar melodies while reading this!

The night was cold but the fireplace was warm enough for the both of you. You and Yeosang sat in front of the crackling fire, playing around with the toys you bought together that cold afternoon.

“I’ll save you princess!”

“Oh yay! Captain Bright is-”

Yeosang groaned and rolled his eyes at you, putting down his toy hero. “It’s Captain Light, Y/N. How many times have I told you?”

“It’s the same thing, like potato potato,” You crossed your arms and placed it against your chest, huffing out. “Whatever..”

It was the first night of December. Yeosang’s mother and yours were in the kitchen preparing the presents. You could hear them struggling with some of the gift wrap and almost took the chance to see what your presents were but then a little speck of white caught your eye from outside the window.

The six-year-old you together with the superhero, ran to the window as the first snow of the season fell. Your dark spheres became stars, looking in awe at the pretty snowflakes. In the distance, you could see the spectacular castle as snow covered its tall towers. You frowned, turning away from the sight. Yeosang noticed your moody attitude and proceeded with a sigh.

“Hey, Y/N..” He stood in front of you and tilted his head to the side. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to know how it feels like to be an actual princess,” You prance around the living room, as if you were in one of those barbie movies. “To wear dresses, to have a big ballroom, and to meet cool princes,” You stopped and sighed. You proceeded to sit on one of the velvet sofas, dangling your feet.

Yeosang shook his head and sat beside you. “You don’t need those things to live, though,” he says, swinging his legs back and forth. “You have me and your parents, aren’t you happy with us-”

You cut him off. “Yea but still.. Yeosang, don’t you want to know how it feels like to live the life of a prince?” The boy thought about the idea for a short while and nodded to himself thinking about the fancy meals and the amount of toys he’d have if he was a young royal.

The boy leaped from the couch and went to the middle of the room. He extended his hand towards you, signaling for you to grab it. “Wanna see what my parents taught me? It’s a dance, but more fancy than what we usually do”

You exhaled the cold air and smiled before going up to him. “Show me, kind sir.”

“Um- but before we dance, we have to do this,” he blushed a light pink tint and proceeded to bow in front of you, pretending to take off a hat. “May I have this dance, m’lady?”

You tried so hard not to laugh at the sight but then answered with a giggly yes. He could see you almost bursting out one of the biggest laughs ever and playfully slapped the side of your shoulder.

“Okay, first we put our hands on each other’s shoulders,” He placed his hands on your shoulders, as you did the same. An awkward silence filled the air but that didn’t bother the both of you.

“Now, we just swing side to side,” He moved, swaying both of you together. You let out a little giggle.

“This is ridiculous! Did your parents make up this dance?”

“They said this is what they do at the festivals up there in the castle so..”

“Well, it’s still stupid,” You pouted jokingly. You both swayed to nothing but just the crackling fire and the voices of both of your mothers echoing from the kitchen. Suddenly, a light bulb appeared on the top of your head. You took control and spinned the heck out of you both, earning a little warm laugh from the boy in front of you. Getting more and more dizzy with every round, you stopped and collapsed to the ground, followed by the male which collapsed beside you.

Both of you continued laughing as if the only care in the world was if you got on the nice list for Christmas. Your soft smiles were illuminated by the fire that was starting to burn out.

“Y/N, promise me something..” He said, facing the ceiling with his hands on his stomach.

“Hm?”

“When we grow up, promise me we will do that again,” He said, followed by his classic warm smile.

“Princess Y/N,” your head perked up to see one of your royal maids calling out your name from the end of the hallway.

“Your dress is ready for the autumn festival!”

You groaned, not wanting to get out of your comfortable pajamas any sooner. This princess life was not what you had in mind. Now that you were eighteen, everything magical about being a princess faded away. The princes were not more than riches, the dresses so tight they didn't care about your respiratory tract and the dances to be filled with people that you didn't even know existed. Ten years ago, when your mother was revealed to be a distant relative to the royal family, they had asked her to take over the throne as they had no one left to count on. You ought to think that this was going to be just like Sofia The First. The hardest thing was to leave your life behind, including Yeosang. Seeing him act tough when you left made your heart flutter a little, of course, you didn’t - hadn’t - told him yet. Ever since you got here, every little thing that brings you joy would remind yourself of him. The same question would always repeat, “What was he doing now?”

With the help of your maid, you put your blue dress on that had streak marks of gold foil. It was a little tight around your waist, but you managed to get comfortable. Thank God, people don't use corsets anymore because that would've been such a nightmare. You really didn't like the fancy ballroom dances but admired the musical art behind it. Honestly, you would rather just stay in your room reading a good book instead of facing the thousands of fakes that were there to either take over your kingdom or ask for your hand in marriage.

Dusk arrived sooner than expected and the guests filled the castle ballroom in no time. At these events, you always stuck around with your parents. The awkwardness of being around people that want to kiss you was always a problem. You kept a smile on your face not caring if you were genuine about it or not. Your answers to the questions they asked would be answered with a “Dad, how about you answer first. I’m getting a little thirsty.” and followed by you excusing yourself to get some refreshments. This time you did it again and actually got some water as you felt a small headache was coming your way.

As you took a sip of your drink, a figure from the crowd stood out to you. The mystery person was wearing a classic white uniform suit jacket with gold and black lining and a buttoned up white shirt. The chest area of the suit was filled with medals, some of which of the highest levels of honor. One little accessory that stood out was the little pink butterfly on the collar of the shirt that reminded you of the one that you gave him when he was younger.

“Yeosang!” you called out, to see if it was actually him. If he was here after all those years of not being in touch with each other. The now grown male turned to your direction and flashed the same smile he did, all those years ago.

“Y/N!” He called your name. His voice, now mature and filled with nothing but sweet honey made your heart flip. He willingly ditched the conversation he just now had and opened his arms wide as you both ran towards each other, not wanting to stop any sooner. The crowd opened up into a big area as everyone saw you both heading towards the middle of the room. He caught you as soon as you were held by him and lifted you from the ground. He twirled you around with your hands on his shoulders as you both laughed together. Is this what complete bliss felt like?

He finally placed you back on the marble floor and gave you a proper hug. You heard people clapping but that didn’t matter to you. You just found your best friend. After so many years of living without him. Your tears almost puddled but you decided that the meet-up was too public for crying and you weren't that sensitive. You pulled away and looked at him, scanning his now tall figure.

He certainly had been working out and gotten slightly cuter. This was a whole different Yeosang. You looked back at him and he cocked his head to the side with the familiar ‘wtf-are-you-doing’ face. Nevermind, still the perfect him you knew of. You finally realised what you were doing and a blush blossomed onto your cheeks.

“Sorry-” you said, as your hand covered the bottom half of your face. Since when did you get so flustered around him?

“It’s okay, Y/N/N,” He chuckled softly and looked at how much you’ve grown. You went from the mud-covered fairy to the most beautiful princess ever. However, you blushed a little harder than before when he said your old nickname and took a deep breath to let out the icky feelings. Smiling softly at the male, you initiated an actual conversation.

“I didn’t know you were a knight-” you said, grabbing his medals and looking at them one by one. “How come you’ve never told me?” you crossed your arms with a pout, cheekily.

“Well, first of all, I wanted to make it a surprise. Second, I trained for three years and couldn’t contact you at all,” he stopped for a bit and looked at your face once again. “And lastly, when did you become this pretty?” he said, with a smirk on his face.

You let out a light laugh trying not to let out a big laugh in this type of crowd. “Oh, good one,” you said, wheezing and holding his shoulder before you realised that he meant the unusual compliment. “You- you’re not kidding?” you asked, with an ‘are-you-serious-rn’ face. He nodded.

“Since when did you become such a flirt?” you asked, with a worried look on your face.

He shrugged and chuckled once again. “Don’t be alarmed though, I was just seeing if you would blush again”

“Well no- you flirting seems weird enough already. You flirting with me would be triple the weird. Therefore, no, I would not blush if you were to flirt with me,” you said sophisticatedly. There’s no way you would fall for this wimp.…. right?

Him flirting didn’t stop you both from talking to each other though. You both continued to talk and catch up with everything that happened in the past years. You were very interested in his adventures when he was a knight in training as equally as invested of he was in the stupid mistakes you’ve done during major public events. You decided to show him the castle gardens as they were the best shown at night with mini fairy lights wrapped around the bushes and in the middle of the garden was a circle of just grass that you could lay on that was surrounded by various types of flowers.

As you both got into the circle, the mini orchestra from the main ballroom was on their fifth song that night. You yawned as you were tired from the chit chat and the walking. You really needed some sleep after finishing that one book the night before.

“Hey, I think I should go- my parents are probably looking for me,” you said, not really wanting to leave.

“Not yet,” the handsome male said, extending his hand out to you. ‘This looked familiar’ you thought to yourself as a memory from the depths of your brain came to the surface. Ah, yes. The blurred music would make this hopefully not as awkward as before. “Did you save that dance for me after all this time, princess?”

“Yes, of course,” you said, baffled at the fact that he still remembers it as well.

“Let’s do it the right way this time. Shall we?” Yeosang chuckled before he bowing in front of you. “May I have this dance, Y/N?”

You smacked his head playfully and earned a slight yelp from him. He rubbed the place where you hit the poor fella and asked why.

“It’s Princess Y/N to you,” you said with a humph and placed your palm on top of his. “But yes, you may have this dance, Sir Yeosang.”

He flashed his warm sunny smile like he once did and pulled you in. You both looked into each other’s galaxy filled eyes and stayed in that position for a few seconds before actually moving. His other hand slipped down to your waist as yours held onto his shoulder. Both of you stayed silent during the dance as the atmosphere was already filled with beautiful gold coloured music notes and the faded sound of the crickets in the distance.

The memories of you both start to come back. The summers, autumns, winters, and springs you lived through. The secrets and laughs you shared. The fun play dates you spent together. You’re surprised at how much he matured but one thing you noticed that didn’t change was the smile that he always gave you. The sweet smile that looked like it was going to taste like cotton candy. The sweet smile that would always reassure you that it was going to be okay. The sweet smile that would make you feel as if you just witnessed the full bloom of the first flower in spring,

The music was about to end and you were feeling somber because of it but that didn’t stop you from slow dancing with the brave knight. A little towards the end, he pulled you in closer than ever before but stopped right before touching your lips. He could feel your breath as you did with his. You closed your eyes thinking he would actually do it but as soon as you leaned in, he pulled away. You opened your eyes to see that he bit his bottom lip and red tint spread across his face.

You blushed as well, this time harder than ever before. No boy has made you feel like this - even a prince - and somehow the boy who stood in front of you, the one who would always smother you in mud, the one that would steal your candy, the one that broke your favourite toy made you crazy out of your mind. After just one night with him?

Suddenly, he placed his right hand on your cheek and brushed his thumb over your soft skin. There it is again. That stupid smile. The one that started everything. He kissed your forehead softly before pulling you in for a tight hug that felt more different than the one in the ballroom. You hugged him back, wrapping your hands over his torso.

“I missed you,” he whispered into your ear. “so, so much.”

You wanted to stay in that moment forever. Him being close to you and his arms around you as if you were the most important thing to him. The fairy lights joined the bright stars, twinkling above you both as you shared the best hug. He finally pulled away after a few minutes that felt like nanoseconds to you. You bit your gums, wanting him to do that again. Wanting him to stay for a few more minutes if not hours. Wanting him to realise that you wanted to say something so vulnerable that you don’t just say to anyone else.

But alas, everything comes to an end.

You walked together to the entrance of the castle. Seeing the guests leave was always something so melancholy but now that your childhood best friend is leaving, it made you feel a slight something inside.

Deep inside, Yeosang didn’t want to leave either. He wanted you to tell him to stay. He wanted you to pull him back into the hugged you shared. He wanted you to hold you again and twirl you into the air. He wanted you to realise he still had those feelings for you. He wanted you to finally call him ‘yours’.

“I’ll see you soon?” he asked, in a soft voice.

“Yea, definitely,” you answered, trying not to spare another word.

“Well. Goodbye, princess,” he said. The male waved to you, as you did to him before getting into his car. A giddy smile appeared on his face as he thought of something that would tease you.

“Hey Y/N!” he called out, from the backseat of his car. You looked at him with a confused face from a distance.

“Je t'aime.”

With that his car exited the main gates and the thought of you filling his mind. He let out a little laugh, positive that you didn’t know what the phrase meant.

But you have learned about the foreign language over the years. Enough to know that it meant, “I love you.”

#ateez #ateez oneshots #ateez fluff #ateez edits #ateez au #ateez yeosang #yeosang au #yeosang #yeosang fluff #yeosang angst #yeosang edits #yeosang x reader #ateez x reader #yeosang x you #ateez x you #this is bad ik pls don't come for me #alachi mind puke

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sumisuchan · 4 years

Text

First Name Basis Ch.1

Hey y’all just thought I should post this to Tumblr as well, but here’s the link to the ao3 for people who are more interested in that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25889923/chapters/62913253

I don’t know what to say for myself other than I love Kaiba and Jounouchi, and I hope you enjoy this fic <3 Also feel free to leave me a comment. I cherish all of them forever.

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It was a quiet winter morning, the second Monday of January, when Mokuba pushed open the double doors to Seto’s room. However silent he tried to be, they still scraped across the hardwood floor. He had cast a light that shot from the hallway to envelop Seto’s figure in bed, buried beneath a plush comforter.

“Seto — ” Mokuba tried to keep his voice low, leaning culpably against one of the doors. “I'm going to head out.”

Without throwing off the comforter, Seto rose as if accused. The pale morning light made him squint. “I thought I was taking you.”

“I know, but I was going to meet a friend a little bit early. I'll meet you there, I promise.”

“But it's snowing,” Seto laid his head back down. Even with centralized heating, the air was cold. His alarm clock read 6:46 a.m., which made the comforter seem warmer and the mattress more generous.

The door clicked softly shut again. Seto had lost. He closed his eyes and let Mokuba go, the bed’s hold too strong to break. Maybe he would wake at 8:00, or 8:05, or 8:10...

***

It was 8:15 when Seto had hit snooze for the third time, and had finally managed to sit up. He opened the curtains behind him to a chalky sky and a Domino City winterscape, draped in snow. It even obscured the faraway mountains whose dark grey bodies wore pure white caps. Seto sighed visibly into the glass. Another harsh one.

Seto ate, washed, and dressed, finding himself in a partially cloudy bathroom mirror. He had put a sharp white suit over a blue shirt speckled with gold, and fixated upon the second gray hair he had found that month. He leaned in, making the mirror fog up more. Though his hair was still a little damp, there it was — front and center, mocking him.

Seto straightened himself out, turned the bathroom light off, and went downstairs. He could see from the top of the staircase that Mokuba had taken the kimono from its resting place upon the front room sofa—garment bag and all, his geta disappearing from the entrance evidence that it hadn't been just a dream.

***

The traffic to the ceremony was hell. Every damn car in Domino City had congested the roads leading to town hall, each of them progressing only about a meter before stopping again. Snow fell as a light powder, dusting the shoulders of young men and women dressed in expensive suits and long-sleeve kimono. Seto estimated that at least 3/4 of them were rentals. Their parents walked alongside them, shielding them from the snow with clear convenience-store umbrellas, and Seto realized that he had forgotten one himself.

Finally, his driver reached town hall and held open the car door. Parents, brothers, sisters, cousins, who had come to support their own twenty-year-olds, all seemed to turn around at once, then double take. “Isn't that Kaiba Seto?” They whispered too loudly as he passed them. Seto was certain he could feel someone's phone camera pointed at his back as he entered. His watch read 10:37. The ceremony would start soon.

***

The mayor, a slightly overweight man in a gray, cheap-looking suit took the stage, adjusting the microphone and clearing his throat. Several rows of newly-minted adults straightened their backs and lifted their heads. The entire auditorium stopped talking, and the mayor preemptively set his short-fingered hands on the podium. For the final time, he adjusted his legs, shoulder-width apart. Seto noticed a bald spot at the very back of his head, bordered by thinning white hair.

“Everyone, thank you for attending today's ceremony — ” He spoke in a coarse voice.

Seto began searching the first three rows for Mokuba. The young men and women had formed clusters, some still chatting quietly to one another. They made a patchwork quilt of solid black suits and explosions of flowers in red, white, and gold.

Mokuba would be in white. He had insisted. “I'm going to wear a suit for the rest of my life, but I'll probably have far fewer opportunities to wear a kimono.” So Seto took him shopping at one of the most expensive boutiques in Domino City, their winter line of handmade kimono on display. Most of them were furisode — sleeves to the floor and soaked in snow flowers, chrysanthemums, tsubaki .

Mokuba looked uncomfortable. He tensed at the extremely attentive sales assistant, who asked them in exquisite keigo what they needed. He tensed even more when Seto replied bluntly, “he needs an outfit for coming of age day.” He tensed while they brought out the entire cavalry of men's kimono — admittedly plainer than the women's, but just as elegant. Almost all of them bore complex patterns that fit seamlessly into their solid black or white fabrics, allegedly handmade. The shopkeeper ran her hand over each of them as if playing an instrument. It was genuinely surprising when they didn't respond with a musical phrase.

“You’re more than welcome to try on any one that you like, and one of our male employees can help you dress if you require assistance.” She had nearly reached the end of her, “please take your time,” when Mokuba pointed to the one on the very end.

“Uh — that white one looks nice.”

