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leonardhoee · 3 years

Note

Alright requests open yay um I’m requesting this on different blogs so I’m just curious of how other people will write the how about for a headcannon or fic idk ;-; Vlad x pregnant MC or dazai ( ikemenvampire )

Hi love! Thanks for the request❤️

I’m so soft for dad headcannons so I hope you like it! (I may have gotten a bit carried away with this😂)

Tagging: @ikemenvmpire @nafeary @aurora-morning @yanderepuck @delicateikemenmemes

Vlad would be the most protective dad. When you told him you were pregnant, he was overjoyed and would immediately become much more protective over you. He feels so blessed to have you in his life and now he’s going to have a child too? A dream.

He threatens Faust and Charles and tells them to be your doctors for the duration of your pregnancy. (Faust is also the one who delivered the baby and he hated every second of it).

Charles however, assures you that everything will go smoothly and they won’t let anything happen to you. You have nothing to worry about in Vlad’s care.

Vlad would create a new wing in his castle just for the baby, with toys and multiple play rooms. He is going to give your baby anything they could possibly want. (He’s going to spoil them even more than Marshmellow.)

Speaking of Marshmellow, she becomes just as protective as Vlad. If Vlad isn’t around and you have a headache or you’re sore, she’ll nudge you into bed and cuddle you till you fall asleep.

He gives you constant attention and brings you new flower bouquets every day when he comes home from his flower shop. Your room is constantly full of flowers and other gifts.

He will go along with all your mood swings and cravings. If you are craving a certain food he will make it and take you out on a picnic and a romantic walk by the river. He’ll also happily make you strawberry flavored dessert, even if you ask him in the middle of the night.

At night he kisses your stomach and tells the baby stories from when he was a king and how you and him met and fell in love. After all that child is his heir and they should know exactly who their parents are.

One day while you two are out on one of your picnics, Vlad brings up the idea of baby names. He tells you how he felt the first time you met and how he wants to name the baby after the first flower he gave you after you got together.

In the later stages of your pregnancy, he will not let you do any work. You’ll be pampered 24/7. Feeling stressed? He will kiss and cuddle you in bed till you feel better. Sore? He will give you the best foot/ full body massage you’ve ever had. Bored? He’ll take you out on a romantic date to someplace you’ve never seen before.

He internally panics when you go into labor during one of your outings to Faust’s church. Though he stays calm on the outside for your sake. Faust was the closest doctor around at the moment so he had no choice but to deliver the baby. Vlad was holding you up praying that both of you safely make it through the delivery.

His soul nearly left his body when he heard you scream in pain but Faust assured him that it was perfectly normal. He will tighten his hold on you and kiss your cheek, telling you how much he loves you and how well you’re doing and how the pain is going to be over soon and you’ll be able to hold your baby in your arms. (Though he was partially just reassuring himself.)

He is forever in awe of your strength in getting through that experience.

Vlad teared up when he got to hold her for the first time, seeing her little hand wrapped around one of his fingers. In that moment, he vowed to love and protect her with every fiber of his being. You and your daughter are the most precious things in his life.

Also, as much as Faust said he hated delivering a baby, his heart melted a little after seeing your daughter looking up at him with her big eyes full of love.

Vlad is so proud that his daughter has the same eyes as him and he calls her his little princess. He even gives her a tiara every year for her birthday with different flowers woven into it.

He is the most attentive dad and almost cried when she walked for the first time and fell into his arms while they were playing in the garden together.

Her first word was strawberry and he got so excited that he carried her around and showed everyone that she just spoke for the first time.

“Look at my talented daughter she just said strawberry!!! Strawberry!!”

(The first time she burped all over Vlad, Charles almost cried with laughter.)

She goes to school with other human children and sometimes goes to Napoleon and Isaac’s teaching sessions. (Vlad wants her to integrate with humans.)

Vlad also takes her to his flower shop and helps her create bouquets for you. (Her cuteness attracts plenty of customers so his coworkers are always happy to have her around.)

She grows up with a love for gardening just like her dad, and one of their favorite things to do together is bond over their love for flowers while running around in the garden together.

Vlad is also the reigning king of hide and seek and sometimes he will even organize scavenger hunts around the whole castle for his daughter. (Marshmellow, Louis, and Mephistopheles are her assistants.)

Uncle Charles absolutely loves playing with her, running around the castle carrying her on his shoulders, or letting her cuddle and play with Louis. Much to Faust’s disappoint, she develops his fashion sense after being around him so often. (She just likes the bright colors Faust let her breathe)

However she loves her Uncle Faust and always asks him to read to her. (He acts like he doesn’t care but he can never refuse her when she runs up to him with her little book. It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, he will take a break to spend time with her.)

Sometimes she walks into his lab while he’s doing research and begins asking him questions about every little thing in the room. He usually tries to tell her to leave but the objection dies in his throat when he looks at her. He ends up answering every question. (When Charles teases him about having such a soft spot for her, he claims he’s just “studying” her behavior. We all know the truth though)

She also develops Faust’s dry, sarcastic sense of humor, and he secretly loves her commentary about everyone when she comes to tell him about her day.

She loves playing with Marshmellow and they will often take naps together. (Marshmellow’s fur is her favorite blanket)

Once she is old enough to run, Vlad starts teaching her fencing and self defense because “a princess must be able to protect her kingdom”. Once she’s older, she starts sparring with Charles too.

Vlad is incredibly proud of her and demands everyone treat her with the same respect they give him. Together they are the most powerful father-daughter duo.

Overall he is the best, softest dad but he will not hesitate to cut some people if they disrespect his family.

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pleasedonthurtcjstar · 2 years

Text

Roman x c!Thomas: Roses/Proposal/Valentine’s Day || Aesthetic board + Fic || Ts x Sides Prompt #7

Instagram

#thomasxsides weeks 2022 || Prompt #7

Tags: @thomasxsides

[4/24]

…

Policy No Gifts

Ao3

Ship: RomThom

Characters: Roman Sanders, c!Thomas Sanders

Summary: Roman invites Thomas out for Valentine’s plans to his family cabin.

