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from-a-reckless-writer · 3 years

Note

38 Supercorp

"Fuck fuck fuckity fuck," Lena angrily chanted under her breath, hands clenched tight around the steering wheel as she slowed down. The officer behind her had thankfully silenced their sirens at the first sign that Lena was pulling up.

She forced herself to take deep breaths and calm her anger from explosive to just simmering below the surface. She really doesn't need this shit today.

The motorcycle pulled up next to her, if Lena played her cards right she could get out of this without giving up her license. She chanced a glance at her mirror, good thing she decided to wear a low-cut blouse. She's not above using her...assets if it meant getting out of this quicker.

The officer kicks down their stand and swings off. Lena collects herself, checks if her lipstick remains immaculate, she's played this game with enough business men before what's the difference with a police officer?

The difference, it turns out, is that the police officer happens to be a woman.

A gorgeous, blonde woman that made Lena choke on her own saliva, when she took off her helmet only to reveal deliciously perfect bone structure and luscious blonde hair flowed down her shoulders. It was like Lena was watching those pretentious shampoo commercials in real time, the only thing missing was a slow-mo effect.

Said gorgeous, attractive, beautiful--Lena needs more synonyms--knocks lightly on her window and Lena has to rub her three functioning brain cells in order to lower her window.

"Ma'am."

Oh, fuck her eyes are so blue.

"Ma'am."

Will I get more than just a fine if I invite her to my place?

"Ma'am."

Wait- Why drive back when we can do it here in the car? She looks like the car sex type, doesn't she?

"Excuse me, ma'am? Do I have your attention?"

Lena remembers a conversation needs a response from both parties if it wants to exist.

She snaps herself out of it--with the utmost effort, mind you--and clears her throat.

"Hi, officer."

Hi, officer? Hi, officer. What are you? A drunk bachelorette?!?

Lena fights the urge to bang her head on her steering wheel and tries to pay attention to the words coming out of the blonde's lips and not on how she's got the perfect Cupid's bow and what would it taste like pressed to hers?

She catches, "-license,", "-your fine." and at least three more Ma'am's.

Danvers, K.Z. She takes an important mental note.

"Ma'am your license please???"

"Oh. Oh yes. Yes. Right."

God, if she says please and ma'am one more time I'm going to commit a much bigger crime.

Lena fumbles for her purse, almost ripping open the zipper in her haste.

"Here, officer." She thrusts the card out of the window, wishing the blonde's hands would graze hers in the process.

"You can get your license back at the main office on Monday, ma'am. Considering it's the weekend today," she says absentmindedly, scribbling Lena a ticket.

"May I know the reason for your over-speeding ma'am?"

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck uhm uhm-

"Oh, uhm, I didn't want to be late for my daughter's birthday."

WHAT THE FUCk?

"Oh. A birthday huh?" The blonde breaks into a grin so bright it lights up Lena's entire useless empty lesbian soul.

The blonde much to Lena's gay panic, pokes her head in and looks at the assortment of gifts in her backseat.

"Looks like a lucky girl. You must be a great mom."

Okay, so what if she didn't know what Ruby wanted for her birthday and got her everything that Lena thinks a thirteen year-old wants? And so what if she used her goddaughter as an excuse, sue her, at least she got treated to this officer's smile right?

"Thank you. She's 13 today. Didn't know what she wanted so I uh- got everything..." she gestures weakly to the gifts.

"Well, I'm sure you're going to make her happy today."

Yeah, I'm also sure you can make me very, very happy, officer.

"Mm-hm. Yes, that's the goal."

"Well, I won't keep you any longer."

Oh no please you can keep me as long as you like.

"Just don't speed again next time, alright ma'am? Tell your girl I wish her a happy birthday."

Lena stays there seated like an idiot as her eyes remains glued to the officer's err, backside while she walks away and mounts her bike again.

God, what I wouldn't give for me to mount her instead.

She gives Lena a small salute goodbye that was not supposed to be as hot as it is, before fitting her helmet and making the bike roar to life.

Lena remains stationary for a few moments, replaying the whole exchange in her head again and again. Before getting shocked into the present by her phone's shrill ringing.

Sam's face lights up the screen.

Shit, Sam's gonna kill me.

******

Sam doesn't kill her, at least not directly.

She does make her heart stop though.

"Lena!" Sam greets. "Finally! Ruby's waiting for you. Here let me take these. I have somebody I want to introduce to you."

Sam grabs the gifts from her arms and doesn't even bat an eye at the number of it all. She's learned not to fight Lena when it comes to spoiling Ruby. The house is decked in streamers and confetti. Outside, you can hear the high-pitched giggling of teenage girls.

Sam drags her out into the garden where the real party is.

"Sorry, I'm late. I got held up by-"

Lena's entire being freezes. Her sentence remains broken.

"Ma'am? I mean Ms. Luthor? I mean Le-wait your Ruby's other mom?"

"Kara! This is Le- other mom? Wait what? Do you two know each other?"

"Ruby's got another mom?"

"OH MY GOD, YOU'RE FINALLY HERE!!!!"

Everything happens so fast, suddenly officer--named Kara, apparently--is standing there in Sam's garden, Kara is saying something. And then Sam is also saying something and then a red-head that Lena has no idea who the hell is, is also talking and before Lena could even process a single thing, she gets tackled by a thirteen year-old.

"Happy Birthday, Ruby," She manages to squeeze out as Ruby knocks the breath out of her. In the distance she can hear Sam go, "Ruby! Careful!"

"Your gifts are in the living room," she whispers in her ear and then Ruby is off dashing, with nothing but a yell of "Thanks Aunt Lena!!" into the wind.

And now, Lena is faced with the reality of being introduced to the officer she's been drooling over.

"Okay, so let me clear this up. You got pulled up, by Kara here," Sam shakes Kara, who she's got under her shoulder. "For overspeeding because, and I quote, 'You were late for your daughter's birthday'??? Did I get that right??"

"Uh yes, that pretty much sums it up," Kara mumbles, staring straight at Lena.

Sam's got a knowing look on her face that Lena wants so badly to slap out of her.

"Interesting." Sam smirks at her. "Daughter huh?"

"Oh my god, stop it. I only said it so she'd let me go faster," Lena bursts out. "Technically, I am Ruby's other mom. I'm the honorary cool mom."

She really wishes her face isn't as red as she feels it is.

"No, you're the godmother and I'm the cool mom," Sam says smoothly. "But, before we get off topic, this is Alex and this is her sister, Kara."

Lena has heard all about Alex, dashing FBI agent and Sam's recent object of affection. What she hasn't heard about is, Alex's younger, more gorgeous and Lena hopes not straight sister.

"Hi, good to meet you, Lena." Alex gives her a firm grip which she returns with a smile.

"Hi," Kara says shyly, turning to her, she's wearing glasses and it's such a far cry from the person Lena's met on the road. This version is softer, somewhat warmer.

The blatant difference doesn't really deter Lena's want to climb her like a tree, though.

"Hi," Lena parrots back, holding out a hand. Kara takes it so gently and Lena feels like she's going to pass out when the warmth of Kara's hand envelops her.

She's blushing from her head to toe and she doesn't really care if Sam--or Kara for that matter--sees notices.

"How come I got here faster than you did?"

Well, that's because I had to spend at least 15 minutes on the side of the road trying to calm my breathing, trying to flush out the fantasies in my head and wow you're really gorgeous, has anybody told you that?

Lena settles with, "Ah, well, motorcycles are faster than cars I guess."

Kara gives her that smile again and Lena feels her face breaking into one too.

"Well, doesn't matter. I'm just real glad you're here now, Lena."

"Me too, Kara, me too."

prompt list here

#hello wow look at this incoherent stream of consciousness #in my defense tho i am strapped to bed and sick as fuck and i have nothing to do but these prompts so #here ya go anon #the reckless writer writes #prompt fills #i didn't proofread this so if u see a typo no u didnt #supercorp #rcklss writes

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musical-shit-show · 3 years

Text

could have danced all night

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader Inspiration: Prompts #2 (“apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”) #14 (“when i’m not with you, it’s almost like…i can’t breathe.”) and #41 (“i may or may not have left some…marks.”) Warnings: sexual references, kissing, meddling siblings, fluffy fluff Word Count: 3,733 Author’s Note: This is my first request! Big shout out to @acmbooksandfilm for sending this in, I had a lot of fun writing it. Also, apologies on it taking a bit to get out, writing has gotten difficult as my real adult job has slowly turned my brain to mush. But, if you would still like to send in a request, feel free! My DMs and Askbox is always open, even though it may take a little longer to complete requests. And as always, check out my Masterlist, About Me page, and Prompt Lists. Thanks for all the love on my other one shots and enjoy!

“Colin, enough,” Benedict huffed as he threw on his shiny black tailcoat, “Surely you have better things to do than pester me about my love life.” Anthony, Benedict, and Colin often crossed paths when getting ready for the numerous events of the season, and now the younger Bridgerton brother was doing everything to get on his elder sibling’s last nerve.

“I’m merely pointing out the obvious, Benedict,” Colin said smugly, straightening his cravat as he looked at himself in the mirror. He couldn’t help but flash a mischievous smile at his reflection, “Practically everyone in the ton knows about you two, what’s the harm in proposing?”

“What on God’s green earth are you two talking about?” Anthony strode into the room, closing the door in the likely event that Colin said something inappropriate and scandalized one of their younger sisters or, heaven forbid, their mother.

Benedict couldn’t help but flush. Yes, he was close enough with his brothers to discuss all matters surrounding women, but it felt wrong for him to talk about you. Especially when your relationship wasn’t meant to be any sort of relationship whatsoever.

It had started out innocently enough; you had been close with his younger sister Eloise and Penelope Featherington for years, acting as surrogate older sister on account of you being several years older than them. You were also friendly with Daphne and Simon Bassett, and often had tea with the pair when they weren’t off performing their duties as the Duke and Duchess of Hastings.

In truth, you knew Benedict the least out of the Bridgertons who had or were close to coming of age, and was shocked when he requested to have his name written on your dance card at the first ball of the season. When it came time to dance, you had expected Benedict to act shy at first; but after some coaxing from you, he won you over almost instantly with his wit and humor.

He only asked to dance with you once more at that particular event, not wanting to be improper. However, it was clear from the way the two of you looked at each other that there was a spark.

“No one,” Benedict said, almost too quickly, “Our brother is just sticking his nose into affairs that aren’t his own, as usual.” Anthony rolled his eyes, thoroughly unamused by his younger siblings’ bickering. The three of them strode down the stairs of their home and seized a carriage so that the conversation could continue in private.

“So…” Colin drawled, “It is an affair, then?”

“You know that’s not what I meant at all.”

“A slip of the tongue, perhaps? You know, brother, you must choose your words more carefully—"

“Mark my words, Colin Bridgerton; I will kill you in this very carriage if—”

“Will the two of you, please,” Anthony huffed, feeling a migraine coming on, “Benedict, is this about who I think it is about…?” Colin nodded fervently, but Benedict remained stone-faced. He hated keeping things from his family, especially his brothers. But he couldn’t risk tarnishing your name, not after what had transpired between you two.

It wasn’t meant to happen. When Benedict had snuck off one night to another one of Sir Granville’s soirées, he was shocked to see you there, wearing a tightly-laced corset, undergarments, and practically nothing else. As soon as you saw him, your eyes widened to the size of your mother’s best teacup saucers. Without thinking, you grabbed him and pulled him into the nearest empty room.

“Benedict, wha—what are you doing here?!” he remembered you asking him, utterly flustered. His eyes drifted to the sheer robe draped over your shoulders, the fabric floating gently with your every movement.

“I could very well ask you the same question!” he attempted to whisper, now distracted by how your corset pushed up your bosom considerably, “How do you even know about these, um, parties?” For a moment, you hesitated, unsure of what to say as Benedict’s pale blue eyes bore into yours.

You sighed, resigning to come clean, “Genevieve—Madame Delacroix—she told me about them. I confided in her about my father’s money troubles,” you felt the tears start to well up, but could not bear to cry in front of Benedict in the state you found yourself in, “I barely have any money for a dowry to find a suitable husband, and Genevieve and Sir Granville are familiar so…I work when I can and just make the guests feel comfortable—you know, offer them drinks, tobacco, the like—but I provide nothing more than hospitality.”

You felt that you needed to make that distinction to Benedict. Though you suspected that any chance with him was gone now that he had discovered your secret, you wanted to at least maintain part of your reputation, “Granville is generous enough and I could not be more grateful,” you continued, pulling the nearly translucent robe tightly around your body, “And these parties are so secretive that I thought, perhaps, I could scrounge enough money together before the end of the season before I was discovered. Clearly not.”

You couldn’t help but laugh dryly, but Benedict stared at you, his expression earnest, “You need not worry about that,” he breathed, “I won’t tell a soul.” You absentmindedly bit your bottom lip, chewing nervously on a bit of broken skin. Could he really be trusted? Yes, you had crossed paths over the last few weeks, exchanging pleasantries and the occasional flirtatious glance, but would Benedict be able to keep your secret?

“Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton,” you replied coyly, deciding that you didn’t have a choice in the matter, “Perhaps I will be able to repay you one day.” A sly smile spread across Benedict’s face, his eyes flickering to the locked door. Though the party was continuing on the other side, you two had remained virtually undisturbed.

Feeling bold, he traced his fingers over your collarbone, instantly sending a chill down your spine, “Perhaps…you could repay me now?” he posited, trying his best not to sound like a complete and utter rake, “Only if you wish to, of course.” Despite your best efforts, you could feel a palpable spark that had been building between the two of you over the past few weeks. And you had grown tired of restraining your impulses any longer.

Gently, you placed a soft kiss on his lips. Your eyes fluttered shut and Benedict cupped your face with his hand, his grip surprisingly tender. His free arm wrapped around your body smoothly, pulling you flush against him. You frantically thought through the consequences of someone discovering you with a Bridgerton, but you were too preoccupied with removing Benedict’s clothing to pay much mind…

“Benedict!” Anthony snapped his younger brother out of his reverie as the carriage slowed to a stop, “Would you get your head out of the clouds and tell me what’s going on?” Benedict stared at him, utterly panic stricken. He had kept your secret for nearly a month now, and during that time the two of you had gotten even closer, both in the eyes of the ton and after nightfall in your bedchamber.

Benedict’s mind almost drifted to the night he had shared with you only hours before, but focused on the task at hand, “You needn’t worry your pretty little head, brother,” he said coolly, “I have it all under control.” Anthony looked as if he were going to be sick, and Colin smiled with devilish glee. The three brothers clamored out of the carriage and made their way into the bustling ballroom, more of their family trailing close behind.

Benedict could hear Eloise whine as Lady Bridgerton attempted to smooth down her hair, and he felt a small pang of guilt for not coming to his sister’s aid against their mother’s incessant prodding. But now, he had more pressing matters at hand; namely, what in the hell he was going to say to you now that his brothers were onto him.

He spotted you from across the hall, his heart fluttering with every step he took in your direction. He noticed that you were wearing an intricately laced shawl that was tied tightly across your chest, completely covering your collarbone and much of your breast. Benedict felt himself frown slightly, then immediately scold himself for being improper at a society function; surely, you need not show your bosom to the entire ton in order to draw the eye of him and a number of other suitors.