“Oh,” the shopkeeper had to walk to the far end of the table to reach it. “Do you mean this one, sir? Would you like to try it on?”

“Sure. Yes, I can try it on.”

Without prompting, yet another attentive male employee rushed over to lead him to the dressing room. “Please follow me this way, sir.” Seto got a glimpse of the kimono. No discernible pattern. Nothing extra. Just white silk adorned with the shop’s brand insignia embroidered in gold at the end of the sleeves.

Mokuba left the dressing room without the kimono on, yet claimed that he wanted that one. When Seto asked him if he was certain, he only nodded and tensed even more once Seto paid one million yen in cash straight from his wallet.

From his place in the third row of guest seating, Seto searched for that kimono, the stark white against both plain black and noisy flower patches, and found him sitting amongst a group of young women. One of them whispered something to him and Mokuba turned around, missing his shoulder-length hair. Sometime that morning he had gotten it cut. The woman at his side adjusted his bangs, giggling. She said something. “You look like your brother,” Seto imagined. Mokuba pulled away, brushed it off. That must have been it.

***

The ceremony ended and its attendants came gasping into the freezing winter air. The families occupied the bottom of the staircase as their children emerged at the top, posing in formation for pictures.

Mokuba had found a place in the second row, his hands at his side for the first serious photo and then with his tongue out and fingers forming a heart for the silly one. The same girl from earlier in a red kimono and thick-rimmed glasses made bunny ears above his head — something he would find later when they received the photos. They posed for one more before the crowd dispersed and Mokuba turned to her before coming downstairs. He must have promised to rejoin her, but then met eyes with Seto and began his descent.

Finally, Seto witnessed the full body of his kimono, its white sleeves and gray pants making him resemble the snow-covered mountains in the distance. He treaded so carefully down the steps, responsible with his new-seeming long legs, but he had been chipping away toward Seto’s height for a while. That fact hit especially hard when Mokuba ran to embrace him. His long strides had brought him so smoothly.

Someone snapped a picture.

“How did you manage to get a haircut?” Seto asked, maintaining his balance. “Every salon in the city must have been booked.”

“They were.” Mokuba set his hands on top of Seto’s shoulders, negotiating himself against the icy sidewalk, “but I had reserved my appointment months ago. I wanted to surprise you. I guess…” He paused, touching the back of his head. “I didn't realize how much I would resemble you.”

“It suits you,” Seto said. “You look grown up.”

Mokuba smiled but furrowed his brows. Someone shouted, “Kaiba- san ! May I please take a picture of you and Mokuba?” and someone else added, “to commemorate the occasion!”

Seto, who would normally have walked away, turned toward the crowd. He put his hand upon Mokuba’s back and found it to be rigid. Yet, Mokuba smiled for them. There would be articles written whether he did or didn't, so he chose to be pleasant. He grinned into the flashing lights, into a future of magazines that would compare their heights, their faces, weigh their fortune, pondering if Mokuba had found a girlfriend yet and commenting on the fact that Seto never had. It would be a thing for months until it wasn't at all, until something else happened, and the cycle would start over.

Seto felt Mokuba inflate with a sigh that no one would notice. He had become so good at letting it deflate slowly from his nose that only someone standing as close as Seto would hear it.

He called off the pictures and they loaded into the car, leaving barely enough time for Mokuba to wave to the young woman he had left up on the staircase.

#Seto Kaiba #jounouchi katsuya #katsuya jonouchi #puppyshipping #violetshipping #yu-gi-oh #Gay #Mokuba is a character as well

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fiesta-freddie · 4 years

Text

Love in Disguise - Part 4

Here’s part four! I’m happy with how this part turned out! Let me know if you’d like to be added to either taglist

Words: 2.3K

Summary: The day you’ve been preparing for has finally come, and with a sudden burst of confidence you feel ready. But are you prepared enough for the unexpected? You worry that the job might be given to someone else with more experience, but you soon realize you shouldn’t let your worries get to you.

---------

The day of the interview had finally come and you awoke with a newfound confidence. You weren't worried about anything, really. You felt that spending the day with Archie along with him giving you tips and tricks made you feel different about the whole situation. So what if you were a cross-dresser with a fake identity? At least you had a slight shot at getting a better paying job. It didn't matter if you landed that job or got arrested, because either way you wouldn't have to worry about bills for at least the next five years.

When you had awoke, Archie was already gone, but he had left you a note, with a piece of advice that you had greatly taken into consideration. “Y/N, one more piece of advice. Don’t wear a suit and tie to that interview, everyone else will probably do the same thing. It's expected. But if you dress a little more casual then there's a possibility that Mr. Epstein would feel more comfortable around you. It just shows ‘em that you're serious, but not snotty.”

You began to get yourself ready, choosing to follow Archies advice and wear one of the colored turtlenecks you had purchased yesterday.

After you dressed yourself and brushed out your new mop top hairstyle, you did a once over of yourself in the mirror. Despite the fact that the chest bind you were wearing was exceedingly uncomfortable, you had to admit you looked like a pretty convincing man. Archie was right, it's a look you could pull off well.

*****

Although you may not have been nervous earlier, the second you stepped into the building, your hands got clammy and your heart pounded so loud that you were sure it echoed throughout the building. Deep breaths Y/N, you can do this.

“Excuse me ma’am,” you said, trying your best to talk in the voice that Archie had taught you “I have an appointment at eleven-thirty with Mr. Epstein.” The receptionist gave you an annoyed look while taking a drag from her cigarette. “Can I have a last name for that?” she asked in a monotonous way.

“Oh yes, of course. Erm, Santiago...is the last name.” You watched her as she flicked ashes onto the paper full of names.

“Yeah, okay I see ya name. Take a seat over there and Mr. Epstein’ll be with ya’ shortly.”

You walked over to the row of chairs the gaunt receptionist had pointed to and took a seat. You fiddled with your fingers while you waited. It was a nervous habit you were unable to get rid of since you were a kid. “Alright Y/N, you've managed to make it this far, that's good. Mr. Epstein should be nice, right? Hopefully he won't ask pressing questions..or see right through me.”

Your thoughts were cut short as you had eyed a tall figure in the near distance. By his appearance you had assumed it was Epstein himself, so you stood to greet him. “Good morning, sir” you said.

“Good morning to you sir,” he said, firmly shaking your hand. “I’m Brian Epstein, The Beatles manager. You must be Ezra Santiago. My, I must say, what a lovely name, too.”

He wasn't at all what you had expected. His charming and light personality had somehow managed to make you feel more relaxed and less nervous. You had forgotten why you were so anxious at all in the first place.

“I must say, I do appreciate your sense of fashion. Every other person I’ve seen this morning has worn a suit, which is fine, but it's nice to see someone who isn't afraid to change things up a little,” he said gesturing to your outfit, “I suppose it's probably because you happen to be much younger than all the others too.”

“I- well, thank you very much sir.” You were unsure of what else to say, his compliments had caught you off guard.

“Right then, shall we get on with this interview? I know the boys are anxious to see who I bring in next.” Brian said, beginning to walk towards the office where the interviews were being held.

“The boys?” you questioned. You weren't exactly sure what he meant by that, but you had a pretty good idea.

“Sure. Since whoever I hire as an assistant will be spending a lot of time with the boys, I decided that I should bring them in and see who they warm up to the best. Be warned though, Lennon is a bit of a trouble maker.”

You hadn't expected The Beatles themselves to be at the interview, but there was no turning back now.

You followed Brian into a bland, cream colored room, which happened to be quite big. It was set up just like any other office, with the exception that there were four of the most famous men alive sitting in it. You sat yourself in the chair, as Brian made his way around the desk.

“Oi Eppy, who's the bloke you've brought in now? Another old wanker? Or another phony?” one of the boys said. You assumed it was John based on his wit and what Brian had told you. Brain said nothing and gave him a cold stare.

“Mr. Ezra Santiago, these are the boys,” he gestured over to them. You could now understand why all the teenage girls gushed over them, you had to admit they were a bit more attractive in person, but certainly not your type. “John, Paul, George and Ringo.” Thanks to Archie, it was easier to put names and faces together, now that you were able to tell each of them apart.

They sat by Brian with unamused looks on their faces, like four little boys who were bored out of their minds and wanted nothing more than to go home. You watched as the fiddled with their clothes and shoelaces

“Ezra, you said?” questioned John. He seemed like the only one who was willing to talk. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard that name ‘fore. Sure it isn’t a made up one?” He teased.

“That'll be enough Lennon.”

“You’re a swine.” He retorted

“Lennon, I mean it.” Brian said in a stern tone. That seemed to shut John down quickly. The other three boys giggled at John's scolding.

“I apologize for John's behavior, but I suppose he does have a bit of a point. You wouldn’t believe how many people we’ve seen today who were posing as males! Crazy teenage girls, I tell ya’.”

“Well I mean look at us Eppy,” Paul chimed in. Archie said he was the one girls liked the most, “Who wouldn't want us.” He said sarcastically.

“Oh get over yourself, Paul.” John said with a grin.

Brian rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to you “So Ezra,” Brian began, sifting through a pile of papers, “tell me a little about yourself. Where are you from, exactly?”

“Well actually, I moved here from America about six months ago. I’m an art major and as of now I work at a coffee shop not too far from here.”

“Ah, well I suppose that would explain why there's no accent.” Brian said jokingly. You only chuckled in response. “Well I’ll tell you what Ezra, I really do like the fact that you happen to be younger. Every other person I’ve seen this morning has been quite a bit older. I suppose that means they might be more responsible, but I certainly don't see why a person of your age wouldn't be able to do the same.”

“Yeah, every person. ‘Cept maybe for John.” Paul joked. Once again, George and Ringo laughed at Paul's joke.

“Aye, I can be responsible,” John said defensively “I just don’t like sharin’ my wisdom with you three.”

“Boys, that’ll be enough.” You could tell Brian way annoyed with them. No wonder why they needed an assistant “Well, Ezra tell me why you think you’d be good for this job. Anything that you think sets you apart from others?”

Oh well if I can pull off looking like a man, then I think that I more than qualified for this job you thought to yourself. “Well, before I moved for college, I was top of my class. I’m also quite responsible, the assistant manager at my current job.”

“Very good, very good.” Brian said, scribbling down words. You watched his hand move hastily across a piece of paper

“I’m not exactly sure if it counts as a qualification, but I think that being from America has its advantages, as far as any touring goes.”

“You certainly have a point, there.”

There was a moment of silence as Brian wrote down a few more notes. You glanced over at the four boys, but quickly averted your attention when George looked you straight in the eyes. He seemed to be the most intimidating out of all four of them. The complete opposite of Ringo.

“Well Mr. Ezra, I like you a lot, but unfortunately I have others to interview as well. If you get the job, however, I’ll give you a bell within the next few days,” Brian said, rising from his seat behind the desk. He walked over to the door and opened it. You took the hint and rose from your seat, walking over to the door.

“It was wonderful to meet you, sir. You certainly have a charming personality.” You said to him.

“Ah, well the same to you!”

You walked out the door and gave Brian a short wave. He smiled at you before shutting the door. Just like that the moment you had been the most worried about was over. You just stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do.

In your mind, you thought the interview had gone fairly well, but you weren't too sure of what Brian had thought. He seemed to like you, but maybe he was just putting on a front in order to seem approachable.

It was just a matter of time now before you got the answer that could change your future.

****

A few days passed, and with every day that went by you awaited a call.

“I dunno Arch, maybe I just wasn’t the right fit for it. Mr. Epstein did say that there were others who were a lot older than me and responsible too.” You said while slowly stirring the spoon in your tea. You were bummed out because it had been more than two days and at this point you were sure that Brian had already called someone and given them the job instead.

“Yes, but you also told me that Epstein said you were just as responsible. He probably had a lot of people to interview, and with an assistant's position like this he probably wants to make sure he's got the best person.” You stopped stirring for a moment and gave him a grave look. “And that person is obviously you.” Archie said, trying to save himself after he realized what he said. “Don’t worry about it Y/N, just give it some time and I'm sure things will work out in your favor.”

“I hope so. I mean I put so much effort into changing my appearance, I’d hate for it all to just be wasted, y’know?”

Archie was silent and had nothing else to say, and neither did you. Silence filled your living room, with the exception of an old clock that was ticking. You were starting to rethink everything. Was this even worth it? Probably not. You had all these clothes and things that were now useless to you.

“Well on the bright side at least we-” Archie began, but he was cut off by the ringing of your phone.

“Just a sec, let me get that.” You said setting down your cup and walking over to the phone that was mounted on the wall.

“Hello?” You answered, “This is Y/N speaking.”

“Y/N?” the man on the other line questioned. His voice sounded awfully familiar but you couldn’t quite remember where you had heard it before. “Oh, I’m sorry ma’am I must’ve dialed the wrong number, I was looking for an Ezra Santiago.”

Your eyes quickly widened at the name and you suddenly realized that the voice belonged to Brian Epstein. “Er uhm, just a moment s-sir, I’ll get him for you.” You said, trying to sound calm. You put your hand over the receiver and turned to Archie. He gave you a questioning look at first but once you mouthed the words 'It's Brian Epstein’ to him, suddenly his eyes widened too. He motioned to the phone, signaling for you to get back on the line with him.

“H-hello?” You said again, this time in your alter ego voice “Mr. Epstein?”

“Yes! Hello Ezra, how are you?”

“I’m doing quite well sir, how about yourself?”

“Very well thank you.”

“Well, uhm what can I do for you sir?” You said, turning to Archie and shrugging your shoulders. Your heart was racing and you were unsure of what to say. You were nervously twirling the phone line around your finger.

“Well first question, are you currently busy?”

“No, no not at all.”

“Great. You remember where the interviews were held the other day, right? I’d like you to meet me there in a half hour, I’ve got a few things I’d like to discuss with you.”

“That's wonderful, sir. I’ll be there!” you said excitedly, before hanging up the phone. You turned back to Archie.

“Well, what’d the old man have to say?” he asked you

“I have to meet him downtown in a half hour!” you screeched, jumping up and down like a little girl.

“I told you, he’d give you a ring Y/N! This is great!” Archie said, engulfing you in one of his infamous bone crushing hugs. You hugged him back, just as tightly with a smile on your face “This is it, Y/N! This is the part where your life changes forever!”

-----

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burn-in-the-dawn · 3 years

Text

"CURSED" Characters' Age Breakdown (per the book)

Squirrel: 10 years old

Iris: 11 years old

Pym: 16

Nimue: 16

Gawain: 23 (see discussion below)

Uther Pendragon: 26

Arthur: age unspecified, likely 25-26 (see discussion below)

Lancelot: age unspecified, presumably same age range as Gawain & Arthur & Uther (to be discussed in more detail at a later date)

Morgana: age unspecified, likely 21-24 (she's stated in the book by Arthur to be 2 years younger than him, but he's an unreliable narrator about his past so that might be unreliable as well...see discussion below)

DISCUSSION/Explanation of Questionable and/or Speculated Ages

Gawain: Okay, so, the book expressly states him to be "7 years older" than Nimue & have left Dewdenn "at age 14", specifying his departure as having been 9 years before the story itself takes place (Nimue is confirmed several times in the book to be 16 - almost 17). And despite the fact that actor Matt Stokoe (29-30 at time of filming) does not pull off passing for early-mid 20s the way his costars do (IRL he's a few years younger than Daniel Sharman who played The Weeping Monk / Lancelot & only two years older than Devon Terrell who played Arthur), that's something I'm willing to suspend my disbelief on & mentally compartmentalize as "world-weariness & war have taken a toll & 'aged' him beyond his years". In part because, looking back at some of his roles several years ago, the actor looked damn near 30 when he was 23. My own ex looked at age 24 (when I met him) older than Stokoe does now, I've got a friend who looked mid-30s at age 19, I have old photos of my mother at age 13 where she looked completely indistinguishable from her wedding pictures at 23 or her nursing school graduation pictures at 27 & I myself was consistently mistaken for my mid-20s by the time I was 14. The classic "Gawain" hairstyle also does him no favors; there's a scene very early on in his introduction, when he & Nimue are alone in one of the caverns discussing the Sword & Merlin, where he's freshly clean shaven with his hair pulled back away from his face in a ponytail & while he still doesn't look 23 he does look considerably younger than in any other scene in the series. (I genuinely think that production was just kind of oblivious - with 34 year old Daniel Sharman so easily passing for a decade younger - to the fact Matt Stokoe was not 'reading' early-mid 20s the way his costars do). But more pointedly, in the context of 'Cursed', Arthur's fear of loosing Nimue to Gawain is played out only as jealousy directed at a perceived rival for her affection. Regardless of which one's responses & behaviors to other situations present as mature vs childish, they very expressly interact with eachother behaviorally as rivals & contemporaries, NOT like a youth vs an older adult (in fact, Gawain behaves markedly immaturely around/toward Arthur - on pretty much every level - up until Moycraig). They even choreographed the majority of Gawain's/Arthur's postures & movements to mirror eachother from their 2nd scene together onward, to draw a cinematic visual parallel between them from the very beginning. I think if Gawain being considerably older had been an intentional/conscious change on the part of the show, the dynamic of their relationship wouldn't have been staged so specifically to mirror eachother to such an extent.