Tags: Valentine’s Day, fluff, Human AU

Words: 348

A/N: For clarification I set this up as a prequel. Will I write the second part? Idk, I do not keep promises here sorry. This is happening on Valentine’s Day and the upcoming weekend would be after Valentine’s Day. Hopefully that makes sense. Idk listen, look at a calendar of 2022. Maybe that will help.

I’m telling you rn, sometimes tumblr deletes the first line under the cute so hopefully if it does it’s this line and not my fic. Please check out ao3 if you’re worried though. This message is before and after the cut on purpose.

If you see this congrats, if you don’t F in chat. This message is before and after the cut on purpose.

“We promised each other no gifts this year.” Thomas said, looking expectantly at his boyfriend, Roman.

“Am I to assume you grew these strawberries yourself?” He said smugly gesturing toward the Bouquet of assorted chocolate dipped strawberries on the counter.

“Food doesn’t count under the no gifts part,” Thomas protests with a faint smile.

“Hm, well if it makes you feel any better I didn’t pay for this gift.” The envelope still hung in the air, Roman still waiting for Thomas to accept it.

“Fine.”

‘My Love’ is what was written neatly in black ink against the off white paper Thomas held in front of him. The envelope felt a little heavier than what any letter should have possibly felt like. Thomas looks up at Roman in slight confusion.

“Just open it,” he said, his voice soothing and smooth with a hint of excitement lingering. Thomas did love Roman’s voice and he enjoyed it when his partner was excited.

The pads of his finger pulled apart the paper lifting it to get into the inside. Red hearts fell out dancing through the air as they twirled and swayed their way to the floor beneath him. Thomas couldn’t help but chuckle (giggled if you ask Roman) as the small gesture. Of course Roman would fill an envelope with tiny glittery hearts. But the envelope was still weighted, the hearts obviously were not what was holding gravity. Opening the package wider Thomas reached his fingers in and pulled out … a key.

“Surprise.”

“A key?” He asks. What could possibly be this key? Reasonable it would be to open something but to open what?

“I got access to my parents' cabin next weekend.” He said. Thomas looks between the key and Roman.

“Ok?”

“Picture you, me, alone. In the privacy of a cabin surrounded by mountains and trees. With no one to bother us for the whole weekend. Should I continue?”

“No, I think I’ve got the picture,” Thomas giggles (this time an actual giggle) and presses his lips softly onto Roman’s check. He was looking forward to the weekend.

#romthom #sanders sides #roman sanders #character thomas #c!thomas #romthomas #Roman x Thomas #thomasxsides weeks 2022 #aesthetic board #pleasedonthurtcjstar post

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yeojaa · 3 years

Note

so maybe another devil in a new suit drabble 👉👈 maybe jk meeting oc parents or like more interactions w oc and jks parents/sister

[ read devil in a new suit ]

pairing. jjk x f!reader. rating. pg-13. tags. mentions of coconut!kook dancing (and the whole reason i wrote this tbh), cute banter, idk. just a lotta fluff, a lil bit of grinding, y’know. wc. 2.7k. beta reader. none other than @hobi-gif. i love you always! author note. oh look... it’s me... posting something... after sixteen hundred years. womp womp. this truthfully didn’t go the way i planned it to but i hope you enjoy regardless!

It really shouldn’t surprise you. Frankly, it doesn’t.

But it is a little funny.

There are about six girls gathered in a gaggle around your boyfriend, all desperately vying for his attention as he presents a neatly gathered bouquet to his little sister. Jisoo’s all smiles, completely over the moon with pride and riding that high as she rightfully should. (She’d done incredibly well, closed out the showcase with a fluidity you could never even dream of.) She doesn’t even notice her friends staring at her brother with hearts in their eyes, each one red in the face and not from exertion.

(That, or she doesn’t care. Maybe she’s grown used to it - the whole having-a-heartthrob-for-a-brother thing.)

It’s actually quite cute, if only because you know Jungkook doesn’t have eyes for anyone but you. Can feel it in how he keeps bouncing his gaze back towards you, dimple winking from deep within his cheek each time your eyes meet. He’s like a child going back to his favourite toy, momentarily distracted by tittering laughter and his sister’s sunny smile but always coming back to you. The knowledge warms you from the inside out, drags a satisfied smile across your lips.

You wonder whether he notices the attention or if it’s just another part of his life. (You think he must know. These college students don’t really hide it well, too handsy for their own good, years of growing up in semi-close proximity instilling a certain confidence in their motions. That, and because Jungkook is quite possibly the least intimidating person you’ve ever met.)

“Thank you for coming!” It’s Jisoo, flushed and excitable, round eyes as bright as her brother’s as she crosses to you. This had been her moment - her time to shine - but you appreciate the effort she makes to include you, finding you within the crowd. “I was a little nervous but…” A shrug rolls her narrow shoulders, shakes her dark hair from its loose coil.

You’d seen her practice before this - watched the long videos she’d regularly send to Jungkook - but seeing her in real life motion was an entire league of its own. Dancing was her calling, every bit of her made for it. There was just something lyrical about the way she moved, how her hips rolled, limbs seemingly guided by the rhythm of the music. A grace you’ve never had, even on your best day.

“You shouldn’t have been.” You’re beaming right back at her, sisterly reassurance on your tongue. “You were amazing.”

Whether she believes you or not - you think she does by how her cheeks grow ten sizes and her eyes are all but swallowed whole by the expression - she’s gracious, accepting the compliment with her blinding smile. (She really was like Jungkook like that.)

“You guys should come to a class one day.” By that, she means a class she helps teach every once in a while. You’ve heard about it on more than one occasion, seen the choreography posted on Instagram and YouTube.