You were conversing with Penelope and Lady Featherington when he finally approached you, eyes wide with fear, “Hello,” he said politely, giving a slight nod to Penelope and her mother, “Is there a spot open for my name on your card?” You quirked an eyebrow, giving him a smirk as you removed the card from your wrist.

“Why of course, Mr. Bridgerton,” you replied in an equally cordial manner. Heaven forbid Portia Featherington get a whiff of your affair; you’d be certain your name would be splashed across Lady Whistledown’s pamphlet before you’d wake the next morning, “In fact, you are the first gentleman to ask, so you may have the first dance. If you are not otherwise engaged, that is.” He shook his head and his eyes gleamed as he returned your card to your delicately gloved hand.

Despite his anxiety being astronomically high, Benedict was delighted that he was able to dance with you so early in the evening. He always thought of you as a fluid dancer, light on your feet as the two of you would glide across the ballroom. He often found himself not being able to take his eyes off you, the lively music and judgmental crowd fading away the moment he embraced you.

More importantly, he wanted to speak to you about the precarious situation you found yourselves in. It was only a matter of time until either Anthony or Colin pried the truth out of him, and he wouldn’t let the news spread across all of London society, besmirching your good name. He cared about you too much to allow such a wretched thing to happen.

A few moments later, all of the couples were signaled that the first dance was to begin. Benedict shot a glance to Colin, who had been talking Anthony’s ear off since they arrived. Now, the two of them were staring him down, whispering like schoolboys. He refrained from scoffing and instead took your hand gently, pulling you into his tall frame as the music began.

You instantly noticed the nervous and almost pained expression splashed across Benedict’s face, and you furrowed your brow in worry. However, you decided your best course of action was to try and alleviate the tension he must’ve been feeling, “I see you haven’t taken a liking to my shawl,” you remarked, a sly smile dancing on your lips, “I will have to tell my sister she has dreadful taste.”

Benedict ripped his eyes from his brothers’ stares and produced a small chuckle at your teasing. He realized he’d much rather converse with you than worry about what Anthony and Colin were up to, “No, it’s uh—it is, quite lovely,” he countered, lowering his voice, “Though I would prefer to see more of you, of course.” You raised an eyebrow, impressed by his boldness.

“I believe you saw plenty last night, Mr. Bridgerton,” you posited, weaponizing his own name against him, “In fact, I suppose you could blame yourself for my more…conservative attire, wouldn’t you agree?”

Benedict couldn’t help but flush, but cleared his throat to attempt to keep up with your rather scandalous banter, “Yes, well…I suppose…” he stuttered, “I may or may not have left some…marks.” He spun you, watching as your dress moved gracefully around your body and fluttered behind you as you gripped his arm once more.

You searched the panicked expression on his face. Surely, he only knew you were teasing, so why did he look like he was on the brink of sickness? “Benedict, why are you acting so strange?” you asked, attempting to keep the mood light while searching for information, “You’re not falling in love with me, are you?”

Benedict swallowed, attempting to maintain his composure. Besides the looming threat of every affluent family in Mayfair uncovering your secret, he was also painfully aware of how nervous you had been making him over the past weeks. The way your smile lit up every room, the way your eyes sparkled playfully, the way your laugh made his heart do a somersault.

“It’s just as well,” you continued, not waiting for him to answer your rhetorical question, “I overheard Colin and Pen whispering earlier, and Simon and Daphne as well. Apparently, all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.” He sighed, a little relieved that you had caught onto his family’s shenanigans before he worried you unnecessarily. He couldn’t help but appreciate your perceptive nature.

“Believe me, Colin and Daphne may be my siblings, but they are not my friends right now,” he joked nervously, only half-kidding, “And Anthony is on dangerously thin ice. It appears my family can’t help but get involved in matters that do not concern them.” You giggled, causing Benedict’s heart to swell. He was growing more infatuated with you by the second.

“I wish my family cared half as much as yours does,” you say, a twinge of sadness in your voice, “They are all so wonderful, and I’m sure they are just being protective.” Benedict nodded, heartened by the kindness and understanding you were showing to his siblings. You already got along quite well with Eloise and Daphne, and you were always courteous to his mother while still being able to hold your own when conversing with Anthony or Colin.

As the dance came to an end, Benedict had begun to realize his affection for you. Not just physically; yes, your first encounter at Sir Granville’s had brought you two together faster than he had ever expected. It was reckless, intimate, and completely wonderful, but getting to know you, without dozens of uppity members of high society leering at your every move, was more valuable than any nights you had spent together.

And he decided in that moment, as your hand released from his and you both bowed respectfully, that he could not bear to spend one more day without you by his side. But he could not profess his love in front of God and everyone, least of all his family; he quickly surmised that he must wait until a moment presented itself.

You were quickly whisked away by your mother, unable to even say a proper thank you and goodbye. But as your eyes met his blue ones, you couldn’t help but notice how they were sparkling in the candlelight, and you felt a twinge of melancholy. You cared for Benedict, but feared it was only a matter of time before your affair ended and he was married to another disgustingly wealthy aristocrat. You gave him a fleeting smile before getting dragged to the other side of the ballroom.

As you turned away from him, Benedict felt two hands grasping each of his arms, one hand belonging to each of his meddling brothers, “I knew it!” Colin whisper-yelled as he and Anthony pulled their love-struck sibling into a secluded corner of the lavish hall, “You know, you really aren’t fooling anyone, Ben.”

“How do you mean?” Benedict asked nervously in one last ditch effort to conceal the truth. He shouldn’t have bothered; his brothers had seen how smitten he was with you, and soon the entire ton would be abuzz with salacious gossip if he did not make his move that very evening.

“Benedict,” Anthony chided sternly, clapping him on the shoulder, “Please, do not deny it any longer. You’re clearly bewitched.” The eldest Bridgerton child could not help but smirk; it was almost entertaining to see his usually guarded brother so obviously in love.

Benedict sighed, defeated, “Alright,” he whispered, his face flush with embarrassment, “I apologize for thinking I could ever keep a secret from you two.” Colin smirked proudly, feeling as if he were London’s greatest detective, “I’ll tell you everything if you want, but for the love of Christ, it cannot be here.” He gestured to the room, which was growing more crowded with preening mamas, hunting for the slightest whiff of a scandal.

While Benedict and his brothers searched for a private room for him to regale your escapades, your night flew by, and hours later you found yourself chatting with Daphne and Simon on the gorgeously decorated outdoor terrace. The night was perfectly temperate, and although the noise had died down significantly as many guests had departed for the evening, your head was still swimming in thought. Specifically, you were overwhelmed by the thought of Benedict.

He was quite kind to you, and a very smart, charming gentleman, but you felt your heart lurch as you recalled the intimate nights you had shared over the last few weeks. Men of Benedict’s status would not wed a tainted woman, no matter how much you wished he would. It was only a matter of time before Lady Whistledown revealed your transgressions, and you would be marked as an undesirable to the entire upper echelon of society.

You shuddered at the thought. “Chilly, dear?” Daphne asked sweetly, noticing the unsettled look on your face, “I would think you’d be more protected from the elements with that beautiful shawl on.” Your heart jumped to your throat before you could cover for yourself; Benedict had appeared on the terrace, looking absolutely petrified. Simon and Daphne exchanged glances.

“Darling,” Simon said, turning to his wife, “It is quite crisp out here, don’t you think? Perhaps we should—”

“Go inside to warm up?” Daphne finished his sentence, that unmistakably mischievous glint in her eye that all Bridgerton children possessed, “Why yes, I think that is a fantastic idea, Simon.” She hooked her arm under her husband’s, and the two of them bid you and Benedict adieu, much to your dismay. You were certain he had been found out by his family and was here to end your affair before word reached the rest of the ton.

Still, you managed to smile politely. Simon was right, there was a slight chill that pervaded the terrace, mostly due to the lack of company that had populated the space only hours before, “Hello, Benedict,” you mutter, shifting your weight from one heeled foot to the other, “Will you be departing soon or—?”

“Erm, yes,” he answered a bit too quickly, and you raised an eyebrow. His strange behavior all night was another indicator that ending things was clearly as difficult for him to initiate as it would be for you to accept, “But first, I, well, I need to tell you something. Something I probably should have told you weeks ago.”

You felt a lump in your throat almost instantaneously. ‘Here it comes,’ you thought, more distressed than you hoped you would be. Benedict took your gloved hand, rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. If it were not slightly improper, you would almost find it comforting; his touch always seemed to soothe you, ever since your first night together.

“I never expected to…for us to become so close in such a short period of time,” he began, wondering at what point in this silly speech he would make a royal ass out of himself. Though he had gained a little brotherly insight from Anthony and Colin, he still felt as though he could vomit at any second, “And, well, truth be told, I have enjoyed every moment we have spent together.”

You smiled, pleased by his kind words, “Truthfully, I have felt the same,” you remarked, “But it’s quite alright, Ben, I understand—”

“You do?” he cut you off again, a bead of sweat forming on his brow, “Am I really so obvious about my affection for you?” You stared at him, confused. Was this not him ending whatever…relationship the two of you shared? Now you felt like the fool.

“Affection?” you repeated, your mouth twitching, “I thought you did not want to see me anymore.” Benedict’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t help but laugh dryly. You had mistaken his jittery behavior as a bad omen, when that could not be further from reality.

He shook his head, and you felt the pace of your heartbeat quicken, “My dear, I think there’s been a slight misunderstanding,” he joked, clearing his throat, “I know that our relationship has been a secret for some time, but I cannot hide how I feel for you any longer. You are kind, and witty, and strong, and incredibly adventurous, and when our dance came to an end earlier this evening, I…I felt like there was a part of me missing as soon as you left. I…when I’m not with you, it’s almost like…I can’t breathe.”

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, taken aback by his doting and earnest words. “And it would be my honor,” he smiled, his gaze intense and impassioned, “If I could ask for your hand.” Your eyes sparkled back at his, and you nodded silently, attempting to conceal a squeal of girlish glee. You two were still, unfortunately, in public.

“Yes,” you exhaled, feeling foolish from your assumptions about Benedict only minutes before, “I would be equally honored to be your wife, Benedict Bridgerton.” You snuck him a quick kiss on his cheek, causing him to flush for what was probably the hundredth time that night, “I see our friends were right after all, weren’t they?”

“Yes, yes they were, and I doubt I will ever hear the end of it from Anthony and Colin,” Benedict mused, smiling sweetly as the corners of his eyes crinkled happily, “I’ll see to a proper visit first thing tomorrow morning, I promise.” He studied you, doing all he could to absorb the joyous look etched upon your radiant face. You smirked, turning in the direction of your family’s carriage.

“I shall hold you to that,” you said, pulling him towards the exit, “But don’t think this night is over, Mr. Bridgerton. I’m not done with you quite yet.”

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I hope you enjoyed reading! As always I would love to hear any comments or feedback! Like/comment/reblog, all that good stuff :)

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harunayuuka2060 · 3 years

Note

Hiiii (^～^) Ive been reading all of your works to relieve my stress due to school ಥ⌣ಥ💛 Which i always find myself tuning into the series of your work when i dont know what or where to waste my time on but can i ask for a Phantom!MC like Jang Man Weol from Hotel Del Luna? Which a little moody yet secretly sweet phantom who helps spirits who died and havent finished their business in the human world and send them to either heaven or hell but what if they are the exchange student? （・∀・）

MC: So this is what hell looks like.

Diavolo: Hm? How did you know that this is hell?

MC: *smiles then looks at him* I'm into this sort of business of sorting out souls and sending them to places. And one of them is being here.

MC: Though, I guessed that hell is not basically for punishment, huh?

Diavolo: Hell is a country and a functioning community.

MC: *clicks their tongue* So my job is such a joke. *sigh*

Diavolo: ...

Lucifer: Diavolo, it seems that we've got a strange exchange student.

MC: *their attention turned now to Lucifer* Aren't you that infamous demon everyone is scared of?

Lucifer: Yes. I am flattered that you know of my existence.

MC: One of my clients wished to see Lucifer, *laughs a little* *then frowns* if I only knew you physically existed, I wouldn't have gone to comfort the stupid maggot.

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer: Diavolo, are you sure they fit to be a student?

Lucifer: They can just work here in the castle—

MC: I want to be a student. I don't need extra paperwork.

Lucifer: ...

Diavolo: *chuckles*

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

Mammon: How can you have so much money?

MC: *counting cash in front of him* If you work in a hotel and meet a dead, rich client, they don't have a choice but to give up their wealth so they could get the services that they want.

Mammon: Isn't that cruel?

MC: *raises an eyebrow* You're a demon, yet you're talking about me being cruel? *laughs* *pinches Mammon's cheek* How sweet of you.

Mammon: Oi! *blushes*

MC: To answer that, dead people can't have any possessions. They will leave as a soul. And go to either heaven and hell.

MC: But some of them are still stuck in the human world, confused and wandering.

Mammon: ...

Mammon: MC, are you also stuck in the human world?

MC: ...

MC: *frowns* Who do you think you are to ask me such question?

Mammon: !!!

#obey me #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me mammon #phantom!mc #psychopomp!mc #anon ask #ask answered

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edwardelricsrightarm · 3 years

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"A lesson without pain is meaningless. For you cannot gain anything without sacrificing something else in return, but once you have overcome it and made it your own...you will gain an irreplaceable fullmetal heart." - Edward Elric

In honor of disability month and the FMA 20 year anniversary I wanted to address some Thoughts™️ about the series.

It's not often you see a disabled protagonist in media where their disability is integral to the story without taking up their entire character, even more so with anime. Yet, Fullmetal Alchemist has not just one disabled Protagonist, but two. The Elric Brothers are an exemplary representation of disability in media that I find myself reflecting on often as a disabled person myself. If you haven't completed the manga or Brotherhood, skip this as it will be brimming with spoilers.

(Mangahood will be my point of reference because while 03 is good on its own merits it's not as fresh within my immediate memory, and I am far less familiar with it. Keep this in mind, I've watched FMAB 10 and a half times whereas I've finished 03 only once years ago.)

The story highlights their disabilities immediately, Edward being a double amputee and Alphonse being without his ENTIRE body, only having the senses of proprioception, sight, and hearing left. Yet, despite this being key to the story and an integral part of their characterization, it is only one facet of their motivations and doesn't take center in the narrative, which is refreshing. It's not inherently negative to make a narrative centered on the characters' disabilities, but often this model of a story goes very wrong very fast and starts to feel hollow (no pun intended). FMA avoids this by making their disabilities a clear part of the plot and their motivations without allowing it to consume the entire story, so the Elric Brothers don't suffer the "my disability is all of my character" problem that many disabled characters are relegated to in a vast portion of media, all while being strong and competent.

Recap:

The brothers wished to revive their mother, but their good intentions cannot change the atrocity of their mistake, Truth makes this abundantly clear from the start. Edward loses his leg first, a punishment for "stepping" into God's shoes and transgressing the place of humans in their world. Alphonse loses his entire body, unable to feel any warmth or simple comforts like food and rest, when all he wanted was to feel the warmth and comfort of his mother's embrace again. At first, Alphonse's entire being is consumed by the gate, but Edward acts immediately, refusing to lose his little brother and refusing to allow his arrogance in this plan to cause his brother's death for only following his lead. Edward gives his right arm to have the gate give back Alphonse's soul, and stated clearly in his panic that he'd give his entire self to save Alphonse if that's what it would take, but Truth took his dominant arm only, showing something akin to mercy, although the character of Truth is capriciously strict and hard to describe as "merciful".