Arthur: Now, that being said, even though the book doesn't specify I strongly suspect book-Arthur himself to be canonically no younger than 25. Reason being, in the Arthuriana Tradition, Arthur unknowingly being a Pendragon bastard or secret offspring is one of the single most consistent themes throughout centuries of varying lore, hand in hand with the magic Sword, for his claim to the throne. And the book does have him expressly introduce Morgana as his younger half-sister, which not only suggests same mother with different father but also that despite Arthur having been raised by him they know he's not biologically Sir Tor's (although Arthur thinks of him as such). Now, 'Cursed' is obviously forgoing the traditional lore of Arthur being Uther's illegitimate son, because no matter how you slice it Uther's too young to have fathered him even if you aged show-Uther up a decade+ from the book's specified 26 years old & aged Arthur down a bit. But beyond that, they've thrown in the added touch of Uther himself - having been secretly switched at birth for Queen Lunette's still-born son - not in fact being the previous king's true-born heir. Once the Sword passes eventually to Arthur, even with legends about "he who wields the sword will be the true king", Man Blood society will require more than prophecy to recognize/legitimize a his rulership. Though strictly speculation, if I had to make a prediction about Book/Season 2, it would be on Merlin or someone else uncovering evidence that Arthur's actually the previous king's illegitimate biological son rather than his "father" Sir Tor's - conceived shortly before the old king's death sometime during Queen Lunette's pregnancy - at a guess that evidence coming from either Arthur's aunt or uncle. I figure that evidence will wind up being publicly recognized/acknowledged as part of the climax of a redemption/growth arch for Uther, naming Arthur his "brother/heir", prior to his own death - giving Arthur a legitimate claim on the Pendragon throne that supercedes Cumber's claim as a Pendragon cousin. If I'm right in that prediction, since the old King had died by the time Uther was born, Arthur can be no more than 9 months younger than 26 year old Uther, making him at least 25. (It's debated within the fandom that he doesn't look or act like the character is out of his late teens, but considering the actor himself is 28, I'm really not sure how that's defined? Appearance-wise he's got more chest hair on display with his doublet on than Lancelot does with shirt off & his immature avoidance of responsibility seems from the book to be more reflective of subconsciously modeling Tor's example than an age indicator but he's old enough he's spent several years already as a sword-for-hire mercenary. So, while I do allow my theory in his parentage & age is speculation which Book/Season 2 may prive me completely wrong able - not ratified canon - I do stand by that theory for my fic-verse; how old someone "looks" is really subjective & debatable, plus if "maturity level" was meant to be any kind of concrete age indicator in the Cursed-verse then King Uther wouldn't spend the entire series & book acting like a spoiled 6 year old.)

[The following doesn't change anything about how old I think Arthur himself is, but creates some potential flexibility regarding Morgana's age: When Arthur's reflecting on memories of childhood - even via internal monolog - he's consistently inconsistent regarding what age he claims to have been for key noted childhood events (at one point in his thoughts he recalls being 16 with his living mother away tending to a sick relative when Tor died, but later on in the book he reflects that he'd been 10 when Morgana was sent away to Yvoire Convent after he inherited all of Sir Tor's debt with presumably no living mother around to prevent it; alternatively, the show specified he was age 12 when Tor died & Morgana was sent away). At first I thought it was a total screw-up in the writing, but then I reread Morgana's repeated characterization of him as inconsistent & flighty & self-serving & utterly full of shit, paired with Arthur's own characterization of Tor (who again, I don't think was his biological father but was certainly his most formative male role-model) as quite literally talking out of his ass about his imaginary exploits pretty much 100% of the time & Arthur himself repeatedly bending the truth to get what he wants as an ingrained survival habit consistently seen via interaction with people like Bors & Druuna. Again, this is purely speculation, but I think it his written contradictory self-reflections were probably very much on purpose to intentionally establish him as a starting off a significantly "unreliable narrator" the same way he recalls Tor being, to the point of lying to himself rather than deal with painful memories or take accountability/responsibility for uncomfortable personal flaws & faults. I suspect that him overcoming that tendency that he learned from Tor's example - with actions like admitting to Nimue he was in the wrong going after the first man he ever killed (mistakenly believing him to be one of those responsible for Tor's death) shaming his father's memory & like coming back to fight with/for the Fey - are going to be a driving feature within his growth/redemption arch in Book/Season 2.]

Morgana: The book specifies Arthur telling Nimue that Morgana is 2 years his junior; however, he establishes himself as such an unreliable narrator that I feel like anything he says about him & Morgana that's not directly corroborated by Morgana herself is suspect, even their age difference, so I'll allow for the possibility of the age gap potentially being up to 4 years instead of 2. If my guess (see above) about Arthur's paternity - therefore his age - is correct, that puts Morgana herself somewhere between 21 -24. Per societal norms of the period, that actually puts her into "old maid" territory, but contextually to the historical era, she would have been able to get away with dodging societal pressure of being married off against her wishes by that age - up until leaving the abbey at least - because of having been at convent (in contrast to 16 year old Pym, who in both the book & the show says her mother's trying to force her into an unwanted marriage to "Stinky Aaron" the human fish-wife's son).

(note: I compiled this mostly as a quick reference citation I can direct myself or my fic readers back to for my 'canon' logic on the ages I've assigned characters in my stories. I went with the ages listed in the book for my fic-verse because of the express lack of clarification of most of them given in the show & am speculating on the others based on lore-related theory, so yes the potentially problematic age difference is present. I don't intend to villainize Arthur over having pursued her, partially because even though the readers know she's 16 there's nothing in the book & only one brief comment from Gawain in the show which isn't followed up on - Ector calling her a child doesn't count because he dismisses all of them as children - to indicate that Arthur knows she's that young & many contextual reasons for him to have assumed she was older. I apologize if that offends, but it's not meant as an endorsement of it; as the story outline/concept for this fic-verse stands I have no plans on romantically pairing Nimue with anyone & no plans for Pym so soon after Dof's death to be seriously looking at anyone in that capacity until much later in the story.)

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incorrectly-quoted-queers · 4 years

Text

A Room Full of Vampires

A Drawfee Fanfiction

John’s sister was the lamest best friend he ever had.

They had planned to go to the movies for a week now, after months of John begging her to go with him. She only caved because this double feature landed on his birthday, and he promised she’d get out of buying him a gift if she went.

Cheapskate she was, Ava readily agreed.

For the past few days, he’d been so excited about it. He planned on going all out at the snack bar, he’d bring a blanket, the works. It would be like when they were kids and they used to watch movies in blanket forts when their parents went on dates.

Considering John’s birthday last year was the worst thing that happened to him, he deserved to have some serious nostalgic fun on this one.

But that morning, when he woke up to only one text, all it said was a weak apology that she couldn’t make it because her boyfriend had a work event. Then about twenty minutes later she added a proper, “Happy Birthday”.

Cool. First birthday single in ten years and not even his sister wanted to spend the day with him. It was fine.

Totally fine.

However, when it was 7 pm and John hadn’t left his house and had totally demolished a pint of red velvet ice cream, he concluded that maybe it wasn’t fine.

By the time the first movie of his fantasized double feature was almost over, John was pretty damn sick of staring down the liter of Mountain Dew and feeling sorry for himself. He looked in the mirror. Sure his hair was a mess and he still was wearing yesterday’s clothes, but he was a perfectly capable 26-year-old man. If he wanted to go to the movies on his birthday, he could go all by himself, dammit.

Feeling a surge of self-confidence (possibly fueled by his energy drink overdose) he vibed with the electricity running under his skin. That’s right. He was an averagely attractive, somewhat active, not dead human. He could go out and do anything!

Granted, he couldn’t fly. He caught himself a taxi the second he got outside. He wasn’t an animal.

When he reached the theater, the box office was derelict, save an arguing couple buying tickets. In the dark night, the platinum blonde, with arguably fabulous long hair, glistened under the bright lights. The duo looked a lot fancier than him, but sometimes people cosplayed to the theaters, so that’s what he figured was going on. Since the second feature was Cats, maybe they just really liked musicals and wanted to get their Phantom of the Opera on. He just sorta shrugged it off and waited for them to be done.

But their bickering was pretty interesting. “Bertrand, we were supposed to go to an elaborate dinner tonight. But instead, you stayed at work late, missed our reservations, and you’re trying to make it up to me by taking me to a half-finished theater event? I’m not a dog, your scraps aren’t enough for me.”

“Bastian, I am trying to make it up to you. You love Cats. You’ve always loved Cats. You loved Cats before it even was on Broadway. This should be a fun substitute.”

“Well, maybe I wanted to see Sonic the Hedgedog, too.”

“It’s hedgehog, love.”

“Whatever.” The blonde, named Bastian, crossed his arms and stared at the movie posters, waiting for Bertrand to finish paying.

While John loved himself a good drama, the awkwardness of hearing a couple argue also made him want to shrivel up inside and die. On a normal day, that would’ve been enough to make him go home.

But not today.

Today was his birthday and he was going to see a movie, dammit.

After the way-too-fashionable men walked away, John walked up to the dead-eyed teenager. “One for the double feature.”

“What is up with you people, coming half-way through the show?”

He didn’t mean to, but John bristled from the inside out. Caffeine rage was no joke. “I am an adult and I live my life in a way that makes me happy. I look like a happy man, don’t I?”

“I don’t think I wanna answer that.” Handing over his tickets, the teen grimaced. “Enjoy the show, dude.”

John didn’t mean to get so rattled, so he gave the guy an awkward wave and hoped that he never met him again.

Okay, all the chaos had to be over now. He was going to walk into that theater, enjoy this damned movie, and prove that he was perfectly fine on his own. He didn’t need Ava or Stacy or anyone to make his birthday a good one. He was a 26-year-old man and--

Just as John pushed the doors to the theater open, he saw the couple from before standing in front of all the aisles, accompanied by two other oddly dressed men, four children, a bat, and a dog with...Wings?

Though John had been pumping his arms pretty intently, a man on a mission, he stopped dead.

All the way down the aisles, Bertrand said, “So that’s why I knew this double feature was happening.”

Behind the kids, the guy with a big cloak threw open his arms and yelled, “Boo!” They all jumped and squealed, but then threw themselves into his arms.

By all accounts, that should’ve been more than enough for John to leave. There was also a fair shot that, unless he was absolutely losing his mind, he might’ve just walked into a roomful of vampires. Or vampire cosplayers, at the very least, which wouldn’t be the strangest thing he walked in on. After all, nothing would ever beat Stacy getting bent over by a guy in a Teletubby costume.

He still had no clue what the guy’s face even looked like.

Cringing, John instead focused on watching the bizarre, but obviously happy family banter, hug, and bicker. Even the angry couple still obviously was very much in love with each other. Though he could hear Bastian’s petty comments all the way up the stairs, the guy kept making sure Bertrand never stepped on his own cloak. It was horribly sweet, even if it made him feel so much more alone.

Sitting down, he accepted that his night couldn’t get any weirder, so he might as well accept it.

The parents of the kids walked over to Bertrand and Bastian. The one who looked like he got hair tips from Doc Brown was patting Bertrand on the head. “So happy to have my older brother show up to our family outing!”

“It wasn’t on purpose, Victor.”

The shorter, more cartoonish guy shrugged. “Either way, Valentino and I are happy to see you. And so are the kids! Desdemona has been dying to see her “shiny-headed uncle”.”

“Balding is a completely natural part of the male aging process. I just unfortunately got stuck in the middle of it.”

Just as Victor opened his mouth, the lights dimmed. “Ooh! Time for the movie to start. Sit with us!”

Bastian patted Bertrand’s shoulder and he did this deep sigh, but he did it with such ease that it must be muscle memory from years of annoyance. John remembered when he and Ava used to have tics like that. They texted every other day, but the last time he saw her in person had to be months ago.

He didn’t even know what color her hair was right now. Knowing her, it probably changed a few times since the purple he saw last.

Even though Cats started up, and the CGI was a disturbing kind of mesmerizing, John couldn’t keep his eyes off the family in the first few rows. The way Bastian and Bertrand held each other’s sleeves was endearing. The little girl next to Bertrand kept leaning over and asking him questions, but no matter how tense he looked, it seemed like he always answered them. And while he didn’t quite understand what was happening, the one named Valentino held the tiny bat like it was a sweet, sleepy toddler.

His chest started to hurt, looking at them, but he also couldn’t look away. Vampire cosplayers or whatever, they were family. It made his own fingers feel so cold, so empty and killed his Mountain Dew buzz completely.

John looked to his own left and right and wondered how long it’d been since he got used to being alone. Those last few months with Stacy weren’t the best, and Ava drifted when--

Looking down at Victor and Valentino giggling and covering their kids’ eyes when the Cats were a little too sensual, he knew what the answer was: Ava had been distant since they lost their own version of those two.

When Ava and John’s parents died, it had been so sudden. Before that, they spent so much time together. Ava was his best friend, over at his apartment every few days for ramen or advice or to make him try out some new recipe she had. Mom and Dad would take them to farmer’s markets and book drives, supporting their dreams in their own, weird ways. And they all used to really love mini golf, no matter how dumb that was.

He couldn't remember the last time Ava stopped by his book store, even just to say hi.

Maybe he had a lot more going on than just being lonely; maybe Ava did, too.

Before John could really register what was going on, the lights were coming up and it felt like his heart was being torn out of his chest. His cheeks got wet and his lungs got so full of loneliness that they didn’t know they were a pair. He didn’t want it to end. He wanted to stay in this dark theater, living vicariously through this vampire family a little longer.

But crying in a near-empty movie theater doesn’t go unnoticed for long. “Um, sir? Are you okay?” The one named Victor was suddenly in front of him, touching his shoulder, with these kind, however dark and kinda creepy, eyes.

If this was a normal day, John would smile and play it off.

But today was his birthday, dammit.

Shaking his head, John said, ‘No.”

Behind him, the entire vampire family had pooled, all looking at him with their own dark, kinda creepy eyes. John wasn’t really in a place to judge, though, considering his were probably all puffy.

Victor asked, “Mind if I ask what it’s about?”

“You all are just a really beautiful family.” John sniffled and tried to rub away as many tears as he could. While the honesty felt nice, there was only so much shamelessness his very embarrassing soul could handle. “I think I got a little jealous.”

“Well, if you want, you can come join us for midnight mini-golf. The night has just started for us, and it’s our little girl’s birthday. The more the merrier.”

John couldn’t help but laugh. “Mine, too.”

“Even better!” Victor stood up and offered John a hand. He took it.

As they passed the rest of the group, Valentino was rounding up the kids, Bastian was knuckling away a tear, and Bertrand was frowning. But it was the kind of way someone frowned when they knew they were about to be forced to enjoy something that they totally would enjoy, but hated to admit it.

With a knowing smirk, Victor asked, “Coming to mini-golf, Bertrand? It’s Desi and this young man’s birthday, after all.”

Bastian added, “I won’t be so completely annoyed with you anymore if we do.”

Bertrand scoffed in defeat. “Fine.”

And then John followed the roomful of vampires to mini-golf, and chose to actively ignore the fact none of their reflections showed up in any of the water features and the liquid in their water bottles was red. It was easier to focus on the way they all smiled together under the moonlight.

Tonight was his birthday, and he was going to enjoy it with a real, live family (sort of).

He’d call Ava in the morning. They had a lot to talk about.

#Drawfee #Drawfee fanfiction #A Room Full of Vampires #fanfiction #I'm sorry #family angst

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chicagocityofclans · 3 years

Photo

Dan Prior → Bill Skarsgård → Vampire

→ Basic Information

Age: 119

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Birthday: October 29th

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Religion: Atheist

→ His Personality Dan never wanted the vampire life he was given. It plays into his daily lackadaisical, negative and depressed attitude. Outwardly to those who do not know him, Dan personifies the stereotypical 'rich spoiled boy' who hides behind his wealth and Getta status. However those who truly know him know that Dan is sensitive and lonesome in nature, due to the death of his love and being forcibly changed into a vampire. He is loyal and kind to Getta, as well as his caretaker Sadie. Dan exhibits a genuine desire to be a good person, but it is hidden behind his brooding nature and quick hostility towards those who he believes are too quick to judge him. Dan refuses to be kind or change in order to make friends or change people's outlook of him. He believes that those you accept him now, as is, are the only ones who deserve him in their lives at all.

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Student at Hema Academy

Scars: The Bite Mark That Changed Him

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: The Underground and Witches Blood

Two Dislikes: Blood Tears and Human Blood

Two Fears: Day Phobia and Drinking (Guilty Blood Drinker)

Two Hobbies: Brooding and Baseball

Three Positive Traits: Adventurous, Ernest, Innocent

Three Negative Traits: Hostile, Rebellious, Unenthusiastic

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Wallace Prior (Father): Dan could never live up to his father's expectations.

Bernadette Prior (Mother): Dan was a great disappointment to his mother.

Sibling Names:

None

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Winona Fili (Deceased Girlfriend): The time they shared together was too short for Dan but the memories will stay with him forever. She was the love of his life.

Platonic Connections:

Rachel Sloane (Best Friend): He was blood hungry for Rachel when he first saw her as a human but when she became a vampire and was betrayed, they became inseparable. Rachel has been a help to him just as he has been a help to her.

Chiara Ricci (Friend): Chiara is pretty cool. Some of the vampires can have cold and gray personalities but Chiara is bright and lights up Dan’s night.

Sadie McCoy (Guardian): Dan wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for Sadie. She has put up with his bullshit and mourning for decades but she is still around. If she wasn’t such a good friend Dan would consider her a mother or older sister figure.