Still, you don’t expect that, brows shooting high. Laughter filters past your teeth, springing off your tongue. “I am not a dancer and I doubt your brother—”

Now it’s Jisoo’s turn to wear surprise like a neon sign, expression splitting with giggles of her own. “Wait— have you not seen Kook dance?” The way she says it is incredulous, Bambi eyes sparkling with what looks like mischief.

“No?”

“Your sister told me something.”

You’ve never seen this particular brand of worry on his face, eyes even more comically wide than usual, whatever words he’d originally meant to speak dying on his tongue. He looks like a literal deer caught in the headlights, one of his nicknames suddenly very apt.

“What did she say? She likes to embarrass me.” True. Jisoo and Jungkook had a textbook sibling relationship, full of teasing and mockery and copious amounts of love. “Whatever she said, don’t believe—”

“She said you used to dance.”

“Oh.” Oh? You hadn’t expected Jungkook to deflate so easily, relief flooding his features. “Yeah, I did. In university.” He’s utterly unbothered by this knowledge, attention back on the soondubu jjigae he’d been shovelling into his mouth. “I had some friends who were dancers, so it was good exercise.”

“I want to see.”

His answer is immediate, despite the heaping bite of rice and stew in his mouth. “No.”

You whack him across the shoulder, startling him into clattering his spoon on the countertop. It leaves a messy red streak across marble but you’re dragging his attention back to you with a firm glare, fingers cradled under his jaw. “I want to see.”

Talent apparently runs in the family, you realise halfway through the third video. Jungkook moves with the same assured movements his sister does, with power and grace and a confidence that frankly baffles you. He treats the practice room like a stage, running through the motions so fluidly you almost have trouble believing it’s your man on the screen. (Not that he’s particularly ungraceful. It’s just surprising, like watching a dog walk on its hind legs.)

“So, what happened?” You say it so conversationally, innocently, with eyes that mimic his own. From the corner of your periphery, your boyfriend shifts, hand flexing over your knee. There’s the furrow between his brows, the subtle tension in his jaw. Worry.

“What do you mean?”

Your own hand waves toward the screen, where the image of Jungkook from over half a decade ago sits paused. “You were so…” You’re not sure what you mean. There are just so many options to describe the literal baby boy on the television. Young? Confident? Round? (You can’t get over his haircut, though you suppose you can’t hold it against him.)

Jungkook simply stares at you, waiting for you to find whatever words you want to use. Despite the uncertainty that swims somewhere in the depths of his eyes, he’s endlessly patient. Always so soft when it comes to you.

“You had a coconut head.”

Laughter explodes off his tongue, entire face screwing up with amusement. “Are you serious?”

“You did!” Admittedly, the cut had somehow worked on him but it’s so reminiscent of grade school haircuts you can’t help but focus on it, too distracted by the glossy sheen to offer much else. “I guess I get it, though.”

“What do you mean? Everyone had that haircut—”

“In first grade, maybe.” He sticks his tongue out at you then; you scowl in response.

“What do you get?” As always, he’s perceptive, immediately aware of your carefully knit brow, the thoughtfulness that fits itself around your teeth like gleaming white veneers and holds his attention hostage. He’s grown used to it over the months you’ve been together - knows you cling tight to things with an iron grip, turn them over and over until you’ve made sense of it in that brain of yours.

“The crushes.” You look affronted, almost appalled at the realisation. He bursts out laughing, broad palm coming down upon your bare leg in a smack. (He apologises profusely when you complain.)

“What’re you talking about?”

Your nose is wrinkled, velvet strands dislodged by the shake of your head. “All your sister’s friends. They’re in love with you.” Jisoo had even agreed, laughed about it when you’d commented on it at the recital. Something about them having grown up with Jungkook, obsessed with the image they’d retained of him since university. “But you were a coconut. You wore Timberlands and drop-crotch pants. You weren’t even that cute.” An exaggerated shudder slips over your shoulders.

“I was nineteen.” As if that makes it better. Your judgment doesn’t lessen, the lines running the bridge of your nose only deepening.

“Still. Embarrassing.”

Your boyfriend truly is the best sport, rolling his eyes at you in the same instance he reaches for you, tugs you closer with broad palms, affection searing into your skin. “Well, luckily, no more Timbs. No more bowl cut.” He nuzzles into the warmth of your neck, spreads your knees wide over his hips. The sound of his laughter melts into your throat, dresses it in heat deposited by your breath. “Are you jealous again?”

He doesn’t even get a verbal response to that. Just a heavy glare and two hands squishing his cheeks. “Absolutely not.”

It comes up again in bed, your head on his chest, his hands on your hips. He asks it quietly, conversationally, with a twinkle in his eye that makes you want to smother him with one of his many pillows.

“You’re sure you’re not jealous?”

“I’m not,” you grit, paired with a roll of your eyes and a little snort from your nose. You really aren’t. Those girls are inconsequential, irrelevant. They’ll never amount to what you are to him and that’s just a simple fact. He’s yours - something he reminds you of day in and day out, both verbally and in action.

(You love him for it, appreciate it more than you can possibly begin to explain. There’s a certain bliss to be found in the knowledge that you’re loved. A warmth that rivals even that of the sun on the summer’s hottest day.)

“Then why’re you pouting?” What he really means is why aren’t you smiling. You don’t pout often - at least not in the same ways he does.

“I’m not,” you repeat for what feels like the sixth time.

“Smile for me.”

You do the opposite - throwing your eyes in an exaggerated circle. It earns you a pinch to the side, a tender sting blooming beneath ink-strewn fingers.

“Really—“ When he looks this earnest, it’s hard to deny him, “you’re sure everything’s okay?”

At most, you can sigh perhaps overdramatically. Fold your awkward limbs upon his and bury your face into the crook of his neck. You’re not jealous of those girls, no.