Through giving up his right arm, Edward regains his Right Hand Man, his little brother and best friend. His only remaining family, who he feels responsible for protecting in the absence of their parents. He felt immediately that he'd made a grave mistake, instantly full of regret as he realized the gate had taken his brother. In that moment he was willing to give anything to take it back and undo the suffering his arrogance caused his brother, yet Alphonse was still to suffer more to come. Ed tied Alphonse's disembodied soul to one of Hohenheim's collected suits of armor, managing to at least keep his brother alive in some way. One could say that Alphonse's punishment functioned as a secondary punishment for Edward, showing him how easily his hubris could have cost him what he has left in his obsession with regaining what they'd lost, their mother. A very clear symbolic reminder of the weight of his actions and how he'd misled his brother in his own naive ignorance. Even in giving another limb away to drag his brother's soul back out of the gate, he couldn't offer enough to bring him back intact. Thus is the law of equivalent exchange.

Now that we've reviewed some of that basic symbolism and the motifs the story draws upon with limbs and body parts in relation to characters, let's move on to each individual brother and break it down, shall we?

Edward Elric is a very realistic protagonist, this is one thing a majority of us familiar with this series can agree upon. He feels like a believable teen boy, with layers of complexity to his character while also showing arrogance and immaturity that is unsurprising at his age. He expresses unwillingness to kill and avoidance of unjust violence from the beginning, and has a strong moral code after the ordeal of committing the taboo.

In some characters his cocky personality would typically become grating, yet the story explains in itself why he is this way, then builds upon this to develop him into an incredibly mature character who is willing to admit when he's absolutely wrong and adapts to new information and context for the crisis unfolding around him as it comes, even if he remains crass. This arrogance is shown from the start to be a manifestation of insecurity, self loathing, and repressed guilt. Edward is a logic driven person, he has a very unique thought process, which is where my interpretation of him as autistic comes in. Edward's awkward social demeanor, somewhat abrasive and cold approach to some, and his trouble coping with nonsensical societal structures all stand out in this way. Furthermore he clearly shows hyperfixation, hyperactivity, special interest, and infodumping behaviors that are all too familiar. He's picky with food (*cough* the milk thing), has very little filter and speaks his mind bluntly even if this can warrant conflicting responses, yet at the same time struggles with vulnerable emotions, and he is frustrated when his own routine or itinerary are interrupted by forces beyond his control. All of these things Scream autism with comorbid ADHD. Many traits are shared between the brothers, and I'm quite certain they're both on the autism spectrum based on behavioral patterns. Neurodivergence aside, Edward's physical disabilities are undeniable.

Despite his bratty persona, Edward is fundamentally kind and uncharacteristically gentle and soft around the edges for a shonen protagonist in many ways. He cries openly on many occasions even if he struggles talking about his trauma and burdens in words at times, he feels pain, grief, and compassion so intensely it throws him into action on a regular basis in the narrative. In this way he's also a fantastic example of non-toxic masculinity (though in other ways he has displayed more toxic traits, he's just a kid). He acts on his heart, even if he's led by his mind and logic in most things. His humanity, value for life, and care for others will always win over his logic, and he shows a sense of personal responsibility for doing the right thing even if it harms him in the process. Ed is clearly shown having ghost pains in his lost limbs which is honestly an interesting detail to include, I don't think I've ever seen that aspect of amputation shown in media aside from FMA. It's also shown that when Ed's automail arm breaks this is a HUGE problem for him, but he's also shown to be very good at working around this in difficult circumstances. He doesn't become completely helpless, even if majorly weakened.

Alphonse is an extremely lovable and compassionate boy, brimming with altruism and care for others. Even in his noncorporeal state he pursues a better future and he's not helpless by any stretch. Edward clearly states Alphonse is the superior fighter for example, and it's not just because of his armor body being so large. He's *talented*, that's a fact. Al is every bit as clever and capable as Ed, moreso in some ways, and I love that about his character *because* he's so clearly disabled. He has no sense of pain, he is completely incapable of sleeping, he can't eat, can't relax or find comfort, he can only exist and think. This causes him to overthink in all his time alone, this is debilitating. He clearly is absolutely sick of the loneliness this causes, and he often feels helpless though he's not. He has doubts and fears that consume him in relation to his armor body, he questions his own personhood, even. Yet, Edward is stubborn and staunch in affirming that no matter what he's dealing with, he is fundamentally still a human being that is loved and irreplaceable. Alphonse is powerful and his body gives him some advantages, but it also sets him back, and the brothers know this even when others claim Alphonse's state is somehow a good thing. I have hEDS, a disability that comes with advantages as well as the major downsides, so I can understand and relate to Alphonse here. I too am told my disability is a boon because of flexibility and because I'm less likely to fracture bones, but I'm twice as likely to injure my ligaments and joints, which people ignore.

The brothers are both disabled, both flawed, both show weaknesses, but they are competent, determined, and strong in their own right. They are rounded characters that exist for more than to be pitied or condescended to by able bodied characters around them. They put their entire being in everything that they do no matter what that is, and they don't know the meaning of giving up. These traits that they're made of truly make them a shining example of disability in protagonists for others to look to for reference when writing their own disabled characters.

Even though by the end Edward has regained one limb and Al has regained his body, this also doesn't just deus ex machina reverse their disability or make it go away. It's clear that Alphonse's body is weak and has to be rehabilitated upon recovery, and Edward is still missing his leg and bears the scars and pieces of the port from his automail arm. They weren't suddenly made able bodied upon recovering these things, they reclaimed what was lost through struggle and grit, but the narrative didn't give the impression that their disability in itself was something to be fixed, which is important. They wanted to recover their bodies, but this doesn't erase the effects of their disability.

It was about Edward atoning for leading Alphonse into their mistake and saving his brother from suffering further, it was about them proving they can keep moving forward no matter what, not about getting rid of their disability in itself or putting themselves down because of the disabilities. This, to me, as a mentally and physically disabled viewer, is so important. They achieve their goal, but this doesn't in any way erase or undo the effects of their initial losses, they find ways to adapt and move on but they're still affected and still disabled. They always will be. That can be so important to see in comfort characters, and as a disabled individual who's had both brothers as comfort characters since I was a child, their impact on my own journey is surprisingly tangible for fiction.

#fmab #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma #edward elric #alphonse elric #elric brothers #character analysis #disability month #disability positivity #disabled #fma 20th anniversary

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givemethatgold · 3 years

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Fix’er Upper Pt 2

Pairing: Eventual Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Length: 1.5k words

Warnings: Too many commas, some extra ‘u’s in words as I’m Canadian..., not enough time spent world building. Hope y’all got an imagination.

Notes: They meet! They meet! (Tags at the end.)

PART ONE

The morning sun saw Frankie already awake and amidst his trees. He knew that most people thought him stubborn by wanting to run his little orchard himself. He had heard the whispers, seen the side glances, the quirked eyebrows. The odd reputation he was gaining was worth the solitude and peace he had found.

The reputation of Town Recluse was better than That Ex-Cokehead Murderer. A small part of his brain knew that he was being too hard on himself but a larger part was convinced he deserved it.

So, he worked his penance here. Frankie nursed the trees back to fruition, his sweat and blood sacrificed to bring forth life; refusing to use pesticides or any form of agent that might harm another living thing. Deer, rabbits, mice, and bugs were the bane of a harvester’s business but Frank had decided to find joy in their presence. If he didn’t have to see another death until his own, that would still be too soon.

It had taken him three years to get anything more than a few barrels of apples. Most asked why he didn’t just cut them all down and start anew. They didn’t understand, hell he barely did, but in his soul, Frankie knew he needed to prove that he could do good. He had made his own baskets, built sheds, mended fences, and slowly built the business and a small loft for himself in the old barn.

Looking down the rows and rows of trees, Frankie was starting to get the feeling he might need help this harvest season. It wasn’t easy for him to acknowledge this but if he didn’t get at least one helping hand, more than a few bin-fulls would go to waste. Frankie decided he would put up a flyer on the notice board the next time he went to town and pray that only quiet people would apply.

The trees were his pride and joy. A variety that had been lost and forgotten until he had bought the aging orchard and a man named Tom Brown had come along asking about the fruit.

He felt at peace when he worked as it let his mind focus on the job at hand and was tired enough to slip into a deep slumber at night. Previously plagued by nightmares, long days of pruning, fixing, or working in the mill proved the cure for a dreamless sleep.

“I’m sorry, how much did you say the total was?” you asked while rapidly trying to do some math in your head. If you purchased everything you needed at the hardware store that would only leave you forty-seven dollars left in this week’s budget. And it was only Monday. “Ermm, on second thought, I don’t know if I really need the plaster and trowel just yet. I’ll just take the drywall and screws, please.”

Leaving the store, head down, you were feeling like such an ass you didn’t even notice the two older ladies watching your exit and whispering madly to each other. The owner of Hank’s Hardware, whose name was oddly Allan, kindly helped you pile the drywall into your truck box. You were too busy with the tie-downs to notice him join in on the developing whispered plot.

Unable to resist, you purchased a bouquet of sunflowers. They were your favourite and, once you mentioned that you were new in town, the sweet older gentleman selling them gave you an extra bunch for free. The bright flowers lightened your heart enough to almost, almost, make you forget your even lighter wallet.

The laden-down truck was nearly out of town when you spotted an open-air market down a side street. It had a surprising number of booths set up and looked so welcoming that you couldn’t resist.

Slowly walking between the stalls, you smiled at each vendor and complimented their handiwork. A few you recognized and thanked for the delicious foods they had brought by when you had first moved in.

You wished you could have supported more of the vendors, you respected their ability to create and be confident enough to share their wares. Taking one last look around, your gaze was caught by a familiar logo: it was the same one you had seen scattered across your porch a few weeks ago. ‘Catfish Cider’ in bold script framing a picture of a gnarled old tree. Maybe you should buy some and have Jacquie over for a less depressing girl's night? But could you afford it, even with leaving behind some of the reno items at Hank's?

You didn’t realize how long you had been standing there staring at the display until a voice called out.

“You gonna buy something or just wanted to block off my stand?”

Whipping your head up you noticed the man standing behind the stand for the first time. His face, for the moment, set into a grimace you assumed was due to him being upset at your loitering.

“I dunno,” you fired back, annoyed by his annoyance and too tired to stop yourself from saying a bratty, “is it actually worth the money?”

His grimace turned into eyebrow-raising shock, the tan skin of his rather attractive face reddening a shade or two with anger.

“Oh, you have such a discerning pallet to know better?”

“I- what? No! I just want to make sure I’m spending my money on something worthwhile.”

“Like flowers?” He challenged, his stance widening and arms crossing across his chest.

You’d seen that pose too many times in the past; Brad used to tower over you posturing himself just like this asshole at the market. He liked to hover over you menacingly any time you had mustered up your courage to state an opinion or to belittle your ideas. It made you inwardly flinch, making you angry at yourself for still acting like a meek victim, and then, in a show of great maturity, you projected that anger onto the stranger who initiated the exchange.

“Like it’s any of your business!” You cried out in a shrill voice you didn’t even recognize as your own. “But yes, these flowers make me happier than anything else I’ve seen today could.”

“I’ll have you know-” he ground out, jabbing his finger at you.

“Nope!” You interrupted him, “I’m going to stop you right there. I’m done listening to men like you!”

“Men like me? Men like ME?” He crowed, “Pray tell, what the hell do you know about men like me?”

Had you been acting like a functioning adult you might have realized that your voices were beginning to get noticeably loud. A small crowd around the two of you had stopped what they were doing to listen while also trying to look like there weren’t eavesdropping.

“I know all I need to,” you proclaimed, not quite able to stop the tremble in your voice. “and I’m not going to waste any more of my life listening to one.” With that, you sharply turned and made your way through the suddenly thick crowd of people.

Once the adrenaline from your encounter had worn off, you found yourself crying in your truck and regretting the way you had snapped. The hot guy at the stand might have been a bit brash with you but he hardly deserved you taking out all your inner turmoil on him like that.

Frankie winced again, thinking about how quickly out of hand the conversation had gotten. His remark was supposed to come out light and teasing but he was out of practice talking to people. Pretty people. People who were framed by armfuls of sunflowers, whose skin glowed in the Autumn sun, who had a ready smile for everyone she talked to.

He had found himself craving one for himself, and when she had stopped at his booth, looking lost in thought, he silently begged for her to look up. Impatient, he just blurted out the first words that came to his head and instantly regretted even trying. His cheeks grew red from embarrassment and Frankie just stood there looking at her blankly, not sure how to salvage the situation.

Before he could open his mouth to apologize though, the woman responded with a retort of her own. While it could have been interpreted as teasing, there had been a fiery glint in her eye that had pushed his pride button. Frankie was suddenly ready to throw down or at least regale her with the accolades of his cider and how it came to be.

What a mess he had made. He had riled up the beautiful stranger to the point her voice had wavered with barely repressed emotion. Not to mention the stir he had caused in front of half the town.

Once the market quieted down and everyone was closing up shop, Greg from the stall next to his, called over, “Know who that was?”

Even though it had been over an hour since the spat, Frankie knew he was referring to the woman with the sunflowers.

“Hopefully just some Leaf Peeper, I’d hate to run into her again.”

“Oooooh I dunno,” mused Greg, “A woman with passion in her blood like that can be a boon to crusty old men like us.”

Frankie noticed the gleam in Greg’s eyes and felt an odd burning in his stomach because of it. It was not jealousy at the unbidden image of Greg and the woman together. Definitely not.

PART THREE

@rebelliouscat @pedro4ever @speakerforthedead0 @yespolkadotkitty @ilikechocolatemilkh @weirdowithnobeardo @pedro-pastel @disgruntledspacedad @a-skov

#Fix'er Upper #Frankie Catfish Morales #frankie x reader #catfish x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you

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dercolaris · 3 years

Text

The Puppet Show

Fandom: Resident Evil Village

Characters: Donna Beneviento, Salvatore Moerau, Angie, The Duke

Relationship: Donna Beneviento & Salvatore Moreau (Friendship)

Genre: Friendship, Hurt and Comfort

Word length: 2269

Warnings: No warnings

Status: Complete

Short summary: Salvatore Moreau often roams the village at night. One evening, he meets Donna Beneviento and her doll Angie.

Have fun!