Scorpius Getta (Guardian): Getta calls himself Dan’s grandfather since he was Winona’s maker but Dan sees him as nothing more than his annoying ex-future father-in-law and at times a whining mother hen. Dan respects him.

Richard Fili (Family): Fili was equally as devastated as Dan when Winona was taken from them. He was always nice to Dan and it meant a lot since he was Winona progeny. Dan still cringes whenever Fili calls him dad, sir or papa.

Aleksander Mazur (Family): Alek wasn’t nice to Dan when Winona started bringing him around. They didn’t really bond until after her death. They’re family and no one can tell them otherwise. They would kill for each other.

Raphael Caron (Family): Dan and Raphael hit it off the first time they met. Raphael always went out of his way to be nice to him and considers Dan his little brother. Dan appreciates Raphael putting up with him and never giving up hope.

Fiona ‘Fi’ Marz (Family): Fiona annoyed the crap out of Dan but they bonded soon after Winona's death, when she started telling Dan stories that Winona never had the chance to share. Dan learned to enjoy her company without the stories.

Morana ‘Ana’ Vickors (Acquaintance): Dan doesn’t remember Ana before his change and he doesn’t remember much about her after his change. He remembers her coming more into the picture after Getta took over the Underground. They haven’t had the chance to truly develop their friendship but Dan wouldn’t mind it.

Clarisse Fields (Old Acquaintance): Clara was a part of the same rich society that his parents tried to force him into. She was surprised to see him as a vampire and he was surprised to find out that she was a bear animal shifter. They shared pleasantries and Dan asked for updates about his parents when they were alive.

Hostile Connections:

Petra Chak (Annoyance): Petra nose is too high up to notice that Dan doesn’t give a rat’s ass about her, her history or her age ranking. She can go fuck herself.

Sven (Unknown): Sven offered way too many times to help him end his life. Dan is unsure if he’s trying to be helpful or if he truly hates him.

Chen Ying Yue (Annoyance): Chen is cool but annoyingly happy.

Paul Stone (Hate): When he found out what happened to Rachel, Paul joined his shit list. Dan makes sure to turn on the hungry eyes when he is near.

Pets:

Melissa (Black Cat): He found her in the Underground. A few younger vampires wanted to kill her and see how she tasted. Dan got to her first and has kept her safe.

→ History Dan was the only son and child of Bernadette and Wallace Prior. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. They were one of the wealthiest families in Illinois. Growing up, Dan didn’t give off the personification of the stereotypical rich white boy. He hated his parent’s money and the expectations that came with it. He hated not being able to make normal friends and attend normal functions. He hated that people hated him for his money and even more, hated him because he didn’t want his money. He couldn’t fit in anywhere. He attended piano, gymnastics, tennis, horseback riding, swimming and boxing alone. After getting into fight after fight in private elementary school his parents sent him away to boarding school for middle school. When he returned home for high school, Dan was more bitter than ever. He was introduced to alcohol during his freshman year and cigarettes during his sophomore year. During his junior and senior years, Dan had tried nearly every drug in the book but chose to stick with the basics, alcohol and cigarettes.

It was towards the end of his senior year when Dan snuck out and joined a few of the seniors from school for a trip to the theater. That’s where he met Winona. Her eyes shined and her skin was pale as she brushed past him with a group of friends towards the theater. Dan literally felt chills run down his spine. Throughout the movie, his eyes were transfixed on her a few rows down. Every time she tossed back her hair or when she laughed hard enough to make her shoulders shake, his breath caught. He had met a few fast girls and wasn’t blind to them wanting his money, but this was the first time he had met anyone he wanted to personally pursue. As his and her companions left one by one, Dan made his move, but she had already appeared in front of him in a fit of giggles. She must have noticed him earlier and one of her friends had informed her of his glaze. He was speechless. They kept meeting at the theater every Friday night for a few weeks before Dan asked to make it official. She seemed hesitant at first but with an approving nod from who Dan always assumed was her older brother, Getta, she said yes. They continued dating at other sites, but it was always at night. Dan was ready to take her home to his parents on the night of his graduation, but his parents argued that she was not good enough for their name or their networking groups and possibly was using him for his money. Dan left the house in a storm and met Winona at their usual meeting place. He told her about his parents, and she told him about her being a vampire.

Dan was reintroduced to the world around him. Winona allowed him to take in the information she laid on him. A week later she showed him proof and took him to the Underground. She reintroduced Getta as her maker and showed off her sired sisters and brother. It was another three weeks later, after learning everything he could in his free time, that Winona talked about him becoming a Zygote. Dan declined without much thought. He hated the thought of eternity, being forever young and the thought of surviving on blood. It shocked everyone he was starting to become friends with Underground. He loved Winona like he never loved before and wanted to be with her but life as a vampire wasn’t on his list. He was going to start college; his parents had a list of potential wives that he didn’t want and multiple threats about being disowned. His plate was full, and his head was ready to explode. He wanted Winona to be his forever and was considering accepting her offer once he had more information. His choice was taken from him when Winona’s seethe master found out about them. The seethe master killed Winona for breaking the seethe rules and forcibly changed Dan. When Dan awoke, Getta and Sadie were around him, mourning their loss and the sad new world that Dan would be forced to endure. He didn’t want to live forever, but he was willing to spend it with Winona but now she was gone, and he was a lonely immortal creature.

→ The Present Dan was on suicide watch for years. He yelled, rebelled and refused to drink. He was mourning the loss of Winona and the loss of his human life. He was unable to go home or say goodbye to his parents. His face was on every local paper and every cop was looking for him around town; everywhere but Underground. He was livid at everyone. The seethe master for forcibly changing him and killing Winona. Sadie for trying to comfort him when he wanted to be alone. Getta for not stopping it ahead of time. Aleksander for holding him down and forcibly pouring blood down his throat. Petra for acting unaffected. Raphael for being young and happy all the time, and Fiona for trying to make a bond with him now that her sired sister had died. He hated them all and left bite marks wherever he could on them to show it. It was another 10 years before Getta had enough backing to kill the seethe master and succeed him. That was the only time Dan felt joy. He thought he would finally be allowed to die and have his peace wherever the afterlife took him. He was sadly mistaken. Over the years the others grew attached to him, no matter how hard he pushed them away. Dan was sure they just wanted to keep the last of her alive, which was him and refused to believe he had won them over as he wallowed in his grief.

#Dan Prior #Taken #Bill Skarsgard

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wearyewe · 4 years

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...The candidates were talking about health care. At first, Biden sounded strong, confident, presidential: “My plan makes a limit of co-pay to be One. Thousand. Dollars. Because we—”

He stopped. He pinched his eyes closed. He lifted his hands and thrust them forward, as if trying to pull the missing sound from his mouth. ��We f-f-f-f-further support—” He opened his eyes. “The uh-uh-uh-uh—” His chin dipped toward his chest. “The-uh, the ability to buy into the Obamacare plan.” Biden also stumbled when trying to say immune system.

Fox News edited these moments into a mini montage. Stifling laughter, the host Steve Hilton narrated: “As the right words struggled to make that perilous journey from Joe Biden’s brain to Joe Biden’s mouth, half the time he just seemed to give up with this somewhat tragic and limp admission of defeat.”

Several days later, Biden’s team got back in touch with me. One of his aides gingerly asked whether I’d noticed the former vice president stutter during the debate. Of course I had—I stutter, far worse than Biden. The aide said he was ready to talk about it. In November, after Biden stumbled multiple times during a debate in Atlanta, the topic would become even more relevant.

...Stuttering is a neurological disorder that affects roughly 70 million people, about 3 million of whom live in the United States. It has a strong genetic component: Two-thirds of stutterers have a family member who actively stutters or used to. Biden’s uncle on his mother’s side—“Uncle Boo-Boo,” as he was called—stuttered his whole life.

In the most basic sense, a stutter is a repetition, prolongation, or block in producing a sound. It typically presents between the ages of 2 and 4, in up to twice as many boys as girls, who also have a higher recovery rate. During the developmental years, some children’s stutter will disappear completely without intervention or with speech therapy. The longer someone stutters, however, the lower the chances of a full recovery—perhaps due to the decreasing plasticity of the brain. Research suggests that no more than a quarter of people who still stutter at 10 will completely rid themselves of the affliction as adults.

The cultural perception of stutterers is that they’re fearful, anxious people, or simply dumb, and that stuttering is the result. But it doesn’t work like that. Let’s say you’re in fourth grade and you have to stand up and recite state capitals. You know that Juneau is the capital of Alaska, but you also know that you almost always block on the j sound. You become intensely anxious not because you don’t know the answer, but because you do know the answer, and you know you’re going to stutter on it.

Stuttering can feel like a series of betrayals. Your body betrays you when it refuses to work in concert with your brain to produce smooth speech. Your brain betrays you when it fails to recall the solutions you practiced after school with a speech therapist, allegedly in private, later learning that your mom was on the other side of a mirror, watching in the dark like a detective. If you’re a lucky stutterer, you have friends and family who build you back up, but sometimes your protectors betray you too.

...The students are taking turns reading a book, one by one, up and down the rows. “I could count down how many paragraphs, and I’d memorize it, because I found it easier to memorize than look at the page and read the word. I’d pretend to be reading,” Biden says. “You learned early on who the hell the bullies were,” he tells me later. “You could tell by the look, couldn’t you?”

...“The paragraph I had to read was: ‘Sir Walter Raleigh was a gentleman. He laid his cloak upon the muddy road suh-suh-so the lady wouldn’t soil her shoes when she entered the carriage,’ ” Biden tells me, slightly and unintentionally tripping up on the word so. “And I said, ‘Sir Walter Raleigh was a gentle man who—’ and then the nun said, ‘Mr. Biden, what is that word?’ And it was gentleman that she wanted me to say, not gentle man. And she said, ‘Mr. Buh-Buh-Buh-Biden, what’s that word?’ ”

...Listening back to that part of the conversation after our interview made me feel dizzy. I can only speculate as to why Biden’s campaign agreed to this interview, but I assume the reasoning went something like this: If Biden disclosed to me, a person who stutters, that he himself still actively stutters, perhaps voters would cut him some slack when it comes to verbal misfires, as well as errors that seem more related to memory and cognition.

But whenever I asked Biden about what appeared to be his present-day stuttering, the notably verbose candidate became clipped, or said he didn’t remember, or spun off to somewhere new.

I wondered if I reminded Biden of his old self, a ghost from his youth, the stutterer he used to be. He and I are about the same height. We happened to be wearing the exact same outfit that day: navy suit, white shirt, no tie. We both went to all-male prep schools, the sort of place where displaying any weakness is a liability.

As I listened to the recording of our interview, I remembered how I used to respond when people asked me about my stutter. I’d shut down. I’d try to change the subject. I’d almost always look away.

...This evolution in treatment has been accompanied by a new movement to destigmatize the disorder, similar to the drive to view autism through a lens of “neurodiversity” rather than as a pathology. The idea is to accept, even embrace, one’s stutter. There are practical reasons for this: Research shows, according to Donaher, that the simple disclosure “I stutter” benefits both the stutterer and the listener—the former gets to explain what’s happening and ease the awkward tension so the latter isn’t stuck wondering what’s “wrong” with this person. Saying those two words is harder than it seems. “I’m working with people who spend their whole lives and are never able to disclose it,” Donaher told me.

Eric S. Jackson, an assistant professor of communicative sciences and disorders at NYU, told me he believes that Biden’s eye movements—the blinks, the downward glances—are part of his ongoing efforts to manage his stutter. “As kids we figure out: Oh, if I move parts of my body not associated with the speech system, sometimes it helps me get through these blocks faster,” Jackson, a stutterer himself, explained. Jackson credits an intensive program at the American Institute for Stuttering, in Manhattan, with bringing him back from a “rock bottom” period in his mid-20s, when he says his stutter kept him from meeting women or speaking up enough to reach his professional goals. Afterward, Jackson went all in on disclosure: Every day for six months, he stood up during the subway ride to and from work and announced that he was a person who stutters. “I had this new relationship with my stuttering—I was like Hercules,” he told me. At 41, Jackson still stutters, but in conversation he confidently maintains eye contact and appears relaxed. He wishes Biden would be more transparent about his intermittent disfluency. “Running for president is essentially the biggest stage in the world. For him to come out and say ‘I still stutter and it’s fine’ would be an amazing, empowering message.”

Occasionally, Biden has used present-tense verbs when discussing his stutter. “I find myself, when I’m tired, cuh-cuh-catching myself, like that,” he said during a 2016 American Institute for Stuttering speech. Biden has used the phrase we stutterers at times, but in most public appearances and interviews, Biden talks about how he overcame his speech problem, and how he believes others can too. You can watch videos posted by his campaign in which Biden meets young stutterers and encourages them to follow his lead. They’re sweet clips, even if the underlying message—beat it or bust—is out of sync with the normalization movement.

Emma Alpern is a 32-year-old copy editor who co-leads the Brooklyn chapter of the National Stuttering Association and co-founded NYC Stutters, which puts on a day-long conference for stuttering destigmatization. Alpern told me that she’s on a group text with other stutterers who regularly discuss Biden, and that it’s been “frustrating” to watch the media portray Biden’s speech impediment as a sign of mental decline or dishonesty. “Biden allows that to happen by not naming it for what it is,” she said, though she’s not sure that his presidential candidacy would benefit if he were more forthcoming. “I think he’s dug himself into a hole of not saying that he still stutters for so long that it would strike people as a little weird.”

...As he watched The King’s Speech, Biden accurately guessed that the screenwriter, David Seidler, was a stutterer. “He showed me a copy of a speech they found in an attic that the king had actually used, where he marks his—it’s exactly what I do!” Biden tells me, his voice lifting. “My staff, when I have them put something on a prompter—I wish I had something to show you.”

He pulls out a legal pad and begins drawing diagonal lines a few inches apart, as if diagramming invisible sentences: x words, breath, y words, breath. “Because it’s just the way I have—the, the best way for me to read a, um, a speech. I mean, when I saw The King’s Speech, and the speech—I didn’t know anybody who did that!”

...A stutter does not get worse as a person ages, but trying to keep it at bay can take immense physical and mental energy. Biden talks all day to audiences both small and large. In addition to periodically stuttering or blocking on certain sounds, he appears to intentionally not stutter by switching to an alternative word—a technique called “circumlocution”—which can yield mangled syntax. I’ve been following practically everything he’s said for months now, and sometimes what is quickly characterized as a memory lapse is indeed a stutter. As Eric Jackson, the speech pathologist, pointed out to me, during a town hall in August Biden briefly blocked on Obama, before quickly subbing in my boss. The headlines after the event? “Biden Forgets Obama’s Name.” Other times when Biden fudges a detail or loses his train of thought, it seems unrelated to stuttering, like he’s just making a mistake. The kind of mistake other candidates make too, though less frequently than he does.

During his 2016 address at the American Institute for Stuttering, Biden told the room that he’d turned down an invitation to speak at a dinner organized by the group years earlier. “I was afraid if people knew I stuttered,” he said, “they would have thought something was wrong with me.”

Yet even when sharing these old, hard stories, Biden regularly characterizes stuttering as “the best thing that ever happened” to him. “Stuttering gave me an insight I don’t think I ever would have had into other people’s pain,” he says. I admire his empathy, even if I disagree with his strict adherence to a tidy redemption narrative.

In Biden’s office, as my time is about to run out, I bring up the fact that Trump crudely mocked a disabled New York Times reporter during the 2016 campaign. “So far, he’s called you ‘Sleepy Joe.’ Is ‘St-St-St-Stuttering Joe’ next?”

“I don’t think so,” Biden says, “because if you ask the polls ‘Does Biden stutter? Has he ever stuttered?,’ you’d have 80 to 95 percent of people say no.” If Trump goes there, Biden adds, “it’ll just expose him for what he is.”

I ask Biden something else we’ve been circling: whether he worries that people would pity him if they thought he still stuttered.

He scratches his chin, his fingers trembling slightly. “Well, I guess, um, it’s kind of hard to pity a vice president. It’s kind of hard to pity a senator who’s gotten six zillion awards. It’s kind of hard to pity someone who has had, you know, a decent family. I-I-I-I don’t think if, now, if someone sits and says, ‘Well, you know, the kid, when he was a stutterer, he must have been really basically stupid,’ I-I-I don’t think it’s hard to—I’ve never thought of that. I mean, there’s nobody in the last, I don’t know, 55 years, has ever said anything like that to me.”

He slips back into politician mode, safe mode, Uncle Joe mode: “I hope what they see is: Be mindful of people who are in situations where their difficulties do not define their character, their intellect. Because that’s what I tell stutterers. You can’t let it define you.” He leans across the desk. “And you haven’t.” He’s in my face now. “You can’t let it define you. You’re a really bright guy.”

He’s telling me, in essence, that my stutter doesn’t matter, which is what I want to tell him right back. But here’s the thing: Most of the time, Biden speaks smoothly, and perhaps he sincerely does not believe that he still stutters at all. Or maybe Biden is simply telling me the story he’s told himself for several decades, the one he’s memorized, the one he can comfortably express. I don’t want to hear Biden say “I still stutter” to prove some grand point; I want to hear him say it because doing so as a presidential candidate would mean that stuttering truly doesn’t matter—for him, for me, or for our 10-year-old selves...

-------

Vote for whomever you think would be the best president. There are plenty of valid reasons to prefer one candidate over another. But stop spouting off bullshit conspiracy theories while pretending to be an expert in speech pathology, stuttering, AND senility. (And realize you’re also implicitly calling everyone with a stutter or any speech disorder mentally demented or mentally deficient).