You’re envious of his talent - the simple fact that Jeon Jungkook is, by all definitions, a golden boy. God’s favourite, with his heart wrenching smile and easygoing charm and grace that seems almost surreal. There’s not a single thing wrong with him - okay, except for his bad habit of never answering his phone and always messing up the top sheet and the fact that he absolutely never ever puts the cap back on the toothpaste tube - and it’s absurd. Utterly, absolutely unfair.

But you can’t say that.

“Baby,” he hums, threading the sound of his voice among your hair, tucking the soft syllables behind your ears. “Talk to me.”

You relent - a little. “You’re too good.”

“Too good?” The depth of his laughter rumbles your bones, tickling your insides when it vibrates out of his chest. “At what?”

A hand gesticulates wildly. You’re not sure what it looks like, how close it is to hitting Jungkook in the face. You’ve still got your face pressed to the warmth of his skin, greedily siphoning his sunny radiance with your cheek. “Everything.”

Despite how he laughs - cackles, really, so adorable and high pitched it’s breathy - you know he knows what you’re talking about. You’ve given him a hard time about it before.

“I’m not good at everything, ____.”

He’s somehow even good at making you believe you’re wrong. That’s a feat in and of itself.

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

“Whatever!” Whether he acknowledges it or not, he’s stupidly gifted. Everyone and their - even his - mom knows it. “Don’t believe me then. I don’t care.”

“Then why’re you making that face?” It’s almost comical that he’s calling you out for your expressions when he’s the king of funny faces, throwing his features into exaggerated (and adorable) masks. (Maybe he’d just rubbed off on you?)

“I’m not,” you huff, exasperated but not quite. Still soft over his skin, velvet on silk.

“You’re so cute.” Sometimes, you think he really is just a child - too happy with putting you on a pedestal and praying at your altar. Devoting himself to you when you’re nothing but a bag of flesh and bone, dressed in designer fashion and wrapped up with a satin ribbon made from sarcasm and candor. (Not that you mind. Who would argue if they were offered such love?) “I still think something’s wrong but…”

It’s a smart tactic. He doesn’t press you for an answer, opting to let it linger between you. Settle like bothersome lint until you offer it yourself.

When you relent - because you always do, unable to shut out the sunshine that practically pours out of him - you’re quieter. Not shy, but bashful. Uncertain in a way you very rarely are. “I’ve always wanted to dance.” So much so, you’d begged your parents to enroll you when you were younger. Demanded lessons upon lessons - only to fail at all of them. Rhythm simply didn’t exist anywhere in your body.

“Really?”

You’re pulled from your safe haven, shifted until your entire point of view is filled with Jungkook, his starry eyes and his fluffy fluffy hair. There’s that look he sometimes gets - full of wonder and adoration - when he learns something new about you. As if just the smallest tidbit of knowledge opens up a whole new world.

“Yes?” You’re half regretting the admission. He looks like he’s up to something, all the cogs in his head turning in perfect tandem.

“I’ll teach you.”

“Hard pass.”

Like a hot air balloon, he deflates, mouth rounding sweetly. (If you didn’t know better, you’d assume the man was made of cotton candy, semi-sweet chocolate heart where the real organ should be.) “Why not?”

“I do not dance.” It’s nothing but a statement of fact, firm and unyielding.

The pout evolves, swings down into a frown that drags his eyebrows with it. “You could dance.”

“No, baby—“ So you’re a little frustrated, all your childhood memories pricking beneath your skin. “I do not dance.”

“Why?” He’s upright now, tugging you with him as if you weigh nothing. His way of turning the conversation serious, pulling you from the warmth and comfort of the bedsheets to this. (He’s still holding you, hooking his big broad hands over your hips, so you don’t mind.)

“No rhythm.” Unable to keep a beat. Two left feet. The list could go on and on, according to your ballet instructor.

“Not true.”

Your brow quirks, mirrored by his as if in challenge. You almost swat at him - so close your hand twitches on his shoulder. “Very true.”

(Why does this conversation feel so familiar? It’s déjà vu.)

“Is not.” Your boyfriend seems insistent, as if he knows better than you. (He doesn’t.) Stares up at you with those pretty eyes and has the audacity to grin when you roll your own, ready to rebuff him.

Because you’re in bed, the one place where you defer to him whether you like it or not.

(You do like it, though. Love it, in fact. Just like you love him.)

“You’re graceful,” he hums, bridging the gap between you with a forward roll of his shoulders. “You’ve got rhythm.” The hand on your hip grows firm, guides your knees to spread wide on either side of him. With each brush of his lips - tender little brushes, endlessly sweet and reassuring - he pushes and pulls, dragging you across his lap. “You can do anything you want.”

You’ve almost forgotten the topic of conversation, preoccupied by how he guides you in languid circles. How the cotton of his boxer briefs feels against the sensitive inside of your thighs. The weight that grows between your legs and nudges indelicately against the soft fabric of your thong.

All part of his plan, of course.

“Your body’s the most beautiful thing in the world, ____.”

When he looks at you like this, you think he might be right. You’d believe it if he kept saying it, sparking desire through your limbs until they’re jellied and loose.

(How he sees right through you - cuts straight to the core of your insecurity - you’re not sure. It feels almost like a superpower, something unquantifiable, unbelievable. He’s too good for you, always. So kind and loving, pressing his belief in the form of his mouth, the tender edge of his teeth when he kisses you slow slow slow.)

“You’re perfect just the way you are.”

#anon.eml #incoming.eml #jungkook.doc #work.zip #drabble.zip #jungkook au #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook x you #devil.doc

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daydream-believin · 3 years

Text

Flowers Have Feelings

summary: it's valentines and you're making some gifts for your good pal douxie,,, also confessing

warnings: swearing probably, no proofread cause tired

word count: 2659

a/n: i've been struggling with writers block. i guess. i've returned to this only to write like, a paragraph so many times. which is bad cause like cheese designed the bouqeut and this should have been done ages ago. idk idk bon appetit

tags: @yagirlcheesely, is for you

image below: sketch of the bouquet

You jumped out of bed and slammed your alarm. Today was the day. You had to get everything ready today. Tonight would be the presentation. The night you finally do it. The night you confessed to your closest friend and crush, Douxie. Also happened to be Valentine’s day.