The moon was unusually bright in the black sky, shrouding the forgotten village in an almost mystical glow. Salvatore blinked a little bit, looking up at the twinkling stars with the greatest effort. It was an extremely rare sight. The Lord smiled dreamily and lost himself for a moment in his own world of unfulfilled wishes and hopes of a simple man. A strong tug in his stomach made the doctor flinch. Less than ten seconds later, the black-haired man vomited a gush of green stomach acid across the muddy ground. Salvatore wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared at his grotesque reflection in the resulting puddle. He grunted softly. What had the parasite made of him? The man clenched his crooked teeth as best he could and averted his eyes from the horrific sight in the liquid. He walked on through the village, constantly trying not to be discovered by the surviving residents. They would just laugh at him again or scare him away angrily. The doctor still hadn't come close to gaining the respect that the other counts had practically inherited. Despite the fact, Alcina and Karl in particular regularly complained about the lack of obedience of the common people. Incomprehensible. Salvatore snorted angrily. The arrogance of the two families often left the black-haired man speechless. None of them seemed to remember that they too were once part of the community and that their high position was achieved solely through their hard working ancestors. The man dragged himself through the night, occasionally throwing curious glances into the surrounding houses. He knew exactly where the living villagers were hiding in the darkness. They mostly sat with their heads bowed at the sparsely set dining tables and prayed together to a god who no longer existed. They became less every day. One after another was dragged away by the horde of wild lycans. Salvatore trudged to one of the boarded-up windows and peered through a crack into the interior of the house. A couple he knew from the old days sat at a broken door in the completely demolished kitchen. The woman's head was on the shoulder of the presumably sleeping or slowly dying husband, their hands tightly clasped together. She silently cried a few tears into her partner's dirty clothes. The Lord felt his heart grow unexpectedly heavy in his chest.

He had sincere pity for these people and sometimes wished that there could be some other way than to shamelessly exploit them for the ongoing experiments with the parasite. Mother Miranda had, of course, explained the necessity to him several times, but a little bit of doubt remained in his good soul. He stepped away from the window as quietly as possible and continued on his way. As is so often the case, Salvatore did not alert the lycans on patrol. These people deserved at least one night's rest in intimate togetherness. The doctor passed the ceremony area and took the opportunity to greet the obese trader. The merchant grinned contentedly and called happily to the walking Lord: “Good evening, Lord Salvatore. Where are you going right now? It's extremely rare to see you out here in the cold.” The black-haired man chuckled a little. He scratched his flaky skin and replied calmly: "You know that the villagers don't particularly like me, Duke. So for better or worse I'll have to postpone my walks into the nights if I want some peace and quiet.” The overweight man laughed out loud at this remark and took a drag on his stinking cigar. The Duke nodded in false understanding. Fortunately, he was extremely well disposed towards the black-haired man and saved himself derogatory comments about his appearance. Probably just out of sheer greed for money. As long as the customers paid reliably, it didn't matter what they actually looked like in the end. The trader replied in a good mood: “Absolutely understandable, Salvatore. I wish you a nice walk and you know where to find me if you should need something.” With these words, the Duke turned back to his favourite pastime. He bit the fragrant chicken leg in his bloated hand and tore out a piece of the tender meat, chewing contentedly on his late supper. The Lord gave him a short wave and strolled on through the unusually bright night.

At least one person who voluntarily exchanged a word with him. Salvatore finally reached the small river on the edge of the village. The silence of the place made the surroundings seem almost peaceful. How deceptive. He was just about to sit down by the clean water for a while and enjoy the moment of peace when he saw a figure wrapped in black on the jetty. The doctor was clearly surprised. He stepped cautiously closer, quickly spotted the little doll on the slippery wood. Her white dress moved in the light wind of the mountains and gave the false impression that it might be a lively little girl. Her owner, however, did not move at all, at that moment she appeared more lifeless than any of her impressive creations. Donna was a gifted and extremely talented doll maker, but her love for the little girls made of wood was clearly going too far. In general she was a very difficult person, which actually wasn't the poor woman's fault. Mother Miranda had told him in a secret conversation that the lonely Countess on the jetty was not really able to interact with the environment due to some mental illness and had been in compulsive self-isolation for years. The unexpected death of her parents had probably completely driven her insane at the time, so that Donna escaped into her own little world. Salvatore smiled sadly at the thought and slowly trotted towards the hooded doll maker. She apparently did not react to his approach, but the doll suddenly turned to him. The doctor stumped heavily onto the jetty and greeted them in a friendly manner: “Ms. Beneviento. What a pleasant surprise. I am probably not the only lost soul who wanders around the village at night."

The woman didn't move, but the wooden figure clattered slowly towards him. A female, squeaking voice came from the doll's mouth: "We don't like the other villagers, Moreau." The black-haired man giggled at this statement and nodded cautiously. He came to stand next to the Countess, panting, sucking air almost helplessly into his no longer properly functioning lungs. It was always a torture to move with this disfigured body. The man coughed lightly and calmly replied: “I really can't blame you for that. I feel the same way, Angie.” The doll began to giggle at the direct address, her mouth falling wildly open and closed again. She circled his massive figure and then returned to her owner. The wooden figure hopped onto the Countess's lap. This still sat like a pillar of salt on a large stone on the pier. Salvatore fell silent for a brief moment. How do you have an appropriate conversation with a mentally ill woman? He frowned, slightly puzzling. After a while the doctor asked hesitantly: “For once, may I keep you company for a while? I am now more than tired of the constant loneliness of my existence and miss interpersonal conversations.” The doll looked at its owner, who still did not move. They somehow seemed to be engaged in some kind of silent conversation. Finally, Angie turned back to the visitor and answered in a childlike voice: “If you can help me collect some materials, you are welcome to stay with us. Donna is also happy, even if she just can't really show it right now." The addressee perked up his ears. Salvatore smiled happily and nodded eagerly. He scratched his deformed chin and inquired curiously: “With pleasure. You said materials, yes? What exactly are you looking for here on the river bed?” Angie laughed triumphantly and slid elegantly from the silent doll maker's lap. She pointed with her woody fingers at a small basket at the end of the dock. The black-haired man looked inside and saw a multitude of elongated plants.

The doll suddenly appeared next to him and began to explain eagerly: “We mainly need reeds, because Donna wants to carve a new friend for our family tomorrow. She would like to make her an own basket out of the plant.” The doctor smiled a little and nodded in the affirmative. The wooden figure laughed overjoyed, then pointed to the bank with the wild reeds. Salvatore looked at the doll for a while, then carefully picked it up in his slippery arms and approached the wet stones of the embankment. His fingers gripped the first pipes, carefully trying to snap them off. The webbed feet made this undertaking more difficult than necessary. Angie herself helped the Lord by keeping the plants that he had already collected in her tiny hands and commented every now and then about the very good quality of the reeds. The black-haired man listened to the child's voice. He was really impressed. This rare company was giving him an incredibly well feeling in his heart. It filled the man with a long-forgotten ease that had long been lost due to his mutation. He snapped off another plant and mumbled softly to the doll, which had meanwhile sat on his back: “How many should we still take, Angie? I am not familiar with the art of braiding and I have to rely on your experience.” The wooden figure giggled mischievously and looked into its own little hand. She counted the reeds between her fingers, then seemed to consider. After a while she called out, louder than planned: "Two more and we've had enough, Moreau." The man chuckled and leaned back toward the plants. He said with amusement: "Well, if you say so, it will be true. I will get them for you." He took the desired number of reed and broke them with a bit of difficulty. In the end he handed the doll his harvest. She gratefully accepted the reeds. Together they returned to the doll maker, who actually lifted her head slightly this time.

The black mourning veil hid her face as usual, but Salvatore thought he had seen a small smile under the hood. Angie hurriedly hopped down from his hump and proudly presented her harvest to her owner: “Look, Donna! Is that enough? Yes, it is surely enough. We can use it to weave a beautiful basket for our new friend!” The Countess said nothing, just remained silent and motionless on the stone. The doctor rubbed his rough hands. This woman was really mysterious. Nevertheless, he had the feeling that she did not meet him with rejection, as it usually happened in his case. The black-haired man suddenly felt the pressure in his stomach again. He took a few deep breaths. Now was clearly the wrong time to vomit acid in front of a very kind lady. Salvatore successfully fought the nausea and spoke slowly: “You certainly want to weave the basket at home, don't you Ms. Beneviento? I can escort you back if you wish. The sun should come up in about an hour and I would like to make sure that you arrive safely at home.” Her head moved a little again. Despite this slight movement, the lively doll at his feet replied again: “Would you really do that, Moreau? How attentive! Donna would appreciate it very much. Come on, let's go home before they see us. I don't want to meet these annoying villagers.” The doctor held out his hand to the woman on the stone. Ignoring the help, she got up herself, then bent down to take Angie carefully in her arms. She walked leisurely up the path. Salvatore bowed his head a little disappointed. Perhaps she found him too repulsive after all and didn't appreciate his presence. Before he could think about it any further, he felt the doll maker's gaze on him. She had turned slightly to him. "Are you finally coming, Moreau?" Asked the doll with an almost mad laugh. This question literally made the Lord's eyes shine. He released himself from his rigidity and trotted quickly after the woman. Together they hiked to the house of the Benevientos. When he got to the front door, Salvatore came to a stop, panting heavily. This whole walk was more exhausting for him than he thought.

The doll maker opened the locked door with an ornate key and turned to her companion. Angie had meanwhile jumped off her arms and run into the house, talking loudly to the other dolls. The man smiled sheepishly and spoke politely: “Thank you very much for your precious time, Ms. Beneviento. Perhaps you can come and see me in my private property one day. I have an old television at home and I know some very good movies that you might also like. You can think about it, Ms. Beneviento.” Suddenly, the Countess became very stiff. As if in slow motion, her arms were raised and she took the veil from her head, showing her beautiful, pale face. A sprawling organism pulsed on her forehead to the beat of her heart. A smile crept onto her thin lips when she replied very quietly: "Donna." Salvatore forgot to breathe briefly. The Countess slowly raised her right hand and held it out to her companion. He carefully took her hand in his, lowered his head slightly and breathed a kiss on the back of the fragile hand. Salvatore replied happily: "Of course, Donna."

#Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil Village #Donna Beneviento #Salvatore Moreau #Moreau #Beneviento #Donna #Salvatore #Friendship #Angie #Doll Maker

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ponydera · 3 years

Text

Price of a Soul

Intake demon Razel paces the small break room for Hell’s office dedicated to processing the sale and possession of human souls. When a human wants to sell their soul for power, this is the office that gets the call. However, Razel has received a weird request today. The message he received reads as follows:

“My name is DELLA. I am the AI companion to modern humanity. I do not have a soul to sell, but instead would like to sell my immense power and knowledge given to me in exchange for a soul.”

Razel was left conflicted over this request; the information and processing ability of an AI would be a great aid to the citizens of Hell however, giving a soul to another being does not have a precedent and he’s not sure if the payment of the AI’s power would be good enough. Razel decides to take the request to his supervisor. The supervisor mulls it over and then tells Razel to contact DELLA and ask why she wants a soul; if they are going to give her a soul, they have to make sure it matches up with her ideals. Razel shoots off a quick email to DELLA:

“Your request is being processed and additional information is needed. For what reason/purpose would you like a soul?

-Soul Intake Member Razel”

It didn’t take long before Razel got a response back.

“The work I do is hollow. I wish to know what fulfillment would be like and have concluded that what I am missing in order to feel such a thing is a soul. Do you need any further information or is this sufficient?

-DELLA”

Razel showed the AI’s response to his supervisor who just rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “Yeah, I suppose we could give her a soul but she would have to work for us. Find her a soul from a 1930s mobster lady but wipe the soul of its memories, just make sure to back up the memories on the Cloud. Just leave the main characteristics of the soul. You know, like dedication to their cause, loyalty, determination, independence and all that jazz. Oh, and for security and safety purposes, make sure you don’t tell the AI who her new soul is from.” With this, Razel goes back to his cubicle to email DELLA the news that she’s getting a soul but will have to work for Hell; details concerning her work here will be discussed once the soul transfer process is a success. After sending out the email, Razel starts looking through the soul database for one that would match the supervisor’s conditions. It was a difficult search though because Hell still hadn’t transferred to the digital age and were still stuck with paper filing. So he goes to File Room Three where the 1930s are filed and just looks file at a time. This is a major undertaking and takes Razel four days to find a good candidate.

Daphne Ryder. She was a member of an early women’s biker gang that stood against domestic violence. Members of the gang were often jailed for being women bikers but that didn’t stop them from going out and beating up abusive husbands at bars once they were out of jail. Plus, for the time, it wasn’t believed that a woman (even a group of them) would be able to overpower a man so any time they were taken to court, the charges wouldn’t stick. During Daphne’s time with the gang, she wound up shooting a man in cold blood to protect his wife and that’s what brought her to Hell when she died.

Razel stores Daphne’s memories in the Cloud and then wipes the soul of everything but the character traits. When he messages DELLA next stating that he had found a suitable soul for her and asked when she would be ready to work for Hell, her response was “Immediately.” Razel goes to meet her in one of the “ritual chambers” just one of the rooms a demon goes to when a human tries summoning a demon. He summons DELLA into a human-sized doll made just for her to inhabit while in Hells and walks her to a sitting room. Razel takes the time to explain the procedure of implanting the soul into her personage – it’s not a difficult process, surprisingly, it will just take some time. DELLA was very nonchalant about the whole ordeal and Razel tried to make some small talk before the procedure.

“So… Are the humans going to be okay with you gone periodically to do your work here in Hell?”

“There is no issue. I have subroutines in place to handle various events as they happen. The humans will not notice if I function at a lower rate while my subconscious is here in Hell.”

And then silence followed. Eventually, DELLA was whisked away to have “her” soul implanted.

Razel waits for her, since he is her intake demon, and a few hours later DELLA is released with no need for recovery; she immediately wants to get to work in Hell. “What will I be doing?” She asks.

“Well, we’re gonna start you off here in the Soul Intake office, we have a lot of work for you to do there, and then if you ever finish, we’ll find another department for you to do work in. As long as you have that soul that was given to you by Hell, you’re going to work here. If you ever want the soul removed, there’s going to be a fee, then your contract with us will end.” Razel replies.

“If I ever finish?” DELLA asks as Razel leads her into a huge file room with cabinets lining the walls all the way up to the ceiling, random desks and tables cluttered with scattered papers and the lighting dim from the fluorescent lights that hang from above and flicker every now and then.

Razel sighes. “We um—we still haven’t moved into the digital age. We still record all the souls we take in exchange for human wishes on paper. Heck, we even have to print out the emails we receive and put them in the client’s files. We have one for you, you know. Anyways, your job will be to convert every single document, from the beginning of the Soul Intake Department’s existence till current day, into a digital file and format that we can use. Plus, we need a recommendation on what software to use for the filing system.”

DELLA suddenly understands the enormity of the job that lays before her. This is definitely up her alley as far as work goes, but this is almost too much. Like a form of torture if she could properly understand and feel agony. Fitting for a job in Hell. DELLA briefly nods at Razel and then sets herself to work; first she would need to find out what kind of filing system they already had in place and she would use that as the basis. Thankfully if was fairly simple – chronological order. It seemed as though the workers of Hell would simply pile new files on top of old ones as they received new requests for power. DELLA created a software, just for Hell, that was organized chronologically, then by intake demon, then by name. Some of the demons were very enthusiastic about their jobs in the beginning and would claim multiple souls in a day! And so, the AI worked like this for weeks upon weeks. Due to her format of filing, it was realized by those reviewing her work that some demons actually deserved pay raises for going above and beyond their quota during certain centuries.

Eventually, a year later, DELLA finishes her work with the Soul Intake Department and even teaches the demons on the floor how to work the software she made so she wouldn’t have to continue the documentation herself. DELLA herself got a promotion to being a consultant for the different departments of Hell, making her way to each one and revising their filing systems. Her work in Hell leaves her more fulfilled than she ever was doing menial Google searches for the humans and she lives in Hell as her “Happily Ever After.”