#long post #don't care #this shit is starting to really piss me off #and sounds exactly like the shit the alt-right and fox news puts out

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inu-jiru · 4 years

Text

Tomoe, The Eastern Tigress - Chapter Five

Chapter Five - The Strength of Ohu

The forest echoed with the collective drumming of paws. 20 dogs were running to Gajou and at the lead was Ben. His mate, Cross, remained at his side, acting as his eyes. Even though the Great Dane was thirteen years of age and well beyond the point of retiring, the male still ran with the swiftness of a one-year-old. Behind the couple, Kurotora, Moss, Musashi and Wilson followed. After them were Kurotora’s other two sons, Harutora and Nobutora, as well as their cousins, Shigure, Shōji, Buru and Dodo. The remaining dogs were survivors of the previous battles against Kaibutsu and the human hunters. Though the group was small, their hearts all beat together as one. If Ken said that they could possibly beat Kaibutsu today, then that was what they’d do.

The group arrived at Gajou, seeing the remains of Ken and Kagetora’s shared platoon, as well as some dogs they didn’t quite recognize, huddled together around something, or some one.

“Oi!” Kurotora called out, catching everyone’s attention. “We’re here! Where’s the bastard!?”

“Did you kill him already?” Moss barked. “That’d be a damn shame, haha!”

“You’re all here!” Ken shouted back, running to meet his father. Cross quickly grabbed the old Dane’s collar, forcing him to stop just before he could slam his son.

“Thanks, Cross,” Ben said with a nod. “And of course we’re here, son. It’s time we take Paradise back.”

“I was beginning to worry,” huffed Kurotora as he approached his own son. “Thought something happened to you. I wanted to go out and look, but your cousins said no. Hmph! The nerve of those youngsters! Telling me no!”

“But Uncle...” said Shōji with a sheepish grin. “We wouldn’t want anything happening to you...”

“Bah! I’m the one who’s supposed to be worrying about you kids!”

The two groups merged together, Ken and Kage relaying the day’s events. They reintroduced the older dogs to Tomoe, who they’d only heard had survived until now.

“Such a strong girl, Tomoe!” Moss threw his massive paws around the smaller Shepherd’s frame, pulling her into a tight hug. Though it was a bit difficult to breathe, Tomoe still managed to smile. Of all the Ohu Veterans, Moss had to have been her favorite, aside from her father.

“Alright, alright,” said Jiyū worriedly, pawing at the Mastiff’s forelegs. “Easy now. Wouldn’t wanna break her, would we?”

Ken then introduced Weed and the other newcomers. Upon seeing the young Akita mix, the older dogs grew silent as they took in the familiar sight. They’d always thought Tomoe’s resemblance to John was uncanny but this was something different all together. It was as if time had gone backwards and Gin was standing before them as a six-month-old. Weed, meanwhile, stared at the Veterans with a fast-beating heart. All of these dogs he’d heard of in his mother’s stories, but actually meeting them was overwhelming. Their auras were so great, so strong...

“So what’s next?” asked Shigure after the introductions were done. He looked towards Gajou. “We aren’t really just gonna leave his body in there, are we?”

“The scientists from our facility will come to pick up his body,” Jerome explained. “Unfortunately, they may have to destroy your stronghold. Sorry.”

There were groans. Not only would that mean that the Veterans and their families would lose their dens, but it would also mean that a great landmark, one they’d spent days protecting, would fall to ruin, all because a few humans wanted to play God. Tomoe spat on the ground, irritably. No wonder her mother hated humans so much.

RUMBLE!

Without warning, the ground began to shake. There were yelps and cries of alarm as the dogs all struggled to keep their footing. Tomoe looked at Gajou. The stones and boulders keeping it together were shifting, as if something was attempting to push its way out.

“No...” Tomoe’s eyes widened with disbelief. “He’s not...”

“He’s not dead!?” Smith cried out. “That’s impossible!”

A massive rock was pushed onto the ground, cracking slightly from the impact. A gaping hole was left behind, a large figure emerging from the stronghold. The light of the moon reflected off the chain dangling from his leg. A toeless paw was held close to the beast’s chest, still dripping blood. Kaibutsu lifted his head, vibrant, green eyes flashing with the desire to survive. He leapt from where he stood, landing in front of the small militia of dogs and letting out a roar. Some of the soldiers flinched, trembling in fear.

“Stand your ground, soldiers!” ordered Ben. The Dane stood tall, showing no fear on his face. He had scored first blood on Akakabuto long ago; a little roar wasn’t going to scare him. “Surround Kaibutsu! Don’t let him--!”

“No!” Jerome interrupted, looking at the old male. “Tell your followers to stay back! This is a job for us assassins!”

“Don’t speak to my father that way!” Ken snapped. “As of right now, he’s the man in charge, not you!”

“Jerome...” A new, guttural voice suddenly spoke aloud. The argument was temporarily dropped as everyone turned towards Kaibutsu. The monster was focused on the Shepherd, his gaze uncharacteristically soft for someone who’d spent the past six months slaughtering humans and dogs.

“That bastard can talk...?” Tomoe murmured to herself.

“Why are you siding with the humans, Jerome? Why? After everything they’ve done to me, why won’t you just leave me alone?”

“After all you’ve done, bastard,” Kurotora hissed. “Why should anyone give a damn about what’s happened to you?” There were murmurs of agreement all throughout the crowd. Kaibutsu shot a glare at the black Kai, growling.

“Kaibutsu,” Jerome finally spoke, bringing the monster’s attention back to him. “I side with humans because that's what a dog is supposed to do.”

Somewhere in the crowd, Jiyū scoffed.

“Dogs have been the servants of humans for thousands of years,” Jerome continued. “Going against that is foolish. What you did, however, is unforgivable.”

“What about what they’ve done, huh?” Kaibutsu snarled. “For three years, they’ve had me locked in that facility, torturing me and turning me into this. You were there, Jerome. You heard my screams. I begged you to help me every day. But all I got in return were empty promises. You gave me the will to live, and now you want me dead. Have the humans damaged your mind that much?”

“You should’ve stood up to the pain,” said Jerome in a matter-of-fact tone. Some of the dogs nearby glanced at him, shocked and appalled. Just how brainwashed was this male? “Regardless what an owner does, a dog has to put up with it. That’s the duty we dogs have.”

“You’re wrong!” Jiyū couldn’t listen to Jerome’s nonsense anymore. Everyone, even Kaibutsu, focused on her as she stormed towards the male Shepherd. His followers jumped in front of him, ready to protect him for any sort of attack. “No dog should have to lie down and take abuse! I won’t excuse what Kaibutsu did, but how dare you lecture him when you believe in that crap!”

“Jiyū!” Cross barked. “I don’t buy what he says either, but now isn’t the time to fight each other!”

“Back away,” Rocca warned, his eyes locked with the female’s. Kaibutsu let out a chuckle.

“How fascinating,” he hummed. “I’m glad to see that not all dogs are as blinded by loyalty as you, Jerome. Such a shame that I can’t spare any of you Ohu soldiers. If I’d known you’d felt that way about humans, you would’ve made great allies.”

“You’d NEVER be our ally, Kaibutsu!” Tomoe howled. “Murderer! Cannibal!”

“Your crimes are too great to ignore, Kaibutsu!” Ben announced. “You suffered at the hands of humans, you say? Then allow us to end your pain! Ohu! Prepare for attack!”

“SIR!”

“Jerome,” Robert whispered to his leader. “Shall we...?”

“Mmm.” The Shepherd nodded. He then dashed off to the side, sprinting away from Gajou. “You three, follow my lead.”

“Eh...?” GB began, staring after the group of assassins. “Where are those guys off to...?”

“This way, P4!” Jerome shouted to Kaibutsu. The name of his place of torture struck a nerve with Kaibutsu. As his vision went red, the beast chased after the four dogs.

“DON’T call me that!”

Kaibutsu’s gait was awkward, as to be expected from a creature forced to run on only three legs. He lagged behind the assassins greatly. Ben, aided by Cross, began following Kaibutsu.

“After him!” ordered Ben. “Musashi! Moss!”

The two large males took the lead as the militia of around 31 dogs began the chase. Known throughout the army for their great strength, both males reached Kaibutsu’s hind legs and bit down just below the knee. With fierce grunts, they yanked back. Kaibutsu was forced back, his foreleg caving underneath him. He fell with a bellow onto his stomach. Up ahead, the assassins slowed to a halt.

“They’re interfering again...!” a frustrated Robert huffed.

“Easy,” said Jerome, watching the scene intensely. “We’ll have to improvise, but we may be able to use this.”

“Get back!” Musashi grunted as he and Moss used their combined strength to hoist Kaibutsu up. The massive creature howled in alarm as he was tossed over the heads of the dogs. Everyone moved as quickly as they could, the last few dogs just barely avoiding Kaibutsu’s back shell as it slammed against the ground. His belly was now exposed.

“This is our chance!” Ken shouted.

“Attack his belly!” barked Kurotora, and the soldiers obeyed, throwing themselves on Kaibutsu’s belly while Moss and Musashi kept a tight hold on his legs. He looked around, spotting his sons and nephews. “You Kais! Remember what I’ve taught you!”

“HRAH!” Kagetora joined his brothers and cousins. The all leapt into the air together, their bodies moving in wild, snake-like patterns. In one, booming voice, they yelled: Attack of the seven-headed serpent! Ran Daryushin-Battōga!”

Amazing...! Weed thought as he watched the Kais strike the beast’s belly. The Battouga made their bites stronger, and what would normally be a simple bite now cut deeply into the muscle.

“Robert,” Jerome said, feeling that now was the time to act out his new plan. “Go.”

“Sir,” was Robert’s reply as he darted towards the downed Kaibutsu. The time had come. The assassins had been trained for this very moment. Just before he reached Kaibutsu, he jumped up and over the attacking dogs. He landed with his fangs clamping down on the monster’s chest. His sudden entrance in the fight had caught several dogs off guard. For a split second, Moss’ grip loosened on Kaibutsu’s right hind paw. This was the chance the monster needed. He brought back his hind paw and suddenly lashed out with it, knocking Moss several feet away.

“Uncle Moss!” Shigure called, looking up from his place on Kaibutsu’s chest. Kaibutsu began forcing himself up, knocking off any dog who wasn’t tightly holding onto his body. Robert dangled from Kaibutsu’s chest, but refused to let go. Growling, Kaibutsu reached down, jaws parted.

“Move, Robert!” shouted Weed. “He’ll grab your head!”

Exactly the idea... Robert thought in response. He felt Kaibutsu’s long, jagged teeth clamp down on his skull. Blood immediately began running down his injured head, but Robert hung on.

“Pull me off!” the Labrador challenged. “I fucking dare you!”

Kaibutsu didn’t need to be told twice. Using all his strength, he yanked Robert off of him. A chunk of Kaibutsu’s own flesh was torn off as well. All according to plan. Another yowl of pain filled the air as the monster flung Robert’s body roughly onto the ground in retaliation. Weed and Mel rushed up to his broken body quickly.

“Mr. Robert...!” Mel cried. The Labrador spat out the chunk of flesh.

“This is it for me...” he choked, a mixture of his own blood and Kaibutsu’s dribbling out of his maw. “My part in the mission...is...complete...mmph...” The Labrador fell still, his eyes forever staring up towards the sky.

“Robert!” Weed screamed as tears ran down his cheeks. “Robert!”

GRAAAAAAAAH!

Kaibutsu wailed again, forcing the young dogs to look up. Rocca had taken Robert’s place, burying his muzzle into the hole Robert had made. Kaibutsu quickly removed him as well, again injuring himself by inadvertently giving the dog his power. Like Robert, Rocca’s broken body was tossed away.

“Such a waste of life...!” said Cross bitterly.

“We have to end this battle quickly,” Ben responded gruffly. “I won’t stand for young lives being wasted. Can you lead me to the front of the monster, Cross?”

“Of course, love.”

While the rest of the Ohu dogs attempted to assist in bleeding Kaibutsu out, Cross guided her husband as he asked. By now, Hoiler had taken up the task of tearing into Kaibutsu’s chest. Instead of simply yanking him off, however, Kaibutsu lowered his head, delivering a simple bite that crushed the Saintongeois’ skull instantly. As he tossed Hoiler’s body away, Cross realized what Ben was planning.

“He’s open, Ben...!” she informed him. “Are you sure you can hit him?”

“My nose will guide me,” the old Dane assured. “This ends here.”

Jerome, meanwhile, had been watching the events of the battle, waiting for his turn to die. With Hoiler gone, it was his chance to pierce Kaibutsu’s heart, ending him for good. As he braced himself for the attack, however, he heard Ben’s voice ringing out.

“Steer clear!” he commanded. “This attack will bring Kaibutsu down!”

Cross stepped back, giving her husband room to attack. The other Ohu dogs backed off of Kaibutsu, leaving the beast pondering what was going on. He assumed Jerome would attack him next, but no. A blind, old Dane? Nearby, Ken’s eyes widened. Could it be...? Would Ben perform the family Battouga...?

“HARUUUU!” Ben’s deep howl resonated within the hearts of the surrounding dogs as he launched himself towards Kaibutsu. He brought back a paw, bracing himself for impact. When he felt the time was right, his paw shot forward. This was the Geki Sentsūhi-Battōga. Focusing all of his power into his paw, Ben felt the warmth of blood and muscle as he pierced Kaibutsu’s body. There was one problem, however. Ben had landed the blow to Kaibutsu’s heart.

“Oh shit!” Tomoe exclaimed. Ben felt a bead of sweat run down the side of his head as he realized, although he’d landed a blow on Kaibutsu’s chest, he’d hit the uninjured side, the one covered in a thick layer of fur. Ben had done some damage, but not the damage he’d hoped. Now, he was dangling from Kaibutsu’s chest, his paw partially lodged into a shallow wound. He could feel Kaibutsu’s breath on his head.

“BEN!” Cross screamed as she pounced at Kaibutsu’s head.

“Mom!” Ken cried. “Dad!”

ROOOOOOOOOAR!

Cross’ fangs buried themselves in the beast’s eye, taking his mind off attacking Ben. Kaibutsu swung his head desperately, but Cross hung on tight. Tomoe went to join the attack.

“Bastard!” she snapped. “You won’t hurt Mr. Ben!”

The rest of the dogs followed the young bitch’s lead, continuing their attacks on Kaibutsu’s body. Ken rounded the beast, leaping up and pulling Ben free from Kaibutsu’s chest. Time was running out for the monster; he felt his body growing weaker every second that his blood leaked out of his body. The feat of dying overcame him, and out of desperation, he began throwing himself around like a bucking bronco. He threw himself on the ground, rolling wildly. Most dogs were able to move out of the way and find a new place to attack, though two soldiers found themselves crushed between the ground and Kaibutsu’s back shell. Kaibutsu rolled until he reached the ledge. The river raged on down below, well fed by the autumn storms.

“Everyone,” Ken yelled. “Hop off! Quick!”

As Kaibutsu tumbled off the side of the cliff, the Ohu dogs scrambled off to safety. Kaibutsu’s roar echoed as he disappeared into the chasm. There was a loud and heavy thud, and then, finally, silence. As the sun appeared on the horizon, the dogs of Ohu stood together, gazing down into the crevice. Down below, Kaibutsu’s body was lying still, his belly exposed and his paws splayed up in the air. Sticking out of his chest, bathed in crimson, was a sharp brach. It had impaled Kaibutsu, forcing its way through the back shell, and tearing the heart. The waters were red with blood. Kaibutsu was finished.

At last, Paradise had been won.

#ginga densetsu weed #ginga densetsu weed fanfiction #silver fang legend weed #gdw

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littlemeowmeowschimmy · 5 years

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Play With Me [Jungkook x Reader] 2

credit: littlemeowmeowschimmy

Requests opened // prev - m.list - next

Genre: Thrilling // Mysterious // Smut [later]

Summary: After a fateful night, Jungkook realizes that he was put up against something more dangerous than he imagined. He never thought that through his undercover work that you were much more than just cunning, you were also seductive.

Word C: 3.0k

A/N: I hope you guys really enjoy this as much as I enjoy writing it. Please let me know any and all feedback, it would be great to hear from y’all :)

Warning: Mention of abuse, blood, sensitive topic.

Again, nighttime was his favorite. Daytime? Well, he didn’t mind the sunshine, nor did he mind the bustling city. However, he would prefer to be on top of a roof looking over. It brought Jungkook such joy just watching people, protecting his city and even making the most out of the night. During the day, he would stay inside, train, and do other things. Such as research the person they seek and tried as hard as he may become better.

Jungkook didn’t have Namjoon’s brains. He didn’t have his talent, but what he had was his wits. He knew this city inside and out, and he knew how to take down an enemy. You, on the other hand, that was a different story. Jungkook hadn’t come across someone like you before, and he was curious about it. He was curious about how you acted outside of your tight fitted clothes, mask, and other aspects.

Namjoon counted on Jungkook, everyone did. He had to figure out how to get close to you, but he didn’t want to scare you away. One thing that Jungkook had that Namjoon didn’t was his flirting skills. Yes, as previously mentioned Namjoon was the brains. He and Yoongi mostly teamed up to do as much research as they possibly could. Not to say that everyone was dumb, no. They were all trained under Seokjin, everyone besides Taehyung. But Jungkook didn’t really like discussing his background. It was too messy, to begin with.