Your friends may have told you: “Just be patient. Drop hints. If he likes you, he’ll let you know.” But you weren’t about that passive love life. You liked to grab that strawberry cow by the horns. Subtly was boring and took far too long. You were in love with your friend and you were gonna let him know frankly if it killed you. It probably would, to be honest.

As confident as this makes you sound, you were aware of the possibility of him not liking you back, and that was okay. Sure, your heart would be shattered and you might not be very peachy for, say, a month or six, but you accepted that. At first, you had resigned yourself to just adoring him secretly. But you quickly grew impatient with that. What were you afraid of, really? Him letting you down gently, and ushering you two into an era of awkwardness? Okay so maybe that was worth considering. But not really. You wouldn’t let it come to that. Even if he did turn you down, you weren’t about to let that fact taint your friendship like that. You two were very close, and Douxie wasn’t the kind of guy to suddenly treat you differently after such a thing. Just a few weeks of awkwardness at most before all was forgotten (on his end at least). Only a problem for you. But, boy, it would be really, really nice, and not awkward, if he reciprocated.

You and Douxie were thick as thieves. There wasn’t a thing you hadn’t told each other. Not a secret between a pair of buddies as close as you. Oh, one thing, you know. The fact that you had caught feelings, that was definitely something you had kept secret from him. As eager as you were to do so, you couldn’t just drop a bombshell like that at any old time. That’s why you chose today of all days to confess; a little extra luck from St. Valentine. A little magic to give you a boost, placebo or not. This was going to happen. This was going to work.

You strapped on your helmet, safety first, before heading out on your bike. You cleared your schedule for the day cause you weren’t really sure if everything would work out or not. You could have everything done and ended wrapped up neatly in a few hours, or you could have a complete disaster on your hands, which could take up all your time. Time you would happily give, since you were determined for everything to be perfect. It was also nice to know you didn’t have to come in to work later,, lest you spend the whole night, crying your eyes out. You shuddered at the possibility. You were gonna stop thinking about that now. Yeah, only confidence now.

You may be a teensy bit sleep deprived. Only a teensy bit. You chugged a monster this morning, you’ll be fine. It wasn’t your fault you were up all night researching flower language. There were so many flowers, and those flowers had so many feelings. Eventually though, you managed to settle on a bouquet of roses, daisies, and dandelions. Fern leaves for greenery too. Greenery was important for flower arrangements. It tied the whole thing together. While it wouldn’t be the most on theme color scheme, the yellows, whites, reds, and greens, would mix together prettily. You definitely didn’t have to go as far as this, and you were banking on the fact that Douxie even knew flower language, but it was sweet, it was romantic. And you were going to be romantic about this, dammit.

Daisies, for friendship. It was really important that you communicate just how much you valued Douxie’s friendship and how nothing would change between you two if he were to not return your feelings. Red, red roses, classic romance. There was a reason the blooms were so strongly associated with the valentines holiday itself; no one sees a red rose and thinks of anything other than love and romance. A clear message to your beloved. And well, the dandelions? Cheery, beautiful, resilient, common weeds, never to be approved of, finding the strength to bloom despite assholes like Merlin’s best efforts. Dandelions were Douxie’s favorite flower.

Too bad the florist didn’t even consider them to be anything but said common weed. You had included them in your order when you called it in and you could hear the florist laugh, but muffled as if he put his hand over the receiver, before returning to the phone to inform you that you would have to add them yourself. Pretty rude, if you say so. No matter, hand-picked dandelions would be romantic, anyways. Even if no one else knew about it but you.

You placed the bouquet neatly into the basket of your bike. You’d pick the dandelions to complete it later, right before the big confession, in order to keep them fresh. But as of now, the bouquet peaked out of your basket, the floral fragrance wafting up to your face as you made your way to the next store.

Last week, you had seen such an adorable little box of chocolates. It had chocolates shaped like little skulls, flowers, and ghost cats, and the box had a silly pun about death. Goth chocolate, def. It would have been perfect for the edgy wizard in your life, but alas, it was way too fucking expensive. Like obscenely expensive. But no matter, you’d just steal the idea. How hard could making chocolate be anyway?

You left the grocery store with your haul safe in your skull-patterned reusable shopping bag. Wizard-chic and eco-friendly, it was your favorite bag. The contents of the much-loved bag? Melting chocolates, a jar of marmalade, a jar of raspberry jam, a jar of strawberry jam, and a new roll of wax paper, since you were out. Now you weren’t as ambitious as to make your own jam here. This was a failsafe. There are only so many ways to ruin chocolates if you did not make the chocolate nor the filling yourself. Now just a quick run in the stationary shop on your way home for a cute box, and you were all ready to start your chocolatier career.

* * *

Douxie was getting antsy. Not many patrons had paid a visit to his bookstore this afternoon. Which was strange for valentine’s. and it left him with nothing but his thoughts to entertain his anxious mind. Doux had a lot to worry about. His band had a gig in a new town, so he wasn’t sure how they would be received. He was waiting on a shipment of books that was supposed to show up days ago. It may have gotten lost. That Lake kid was getting himself into more and more trouble these days and it was starting to become hard to help out without overstepping his vaguely imposed bounds. But most of all, at the very moment, he was worried about you.

You had asked him to meet up for dinner tonight. Okay, pretty normal for a Sunday night. Not that the weekend meant anything to either of you, but you normally set aside Sunday for dinner hangout. So nothing to abnormal. But then. Then, you said, something… Douxie actually can’t recall what you said, per se, just that it was along the lines of “we need to talk.” And that your tone sounded nervous. He did not like that one bit, nope nope. He had spent a great part of the day just revisiting every interaction the two of you had had in the last month or so, desperate to figure out if he did something wrong. But he was coming up blank, for all his efforts. Across the room, the clock ticked on. It would be closing time soon enough, and then he’d no longer have to wonder just what he did wrong, as you would be there to tell him directly. Fuzzbuckets, he couldn’t wait.