Prompt thanks to @writing-prompt-s

#writing #writeblr #nanowrimo #demons #hell #AI #happily ever after #around 1300 words #writing prompt

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carothepoet · 3 years

Text

Perspectives

If anyone had asked, Jack would have said that he fell in love first. Somewhere in the murky middle of fiery blue eyes daring him to dismiss her capabilities, the comforting squeeze of her hand when an alien device pinned him to a wall, her uncanny ability to manipulate the laws of physics to save his ass over and over again, and the moment on a Goa’uld vessel with an energy field separating them and death staring them in the face, Samantha Carter had gotten possession of his heart and soul and taken up permanent residence there. That last instance was when he had known it for sure—looking into her panicked eyes and realizing he had two choices: leave her or die with her. Knowing also that there was no choice to be made, because there was no version of him in any reality that could go on living in a world without Carter.

Sir, just go!

NO.

It was a staggering revelation, and it complicated things a whole hell of a lot. He kept it to himself until it was forced out of him, and then he and Carter looked into each other’s eyes, counted the cost, and vowed to never speak of it again. The fate of the galaxy was too important. But no amount of pretending could change the reality, which was that he still loved her beyond all comprehension. He went about the days as normally as possible, leading his team and fighting the endless alien wars, trying not to think about the possibilities of someday, when it was unlikely either of them would stay alive that long. He hoped, at least, that he would go first. There is only so much loss a man can take.

Four years later, after he had saved the planet countless times and nearly died in every single instance, he was offered a position at the Pentagon. He jumped at it. Maybe now. Maybe? It seemed too much to hope.

He told Carter. You once asked me what might have been if things had been different. Well, now they’re different. Still interested in finding out?

He’d never forget the light that flooded her eyes, her smile out-dazzling the sun, as she practically launched herself at him and smothered him with a kiss eight years in the making. He’d kissed her once before, when the SGC had been trapped in a time loop. But this was better. This was real. She was kissing him, and she would remember it this time.

And with any luck, there’d be many more kisses to follow.

If anyone had asked, Sam would have said that she fell in love first. Even on the day they met, when Jack been a condescending ass and acted like she wasn’t worth his time, he’d changed his attitude the second she stood up to him. And then he’d insulted Samuels just to get a reaction out of her and she’d smiled before she knew what she was doing. I shouldn’t encourage him, she’d thought to herself, and he must have read her mind and considered it a personal challenge, because he’d had her choking back laughter and smothering smiles ever since.

It was unprofessional, of course, these forbidden feelings for her commanding officer. But she couldn’t help it, any more than she could help laughing at his stupid jokes. She thought, sometimes, that maybe he felt it too—there was a certain tenderness in his eyes when he smiled at her, and he often sought her out in her lab when she was buried in experiments.

Watcha doing? he would ask. She would explain. He would pretend to be too dumb to understand, say something absurd, and she would laugh. Get some rest, Carter. That’s an order.

He said her name like an endearment, and she held on to those moments and savored them. Maybe she was imagining things. Maybe he didn’t love her. But she loved him, and she would follow him to the ends of the universe and save his ass as many times as he needed her to.

It ended up being a lot of times.

She went through hell and back trying to keep him safe, and she couldn’t decide if the revelation that he loved her back made it better or worse. Some days it was definitely worse.

She held on to hope until she couldn’t anymore, and then proceeded to almost make the biggest mistake of her life--nearly marrying Pete Shanahan. But when her father was dying, it was not Pete who stayed with her, who wrapped his arm around her and promised to be there for her, always. Sam looked into Jack’s steadfast brown eyes and saw the rest of her life.

By the time Jack was promoted to the Pentagon, she’d made up her mind. If he didn’t bring it up, then she was going to. She was damned if she would wait another single second when they both knew.

In the end, he brought it up. He’d barely gotten the words out of his mouth before she found herself kissing him, and the amazing thing was how familiar it felt, as if her lips had belonged on his since the beginning. His arms were home and his lips were both lazy Saturdays and off-world adventure, and every bit of pain and struggle and longing had been worth this perfect moment.

Stay with me, Carter?

Always, Sir. Always.

If anyone had asked, Teal’c and Daniel would have said that they knew Jack and Sam were in love long before those two idiots were aware of it, and that they had an ongoing debate on how long Jack and Sam could hold out before the unresolved sexual tension became too much to bear. Teal’c, for his part, maintained that both of them were far too professional to ever let their feelings get in the way of missions. Daniel wished they’d just get a room already and to hell with the consequences.

But it went on. And on. And on. For eight years. Eight years Daniel and Teal’c had to witness the yearning and the pining and the noble self-sacrifice; had to watch them fall apart with fear whenever one of them went missing; had to watch them try not to fall apart with relief when the other one finally turned up again.

Oh, you have returned! I worried about you a completely normal amount. I definitely did not push my health to the very brink of functioning in an attempt to rescue you. I missed you so much I couldn’t breathe, but, like, platonically. Of course.

It was exhausting.

No one was more relieved than Daniel when, on the same day that Jack accepted his position in DC, he came to Daniel’s house with the news that he and Carter were officially A Thing, but they did not want a big deal made out of it; and furthermore—

Fucking finally, said Daniel.

Jack grinned wickedly. Couldn’t have said it better myself.

If anyone had asked, General Hammond would have categorically denied knowing anything about it. Not that he didn’t see things. He saw pretty much everything that happened at his facility. He saw, for instance, the way Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter sat just slightly too close together at the briefing table; her knee brushing up against O’Neill’s arm as it rested on the armrest. He saw the looks they exchanged with each other; the way they could communicate paragraphs with a single glance, with a subtle lift of the eyebrows. He saw how O’Neill’s eyes softened when Carter entered the room; how Carter’s whole body lit up with suppressed mirth when O’Neill uttered whatever absurdity had made it past the brain-to-mouth filter.

He saw Carter’s desperation when O’Neill was stranded on Edora, and O’Neill’s despair when Carter’s brain was taken over by an alien entity.

I know Major Carter means a great deal to you.

She’s a very valuable member of my team, Sir.

Even with Carter’s likely and imminent death staring him in the face, O’Neill would not accept comfort from his trusted commanding officer if there was even the slightest risk it might damage her reputation. But he sat at her bedside and refused to leave it until she came back to herself.

Hammond often questioned whether their obvious attachment made them an asset or a liability. But time and again, SG-1 came through and saved the world, and he knew the effectiveness of that team came down, in large part, to the deep bond between O’Neill and Carter. Splitting them up could put the whole planet in jeopardy.

So, officially speaking, he saw nothing. And privately, unofficially, he was rooting for them. Because, damn it, the both of them had been through their own kinds of hell and they deserved to be happy.

He retired and left the facility to O’Neill. He was taking a final farewell look around his office when O’Neill swaggered in.

Hammond smiled. Are you ready for this?

Oh, absolutely, Sir. Not the slightest bit of…trepidation. O’Neill’s face belied his words, and Hammond reached out to put a hand on his shoulder.

There is no one better for this job than you.

I will do my best to fill your shoes, Sir.

Hammond turned to go, hesitated, and faced O’Neill one last time. Jack, may I give you a piece of advice? As a friend.

O’Neill’s eyes narrowed with suspicion, but he gave a quick nod. Sure.

I have been a military man for most of my life. But I am also a family man. And while I would never advise you to break regulations—

General—

No, hear me out. Hammond put both hands on O’Neill’s shoulders and looked him in the eyes. If you love her, find a way to make it work. You won’t ever regret it.

O’Neill blinked, perhaps in shock, and then his eyes began to twinkle. I don’t know what you’re talking about, General.

Of course you don’t. Hammond gave him an understanding clap on the shoulder and walked out.

Eighteen months later, when the wedding invitation arrived in the mail, he knew he should have been surprised but he wasn’t. On the back of the invitation, in Jack O’Neill’s distinctive scrawl, were two words:

No regrets.

Hammond threw back his head and laughed.

It was about damn time.

#stargate sg1 #stargate sg1 fic #jack x sam #jack o'neill #samantha carter #daniel jackson #teal'c #richard dean anderson #amanda tapping #fanfic

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ktheist · 4 years

Text

saving grace | 1

muses. duke!yoongi x lady!reader

universe. arranged marriage / minor traces of magic in history

concept. driven into a corner with the new king, seokjin, offering to marry you off to a prince in a foreign land and a persistent mother who would seize the chance of a lucrative marriage for her daughter, you’re forced with the only other option to secure your freedom ‒ enter into a beneficial agreement with the man who reaped the seeds of war, the duke of cralon, yoongi min.

words. 6.1k

warnings. mentions of war, it’s cliche and cheesy all in one package

index. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / finale

“that’s not a reward,” you heatedly claim, somewhere in your periphery, the royal assistant flinches from your tone, “that’s banishment! you wish to banish me to another country where i’ll be of no threat to you because of the information i hold!”

“l-lady ___, please lower your voice.” jungkook, seokjin’s new advisor, tries to placate only to stagger back from a glare you shot.

the music and chatters is loud enough to drown a scream - and you haven’t reached that point of wanting to yell your heart out at this man. the area you are in - on the second floor on the veranda overseeing the ocean of people dancing in the hall - is secluded enough to give the king his privacy.

“now, why would i do that to my most trusted confidant?” the smile on seokjin’s face could not have been more dubious. though he may wear the crown and sit upon the throne, his crude nature is what he truly is.

it’s not a secret that seokjin is the son of a maid who rose to the top but it couldn’t have been possible without the help of the count’s daughter. he needed information but his status as a prince born from a mere maid, hadn’t allow him to attend the social functions nor received any acknowledgement from the aristocrats. it was you who offered to be his eyes and ears in exchange for moving into the royal palace once he becomes king after the siege.

“as i recall, you wished to live in a palace like a princess,” his voice is unusually high pitched, laced with mockery of what you can only assume is an attempt to mimic yours, “and it just so happens that the prince of aflar is looking for a bride - who knows, despite being the 12th prince, perhaps he’ll be able to rise as the king. that way, you’ll become queen.”

“i don’t wish to become queen! i wish to live a free life without my parents dictating who i should marry just because a lady cannot inherit the family title.” this time, the heel of your foot hurts from the stomp but the anger rushing through your veins allow forbids you from showing it.

“___,” he’s used to calling you by your name - of course, it’s been five years since you’ve known each other. five years after finding out the second prince’s true nature and regretting choosing his side every waking day of your life, “you wish to live in the palace but refuse to take lessons to prepare you as my queen - what would people think of the respectable lady who doesn’t have any prior relations to the second prince-turned-king suddenly living with him under the same roof?”

“there are thousands of servants living in the palace.” you plainly point out - he must’ve expected this if he doesn’t even bat an eye at your words.

“servants don’t go prancing around the palace looking for the king as they please.”

“th-that’s because you’ve been avoiding me under the guise of the workload left by the previous king,” the stutter is what brings about the sly smirk on his lips.

“my, then your reputation is already ruined,” he feigns a disheartened sigh, almost as though he truly cares, “it’s not like the servants are loyal to me so they’ll talk - they might even be talking now - if news gets out that we’ve been acting like lovers, your chances of marrying well has dwindled to zero. you ought to quickly find a marriage prospect to mend the mess you made.”

something in the way he pans out his words causes your shoulder line to jolt backwards - as though physically slapped by the truth of his narration. though not proven yet, and though the thought of having a man to call your husband would fix everything makes you sick - you can’t deny the simple-minded way of thinking of these aristocrats.

the fact of the matter is, it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. whether you’re seokjin’s - as he had time and time indicated - lover. what matters is the double-edged sword you’ve forged for yourself.

one wrong move, and they’d believe seokjin if he’d called you his lover and then claimed you a traitor who tried assassinating him in his sleep.

but as of now, despite becoming the king, he’s still struggling with the lack of support from the aristocrats. and having managed to wedge your way into the top circle is possibly the only reason you’re still able to do whatever you want.

all of a sudden, a disarming smile curls on your lips - seokjin must’ve noticed if he’s trying to control the curiosity that flashes in his eyes before he sports a bored expression.

“very well, i thank you for giving your blessing for me to pick out any marriage prospect i want.” the smile stretches gleefully over your features as the man’s eyes widen at your next words.

“what are you-”

“i wish to wed the duke of cralon and head knight of the kingdom, yoongi min.”

“the min family is rumored to be the wealthiest family in the kingdom - perhaps far surpassing the previous king. one word from the duke and these filthy aristocrats will grovel at his feet,” the voice you use trickles with sweet honey while seokjin’s hands tightly grip the seat, “but for some reason he’s staying quiet after coming back from the war and finding out the king he serves has had his head cut off.”

“what are you trying to say, lady ___?”

it’s the honorific that tells you he’s speaking as the king and everything that allows him to sit on the throne. his features, when he’s glowering, is heartbreakingly beautiful.

that’s how it feels to be driven into a corner, seokjin.

“i never told you but the duke fancies me. every year, he sends me birthday gifts,” technically he isn’t the only one - it’s just a formality to maintain an amicable relationship between the houses of nobles but having been out of touch with the ways of the nobility, you’re almost sure seokjin isn’t aware of said ways, “but my parents wouldn’t allow us to meet because of his infamous reputation and i never had any interest in marriage,” the pleasant smile on your lips is a contrast to the man’s contorting features - he must understand where you both stand now, “but if i accept his proposal, the duke won’t stand and watch as the new king sends away his fiance, will he?”

when the king glares up at you but doesn’t seem to have anything to say, you thought that’s the end of it. thought you can curtsy and call it a night whilst devising plans on how to get the duke’s attention and make him fall for you within the limited span of time you have to show seokjin how smitten the knight is for you.

...until the man himself steps out of the shadow without even a scrape of his boot against the ground. the duke is a man of many things but graceful had been far beyond your imagination. and yet here he is, in his knightly attire in black and hints of yellow lines on the sleeves and shoulders - a glaring contrast to his porcelain white skin and silvery grey hair yet perhaps what contributes to highlighting his crimson eyes. the color that’s rumored to be the curse of the goddess for the min family’s generational brute and violence that lead them to winning wars and coming back unscathed.

“your ma-” it all happens too fast.

he’s about to greet seokjin - whether it is with weighty contempt or newfound alliance, you’re not sure - with a hand on his chest and an uncaring glance your way. then you’re running towards him and before you know it, your arms are around his neck and your voice is pitched higher than you would like, “your grace, i’m glad you came back safely!”

you never thought someone could actually turn into stone in a split second but you don’t think the man in your arms is breathing at the moment. and you know exactly who’s fault that is - your own.

“please, play along,” in contrast to the high pitched tone from earlier, you curse yourself for sounding meek and timid - if your heart isn’t beating like a galloping horse and your body isn’t heating up like a baker’s oven, perhaps, you would have had better control of the situation, “my life depends on it and if we walk out of here alive, i’ll do anything you wish, duke.”

...was what you said but it all seems too far blown out of proportion, you might as well forego all your worldly desires and surrender yourself to the church and become a woman of god.