Jungkook straightened his tie, grabbed his badge, and a few other things. He pushed some hair back, then moved out from the manner. Jungkook would have preferred Namjoon to go on the mission. Mostly because he could easily outsmart you, but his flirting skills just weren’t as well as Jungkook’s. Plus, Namjoon wasn’t old enough to be a cop, let alone a detective. They had to send in Jungkook because he had been in the precinct. Everyone knew that Jungkook was a damn good detective, he learned from the best.

Grabbing his keys, Jungkook made his way to his bike. He didn’t wear a helmet because he didn’t want to. He was just as stubborn as Jimin when it came to wearing a helmet. Something about feeling the wind in his hair, made him feel free. It made the ride a lot better when he wasn’t trapped in his own mind. Kicking the stand, reeving the engine, Jungkook soon took off. Speeding down the manner’s pavement then onto the streets of Gotham.

He had to arrive at the precinct earlier so he could get everything taken care of. Since he had to make up a backstory on why he was joining again, he took the time to think of such on his ride.

“Stick to the plan Kook.” Yoongi spoke in his ear. Per usual, Yoongi had made damn sure that Jungkook had his headphones. He could hack into them and speak directly to him to make sure that everything was on the plan. Also to go over the plan and to remind him to not get so involved. Another reason Jungkook wanted Namjoon to step in. He didn’t get too emotionally involved in most things. Hard-headed, smart, stubborn, and not easily swayed.

“Yeah yeah. Suck information, watch her, I know.” Jungkook mumbles at a stop sign. He could see Yoongi rolling his eyes whilst he heard paper being flipped. He seemed like Yoongi was going over some information, trying to get as much as he possibly could. The other line was silent, well not completely. There were a few beeps that could be heard, some small typing and Yoongi sighing.

Jungkook moved his way down into the inner city. The noise levels beginning to rise, meaning that Yoongi didn’t have much time to explain everything he found. Going in, Jungkook knew that you had popped out of nowhere. There were no records on your birth, where you were from, etc. It was rather odd to find someone like you that wouldn’t have anything. It concerned him, mostly because it sounded fishy to him. Everything about this was fishy to him.

Yoongi said his final words, hung up, and Jungkook’s music started again. Right as he pulled up into the lot he saw you get out of a car. Your hair was pulled up in a tight bun, some bangs framing your face. You wore a long pencil skirt with a white button up. To match the color of your skirt, you wore black five inched heels. Reaching forwards, you picked up a few things, shutting your door and then noticing Jungkook.

Something about him seemed familiar, however, you didn’t want to jump to conclusions. Instead, you watched him carefully. Noting out he parked his bike, swung his leg over and stood with his back towards you. The way his clothes fitted him made your eyes darken for a second. Of course, you couldn’t help but turn your eyes down to his ass, it was one of his most prominent features. Or one that stuck out to you the most.

“Good morning miss.” Jungkook calls grabbing his work bag to sling it over his shoulder. He turns around, his smile widening. Making his eyes turn into small crescents. You were blown away by his presence, but was determined not to let it completely take over. You were more focused on getting as much information sucked out from the police officer and where to hit next than some attractive male.

“Good morning to you too sir.” you call back, turning yourself around and walking off. Your heels clicking against the pavement. Jungkook watched as you held yourself high. Puffing your chest up and making sure your back was straightened. He could easily see how you held yourself, thought of yourself, and even more, he admired it. It wasn’t every day that one would see a villain blend into society as well as you. And Jungkook had only seen you for no more than a few minutes.

He was already impressed. But that wasn’t saying much because Jungkook was easily amused and impressed all the time. So it kind of made it invalid to him. Or that’s what Jimin and Taehyung would say. You walked into the building, Jungkook following just a few steps behind you. He held the door open, you looking over his shoulder and winking. He was taken aback by how forwards you were, meaning that this would be easy for him.

Little did he know that it would be more difficult than you lead on...

»»————-　★　————-««

Everything about your past was kept from the public. Who your parents were, who you were raised by, and how you got your education. The only thing you knew was a jumble of numbers and every single way in how to kill someone. To say that your childhood was rough would be an understatement. Once again, your public record was completely demolished.

You were like a nobody and grew up in a twisted environment. When you were seven years old you were picked up by Harleen Quinzel . Later to be known as Harley. She took you under her wing at a very young age. Eventually teaching you everything you could possibly know about Gotham. Within the time period of around ten to twelve years, you stayed with Harley and Joker.

Harley was like a mother to you, and Joker was someone you didn’t want to piss off. You saw how he took care of Harley. Being as sweet as possible, only to use her to his advantage. You quickly learned not to trust the opposite sex, based on his actions. You despised men, often comparing them to the horrors you had seen from someone who was supposed to be a “father” figure for you. Instead, Joker taught you how to kill, how to steal, and worpe your mind.

You had never met Batman, but you had seen him many times. He had seen you many times, although you believed he never remembered you. You were always running behind the scenes, getting smarter each day. Harley introduced you to her friends and even cried on your shoulders. She had become more than just a friend, as mentioned she was a mother.

Since your mind was a jumble of numbers and how to kill someone, you could easily switch in between. The jumble of numbers was the knowledge that you had picked up through the years. You saw life as a puzzle. Taking each and every problem in a logical sense, then quickly thinking of a solution. It’s how you swindled your way out of most of everything in front of you.

It’s ultimately how you stole almost half of Joker’s money stash before he even realized it. The other half of you was a side you didn’t like to see, but it felt right. Everything about holding a knife in your hand, feeling someone’s blood upon your fingers was enough to get you high. The high of threatening someone’s life, the endless possibilities of tiptoeing yourself on the edge, made your heart race.

You knew that you were insane. You grew up around chaos and when someone became “normal” you freaked out. You needed to feed your hunger for chaos and by that, you ended up shifting your way into normal life. Doing most of your dirty deeds during the nights, and when you needed to. No one knew you were living a double life, one that could easily get you into Arkham.

You sat down at your desk, crossing your legs and bringing your pencil up to your mouth. Chewing on the end, you looked at the string of numbers that were in front of you. These numbers were a secret language you and Harley had created. It’s how you planned everything in broad daylight, and it kept you calm. You were reading the notes you made the night before. How your fight with Nightwing went, and how you had gotten what you came for.

Joker had you twisted around his pinky finger. He was toying with you, making you pay for everything that happened. You couldn’t get yourself out of the situation, because you knew Joker would easily turn you in. He only cared about himself, nothing else. You were secretly trying to find a way out, to make sure in the end you were on top.

Speaking of which, you had to break into Arkham tonight. Harley had gotten herself into a pickle, and you needed to get her out right away. Of course, you were going to Red as well too. Harley wouldn’t go anywhere without her girlfriend, and you would make damn sure to get her out. Sighing heavily, you sat back in your chair rubbing your forehead. A few distant memories popped up, making you shudder at the thought of them.

“Puddin’!” Harley yells grabbing Joker by the arm and tugging at him. Her face paled at the sight that was in front of her. You were a bloody mess, worse than before. Joker wasn’t too pleased with how you had taken so much from him, and even stabbed him in the back. Landing him in Arkham where you certainly believed he belonged. Harley was trying to define you from him. But his anger had clearly proven to be worse than you had ever seen it.

“I told you not to call me puddin!” He screams turning around and smacking Harley. The echo of skin to skin contact made you twitch. Harley’s body fell limp behind him. You could tell that she had blood in her mouth due to how hard he had hit her. You were starting to get dizzy with the amount of blood you had lost, making it harder to pay attention.

Joker had dragged you from your bed. In doing so, he had cut a bunch of your hair, because it was too long for him. He was humiliating you in front of Harley, in front of everyone. Making an example out of those who had stolen from him. At first, you thought he was going to run you over like he had done Harley. Instead, he was going to beat you to death. Leave you to rot wherever he left you, to make damn well sure you wouldn’t do it again.

“I don’t want to wreck such a pretty face~” Joker laughs with a flick of his wrist his switchblade came out. You attempted to jerk away, only for him to slash you across your torso. You screamed out, hand instantly coming forwards to try to cover the wound. Only to be met with blood and another slash. Soon enough he had kicked you over, stomping his foot upon your back.

Your fresh wounds were pressing into the mud, instantly getting them infected and dirty. He continued to cut you, kick you, and beat you. By the end of it, he tossed his blade on your stomach, after kicking you over. The whole ordeal had lasted well over half an hour. You had lost consciousness after the fourth time he kicked your body. Only later to be awoken in Red’s house. Red, more commonly known as Ivy was taking care of you.

At Harley’s request. To which you didn’t know where she was, or how she was doing. You were left alone in Red’s small guest bedroom. Unable to move properly, and a small rose with the letter “J” written on a card next to it.

How pathetic you thought...his sick attempt to ask for forgiveness.

“Y/n?” You snapped out of your memories, quickly pulling yourself back to reality. There you saw Jungkook standing beside you, his hands holding onto the straps of his bag. You were unaware of how long he was standing there. Quickly, you pushed some papers over the code, opening files and then standing. You pushed your skirt down, then fixed your blouse.

“Sorry to startle you,” he spoke taking a step back to shake your hand. “I’m Jungkook, I’ll be working with you,” he spoke giving a small smile. You reflected it back, although it wasn’t a large as he was. You seemed to be skeptical of him, but who could blame you?

“Perfect, we’ll you already know mine so that’s a good start.” You answered nodding your head then proceeding to move back down. Jungkook walked over across you, sitting down and still smiling. He opened up his laptop, his smile soon going away. It seemed like he was getting right into work, or whatever work he had. You were used to working alone, so having another person was going to be difficult.

After the small introduction, there was silence. You weren’t exactly expecting it, however, you knew in the back of your mind it was bound to happen. Pushing your chair back in, you started to look through the files. In front of you were, of course, Joker and a few other villains. You were on a case trying to hunt down random attacks lead by Joker, most of which you orchestrated, and others he teamed up with.

You knew in the end that you couldn’t blow your cover. Joker needed you in to figure out how close they were getting to him. Just so that he could scare them away, or do a magic trick. Whatever magic trick he would pull would have to be a good one. One that would hopefully not land him back in Arkham because you weren’t busting his ass out. Instead, you wanted him to rot in there. Plus, if he were in there, and claimed that you were working with him, who would believe him?

Most if not all of Gotham hates the Joker, and no one believes a word he preaches. Unless lives are in danger, and he wants to manipulate someone. But that wouldn’t be possible, not unless he held someone or something over your head. Not to zone out again, you started to read some of these files. Taking mental notes that they were creeping up on Joker a lot faster than you imagined.

“I heard one of the new accomplices of Joker was out last night.” Jungkook starts his eye never leaving his computer screen.

“Oh yeah?” You mused pushing some paper aside then turning your attention towards your computer. Where once again a bunch of numbers you recognized and helped you stay calm awaits you.

“Yes, she stole half a million dollars,” he continues strolling through the notes Yoongi sent him in the morning. “With a rare diamond. I wonder if it’ll show on the black market.”

“Maybe, I wouldn’t be surprised.” You answered without thinking. Jungkook arches a brow, this time looking up and curious as to why you would answer such. You looked up at him, unphased by your answer but freaking out on the inside. “I mean,” you began shifting yourself in your seat, and crossing your legs afterward. “Most villains sell their goods on the black market or use it as collateral for something larger than life,” you explained picking up your pencil then scribbling a few notes.

“Yes, you’re right,” Jungkook answers turning his attention back to his screen. It was silent again, the conversation not lasting as long as you figured it would. Instead, you both were busy putting two and two together. Your chief walked over to your desk, standing in front of it. Welcoming himself to Jungkook then handing over another file. Opening it, you saw once again Joker’s Arkham picture with a dead body right next to it.

“You have a case,” he answers turning around and continuing to talk. “Another Joker venom case. Go investigate and see if this connects to the larger picture.” You gazed back at Jungkook, watching as his hands gently shut his laptop. He shrugs his shoulders, grabbing some keys and then twirling them. The universal sign that you needed to get up and out there. Standing, you push down your skirt, grabbed your badge and move with him.

Something about Jungkook was throwing you off, and the same could be said about you to Jungkook. Right from the start, you two didn’t trust each other at all.

#littlemeowmeowschimmy #bangtanarmynet #bts #bangtan #bts series #bangtan series #bts reader insert #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook #bts jeon jungkook x reader #batman #bts x batman #bts au

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beastlyimagines · 5 years

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A/N: I saw a request for a Theseus or Newt imagine based on “I’ll Never Love Again” from ‘A Star is Born’ and I couldn’t resist. The lyrics aren’t in order and this isn’t the whole song, I just picked the lyrics that worked the best for what I had in mind. Hope you all like this.

When we first met I never thought that I would fall

“Y/N hurry up and get downstairs! The guests are arriving and we can’t have our own daughter missing!” You heard your mother call from down the hall, causing you to hastily put on your shoes.

“Coming mother!” You shouted back, taking one last glance in the mirror to make sure you were presentable, before rushing from your room.

Your father was recently promoted to Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and your mother was having a gathering off his coworkers to celebrate.

You personally hated when your parents had people over for gatherings. Being an only child in a pure blood family as well as to a high ranking ministry official meant having the importance of appearances drilled into your head from an early age. Your mother especially always made a show of you among their guests, putting you up on an unrealistic pedestal.

You loved both of your parents dearly, but the expectations from both of them was nearly suffocating.

“There you are! Come, come! Some of your dads coworkers are already waiting to meet you.” Your mother said once she spotted you, hurrying you along down the stairs. “Remember, be polite and courteous. We need to make a good impression.”

“Yes mother.” You responded, internally groaning at the thought of how dreadful the next couple hours would be. Plastering a polite smile on your face, you allowed your mother to lead you towards your father and the first of many families to be greeted.

After over an hour of greeting family after family, you excused yourself to use the bathroom. Taking your time, you sighed before straightening your shoulders and facing the crowd of people once again. Finding your parents quickly, you noticed a new family standing with them.

There was a man and wife, along with two boys, one of which looked to be your age, and a younger boy that gripped his mothers hand tightly. You walked up just as the two boys were being introduced.

“This is our eldest son, Theseus.” Mrs. Scamander spoke, gesturing to the boy that looked to be about your age. “And our youngest, Newton.” The toddler waved as he was introduced, a shy smile on his lips.

“How old are you Theseus?” You father asked, causing the boy to straighten up slightly.

“I’m eleven.” Came the response.

“Received your Hogwarts letter?” You noticed the boys slightly dull expression brighten considerably at those words.

“Yes sir! I’m very excited to be heading to school next month.”

“Good, good. My daughter-“ He gestured to you, causing all attention to turn your way. “Y/n will be starting this year as well. Y/n, this is Mr. and Mr. Scamander. Mr Scamander works in my department at the ministry.”

“Pleasure to meet you both.” You smiled, nodding politely towards the two adults. Both smiled at you as well, while Theseus barreled on as if no one else had spoken.

“Really?” He asked, all traces of boredom gone now as he looked at you with a smile. “You’re the first person that I’ve met that’ll be in my year, everyone else I’ve met is older.”

“It’ll be nice knowing someone my age.” You responded, a grin taking over your face as well.

“We can sit on the train together!” He suggested, before turning to his parents. “Mum, Dad, can Y/n and I go outside so we can talk about Hogwarts?”

“If it’s ok with her parents. “ Mr. Scamander spoke, looking at your parents. Your mother looked hesitant, but your father nodded with a smile.

“Of course, Y/n’s been dying to get out of here for the past hour anyway.” Your dad laughed, ignoring your mother’s huff.

“Come on then Y/n.” Theseus spoke, gesturing for you to follow him outside. Seeing your escape, you quickly dashed after him, leaving 3 laughing adults and 1 annoyed one in your wake.

“Thank Merlin.” You muttered once outside and away from all the adults. “I hate these gatherings.”

“Me too.” Theseus responded, an easy grin on his face. “They’re dreadfully boring, and usually there aren’t any kids my age. I usually get stuck babysitting my little brother, this is much better.”

“At least you had someone else to be with, I’m always stuck being dragged around by my mother. I’m shocked she actually let me come out here.” You responded, taking a seat on one of the swings with Theseus following suit.

“You’re welcome then.” Theseus grinned, causing you to roll your eyes. “So, what House do you want to be in at Hogwarts?”

I never thought that I'd find myself Lying in your arms

It had been 5 years since you had met Theseus Scamander, and the two of you were now best friends. Both of you had become Gryffindor’s, and made sure that you shared the same schedule every year. The only time the two of you were ever separated was for sleeping (for obvious reasons) and Quidditch.

Theseus, being more concerned with his studies and his future didn’t see the need to play the sport. You on the other hand, had practically jumped on the opportunity in 2nd year. Unfortunately, most males didn’t really think females should play on the team, and only 2 females had in the past 10 years. You were turned away your 2nd and 3rd year, but you you finally made it onto the team in 4th year when the captain of the team was more accepting. Theseus came to every game.

Currently you found yourself waking up in a vaguely familiar room. Opening your eyes, you were instantly blinded by the white ceiling of the hospital wing. Blinking rapidly, you glanced to your left.

Two things registered in your mind instantly; pain radiating through your entire body at the movement, and there was a familiar body sleeping in a chair next to your bed. Unable to keep in the groan of pain, you internally cursed when the person jumped in response.

“Y/n?” Theseus asked, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Once more alert, he sat up straight and sighed in relief. “Thank Merlin you’re alright. How do you feel?”