* * *

You wiped the goopy chocolate off of your cheek with the back of your hand. So far this wasn’t a total disaster. You had at least seven chocolate skulls filled and drying in the molds. The white chocolate seemed to have melted smoother than the regular chocolate? The regular chocolate ones looked kind of lumpy. You hoped they came out of the molds okay. Not to mention the ones you already messed up. A little mountain of chocolate pieces and jam had started rising from your table top corner.

It had been lots of fun at the start. melting the chocolates with a double boil, planning out which molds would be which flavors. But actually filling those molds? A messy, messy ordeal. You had chocolate and jam all over your kitchen, up to your exposed elbows, and even a little in your hair. But that was okay. You’d clean the kitchen later. With the molds in the freezer to set, your priority now was cleaning yourself up rather than the kitchen.

And you cleaned up nice, if you did say so yourself. You got the chocolate out of your hair, and had on a fresh outfit, taking a little time to put effort into your style. You looked snazzy, but not too fancy. You needed to stay casual. Something that you hoped would make Douxie be like ‘wow they look pretty okay’ but not freak him out with formality. Yeah. This was good.

Your watch beeped. Okay, you needed to get out of here, no more dilly dallying. You pulled the candies you made out of the freezer. Moment of truth. Thank the stars, all of the chocolates came out of the molds smoothly without breaking. You arranged them in the cute circular box you set up earlier and folded the tissue paper over them. They all fit in perfectly. The cheesy valentine card, the most important part, didn’t quite fit on top of the candies, you’d have to put it with the bouquet. You slid the lid onto the box and fastened a bow around it with a blue ribbon. Maybe this was a bit overkill, but Douxie knew how to appreciate the dramatic. He’d love it, you were sure.

Last but not least, you headed to the greenspace across the street from your apartment for the final ingredient in your Douxie wooing, dandelions. You were lucky that the empty lot had recently bloomed an entire garden’s worth of the yellow things. The chilly breeze mussed up your newly-fixed hair as you danced about gathering the tiny flowers, adding to the bouquet until you felt like it was enough. Which took longer than you had hoped. You definitely could have kept adding in more dandelions but your watch beeped once again and you had no choice but to make peace with the level of yellow and book it to the bookstore where you and Douxie were supposed to meet before heading out for the night.

* * *

Hearing the ding of the door chime, Douxie turned around to kindly inform the customer who came in that he wasn’t open, but the words caught in his throat when he was met with your smile. There you were, standing in the shop with a box in one hand and flowers in the other. You looked cute. Really cute. But Douxie chased that thought away. He fumbled with the book he had been re-shelving. It fell out of his hand unceremoniously, landing with a thud.

“Hey,” Doux managed to get out. “What’s all-”

“These are for you!” you shoved the presents into his now empty hands. That courage you had earlier? Gone. Your resolve? Dissolving as we speak. You had to get this over with before you chickened out. He was just so good, okay. And why did you think this was a good idea. Douxie looked down at the gifts in his hands confused, before blushing. If he could have reached a hand behind his head and rubbed the back of his neck he would have.

“I didn’t know we were doing Valentine’s, uh. I feel bad I didn’t get you anything.”

“Oh! Don’t be. I just,, felt like doing something nice for you and uh, special,” Douxie tilted his head. You took the box, freeing up his hand. “These are chocolates I made, like, like you’re supposed to do.” You waltzed over to the counter to place them out of the way. “The bouquet is the real star here, uh, I picked them out very carefully.” You tucked your arms behind your back. “I, uh- I brushed up on flower language, and I hope I got it right.”

Now Douxie may have been a Victorian once upon a time but he had barely any surviving memory of the frilly flower language people socialized through in those days. But thankfully, the blooms in the bouquet in front of him were straight forward enough that he did in fact get the message without taking too much gear turning in that noggin of his. Although, the friendly daisies with the red roses were kind of sending him some mixed signals. He knew what he wanted them to mean, but he could just be misinterpreting. You seemed to notice his hesitation.

“Um, there’s a card too. In the flowers somewhere. That. Probably explains what I’m trying to say a little clearer.” You carded your fingers through your hair. You had anticipated not being able to really speak with your voice, as you barely could now, so you’d written it all out on the card as backup. But damn, that card had everything on it. You maybe got a little carried away. There wasn’t going to be any going back from this.

Douxie dug out the card from amidst the blooms. It was handmade, with a cheesy little drawing on the front complete with a pun. And then he opened it. It was almost solid black with ink. Yeah, you had written that much in there. Both sides. And a little on the back. Wow. Doux tried his best to keep up a poker face while reading it but failed quickly as the first few lines alone left him flushed. It was true, everything was on it. From how much you adored Douxie as a person, to how much you valued his friendship, to how pretty you thought he was, to how you longed for something more, with him? Douxie felt like his hands were getting the card all sweaty.

It was nerve wracking watching him read that card. It seemed like he was finished, since his eyes stopped raking through it, but now he was staring intensely at the words written on the pages, in a trance. He broke focus, looking to the bouquet, back to the card, and then finally settled on you.

“Wow.”

“… is that a good wow?”

Douxie caught you by surprise. He pulled into a hug. “Yeah, a good wow.”

You and Douxie’s first non-platonic hug? Yes please. You didn’t even mind the flowers pressing into your back. Okay so a few rose thorns were poking you but that was fine. Douxie smelled like something you couldn’t name, but it was spicy, and cozy. He let you go sooner than you were ready to, but he grinned at you as he left to rummage through his things in the back for a vase. He turned to you as he proudly displayed them on the store’s counter, right where he could look at them all workday,

“So, where are we going tonight? For our first date?” Doux chuckled, “and, technically, our first Valentine’s day too.”