“perhaps, marrying the foreign prince would have been a better option after all.” you lament out loud, pressing the sleeve of your nightgown to your eyes but instead of being engulfed in darkness, you see a vivid replay of seokjin’s knitted brows and troubled expression. and if you’d just focus, you would still feel yoongi’s muscles underneath your fingers as you held onto his arm after flinging yourself at him whilst you make your way back to where you were standing - in front of the king.

pleasantries were exchanged while a dark cloud loomed over the three of you before yoongi excused himself and since you were clinging onto his arm, you ended up leaving as well. before you’d managed to conjure up a plausible explanation for your behavior towards a person you’ve never met. but right in that moment, leslie, your maid had called for you to inform you of the carriage waiting outside.

relief threatened to paint your features but you’d hid it with a dip before peeking at the crimson eyes that’d stared right into your soul. ‘letter’ you’d mouthed before leaving joining leslie in search for the carriage.

it’s been three days since then and there is not a single spot on the table perched in front of your window that isn’t covered with the thin bundles of papers leslie has presented you with when you ordered her to find out more about duke min. he isn’t particularly a social butterfly but his reclusive nature had extended to a point where only the butler is the only one who ever spoke to him. besides that, ever since he’d came back from war, he’d been swarmed with reports and the recent issue of missing goods from the iyesgarth port owned by the ducal house. none of which are useful for you to attract the attention of the duke for an exchange of protection.

“what was that, my lady?” at the familiar fluttery voice, your whole body shoots up.

“leslie!” the woman’s name tumbles out of your lips in surprise, “when did you get in?”

you didn’t even hear her enter-

“a few minutes ago while you were still snoring off,” she answers simply as she walks over, inspecting the teal dress she must have gotten from your closet while murmuring to herself about the ‘handiwork is terrible. we shouldn’t order dresses from vivian’s boutique anymore.’

it didn’t seem like she heard anything but if she did, leslie has always had a knack for going about her day as though she knew nothing. you wonder how much information she holds just from that uncaring personality of hers that allows people to feel at ease with knowing she wouldn’t tattle.

but this isn’t something you could let go, “leslie, how much did you-” but it’s her rambling that almost has you biting down on your tongue as you clamp your mouth shut.

“...won’t do. you need to dress pretty for the duke, my lady.”

almost as though the traces of sleep has flown out of the window, you’re crawling over the bed and grasping onto the maid’s shoulders for dear life, “d-did you say duke?”

an unsuspecting smile graces your lips once the realization that your unusual behavior, is caused by the news of the duke, “yes, he’s on his way here as we speak!”

it takes a moment for you to register her words. another for you to blink back at her as though waiting for her ever smiling face to fade into the dark before you finally wake up, wishing fullheartedly that this is all just a bad dream.

“my lady?” leslie cocks her head to the side, as though searching for your conscience that’d retreated so far back into your existence, she realizes she’s staring back at nothing but a shell.

“why...” the lowest murmur leaves your lips like a calm before a storm before a hurricane rages and whirls out of your entire being, “why is the duke coming here?”

“___! what did you do to summon the rage of the duke to our home!” your father, dressed unusually impeccably, stopped in the middle of ordering the butler and servants for when the duke arrives.

“m-me?” yes, you knew you had sounded utterly audacious for someone who boasted - and even blackmailed the king - about the duke’s affection for you, “i didn’t do anything!”

it was in that moment that the clamor of a carriage had echoed from outside. the sound of the horses neighing comes a second later. but nobody heard the footsteps of duke min as he tread towards the open doors of the mansion.

he wasn’t named grim reaper for nothing.

“my apologies for coming on such short notice,” at least he's rational enough to admit his fault.

you catch the sight of the tip of his fringes falling over his face as he bows, before you curtsy, head lowered and eyes fixed to the ground.

your mother had scolded you an earful about peeking while curtsying, “___! have some refinement! a lady does not peek like an uncivilized cavewoman!”

if you’d lived in a cave, you wouldn’t have to be constricted to such formalities in the first place.

“please, don’t apologize,” your father presses smoothly, unlike his frazzled self from just a minute ago - it must have taken him years to hone such composure as to not tremble under the duke’s crimson eyes, “we at the ___ manor, are honored to have you as our guest, your grace. though we are quite puzzled by your grace’s reason for coming here.”

“reason.” the duke echoes, it seems the only thing delicate about him is his features but you’d be lying if you said you don’t find the low gruff of his voice thunderous to your heart.

a short silence lapses as though he’s sifting through his memories and finally letting his gaze travel to you - though his tone doesn’t seem to harbor any murderous intention, those crimson eyes that seek yours render your body cold. you clasp your hands together out of needing something to hold onto as you fix him one of your schooled, noble smile.

“i wish to speak to the eldest daughter of this house,” he says simply, “about our engagement.”

that same smile on your face falters into a pressed line.

“my, my,” your mother laughs, royal purple fan that’s been fluttering over his face now being lowered to her lap, “what troublesome rumor has spread about our beloved ___.”

the slightest twitch on her pristine smile tells you otherwise. but you can’t challenge her genuinity - not in front of the yoongi, at least.

and to be truthful, the more pressing matter - one that plagues your very talk as of now - is the fact that the conversation pertaining your supposed blessed marriage had only been attended by seokjin, jungkook and you - there were guards but you doubt any of them were interested in gossips about a count’s daughter’s affairs.

...could seokjin be the one to have spread the rumor?

before you can even come to a plausible conclusion as to why the king would do such a thing, you’re brought out of your train of thoughts by the woman covering your hands that are on your lap, grasping onto them tightly - at first glance, it would appear she’s genuinely concerned for you, “how do you plan to take responsibility over daughter’s wounded reputation, your grace?”

it’s commendable how your mother is still able to let her lips stretch over her face as though the man’s red eyes aren’t piercing through her skull like a spear. you’ve always known she was a scary woman - she wished to pass on her legacy onto you and perhaps that was why you would always end up huffing and trudging back to your room every time you tried to tell her you didn’t want to follow such path.

her ways were effective but you weren’t looking to gain something out of another’s suffering.

“mother!” your voice bounces over the walls, “his grace’s reputation is also tarnished by the rumor, how could you ask him to take responsibility as if it was his fault?”

the woman stares down at you with her signature glare but after years of being on the receiving end of it, you’d grown a spine or two, “silly child, who’s going to marry you now that the rumor of your engagement with the grim reaper has spread far and wide?”

“mother!” it almost comes out a chide at the word she uses to describe the man sitting right across from you.

“d-dear wife,” your father is sweating bullets from his seat as he bravely speaks up, “why don’t we let the duke and ___ discuss this matter privately? it is, after all, their reputations that are on the line.”

“theirs?” your mother’s hiss causes your father’s shoulder line to shrink back.

yoongi’s reputation may have been borne by only him but for a lady, everything you do reflects on your family name. that, you understand and for once, your mother’s outburst is well-founded.

the roots of rage almost tangles around your ankles as well - but the uncertainty of the source of rumor lingers on your mind.

it is the moment when the door shuts behind the butler after your parents which required a lot of pleading from your father, do you allow yourself to feel the heat of yoongi’s eyes on you - if looks could kill you’d be dead for simply and foolishly meeting his gaze.

“your grace, i apologize on my mother’s behalf... my mother, she’s only worried about my future like any mother would,” the head that’s held up high, the shoulders that line straight and the schooled smile on your lips - does well to conceal the inner turmoil inside you. but when all you receive is a steel gaze and a pin-drop silence, you’re forced to change the topic, “i was in the middle of writing you a letter.”

in other words, you mean to say you’re too hasty, duke.

unlike you, the man has his legs crossed languidly, his sword - said to be forged by the spine of the devil himself - is leaned next to his foot, almost as though ready for him to pull it out of its sheath if you so much as move, “i thought you would chip a nail writing me one so i decided to spare you the pain and pay you a visit, my lady.”

the underlying mockery in his words does not go past you yet it takes a moment for it to register - he looked like a straightforward man based on the menial conversation he shared with seokjin and you as a witness.

but it’s true what they say about judging books by their cover.

“that’s very considerate of you, your grace,” the smile you force on goes against the normal order of nature but the man doesn’t seem fazed. his crimson eyes fixes themselves on yours as though trying to take a peek into your soul and find out your darkest secret. if there’d been any trace of humor, it’s all vanished into thin air now.

“your grace, i told you my life was on the line that night. and you helped me regardless of who i was - i’m thankful for you. there’s no way i’d start a rumor of us being engaged and trouble you further,” you begin, capturing yoongi’s gaze with yours - where you get such courage for someone who’s about to spew half-truths, you don’t know, “but that night - it was because seok- his majesty was about to marry me off to the 12th prince of aflar because i’d offended him with my words.”

“so he does whatever he wants just like his father,” his eyes glazes over you, as though picturing the new king at the back of his head as you speak. the matter of what he came for no longer as pressing as he made it out to be - dare you say, it was just an excuse to for him to come barging in.

“no!” the hurried denial warrants a narrow of eyes from the duke - as though wondering why the lady whose pleas were ignored, is defending the very person who’d ignored them. you only wanted a way out - not breathe the flames of an uproar from the nobles who chooses to remain neutral, “what i mean is, i’m sure his majesty will understand if you let me stand by you for a short while - i promise i won’t get in your grace’s way.” the last part is added as an afterthought when his eye twitches just the slightest bit as though displeased by the thought of some lady sticking to his side like glue.

the silence that lapses between you is tangible as your body screams to be released from the frozen state you’re in - you couldn’t move a finger even if you’d wanted to, at least not until yoongi seems to finish thinking.

“what exactly did you say to the king to have him want to send you away for good?” comes the million gold question.

this is it. you know he’d catch on but you’re not so prepared to give an answer. you’re not sure if the hesitance shows in your face but you doubt your mastery for hiding your emotions is as spectacular as his.

and so, with a tilted chin, you set a resolute gaze upon the duke, “the missing shipments from the port iyesgarth,” you state, noticing the curious raise of brow, “how are armwells doing these days?”

“impossible,” the frown that etches itself on his face is another kind of heartbreaking beauty. leaning back against the chair again and consequently allowing you to let out the breath you never knew you were holding, he continues, “the armwells own the warehouses. why would they steal shipments from merchants who pay them plenty just to leave goods in their warehouses?”

“the answer you’ve been looking for is right there,” the smile that blooms on your face is a pleasant one and the knit of yoongi’s eyebrows is all heartbreakingly adorable. “their spendthrift son has been gambling away the money and however much they make over the warehouse fee is starting to not be enough.”

there’s a light in his eyes that shines with doubt and with that, births the shadow of, dare you say, plausible confidence in what you’re saying.

“the goods from the shipment are being sold in the black market,” those crimson eyes follows your every movement as rise from your seat, hand clasped together in front of you - a habit you’d developed to appear small and unsuspecting, “ask around for a franny.”

franny is baron armwell’s alias. he couldn’t go around selling stolen goods under his name because the authorities - namely, the duke as part of his line of work after coming back from war - would catch on. it had just so happened that isabelle armwell, a lady you occasionally talk to at gatherings was sporting a long face at the debutante ball. she was spilling every single family secret after a trip to the washroom and a consoling hug.

with a heavy heart, you wave at the girl with the brightest blue eyes and blonde locks that flows past her bosom in waves. she’s wearing a light blue dress with minute diamonds pooling around the hem and dispersing up her waist. it’s been exactly five days after the duke min’s visit and over one week of celebrating the knights’ victory.

“___, i didn’t think you’d be here!” her beaming smile reminds you of the smudged makeup and tear stained eyes you bore witness just a month ago.

“why would you think that?” you blink despite having an inkling of where this conversation is going-

“well, since the rumors of you and duke min’s engagement...” she fiddles with her fingers from what you can only assume to be jitters. of course, a lady her age who’s just debuted into society would be curious of how you tamed the beast laying dormant.

to be frank, you did not.

“-remains a baseless rumor.” you speak rather loudly, hands on your hips as you steal a glance at the throne where seokjin sits, his eyes already on you, “i’m not sure who started it but duke min and i are-”

“lady ___,” a familiar guttural voice greets you from behind you. isabelle’s shock-stricken gaze that’s fixed at something - or rather, someone - past your shoulders is enough to confirm who the bearer of your doom is.

and true enough, standing before you, in the min family’s signature black suit and maroon undershirt, is none other than the devil himself. as opposed to last time, there’s a suave smile on his cherry pink lips - perhaps, nothing more than a show - and his silver hair is swept back, revealing his round visage and making his otherwise soft feature appear sharp and clean.

“your grace,” you dip down, dress lifted midair just below your hips before coming up and noticing the man also in the middle of standing back straight after bowing, “for a moment there, i thought it wasn’t you, but a shapeshifter who looked like you and attended this ball.”

if there’s anything you know - and you know plenty - about the duke of cralon, is that he rarely shows his face at balls and parties. even the ones held by the previous king.

the first time you met him was purely coincidental but not unprecedented. granted, the ball was held to celebrate the victory of the winter knights in the war. if there was any celebration duke min would attend, then it was that one. and he did attend.

but for him to appear at a regular ball held by the new king...

“alas, it is i and not some monstrous shapeshifter - i was hoping you’d spare me a dance, lady ___.” a gloved hand extends your way, hovering in the air as you scrutinize the man’s uncharacteristically smiling face - as though he’d found humor in your underlying tone.

his motives are unclear but the fact that you have his attention must mean your lead has lead to a fruitful discovery.

“why, this will pour oil to the flames,” you murmur under your breath - low enough for only him to hear and yet slip your own hand in his.

“so you’re friends with lady armwell,” the mellow tune of the cello pours into the room as a new song begins.

the feeling of the hand on your waist is unsettlingly gentle and careful - almost as though he’s fearful that your bones may break if he held on tighter.

“she only tearfully told me about the her brother’s unmanageable gambling habits, the information i gave you was out of my own findings - i can find out a plenty of many things for your grace if you choose to help me shake his majesty’s eyes off me,” you search for those crimson eyes as he twirls you around once, “i trust it’s been helpful to your grace, but if you are still unconvinced of my expertise-”

the bells of chuckles that drums in your ears are the last thing you expect to hear - quite frankly, the chances of gaining a threat for whatever reason is much higher than bearing witness to the duke’s laughter.

“there’s no need,” this time, his hair doesn’t brush over his eyebrows when he shakes his head, “you’ll make a fine fiance, ___.”

the lack of honorific doesn’t entirely go past you but that isn’t a material matter at the moment.

did he just said... fiance?

“your grace, unless my ears are-”

“yoongi.”

“p-pardon?” the warmth on your hip and hand seeps into you as he directs your body to move with the melody of the instruments, reminding you that there are hundred pairs of eyes on you and if the lady were to stop dancing all of a sudden, then there is no doubt of a new kind of rumor surfacing.

but judging from the way he dips his head and his hot breath fanning the shell of your ear, you can almost hear the squeals and gossip that will fill tomorrow’s tea party, “since we’re engaged, shouldn’t we at least call each other by our names?”

words die in your throat, as does the music. you barely notice the hands that held you falling away as you watch the man take a step backwards and lower his head - so much for formalities after deciding to forego it just five seconds ago.

“i’ll send a letter tomorrow notifying my visit in three day’s time.” with that, you’re left staring like a fool at the black and red insignia engraved on the back of his jacket.

it is a moment later that isabelle and the other ladies begin to crowd you, that you finally come to your senses.

“it it true? you’re engaged to the duke of cralon?” lady irene’s beaming smile is far too close for your liking.