“Bloody hell, I feel like I was hit by the Hogwarts Express.” You groaned, wincing as Theseus helped you sit up. “What happened?”

“That one Ravenclaw, Peters, was really angry about losing. Guess he’s still not happy that Gryffindor has a girl playing for them, and that said girl kicked his arse. He grabbed one of the beaters bats and shot the bludger after you while you were flying towards the team. Hit you in the back of the head and knocked you about 15 feet to the ground.” Theseus explained, anger and some lingering fear swimming in his blue eyes. “Headmaster Black was pretty angry, gave Peters about a month of detention. Professor Dumbledore put you on a stretcher and brought you here, you looked pretty bad.”

“Oh thanks, just what every girl wants to hear.” You replied sarcastically, making a weak grin form on your friends face. “Where’s the rest of the team anyway? Figured those overprotective prats would be here too.”

“Well they were here..” Theseus trailed off, suddenly looking sheepish. “But they were forced out just before curfew.”

“Before curfew? But the suns out..” You spoke in confusion, glancing out the window. “Do you mean to say that I’ve been out all afternoon and all night?” You asked suddenly, comprehension dawning on you.

“Er, Yes?” Theseus responded, watching you closely.

“You stayed here all night?!” You exclaimed, reaching out to smack his arm when he nodded. “You idiot!”

“I was worried, alright?” He defended, a light blush spreading high on his cheeks. “That was the worst injury you’ve gotten, and you were so pale. I couldn’t leave without knowing for sure that you were ok.”

“Git.” You mumbled fondly, making Theseus laugh slightly. “Don’t do it again.”

“Sure.” He agreed, but you both knew he was lying. “Now...” He started, a glint in his eyes as he changed the subject. “Peters can’t get away with harming you like that and only getting a month of detention, so I’ve got a plan...”

Don't wanna feel another touch Don’t wanna start another fire Don’t wanna know another kiss

After the 2 hour long graduation ceremony finished, you took off from your seat in search of your best friend. Finally spotting him searching the crowd for you, you darted towards him.

“Theseus! Can you believe we’ve actually graduated?” You exclaimed, throwing your arms around your best friend in excitement. “I feel like we just started learning the disarming spell, and now we’re about to leave for the last time.” There was sadness in your voice as you pulled away, only to find your best friend merely staring at you. “Theseus? You ok?”

He continued to stare at you for a moment, before suddenly surging forward and capturing your lips in a heated kiss. Gasping in shock against his lips, you took a few seconds to respond. When you did, however, it was the greatest feeling you’d ever experienced. Better than winning the Quidditch Cup, better than flying on a broom, and better than making your parents proud when you received nearly perfect scores on your NEWTs exam.

“Sorry, I’ve been wanting to do that for months.” Theseus whispered as he pulled back slightly, yet his lips still brushed against yours.

“Then why are you stopping?” You mumbled dazedly back, causing a laugh of disbelief to fall from your best friends lips. He happily obliged.

And I don't wanna give somebody else the better part of me I would rather wait for you

“Y/n, love?” Your boyfriend questioned as he walked through the door, something off in his tone. Ignoring it for the time being, you smiled and headed towards him.

“How was your day Thee?” You asked, reaching up and kissing him briefly. When you pulled away, you noticed he looked tense and wary about something. “Is everything alright?”

“Y/n.” He spoke softly, yet seriously, eyes seemingly boring into yours. “A couple of the Auror’s have been talking recently, and well we feel that this war has been going on long enough.”

“War? You mean the one between the Muggles?” You asked, a foreboding feeling coming over you as you continued to watch him.

“Yes. There was something called a bombing in the east part of London early this morning, and it killed a couple families from the ministry.” He spoke, causing you to gasp in shock. “It’s like a really bad form of reducto but made with chemicals, the muggles have been using it more and more recently. And now that we know it can kill us..”

“Theseus, where are you going with this?” You asked, though you felt like you already knew the answer.

“Well I know Travers is saying that wizards are not to get involved in the war, but one of the people killed was a friend, and I can’t stand by and do nothing anymore.” He spoke, eyes glassy as he continued. “So a few of us are leaving, we’re going to go help fight with the muggles.”

There was a deafening silence in the room as you took in his words, heart quickly dropping into your stomach.

“You-you’re leaving?” You questioned, shock and disbelief strong in your tone. “You’re going to war?”

“Yes.” He replied, rubbing his thumb across your cheek. “I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

“Ok.” You murmured, closing your eyes tightly against the emotions building up. They snapped open, however, at his next words.

“I won’t blame you if you don’t want to wait for me.” He said gently, pain in his eyes as he watched you closely. “There’s a good chance that I might not come back. I can’t make you go through that pain. If you want to end things-“

“How dare you.” You cut across him, angrier than you had ever been. “I love you Theseus Scamander, and you going off to war isn’t going to change that. I’m not going to go off and find someone new. You’re it for me, you’re the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with. That’s not going to change. And the fact that you’d think that-“

“I don’t, but I couldn’t leave without offering. I don’t want to force you into this. I know how hard it’ll be. I just don’t want you to regret everything.” He told you, looking relieved now.

“Never.” You responded strongly, eyes still hard as you glanced at him

“Watch our for my little brother, won’t you? He’s always in some sort of trouble.” He joked, trying to cut the tension in the room.

“Of course.” You spoke weakly, staring out the window while you tried to wrestle down the emotion building up in you.

“Y/n.” He spoke softly, grabbing your chin and turning it so you were looking up at him. “When I come back, we’re going to be married, ok? If we make it through this, I want you by my side for the rest of my life.”

“I’m already yours.” You told him, fighting back tears with all you had.

“I’m going to be ok, I’ll come back to you.” He said strongly, cupping your face in his hands.

“You promise?” You whispered, the tears finally falling freely from your eyes.

“I promise.”

Wish I could, I could've said goodbye. I would've said what I wanted to Maybe even cried for you If I knew it would be the last time I would've broke my heart in two Tryin' to save a part of you

“Theseus? I’m home.” You nervously shouted through the house, hearing something clatter to the ground upstairs and footsteps quickly approaching down the steps. Moments later you were wrapped in strong arms, nerves vanishing in your husbands embrace.

After returning from the war nearly a year later, Theseus had shown up to your work and had asked you to marry him. Of course you had said yes, a now 6 years later, here you were.

“Welcome home my beautiful wife!” He exclaimed, making you giggle slightly at his excitement. “I was hoping I’d see you before I had to leave, Travers is sending us on another mission. He claims he has a source that told him where Grindelwald is. We all know how reliable his sources have been in the past. Probably just another wild niffler chase.” He rolled his eyes, making you snort.

“There’s something I need to tell you before you go.” You spoke anxiously, causing Theseus to become concerned.

“What is it?”

“Well I- I felt sick at work today, and one of the other healers said I should take a test. I did, and well it came back positive.” You whispered, doing nothing to calm your husbands worries. “Thee, I’m pregnant.”

“P-pregnant?” He asked, pure shock written all over him. “Blimey, you, we’re-“ He suddenly cut himself off, voice clogged with emotion. He quickly kissed you heatedly, an overjoyed sound coming muffled from his mouth. “I’m going to be a father!” He exclaimed when he pulled away, spinning you around joyously in his arms. “This is the second happiest moment of my life!”

“What’s the first?” You laughed, catching your breath as he set you down on your feet again.

“The day you married me.” He said as if it were obvious, making you grin. “Wait till I tell Newt! We’ll make him god father, yes?”

“Of course.” You answered, watching your husband happily. “I’ll owl him when you leave.”

“Right, right.” He spoke, suddenly remembering his mission. “Almost forgot, well I’d better be off. Wait till I tell the others, a baby!”

“Alright, alright, get out of here you crazy man.” You joked, leaning up to kiss him once more. “Come back to me.” You whispered when you pulled away, having spoken the words every time he went on missions.

“Always.”

And I want to pretend that it's not true Oh baby, that you're gone

“Mum, where are we going?” Your five year old daughter spoke, holding onto your hand tightly as you walked through familiar large iron gates.

“You’re going to meet someone very special.” You responded, squeezing your little daughters hand gently.

She stayed silent as she walked beside you, the silence of the area around causing her to do the same. After a few minutes of walking, you stopped in front of the familiar place. Kneeling down next to your daughter, you moved your hand to hold her shoulder.

“Is that-?” She started, eyes wide as she took in the name in front of her.

Theseus Scamander Born: 7th June 1889 Died: 19th February 1920 “And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.”

“Honey, this is your dad.” You spoke softly, placing your other hand over the slightly worn tombstone. “He was the bravest, loyalest, and most loving man I ever met. He died before you were born, fighting an evil man so that one day you and I and others could live in a peaceful world without fear. He never met you, but he loved you fiercely from the moment he found out about you. You look so much like him, you are so much like him.” You paused, playing with a loose brown curl in your daughters hair while tears filled your eyes. “He’d be so proud of you, he’d love you just as much as I do if he was still with us.”

“Do you miss him?” Your daughter asked softly, tears now falling from her eyes.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t.” You responded, wiping a tear from her cheek. “But he is always with us; he lives on in me, and he lives on in you. As long as we always remember and always love him, he’ll never really be gone. He’ll look over us and protect us until we join him again one day.”

“I wish he was still here, I wish I had my dad.” Your daughter sobbed, prompting you to pull her tightly into your arms.

“I know, I know my little love. I wish he was still here too. I always will.”

Oh, I’ll never love again

#crimes of grindelwald imagine #fantastic beasts imagine #fantastic beasts the crimes of grindelwald #harry potter imagine #the crimes of grindelwald #theseus scamander #theseus scamander imagine #newt scamander #harry potter #a star is born

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romera-rp · 5 years

Photo

After years of war and rising tension something finally gives way in the political structure of Hegaehend. A growing unrest and dissatisfaction is sparked within those most directly affected by the war; families who have lost children and husbands, knights who have repeatedily watched their men be overwhelmed by the opposing forces.

A series of events that would have gone by as unnoticed circumstances if the tensions weren’t so high now seem like the tipping point as two people are brought to the forefront. Lady Grimaxe, a dwarven noble, and Sir Brine, a beloved knight, blame King Rolland and his inadequacy within the war for the amount of unnecessary casualties. They believe the King is too soft to take any true military action against the other nations due to his family ties, and believe if only the order to strike back fully against the opposing armies was given then the war would end quickly.

Being such prominent figures it isn’t long before the murmuring of their distaste reach the public ears. With the war slowly chipping down at the people moral it isn’t a surprise they latch onto their words, wanting to blame someone for their discontent and the King being the obvious choice. As a result a movement is formed.

A movement called The Strength of Hegaehend.

IN CHARACTER DETAILS:

This plot drop will take us forward from the morning after our last event, and carry forward for four weeks and 5 days in-game. The in game dates of your threads can therefore be anywhere between 21st July to the 23rd August 3508 AT. Below you will find descriptions of both the leaders of The Strength of Hegaehend and a timeline of all the events that will be happening throughout this time period, which you can feel free to use in your threads, or to simply have as talking points.

NAME: Lady Anathema Grimaxe RACE: Dwarf GENDER: Female ESTIMATED AGE: 230 DETAILS: Like her name suggests, Grimaxe is not one for humor or pleasantries. She is short, stout, and to the point in all things. Her family is an old and proud one dating back longer than anyone bothered to note within Khaggon. Her children, all proud and impressive, have all perished as a direct result of the war. Her last and youngest, Meniss, died defending Llyn just a few months ago. Once she supports a cause, or makes a decision, she will never rescind her judgement nor change her mind and she has decided that Rolland is not right for Hegaehend.

NAME: Sir Stuart Brine RACE: Human GENDER: Male ESTIMATED AGE: 38 DETAILS: Herculean in all things, Sir Brine is well loved by his soldiers. Other leaders have often voiced their concern over his exuberant support of violent methods, but he has an easy grace and magnetic charisma. He is a fierce, ruthless fighter and one that does not hesitate in his actions. His loyalty is to his men, so he says, but even his most loyal subordinate can see the bloodlust in his eyes as he cuts down his foes.

TIMELINE:

LLYN MEMORIAL (22nd July, the center of Llyn) Thazmoug Greyborn, High Faenor of Berronar Truesilver and advisor to King Rolland, hosted a memorial to congratulate and thank those who had helped Llyn recover from the devastating invasion back in June as well as to commemorate those who lost their lives in defense of the town. Just as he finished his speech, Lady Grimaxe, a well respected and proud dwarven noble, stepped forth from the surrounding crowd, her face tear stricken but her voice still powerful. She berated Thazmoug for his unfailing support of the weak and naive King Rolland, cursed his passivity in the face of his people’s tragedy, and condemned his inability to strike back and end the war before any more children had to die like her own. She revealed that all of her children have now perished because of this war, her youngest being struck down in these very streets, all because of Rolland’s thoughtless rule. Thazmoug reiterates his earlier gratitude and apologies before stepping away. Lady Grimaxe is surrounded by sympathetic fellows and is likewise lead away while weeping.

Later in the day, Lady Grimaxe was approached by a man with a long, bubbling scar descending from his right ear, down his throat, and below his coat collar. He seemed intent, almost hungry.

UNENDING KAIVRAS SKIRMISHES (20th July to 24th July) Sir Brine, a well-loved and battle-worn knight, lead his men along the northern end of Hegaehend’s border with Kaivras to defend a remote outpost known for screening refugees and withstanding the worst that Queen Ivana had to throw at them. After only a couple of days, however, despite a potential threat looming, orders from the capital forced Sir Brine and his men to leave and return to their previous station. Loyal to a fault, Sir Brine followed the ill-fated orders and they retreated. The next morning, as they awoke in their campsite, they could see black smoke rising from the horizon. They stormed back, heedless of the distance or the rough terrain, only to find the outpost smoldering and overrun with Ivana’s cronies. They were quickly overwhelmed and while they managed to push the opposing troops back, Sir Brine lost over half of his men and all but one of the outpost’s crew. All that was left of the border post was ash and bodies.

MEETING IN KHAGGON (30th July) At a routine meeting between generals, knights, and invested nobles, Sir Brine cracks and rants about the mismanagement of the war. Earnest and enraged, he denounces King Rolland’s decision to move his battalion with a known threat looming over the outpost. He describes the king as naive and foolhardy without an ounce of empathy for those beyond his immediate sight. This fit earns him judgemental stares, raised eyebrows, and little sympathy with one exception. A man with a long scar down his neck pulled Sir Brine aside and the pair were not seen for the rest of the night.

A MOVEMENT IS BORN (5th August) The group that will come to be recognized throughout Hegaehend in the coming weeks starts as nothing but a whisper, but one that quickly gains traction as further news of loss and tragedy directly resulting from the war hangs heavy over the nation. It calls for a strengthening of military might and harsher consequences against the invasive forces threatening Hegaehend’s borders. Headed by Sir Brine and Lady Grimaxe, the group starts out with only a few handfuls of loyal, passionate followers before ballooning into a movement worthy of curiosity by even the most common citizen. Throughout all the major cities in Hegaehend, pamphlets are spread urging citizens to question the authority of King Rolland. The pamphlet claims that King Rolland’s “passivity is intolerable in the face of his people’s anguish.” It is revealed that the group has named themselves The Strength of Hegaehend. Each and every pamphlet is stamped with the mantra:

”Strength to Hegaehend, Strength to the People, Strength to You.”

FESTIVAL OF LOVE - Festival of Sune (6th August) Celebrations to mainly take place in Runswick, however other towns and cities will be taking part in the festivities. Lord Horcryn will be opening up his manor, The Heartfire Quarter, to not only his normal special invitees but to the general public for the event. See worldbuilding post.

THE COUNCIL’S RESPONSE (15th August) In response to the distribution of pamphlets across the nation, the council announced that the creation of such literature to be illegal and anyone found in possession of it will be put under investigation for treason. Those responsible for the creation of such pamphlets are currently in the process of being charged for such crimes against the crown. However, Sir Brine and Lady Grimaxe, both well-respected and powerful figures amongst the nobility and the military have not been charged with any crimes as of yet. Despite the threat of internal opposition and further discord, the council does not inform King Rolland of any matters relating to The Strength of Hegahend. In their minds, the threat can easily be snuffed out and the king should focus on the war itself instead of petty unrest.

RITE OF PAIN AND PURITY - Festival of Loviatar (16th August) Worldbuilding post to come.

THE KING’S WEAKNESS (20th August) During one of their political demonstrations, The Strength causes such a commotion outside the Truesilver Temple in Khaggon that King Rolland himself is forced to address the growing disturbance. When a bystander questions King Rolland on his opinion of the group, he fumbled. It quickly became clear that he has never heard of the group nor did he have any part in the ban of their literature. News of his cluelessness spreads and The Strength rapidly capitalized on his display of ignorance, his lack of knowledge merely validating their claims.

THE KING’S RESPONSE (21st August) King Rolland publically appears before the people of Khaggon, and sends out his own statement across the country, confirming that there is a faction who have dubbed themselves The Strength of Hegaehend within his ranks that are unwilling to follow his rule any longer, but he does not consider them extreme threats and lifts the ban on their literature. Despite this, he expresses his staunch disapproval of them and condemns their needless chaos. His speech culminated with him beseeching his citizens to trust in him, trust in each other, and to remain hopeful in the face of the ongoing travesty that is war.

OOC DETAILS:

This event will last 19 days and will officially come to an end on the 23rd August, at which point any activities should be coming to an end.