#valentines💘#douxie x reader #douxie x y/n #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan imagine #douxie casperan imagine #tales of arcadia x reader #tales of arcadia imagine #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #my writing

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adam-memeleri · 3 years

Text

Imperfections

it may not be foreign affairs anymore, but its still ayna day in my heart 😔❤️. thanks @gay-dinosaur-banana-milk-carton for the prompt again, i threw in some angst this time cuz i like pain :) kinky

no idea when anything takes place, but im aiming for during the fake relationship i think ?? who knows tbh

tagging -@bubblelaureno @lookingforsomethingcuzimbored @swimmingshoebakerydreamer @alccaddsccup @cardinalnuggets

if you do or do not wanna be tagged

Masterlists shameless self promotion lmao

T Rating (uhhhh i think hurt/comfort? primarily? idk man)

Ayna x MC (Kennedy, they/them)

~2k words unedited but thats nothing new now is it?

Ayna’s fingers fasten a necklace clasp behind her neck, every movement careful and precise as she readies herself. They move to her hair, fixing it for the nth time, just to assure it’s perfect.

It has to be perfect, all of it. Every hair, every pore, every fine detail - it’s all been carefully thought through for weeks now, for this one specific date.

Valentine’s Day.

The end all be all, at least this year. She’s never given it much thought before, but she’s never really had a reason to. Until this year. Until this crazy, wild, borderline disastrous year. Until the day Kennedy stumbled into her class, all smiles and longing looks.

Until she spent days looking forward to coffee house meetups, until short texts could make her whole day, until every class was an excuse to share a small smile. And, unfortunately, until those meetups were forced to end, until those texts stopped coming, until class was just a reminder that even smiles were dangerous.

But not today. She had a plan today, a foolproof, perfect plan. No planned meetups, no trackable texts, nothing too out in the open. And she’d be damned if it failed.

She turns from the hanging mirror, shrugging on a jacket and tugging on a nice pair of shoes before straightening. Her reflection stares back at her, carefully done makeup and slightly askew glasses. She quickly adjusts them, tucking back one last strand of hair.

With one last glimpse at herself, she grabs the bouquet of roses she picked out earlier in the day, bright red petals resting on her table. And with that she leaves, exiting her building and venturing onto Vancross campus.

She eventually steps out onto one of the many winding paths leading through the school’s grounds, carefully making her way to the expansive library settled in one corner of campus. It’s familiar warmth shines through the windows, yellow lights on even in the darkening night for cramming and over enthusiastic students.

Ayna’s fingers tighten over the door’s handle, tugging it open as a small, excited grin overtakes her lips. She steps inside, flowers poised in her hands regardless of how cheesy they may be, and scans for

They’re with her. Sitting with her, talking with her, laughing with her. They’ve been doing everything with her, and today’s no different. Today’s not special, not exempt, not reserved for Ayna.

Huddled close at a table, books spread before the pair as they whisper, heads so close. Arms touching, smiles wide, chairs so close. They’re so close, that’s all Ayna can think about as she simply stands there, all her previous excitement evaporating from her body.

And they don’t even notice her. Kennedy’s gaze doesn’t flicker in her direction in the way it always does. Their cheeks don’t flush when they’re caught like they always do in the lecture hall. Their hands don’t fidget with barely contained nerves, atop the table, a pen twirling between anxious fingers.

Their gaze is glued to Evelyn’s features, their cheeks dust in a blush from her words, their hands are relaxed as they lean against her shoulder. They don’t even notice Ayna.

She turns on her heel, quickly rushing out the library’s front doors and into the dusk settled around campus. Her heels clack with some strange anger, some swirling in the pit of her gut as her fist clenches, crushing the bouquet she spent so long picking out.

And all for naught. This is all for naught, that’s the worst part. The outfit, the shoes, the hair and makeup - all for absolutely nothing.

She stalks to a trash can resting beside the pavement, glaring down at it with pale knuckles and a furrow in her brow. She breaks, like a glass hitting concrete. She breaks, stuffing the ridiculous flowers into the bin over and over again, until she’s just needlessly exerting herself, needlessly scratching herself on discarded thorns.

Little nicks on her skin, tiny imperfections to ruin it all. A visual of her failings, a marking to remind her of this disastrous night. A brand forged without fire, one that’ll remain in the morning, even after she’s washed off the rest of tonight. Even when the mascara and curls and jacket are discarded in the next few hours, the cuts will stay, at least for a few days.

She breaks once more, from the trash bin as an angry and hurt tear slips down her cheek. A crumpled fist hurriedly wipes it away, before she’s stamping down the paved path once more, shoulders tight and expression pinched.

“Hey! Ayna!” a voice rings behind her, out of breath as quick footsteps draw closer and closer. “Hey,” a hand softly grasps her sleeve, a smiling face slipping into her line of sight.

“Hey,” she mumbles back, her gaze trained on the pavement beneath her feet, feet that haven’t once halted.

Kennedy slows by her side, falling into step with her easily. “Tatum said he saw you come into the library then leave, what’s up?”

Ayna’s shoulders lift in a halfhearted shrug, slumping with an exhale. “Nothing.”

“You sure? You seem kinda… distant.”

“I’m fine.”

“Well, okay,” Kennedy relents, head swiveling as they search for something to occupy her attention. “Um, happy Valentine’s!” Their hands clap together excitedly, expression alight with a beaming smile. “I wanted to call you or something earlier, but Winston was hovering over me all day and I don’t know… You’re usually busy this time of night and I didn’t want to bother you.”

Ayna shrugs again, her hands fisted in her pockets. “I’m not busy.”

“Really? Then let’s do something!”

Her gaze snaps up, shock sparking throughout her mind. “What?” she blanks, stopping in her tracks to further scrutinise Kennedy.

“Yeah!” Kennedy’s grin is brilliant, even in the low light, before they glance about the quad. Their hands slip into Ayna’s, fingers tangling with hers, before they’re tugging her along, away from the light posts and travelled paths.