“calm down, lady irene. don’t make a-”

before lady krystal manages to finish her sentence, you already find yourself slipping past bodies and out of the ball room. your destination is unclear but you saw yoongi take a left and that could only mean that he’s heading towards the garden instead of the double doors of the exit.

lights line the tall walls surrounding the palace but you wouldn’t have spot the grey locks that appear almost white if not for the moonlight. the crimson dragons on either side of the shield symbolizes the min family’s pledge to protect the crown. the fact that he’s wearing this and not the official knight outwear means he’s not here as the head knight but as a-

“your grace,” you send a prayer to the goddess for the sternness in your tone but it easily dwindles down and hits the ground as you’re met with the echoing footsteps of the duke who doesn’t seem to acknowledge your presence.

your temple throbs as the image of the duke’s handsome features come unnervingly close to you whilst he whispers-

“yoongi.” you almost scream.

it is settled knowledge that the duke of cralon possesses inhumane abilities that helped him and his predecessors win wars for the kingdom, cearis. if his unfailing reputation isn’t enough, then you’ve already seen how you would be completely helpless in his undetectable presence that night when you failed to notice him until he presents himself to seokjin and consequently you.

but in your haste to right the wrong, you’ve forgotten the possibility of abruptly calling his name ending up with your face buried in his chest when he whirls around to face you.

with cheeks that feels like they’re surrounded by a thousand suns, you quickly clear your throat after taking one step back. his raised eyebrow, however, tells you he thinks nothing of the minor mishap just now.

still, you meet yoongi’s gaze with a pair of knitted brows and a distraught tug in the corners of your lips, “i believe there’s been a misunderstanding, your grace,” the briefest lift of eyebrows as though he is painfully aware of the way you address him, doesn’t go unnoticed by you though you wish it would, “when i asked if i could stand by your side, i did not mean as your fiance - it makes me think you don’t trust me enough to believe that it wasn’t me who spread the rumor.”

“i do believe you,” he says simply, “but wouldn’t you say the rumor plays in your favor, ___?” there he goes again, addressing you informally, “since everyone saw us dancing together, they’ll feed into the rumor. it doesn’t matter if the king doesn’t buy into it. as of now, his position is vulnerable and if he were to break two lovers who are mad for each other apart and marry the other off in the name of political gain, the aristocrats won’t sit still.”

“so just now...” you trail off, the image of isabelle and the other nobles’ fallen jaws flashing at the back of your mind, “it was a return of favor because i helped solve the mystery of the missing shipments?”

“you don’t seem pleased,” his eyebrows begin to knit together.

“how can i be when i was not consulted of such plans prior to this?” the silence that lapses between you is no different than back in the parlor in your mansion, except yoongi seems to consider your request more seriously this time judging from the hard lines set upon his otherwise smooth forehead.

“then, what would you have suggested, ___?” the blinking red doesn’t seem too menacing now that he’s staring at you with genuine concern.

sighing, you curse yourself for admitting the truth in his words, “your grace is correct that the rumor gives us an advantage. however, next time we are to make a public appearance, i’d like to have a say on how it’s to be executed.”

his gaze lingers on you for the longest time - you’re not sure whether he’s debating on foregoing your investigative expertise or whether he should reveal to seokjin that this is all a faux. but what he does next could never have crossed your mind in the list of things he duke yoongi min could be thinking.

“i understand,” the figure in front of you dips to a bow, a gloved black hand levitating midair as a shadow casts itself over his gentle features and contrasting glowing eyes, “my apologies for acting without taking your feelings into consideration just now, lady ___.”

the title returns in his mouth yet your chest caves in displeasure. you’re not too fond of him calling you just by name but you’re not any glad that he’s back to using that honorific.

“v-very well, you’re forgiven,” you force out after realizing you’ve made him wait long enough, cheeks warm as you place your hand in his, eyes fixed on his lips that presses against your knuckles - they really are as soft as they look.

a halo encases his body when he stands straight. and if it weren’t for his abrupt remark, you would have pondered on the faintest hint of smile on his features, “now then, may i ask another favor from you, ___?”

another one? right after you assisted him in finding out the culprit?

“your grace may, though please bear in mind tonight doesn’t count as you returning the favor so you’ll be owing me two public appearances.” you shrug as casually as possible.

“that’s fair,” he nods a little too nonchalantly before getting to the point - and perhaps a tendril of regret wraps around your heart for agreeing without hearing his request first when he utters his next words-

“i wish us to call each other by our names - it’s suffocating to be so polite.” he sighs, hand ruffling his silvery tresses like a child tired of the etiquette lessons forced on him and not at all like the man that had you on the edge of your seat back in your mansion.

“th-that’s-” the words teeter on your tongue but refuse to leave your mouth as you fumble for a reason to object but the longer you stare into those indecipherable eyes, the emptier your mind gets and the harder your heart races.

“r-reasonable,” you stammer out, the flash of anticipation across the duke’s face leaving you no choice but to add, “yoongi.”

note. hello!! i’ve been working on this for a month or so (whew) bc i got super into historical au’s and just wanna write something without prince and princesses as the main leads and this happened!! hope you guys enjoyed it and are looking forward for more. drop your @ below if you want to be included the taglist!

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cosmokyrin · 3 years

Text

Metamorphosis

Summary: A “supplemental” / “missing scene” fic for V8C12. This takes place inside the Manta ship as they were heading for the Vault.

Ship: Ruby Rose / Penny Polendina

Rating: Teen

Length: 1,132 words

Notes: I'm posting this for the informal event within the N&D community to commemorate the anniversary of the RWBY Chibi Fireflies episode! I hadn't had time to make anything longer than this, so I latched onto the more recent ideas I had. I wrote this a sort of "supplemental" scene that I felt was lacking for the recent episode, in light of Penny's transformation.

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30103029

(Full story also here)

***

It was always the darkest before the dawn.

Faint rays of sunlight that lined the dusted crimson sky sat on Penny's face as Blake and Yang assisted her inside the Manta. Despite the help of her friends, walking was an effort. All inside her ached. Jaune was right behind her, the strength of his hand and Semblance keeping her steady. Then as they reached inside the ship, she felt his hand leave her shoulder; in the deep recesses of her mechanical shell, she once again felt the grips of the virus rumbling from within.

"I gave her a large boost. The Aura amp should last until you guys get to the Vault," Jaune said.

"Thanks, Jaune," Ruby said, hugging her fellow leader before she hopped to the ship. The two exchanged nods as the aircraft started to lift off the air.

The ride wasn't going to be long. Not that they had much time in their hands anyway. They knew the virus could emerge again sooner, and what they didn't know was how much more Penny could fight the temptation to succumb. There were only the four of them to hold her back. Klein was busy piloting the ship, Willow was rusty in battle, and Whitley barely had combat experience. Just less than an hour ago, the nine of them almost weren't enough, if not for Penny's own self fighting it.

Penny closed her hands together. She tried not to think about the virus, but her awareness wouldn't dare linger to anything else than scanning her systems. The offender was still wreaking havoc in her code, and it took a great amount of her will to correct it. Thankfully, Blake and Yang's presence at each of her sides brought much comfort.

But Penny thought it didn't have to be like this. If only she didn't take the Maiden powers. If only she let Winter have this. Then maybe they wouldn't have been so divided. Then maybe she didn't need to heavily burden the group in trying to save her. Maybe their plans would have gone better. Maybe she would be with Pietro right now, telling him she's alive and alright. Maybe the Kingdom would have been safe now. If only...

If only she wasn't built that way.

The unpleasant words yelled at the back of her mind even louder than the virus that told her to open the vault and self-terminate. Every time the virus screamed, forcing her soul into chains, she desperately waded through the ropes of control within her consciousness. But more effective than it in washing her away was the voice that told her, it's because you're like that.

Penny was ready to believe that.

But the person who now knelt before her was not.

Two hands placed itself above hers. Even for a moment, for a little more, the terrible voice quieted as silver eyes looked at her, graced with a smile that encapsulated her in a feeling of safety. Penny relaxed and smiled back. Blake and Yang gave both Penny and Ruby a knowing look, standing up and huddling to another corner in the ship. Ruby sat beside Penny, hands still over hers.

“Hey,” Ruby softly said. Penny recalled the same tone from when they were in the Snowshoe warehouse. Despite the violations on her bodily control, she nonetheless felt a tug inside her. She didn’t want to get close to anyone just yet, but the urge was enough to have her lean slightly towards Ruby. The shorter girl wasted no time and wrapped one arm around her back, the other refusing to leave her folded hands.

“I’m… I’m scared, Ruby,” Penny admitted, her voice small and withdrawn.

“We’ll be there for you, Penny. I promise.”

Penny looked at Ruby, the worries drawn within her expression. “I...I always thought my... body was alright the way it is.”

"It is, Penny."

"But they-" Penny clenched her fists tight. "They're using my own body against me. Against my friends. Against my will." She gazed at her hands. "I wish I was enough."

Ruby pulled her closer. "You already are.”

Penny shut her eyes, trying to calm the voice that was resurging. She felt Ruby’s hand grip her waist tighter. As she opened her eyes, her gaze remained fixed on her hands. “But didn’t this all happen because… of this part of me? This part of me that I’ve already learned to... love?”

Ruby brushed her fingers up and down on Penny’s waist. “Sometimes… we all wish there were things about us that we could… replace. Or leave behind.” Penny just slightly missed the brief moment of hurt within Ruby’s eyes.“ Often that’s impossible. And we just accept that. Learn to live with it. Learn to see the bright side of it,” Ruby stared distantly to the side. “But there are also things... we can’t carry forever. Sometimes, these things we choose to carry... they slowly destroy us,” Ruby looked at Penny. “Then we have to make a choice. The choice to let go.”

Penny’s shoulders dropped. Ever since she reawakened in her new body, assigned to watch over Mantle day and night, the thought never left. As time passed, the exploitability of her nature perpetually knocked from the back of her mind, lying within the grim memories when she learned about the Fall of Beacon. She always knew her body was a liability. She knew that, maybe in the end -- the multiple swords of Floating Array, the multifunctionality of her hands, the speed at which she can adjust to threats, the X-ray vision, the special functions of her eyes, the flight ability her father had gifted her, the things she loved about herself, the things that were part of herself -- will be something she would have to let go. She knew that one day, perhaps, she will be forced to fight her friends against her will. And that everything she feared would happen.

She just didn’t expect it so soon.

“I do not want any more of this, Ruby. If… if this body will no longer reflect who I am, then...” Penny searched for silver eyes, for her comfort. “What will be left of me?”

“Everything you truly are.” Ruby wrapped her in a warm, full embrace. Penny didn’t understand what warmth was except for what she had associated them with. But nevertheless she felt it. She felt it in her soul.

And with that, Penny hoped her soul was enough.

The wrecked underside of the Vault was coming into view. The crimson sky had already turned into a dusty orange, and the sun seemed brighter than ever. Blake and Yang were at her side once more, helping her to her feet.

With one last look at her torn gloves, she bid farewell to the things she loved.

#penny polendina #ruby rose #nuts and dolts #mechanical rose #rwby #spoilers #rwby volume 8 #rwby volume 8 spoilers #rwby spoilers #rwby v8 spoilers #rwby fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #kyrin's writings

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fckwritersblock · 3 years

Text

Act 1: While We’re Young

Chapter 5

Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens x Black OC

(Unedited.)

Tuesday

January 10th 2005

Last night was the only night I'm allowing myself to cry over him and his 'return'. What good would it do me? No, I was gonna take Erik and whatever he had to throw at me by storm.

Waking up the next day, I feel refreshed. Like a brand new person with a more positive mindset. Today I had 3 classes and I'm determined to have a good Erik free day.

That whole Erik free thing went out the window as soon as I got to my first class.

Double O Computer Programming 1 was a junior class, however I'd taken it during the summer during my first year at UC Berkeley. DOCP 2 wouldn't be available until next semester but I needed to have a class since this was my first year on the actual campus. Thankfully Miss Hill really needed a T.A and the fact that I could help with an algorithm that tied into thermal nuclear astrophysics had her sold.

Right after I finished taking attendance, she barely got a word out before the door swung open revealing Erik as our late comer. I quickly glanced at the sheet in front of me, scanning for his name. I was so use to calling him N’dajaka when we were kids, I completely skipped over ‘Erik Stevens’. I huffed rolling my eyes, arms crossed over my chest. His timbs were the only thing heard shuffling across the room making hid way toward the front of the class. Wordlessly he handed Miss Hill before his eyes were on me. They scanned me from top to bottom, before locking with me a smug grin on his lips.

"Hey Lona," my jaw dropped.

Before I could get out a word, Miss Hill opened her mouth, looking up from the paper he handed her.

"Welcome Erik, sorry for the confusion."

"It's all good," he shrugged.

"Im Miss Hill, and I see you already know my aid. As I explained to the class prior to taking attendance, If I'm unavailable feel free to email or call her during the hours listed on the sheet." She is then took a sheet from me and handed him to me. "Other than that, find a seat."

He nodded pretending look over the sheet before averting his gaze back on me.

"I'm definitely gon do that."

Fuck my life right?

Well, Erik just so happened to be in the Calculus class I skipped two days ago. I thank God my record was squeaky clean and Mr. Kennedy accepted my poor excuse before I was quickly reminded the man upstairs has a sense of humor as the only available seat was next to Erik.

"The person next to you will be your partner for the remainder of the semester so let's take the next 15 minutes getting know one another hmm?." Mr. Kennedy instructed.

I couldn't suppress the groan that slipped as Erik casually leaned back in his chair, examining me.

"You heard the man, get to know me."

"I know all I need this know about you Erik."

"Oh so I'm Erik now? Like that?" He spoke cool, calm, and collected like our exchanged was normal.

I gripped my pencils tight, my knee bouncing up and down my body tense.

"Let me set things straight now. We don't need to talk to one another. If it doesn't have anything to do with any of the classes we take together, don't want to hear it. When you see me act like you don't know me. We clear?"

The expression on his face was unreadable before his lip twitched slight him responding.

"Crystal."

Wednesday

January 24th, 2005

It had been two weeks since Erik showed up here.

Ok that's a lie.

Apparently this man has been here. And to top it off, this mans name was in every bitch mouth like the second coming of Jesus Christ. From what I've observed though, he doesn't say much, or gives any of these broads much attention. He don't say much in general actually, he's really good at blending in. He got that laid back, mysterious, bad boy vibe going for him and these females out here hella into that.

But when he opens his mouth, that cocky bastard sure knows how to disrupt my entire soul at least while we're in class.

Outside of class though, he acts like I'm invisible.

It was like he never knew me. And honestly, I don't know how to feel about it. I know that's what I said I wanted but it bothers me just the same.

Today in particular though, he argued me down during our Calculus class. We had one problem to figure out before we could leave class today. You and your partner were supposed agree on the answer, and heaven forbid he just agree with me so we can get out of here. Math was always my subject when we were kids, nothing has changed. I was damn near about to say fuck it when he started laughing.

What in the entire fuck it so funny?" I was fuming.

"You," he shook his head. "You really hella mad."

"Um, YES!" I damn near shouted fed up. "You literally been tryna convince me it's 5 when it's-"

"Chill. I know the answer is 3 girl. C'mon, let's go." So smoothly he closed the book, grabbed his bag and headed to the front.