Please remember to tag any posts related to this event with the title “The Strength of Hegaehend”.

This event will be the first in a series of plot drops hopefully building up the group, The Strength of Hegaehend, and their leaders. In releasing them in parts we hope that it will allow you to get more invested in the story and consider what sides your characters will be taking as the events slowly unfold. Beneath you may find some possible ideas for threads within this first event.

THREAD IDEAS:

You are in attendance at either the Llyn memorial, the Kaivras border skirmish or the political demonstration where the King attends.

You are approached by someone handing out the pamphlets and trying to convert you to the movement.

You are interested in the movement or have already decided to join and attend one of the followers meetings/political demonstrations.

You have taken it upon yourself to investigate the group and are tracking people you suspect to be traitors of the crown.

#romevent #fantasy rp #original rp #supernatural rp #new rp

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zebraslovescupcakestoo · 5 years

Text

A family day

I was walking back home from the library on one sunny June day. I've just finished reading a book two days ago and I've got another one that I've already read but I still enjoyed reading it.

Only this time it is now mine personally.

I was probably the only teenager at my age that still reads books and love reading more than the average person does. The librarian and the owner was probably one of my older friends that I had when I was alone on those times and I do help him sometimes with work. He's probably the only one who had more imaginations than anyone I knew and still be a down to earth kind of person. He gave it to me personally and that I can keep it cause I'm probably the only person who enjoyed it. Even if I declined, he's insisted that I keep it as my own.

I was so exited about my new book that I was reading on chapter two on my way home and into the pathway. I was going to show it to my my father and sister until I remembered that we had our relatives over for our annual summer family reunion. I was even more exited to show them as well.

Well... almost all of them.

I then got surprised by someone who dropped off from our tree and next to me. It was my cousin. “Hello, Felix.” Alex stand there proudly as if I was supposed to be impressed from his hiding skills. He does that recently...

However, I wasn't fazed and just politely said. “Good afternoon, Alex-!” He then snatched my book from my hands when I was about to read one of my favorite parts. “Alex, may I have my book please?” I said as I tried to reach for it again, but Alex wasn't letting that happened as he flipped over the pages while he held it from the side. “How can you read these? There's barely no pictures.”

I frowned and I had to tell him. “Well some people used their imaginations.” I don't remember how he became more of a jerk as we're growing up, but I don't remember doing anything to upset him.

He then closes it and waved it a bit. “Felix, It's about time you need to get your nose out of those old books and do what the other cool kids at our age are doing. How can you expect to fit in if you don't even act like them?” He then tosses my book on the grass carelessly. I tried to recovered it, but he then steps on it to prevent me to picking it up. “What ever happened to your soccer enthusiasts? Did you quit or is there nobody else who would want to play as usual?” He empathized on it as if I had nobody else in this city who's my friend.

“I didn't quit cause I felt like it, I just wanted to help Jade with my nephews. She and dad can't be home all the time so I decided to help them like a responsible kid at my age and yours.” He then 'tsked', flung my book along with his left foot and it flew pass me. I closed my eyes to prevent the dirt that got caught with it from getting in them. I spat a bit.

“Responsible. Responsible. Blah blah blah! No wonder the other kids were saying you're weird! Life is too short to be taking things too seriously and settle down too soon. I preferred to live freely and do whatever I want with no regrets AND be more... up to date. Being the 'good boy' is so old fashioned you know?” He sneered close to my face as if to mock me of my values... What is he so up against me personally to act this way?

He then was pulled away from someone who was much taller than him and someone who's not to be reckon with if I'm being bullied. My sister. She was wearing her beautiful emerald green summer dress along with light blue earrings for this occasion. She help him with one hand like she was holding dirty laundry.

“There you are, Alex. Auntie wants you to help them unpack your things before we have our barbecue picnic tonight.” She said.

“Hey! This ain't fair! I'm here on vacation! HE should be the one to help unpack things for us!” Alex pointed at me as if I was his 'servant' for being our guest.

“You know our rules, if you lived under our roof, you need to follow them or look for another place to sleep. Or would you rather I tell them about his violin that was 'misplaced' last Christmas?” She gave him 'that' look and he shuttered.

“Fine... I'll go.” He surrendered with his hands up. After he was put down, he went inside the house. My sister picked up my book as I got up and dust myself off. She handed my book over. “I heard and saw what happened. Are you alright? Should we tell them privately?” She said with a worried look. I knew she was just protecting me, but I don't want to give her and the others more trouble that I should. She alone had done more than enough for me...

“Yeah... I am. Thanks and... No, there's no need. He's probably just grumpy from the trip.” I forced a smile.

“Felix... I know you're lying. I told you I heard all of it and he was being just as mean as the other kids.” She crossed her arms.

“But... Don't you think I’m... odd?” I politely asked her about myself. It's true that I do other things that aren't common with the other kids, but I felt like I'm being... sticking out. “MY little brother? Odd? You let what he said get to you? I though we talked about this before.”

“I-I know! I know! I just... wanted to be normal. It's just a bit hard for me to fit in here sometimes, just because I preferred reading, playing violin and occasionally soccer over partying at a soda joint every weekend and football games.” I looked down at my book. She then made me look up to her and said. “You are great just the way you are! We don't care what others think about you and you are unique. They're just jealous about you being different and your niceness. A rare combination along with your cute cat looks!” She then messed up my hair a bit as if it was teasing me...

Then every thing turns bright...

----

I awoke from the bright sunlight as I realized that I was taking a cat nap on the lawn chair. That dream... it was ten years ago that happened... I realized that today was the exact same day for my family barbecue!

“Ah! Carp fish! How long did I slept?” I was supposed to be helping setting up the tables and chairs along with-

I then realized that all of those things I was supposed to do were almost done when I turn my head to the right. The tables was well placed, the chairs were just placed by the kids and Sheba, Kitty was placing some of the summer favors for the barbecue meal and then there was Sam, who he was just standing there with the grill and dressed as the BBQ king... baking the meats.

I was shocked and a bit upset, but I didn't let it show. What is wrong with me? I was supposed to be the responsible one!

So I spoke to them. “Guys! It was my job to set this up!” I got up and walked over to Sam who's grilling the meats. “You've done most of these things last night so that today we didn't need to do much. Not to mentioned that you've been a bit busy with work lately... We all decided to pitch in a bit, so go back to relaxing.” He said as he taken off the first set of patties.

“But I'm the one who said we'd have it and-”

“You've done more than enough. The prepping, finding these table and chairs, cleaning out some dishes a bit and you've been a bit stressed out lately due to work on top of it like Sam said.” Sheba crossed her arms while Kitty and the kids went back inside to get some other things.

“But... That's just normal. I just wanted to do these things again ever since well... dad passed away. I also wanted to give the kids some good times and new bonding memories. I don't want to be known as a 'strict' parent figure forever.” I knew I had to lay some rules on them, but I knew that they're still kids... They are taking after my sister after all.

“Ne t'inquiète pas, mon amie. I knew they're grateful to you more than you know, even if they never show it. Heck! I've seen that soccer practice one time where Inky was the goalie and Winky was there playing guard position or something next to him. Do you remember what the other kids, including the opposite team were doing?” Sam questioned me on that soccer practice one time he decided to come and see with me.

“They were all having fun and that they're all winners at the end of the day?” I said it with optimistic thoughts.

“Kids were going the wrong way or doing other things than actually playing the game!” He snapped. “You see what they were all doing! Some went off to see with their parents, some were just fighting each other with fists, some are picking up flowers and should I mentioned that your kids and coach Tony's minds would be at the time saying: What the h3ll is going on right now?” He may have exaggerated a bit, but I knew I would never allow them to say such language.

“I don't always agree with Toucan all the time, but he's right about one thing. Your kids are the only ones who can actually play the game correctly for now. Even Coach Tony wanted them, especially Winky, to be on one of his sports team once they're old enough to join.” Sheba backed him up on him claim.

I raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? But I didn't had much time to practice and most of it was just some of the things I used to do at their age.”

“Does your kids have ever read a bunch of boring books at that age too?” I then recognized that voice from that one mirrored person that came out of my home. Alex.

“Oh wow. Sir Lazy-bum has finally showed up once everything is done.” Sam sarcastically said as Alex came up to the three of us. “I had to make sure my hair is perfectly fine. Not everyone has dirty black hair like you, my dear cousin.” He said that just to piss me off, but his taunts are nothing compared to what I had to endure for others.

“Nobody asked for your opinion, old fart. Here's your next chore: Go to the nearby motel and wash. You smell like a urinal in a Portuguese cat house. You're not gonna attract anyone with male perfume that comes out of a bottle, ok?” Sam replied with a glare.

I bet that he's probably one of the only person who knew my 'real' cousin very well and that he's not that stupid to fall for his 'charms.' Truth is, I trust him more than my cousin does when I needed someone to look after the kids.

That comment aggravated Alex a bit.“So? Felix uses cologne too! I don't hear YOU saying anything about it!”

“That's because he doesn't uses half a bottle, enters an elevator full of people and smells like they've stood next to a f#cking pine tree! He just uses less and you can learn a thing about 'less is more' from him.” Sam's advice might have triggered Alex even more due to the fact his left eye is twitching a bit. “Or if you want you can do what European men's do and go natural. One time, a sophisticated guy was standing next to me, he smells like a pile of dog sh!t. I think THAT will suit you just fine.” Sam then smirked at that and Alex glared him with an unusual frown.

“Ha-ha-ha! I forgot how to laugh for a moment, king Dodo.” He mocked Sam due to the fact he's on grilling duty and usually, they're referred to BBQ kings but he refereed to his last nickname as a bird species.

“How original. In the name of the court of law, I shall knight thee!” Now THAT was unusual from Sam to compliment...

“He's plotting something, I can tell.” Sheba warned me with a whisper.

“Oh? Well do, your UN-gracefulness.” Alex then made a bowing gesture to play along. Sam raised his spatula a bit like he would handle a specter. “In the name of justice, I knight thee-” BONK!!

He smacked Alex's head with a decent amount of force to knock him face down. With a judge's mallet he had hidden from his apron and then hid it again from behind his back. “Arise! Sir Douche of Bag!”

“OW! WHAT THE-!!!” BONK!! Sam hit his head again before he gets the chance to look up. “Arise! Sir Stu of Pid!”

“Grr!-” BONK!! “Arise! Baron of bad news!”

“How did we ended up with him again?” Sheba asked me. “Coffee. We met at our usual coffee shop almost every day.” Asides from the fact that I met him on my fist solo case with the Six Busts of Anubis... in a coffee shop and so on.

Mean while, Sam and Alex's shenanigans continued. BONK!! “Arise! Sir Pent of Zoology!”

“This is stup-!” BONK!! “Arise! Sir Duke-of-Dunces!”

I tried to end this with words but to no avail. I knew Sam and Alex disliked each other like I am with Bendy.

BONK!! “ Arise! Prince-of-Stooges!” BONK!! “Sir bull of sh!t!” BONK!! “Master of none!"

“O.K! That's enough entitlements for now!" I held him back before he's gonna put him in a coma and I had to inform my relatives in Australia of this 'accident.' “Aw! I was about to entitle him as Sir Nincom of Poop."

"I'll tell him that later. Please put that away before you'll sentence him to death by the judge's own mallet." He shrugged it off as if he's like 'whatever' and I looked down at my cousin passed out with so many bumps on his head. I didn't see any blood... which is a good sign... to keep my tall friend from going in jail and had to move coffee time to jail talk time.

I'm not gonna lie, my cousin's 'job' is something to frown upon yet some people have a hard time seeing that. Because nobody knew the real tea with him and they'd fall for his looks...

I then heard a familiar voice coming from the house that I haven't heard from a long time in a loud tone. “Good afternoon, everyone! How's summer vacation is going with you two?” That's right! Woody McPecker! He's a reporter and is a vital member for our team.

But then... Just then, I 'sensed' someone else with a powerful aura that I never felt before yet... so similar?

I saw Kitty, Inky, Winky, Woody and then the last person I saw was a stranger.

This guy had black, medium, wavy/curly hair with a pony tail, pale skin, have an unusual mask that looks like it's a ribbon with eyes, but it does make him look mysterious. He wore some blue royal themed summer clothing like he's from a wealthy family. He smiled at our eye contact and waved.

“Ah, Félix. I forgot to mentioned this, but I thought that we might meet our newest member. This is Matteo DeLuca. He's gonna be the newest coroner for your department.” Sam introduced him.

“Huh? But I thought that he was gonna be our new school nurse!” Winky said with confusion.

“I am that too. Little gattino.” He patted Winky's head gently with his black gloves... Those look really cool, I admit...

“I will be working with your uncle and I will be helping the school on days that your regular nurse would be absent. I do hope that we would be close friends after this, Mr. Lockheart.” He extended his arm for a handshake.

He seems like a friendly person. “Um... Yeah. You can just call me Felix. No need to be formal with me.” Just when we made a pact, I then 'saw' from my vision an intimidating silhouette of an deity I would probably recognize better until we let go of our pact.

He then asked. “Are you alright?” I realized that I was a bit of a daze for a second there. “Yes! Yes I am! I'm probably still a bit drowsy from a quick cat nap a moment ago.”

“Bro, you DEFINATELY need an overdue relaxation from those detective work cases. Otherwise, we'll be having it in the asylum one of these days.” Sheba joked.

“Scusami, but may I asked if that gentlemen with many bumps on his head is still alive?” He pointed out Alex's unconscious state with his face down position. We've completely forgot he was still there.

“Unfortunately, he is.” Sam replied and I hushed him. Then Matteo went to Alex's position and bend his knees down when we heard his coming to his senses. He looks up to see Matteo smiling softly at him until he screamed in terror.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” I haven't remembered the last time he jumped so high to one of the tallest branches up a tree.

“That's gotta be a new record! The title is yours, doctor!” Woody complimented.

“I doubt that I could never pull off something like that. Nice work, Matteo.” Sam smug a smile.

Me and the others were still confused in our own ways. Why did Alex freaked out when he saw this Matteo guy?

“W-w-w-w-w-w-what the heck is this guy doing here?! How?why?where?what?!” He was furious and panicked while he waved his pointing arm to him.

“Oh... It's no secret, Alexandre... Or is it 'Alex' this time? You really did think we would never meet again?” Matteo responded.

“Huh? Have you and Alex met before?” Kitty questioned curiously.

He turned and gave another soft smile. But I felt like he's putting a mask on what he really felt. “Actually, yes we did almost a year ago in Egypt. It was on my first trip after that awful war ended and we well... let's just say we get to know each other well enough.”

I 'sensed' some intimidation from him and fear from my cousin. Normally, my cousin would be far too confident to feel any fear, but this time it was different. Matteo was definitely was not lying... but somewhat concealed the truth.

Just who is this guy behind that smile?

Alex then got down and then said. “Welp! It was nice and all! But unfortunately, I have other 'business' to attend to. So!-” He turns to me, face to face. “I 'wished' you a 'pleasant' party with your 'wonderful' friends and I really 'loved' to know them more, but can't. I 'LOVE' to! But CAN'T!” He faked his smile and I detected more lies than his stash of stolen jewelries in one heist.

“Are you sure you don't wished to discuss our time in Egypt? I'm sure every-” Alex then cuts him off with a nervous but a calm demeanor. “It was just a boring exhibition and a stupid puzzle that only Felix would like to talk for hours and hours. Now we know the story. I'll be taking my leave now if you all excuse me.” He then took a hasty leave and we were all... awkward.

“Why did uncle Alex leave so early?” Inky asked. “Because he knew that later we would be all playing 'swat the thief!' and he's gonna be the thief.” Sam had showed a tennis racket with a smirk and half-joked about it.

“Sam! I do not promote unnecessary violence, especially in front of the kids.” I scolded him.

“You're right.” Sam agreed and then turned to the twins. “Like your uncle said: We do not use violence unless it's an emergency. That's why your uncle Sam was locking uncle Alex outside of the house whenever I look after you two.”

I should have known from my smart@$$ friend. He's just as cunning as Bendy and I can hardly handle him.

“At least the table is all set! Why don't we all eat before the burgers are gettin' cold?” Woody said and then the others all agreed on.

Before I joined in, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see Matteo. “You are very fortunate to have such good friends. I do wished to be one too. I hope for us to be on good terms.” He said and left me in a bit of a confusion.

This guy seems friendly enough... I didn't sense any malicious motives from him nor he's the type to steal my girl like my cousin...

But I decided to let it go for now. I'm sure that my sister and my father would want me to take it easy for today. I did wanted to make new fond memories after all.

----Author’s note-----

It’s been a while since I’ve typed a fic.

So just to start, I’ve been inspired by that Beauty and the Beast scene with Gaston and the book thing. I also took the Bugs Bunny gag with “I shall knight the!”

I made a return on an OC that I didn’t use much since the Golden Eyes fanfic series. I was thinking that maybe I should remake this one and I also made a brand new OC which is Matteo DeLuca.

I will be making a whole new fanfic series with him as a co-star, but it’s gonna take some time so please don’t mark any thing on calendars or I will promise anything, but I will do my best.

Humanized Felix and the gang belongs to Marini4. OCs Sam Toucan, Woody Mcpecker and Matteo DeLuca belongs to me.

#Felix The Cat #felix #humanized #alex #sam toucan #fanfiction #OC #bendy before the ink machine #fanfic #fan fiction #Marini4.

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