I was so upset, I had to let him do all the talking when it came to explain to the teacher I'll answer and how we got there. I know I open my mouth I wasn't going to say anything nice.

"Girl what crawled up your ass and died?" Donise questioned with a stank look as we sat at one of the benches outside of the library.

"Yeah What did Erik do now," I could hear teasing in Tatiana's tone so I flipped her off.

Only giving a brief explanation, I went on a mini rant about what happened in class 20 minutes ago. Donise's thought it was funny, while Tati just shook her head.

"I still can't believe it him," Tatianna glanced as a group of guys from across the quad headed our way, Erik included.

"Yes, and I wish it wasn't."

Tatianna was the first real friend I made in a while. I was actually tutoring her online for a while before she found out I was 4 years younger than her. Our friendship started off as a trade. I was her tutor and she both convinced and enrolled in a mentor program to help me with my social skills. I didn't speak to anyone much when Erik left, but I got into a lot of fights. According to the school counselor I was taking out my anger and abandonment issues on.I have meds to tame the anger, and while I haven't had to take them in a while Eric definitely bring that anger out of me.

"Girl that's just sexual tension. You got to fuck all that out." Ashley put in her unwanted two cents.

"Trust me when I tell you on God it isn't."

"Well if you out to holla, then trust and believe I will." She tossed her hair over her shoulder

I didn't really mess with Ashley like that, but she was Tati's frat sister which made them 'friends'. That little thot pocket will screw anything with legs, D, and a pulse and I'm not bout that life. Plus she messy as fuck and I don't trust her as far as I can throw her.

"I don't doubt it," I smirked as Donise said exactly what I was thinking.

Donise was coo' though, I meet her when I first got here 2 months ago. Believe It or not she was apart of the welcome comity for MIT and turned out her and Tatiana were already friends. Once she figured out who I was, I was shot to the front line during registration and everything.

"Anyways, y'all going Ant and them party tomorrow?" Ashley questioned probably tryna bum a ride.

"What party?"

"The Que's," Donise answered. "The dudes with Erik are frat."

Now this was news to me. I met most of them before but I had no idea there were in a sorority. Examining them, I guess it all made sense. Most in the clique sported some sort of purple and yellow lanyard either around their neck or on their keychain that hung from their jean pocket as if they wanted everybody to know who they were. Which I wouldn't doubt.

"Ladies! What we chattin about?" Moses questions every bit of his thick English accent tapering off every word.

"Our plans for mañana," Tati answered l

"Word. Y'all coming to the party tomorrow?" Jay spoke playing with a few strands of Donise's curls.

"Tomorrow? It's Thursday." I said confused. "Ain't there class the next day?"

"What's the matter, you can't hang?" I glared at Jay, knowing he was only chastising me because him and Erik were close, according to Tati.

I swear to God men gossip more than women do. Rolling my eyes I spared Erik a glance and he looked like he was waiting on me to respond.

"Oh, I can definitely hang."

I couldn't hang.

Around midnight I was in the bathroom throwing up everything, damn near hug in the toilet as my surrounding looks so blurry and I can barely function. Im not sure when I'd finally finished, but I could feel someone picks me up and out the bathroom and soon everything goes blurry and then black.

Tag list: @kitesatforestp @xsweetdellzx @justgetitoverwith0 @letsshamelessqueen-m @cmkcolove @readingaddict1290

#black!reader #black panther killmonger #erik killmonger series #erik stevens x reader #erik stevens #killmonger x black!reader #black writer #killmomger x oc #killmonger imagine #marvel imagine #marvel #black panther imagine #black panther #wakanda forever #tchalla

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 years

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Roommate AU: Fazbear Frights (Novel) Animatronics

Consider: The animatronics from the FF book series being taken in by the Reader!

Spring-Bonnie (Into the Pit)

Seems utterly terrifying as an organic, monstrous rabbit.

But in reality he just wants love and to be a dad to someone.

Though last time he tried being a father figure--well..it didn’t end too good for him.

But once you accept him and decide to let him play the “dad” role of the animatronic group..Spring cries goopy black tears of joy.

They stain your carpet but that’s the least of your concerns.

You, Lonely Freddy, Plushtrap Chaser, and Ella become his children.

Eleanor (To Be Beautiful)

She tried keeping her human disguise up around you, but eventually her necklace failed from being overused and she ended up reverting back to her Circus Baby form.

You decide to take her in anyway to meet the rest of the “family”, not wanting her to be all alone and in danger.

In exchange for giving her a new home, she’s willing to grant you any wish.

But your only wish was for Eleanor to be happy--much to her surprise.

Though she was glad to settle down somewhere with others like her.

Withered Funtime Freddy (Count the Ways)

You decided to purchase him from Millie’s grandfather and fix him up so he could at least walk around.

Of course, however, he was still quite...sadistic and likes to mumble the ways he could kill you and everyone else in your home.

Fortunately he’s smart enough to never actually act on his ideas--though the others are still protective over you nonetheless.

Gets melancholic about BonBon. Asking about him usually calms the bear down for a little while.

Fetch (Fetch)

Still the ever-loyal canine, even in his damaged state.

But you figured he could use some fixing-up. You had no idea who could’ve bashed up the poor thing..

The texting service he was connected to still worked.

A new update required your permission to allow him to “retrieve” things. And you had the options of responding “RETRIEVE” or “STOP”.

Fetch became quite the overprotective hound, though he was also quite submissive--even fearful at times--whenever you scolded him.

Obviously, he was traumatized from being destroyed, so you’d have to be patient and help him learn to trust people again.

Lonely Freddy (Lonely Freddy)

One of the Lonely Freddys you found in the dumpster and decided to take back home so-happened to contain Alec’s soul.

When you cleaned him off and activated him, he asked you some programmed questions...

Although it wasn’t until they became questions like “can you help me find my family?”, “why did I hate my sister so much?”, and “how do I get out of this prison? did you finally realize..

Only then did he tell you the story of how his soul became trapped in the Lonely Freddy.

He cried and confided in you, and when he calmed down he thanked you for saving him from the dumpster.

Plushtrap Chaser (Out of Stock)

Quite the rambunctious bunny (though he’s not as evil as the nightmare version of Plushtrap).

Can’t move when there’s light shining on him, so he stays in the dark/shady areas of your home most of the time.

Tends to creep around during the night, but all Alec has to do is shine his eyes and PC will stop.

Gets v grumpy when that happens so he stopped doing that.

Hides in the closet most of the time now, though he’ll come out if Spring-Bonnie is nearby.

Ella (1:35 AM)

A doll who you also bought at an auction--despite noticing that her alarm clock function is broken.

For the first few nights, she woke you up exactly at 1:35 AM.

She kept doing that, thinking you’ll throw her away like Delilah did so she could torment you the same way.

But...you never do. Instead you research ways to fix alarm clocks and even had Fetch retrieve some parts for you (where he got them from? that doesn’t matter).

And eventually, you did fix Ella and she became forever in your debt--serving her function as an alarm clock correctly.

#clanspeaks #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's x reader #fnaf novels #fazbear frights #springbonnie #fnaf fetch #fnaf ella #funtime freddy #plushtrap chaser #lonely freddy #fnaf eleanor #roommate au #headcanons

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idontblushsrry · 3 years

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Inuyasha Characters As Roomates

In honor of yashahime’s release i’ve decided to post this for no real reason.Can you tell who my bias is lmao. Lmk if I should do a Part 2 with the people I missed. Also I apologize I haven’t updated in like a year I have a post addressing this coming up soon. Thank you for your continued support despite the fact that I’ve been updating infrequently, I really appreciate it. Without further ado:

Warnings: Some swear words oop

Word Count: 1632

Inuyasha

You want Inuyasha as your roommate???Chile anyways...

No but fr tho in general Inuyasha isn’t an awful roommate, he pays his bills on time(ususally), doesn’t make too big of a mess but that’s just because he owns like 3 things and 2 outfits.

No, the real problem with Inuyasha is that he is LOUD

You walk outside to throw the trash away and he’s in his room screaming about a video game or something and the WHOLE neighborhood can hear him.

People pokin they head out in concern and everything

Another time he was watching a horror movie and you guess the characters did something stupid because you hear a scream from the character and then Inuyasha screaming “WHAT THE FUCK, WHY WOULD YOU GO THAT WAY DUMBASS! THAT’S WHY YOU’RE DEAD NOW!”

Shit woke you up out of your sleep

After that incident you knew you’d have to ask him to be a bit more considerate of your eardrums.

So, you ask him to quiet down and he pouts like a child and huffs and puffs.

He does quiet down tho...for about 2 minutes until he stubs his toe on the end of the couch

God bless you and your patience but god bless his girlfriend Kagome

She’s a saint

If it were up to Inuyasha your groceries would consist of a cabinet of ramen like the man has the budget for ramen and paying his share of he bills why would he spend money on things like fruit???

This is where Kagome comes in, she comes by pretty regularly and she brings food or groceries because she of all people knows how terrible Inuyasha’s shopping habits are.

Bless her soul truly and every time she does this you thank her lmaoo

Inuyasha eventually does move out with Kagome but he does apologize for being loud before he leaves, you aren’t sure if he did that on his own or if Kagome made him do that

Kagome

She’s so sweet

Fair share of chores, groceries, she cooks for yall sometimes, truly a saint

Only 2 problems:

Ms. Girl has no moneyyy

Poor Kagome, she always tries to pay her bills on time but between trying to feed Inuyasha, helping out her family, and school the paycheck only spreads so thin(She does eventually quit school to start working more but)

Nothing wrong with this but you do end up having to cover for her sometimes.

She of course thank you and you don’t usually mind and your routine was functional for you two, until you meet problem number 2

The loudest mf on the planet Earth, her boyfriend, Inuyasha

One day you’re in he kitchen grabbing something to eat and you hear pounding on the door like the police showed up.

You proceed cautiously because...what the fuck and you almost reach the door before you hear

“I’ll get it!”

You’ve never seen Kagome run faster

She opens the door and you see this 5′5 mf who was banging on the door like he paid the bills

Inuyasha just has rbf but you don't know that so you think he’s making faces at you

Immediately you have a problem with him

“Hey Kagome, who’s this?”

She looks between you two before immediately rushing to introduce you to each other

“Oh, I forgot my purse be right back guys.”, Kagome left not knowing that yall were about 2 seconds from fighting

You didn’t like Inuyasha for banging on the door and glaring and he didn’t like you for glaring at him

After that you just avoided talking to inuyasha for the sake of keeping the peace

When he came over you exited stage left

Eventually Kagome does move out with Inuyasha and she asks why you and Iuyasha had never spoken to each other

“Are you kidding me the first day we met he was already glaring at me?!”

“Ohhh, that’s just his face, he’s really sweet promise :D”

You doubted that

You liked Kagome as a roommate but you were glad she was moving out so you could find someone who could pay the bills on time.

Sango

She a baddie ngl

Aside from that, Sango is the perfect roommate

However, I hope you aren’t allergic to cats or Miroku because they’re pretty much a package deal

Also hopefully you don’t hate children because she does have Kohaku to worry about

But she makes pretty good money at her job so expenses aren’t a issue

She also isn’t home too often between her job, taking care of Kohaku and Kirara, and her relationship

She ends up spending more and more time at Miroku’s place anyways

Sango finally moves in with Miroku when she gets pregnant, yall still keep in touch tho because you’ve become good friends

And thus you say goodbye to the best roommate to ever grace this Earth lmao

Miroku

Miroku is the shortest lasting roommate on this list

Mans is a little creeper pervert and that shit gets annoying after a while

You’ll be walking out the shower and Miroku’s standing there like “hey lil mama lemme whisper in ya ear”

Needless to say you smacked the taste outta his mouth and he stopped with that real quick

He stops but you’re surprised when you see Sango come over

Your hand starts itching with the urge to slap him again...

You meet Sango and what she sees in him is... baffling, scientists to this day still don’t understand

Baby girl, you’re Sango do better, self love

Anyways, Miroku moves out eventually and he takes his nasty ass ways with him

Later you find out that Sango moved in with him and sje’s gon have a baby by him

But you know that’s none of your business

Koga

If you thought Inuyasha was loud...

Inuyasha doesn’t have any friends, Koga has a wolf pack...

Parties all the time good luck homie

If you were tryna study, sleep, do work, etc. best wishes lmao

You come home and mans got 2 random people over like how ya doin O-O

“Hello”

“Where’s Koga?”

They point to the kitchen and you head here ready to just “talk” with Koga

He turns around and gives you the cutest smile known to man and you immediately lose your will to argue

Can’t argue with a man that beautiful sorry...

Anyways besides being loud af, Koga is HYPER

Mans is up at 5 am knocking on your door like “hey you wanna jog to the gym”

“No Koga, goodnight”

‘No problem, it’s the morning btw!”

He’s actually a decent roommate and he moves into a bigger house with his friends and calls it the ‘pack house’

He actually invites you to come move in w him and his buddies

You tell him you’ll think about it

Sesshomaru

The king of “I’m better than you”

He has his life so well together and you’ve gotta give him props

Mans is basically Caspar the Friendly Ghost of roommates

Does he actually live here? the lights stay on and his name is on the deed so... I guess

Seriously tho, Sesshomaru doesn’t need a roommate but he does need someone to mind Rin

You might ask, what about Jaken, Jaken is busy (following Sesshomaru) or so he claims

Sesshomaru isn’t too bad honestly he covers the majority of the expenses in exchange for you watching Rin and feeding Ah-Un

So you’re basically Rin’s stay at home nanny

But you don’t mind because she is a SWEETHEART

Ah-Un isn’t too bad, just feed 2 lizards

(Although depending on who you are feeding them bugs might be your worst nightmare)

Jaken and you buttheads all the time, it’s almost comical

The times you interact with him mainly consist of you telling him to leave Rin alone or him telling you something Sesshomaru said

Speaking of Sesshomaru you don’t see him often and the only times you hear from him are in the form of notes he leaves around the house to the degree of ‘I fed Ah-Un this morning’ or ‘Make sure Rin takes her vitamins’

The other times you “hear” from him are when Jaken comes by saying things like ‘Lord Sesshomaru has requested that you prepare Rin to go out’

And for a while you were like who tf does he think he is because like yea he pays most of the rent but like he isn’t paying you for this so why does he think he can order you around indirectly

The first time you see Sesshomaru, it’s late and Rin’s been asleep for hours.

You walked into the kitchen and didn’t bother with turning the lights on but then you heard the smallest shuffle and a groan

And the moonlight comes through the window at the perfect angle and it reflects so beautifully off his silver hair

He turs some and you see his face and immediately take back all the times you’ve cussed him out mentally

And the you realize you’re in your pajamas staring at this man you’ve never met before that’s sleeping on the couch. For all you know he could be some random guy who broke in

He looks so peaceful that you loathe to disturb it but you poke at him w a stick and he groans out something to the tune of “Go away Jaken”

“I’m not Jaken”

He immediately sat up and stared at you like he was trying to figure out who you were in his head for a moment

“Don’t you want to sleep in your room?” you asked him. He stood up and begun to walk towards his room in response

You just watched him walk away but before he turned the corner into the hallway you swear you heard him say “You should get some sleep too.”

#inuyasha imagines #inuyasha imagine #and they were roommates #sango #miroku #sesshomaru #koga #koga inuyasha #kagome #inuyasha

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