She’s led past the bushes, to a secluded bench, empty branches hanging above it, stretching from a large tree. A soft breeze stirs them, whistling through the leafless wood.

“Okay,” Kennedy starts, sucking in a deep breath. “So I know this is super late, and I don’t really know how to go about this, but…” they meet her eyes, hope glimmering within, “would you, Ayna Seth, do me the honour of being my Valentine?”

She blinks. Not a single other muscle moves, her breath halts in her lungs, her brain malfunctions entirely, and the only thing she can do is blink. Again. And again.

“...Ayna?” Kennedy squeezes her hands where they still rest in theirs.

“You really… Really?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ve been trying to find a good time for ages, so I figured… Are you bleeding?”

“What?”

“You’re bleeding! Your hands!” they grip her forearm, tugging her down to the bench, where they carefully cradle her hands in their lap. Their fingers hover over her skin, not sure what to do as they send uneasy glances up to Ayna’s eyes.

She inspects the scratches now, all of them shallow and mostly painless. “It’s just a few cuts,” she mumbles, Kennedy’s panicked gaze quieting her.

“What happened?” they whisper, as if worried the volume of their voice could inflict further damage.

“I, um -” Ayna steals her hands back, folding them in her lap to hide them. “The flowers,” she worries her bottom lip between her teeth, “They had thorns.”

“You should be more careful.”

“Okay,” she nods, still biting her lip.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“You’ve been wanting to ask me out?” They speak at the same time, concern brimming in Kennedy’s eyes and disbelief in Ayna’s.

A grin quirks Kennedy’s lips as they settle against the bench, arm draped over the back. “I asked first.”

“Barely,” Ayna chuckles lighty.

“Still got there first.”

Ayna shakes her head in exasperation, a fond smile lifting her lips. Before it all falls away, replaced by a crease between her brows. “I, um,” she shifts in her seat awkwardly, struggling for the words. “I don’t think I’m as comfortable with the fake relationship as I thought I was…”

“Okay,” Kennedy answers quickly, easily.

“What?” she balks, jaw working for words. “Are you sure?” is all she manages.

“Of course,” they chime, just as quickly, as easily. “If you’re jealous or uncomfortable, I’ll do whatever I can to put a stop to it.”

Ayna’s jaw snaps shut, a frown curving her mouth, “I’m not jealous.”

“Oh really?” Kennedy’s voice hums, a teasing lilt to it.

“I’m not,” Ayna’s frown deepens.

“Okay…” they hum again, leaning closer as their voice lowers. “So you’d have no problem with me, say, asking out Evelyn for real?” Their eyebrow raises, head cocking to the side. “Or what about Blaine? Maybe Zaira…?” they tap their chin thoughtfully.

Ayna starts, “Don’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” her voice tapers off, replaced by the bouncing of her leg and the picking of a nail.

“You’re jealous?” Kennedy supplies with an amused smile.

Ayna deflates, sighing heavily, “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Being… jealous,” she almost spits the word, distaste heavy on her tongue and sloshing in her stomach.

Kennedy shifts closer, their body warm against Ayna’s in the cool night air. “Don’t be. It’s normal, it’s fine,” they take her hand, their palm covering tiny cuts, tiny imperfections with warmth and comfort. “I’d get jealous if you were walking around with someone too.”

“You’re not weirded out by it?”

“No, it’s normal,” They squeeze Ayna’s hand, thumb brushing lightly on her skin. “It’s human. You’re human.”

“I still don’t like it,” she scowls, eliciting a nudge and smirk from Kennedy.

“That’s fine, too,” they reassure, a more serious expression taking over. “So what happened with the thorns?”

“I got you roses,” Ayna’s cheeks flush dark, “Even though I know it’s lame, and then I kinda, uh, threw them out.”

A wide grin breaks across Kennedy’s face as they sidle up against Ayna, throwing their arm over her shoulder. “One:” they count off on the hand resting over her shoulder, “that’s adorable, and two: why’d you toss them?”

She doesn’t move beneath their arm, sitting stiff and rigid, her voice the same, “I got jealous and ruined them. I wanted tonight to be perfect, it was supposed to be perfect, and I ruined it.”

“Stop that. You didn’t ruin anything,” Kennedy scolds. “I told you, jealousy’s human. And I tend to like the things about you that make you human. It’d be weird if my Valentine was a robot,” they tease, nudging Ayna until she joins them in smiling.

She finally faces them fully, her own eyebrow jutting upwards, “I never said I’d be your Valentine.”

“You didn’t, did you?” Their arm retracts, leg folding on the bench as their body rotates towards hers. Their palms clasp in their lap as they lean forward, a smirk on their lips. “So what’ll it be, Ayna? Be my Valentine? My perfectly imperfect Valentine?”

She chuckles, shaking her head as she finally relaxes, the teasing familiar. “That doesn’t make any sense,” she smiles softly, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind her ear, unbothered by it.

“It does if you turn off the robot brain,” Kennedy lightly taps Ayna on the nose, laughing when her face scrunches.

“The robot brain is a part of the Valentine’s package.”

Kennedy squints, eyes roving over Ayna’s features. The askew glasses, the smudged lipstick, the flyaway hairs. “Are the roses also a part of it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Then I’m all in,” they grin, just as infectious and brilliant as always. “So? Valentines?” they prod, wiggling their eyebrows playfully.

Ayna smiles softly back, scratched hands rising to cup Kennedy’s cheeks and close the already shrinking distance between them. “Valentines,” she murmurs against their lips, a whispered promise. Before they meet, light and soft and full of the light that’s held beyond the bushes.

#tbh this is probably a *bit* ooc but i just wanted angst so whatever #ayna seth #ayna x mc #playchoices #choices fanfic #i think i had something else to say but i forgot so just imagine a thumbs up with a really awkward smile instead :)

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shakespeareanqueer · 4 years

Text

A Royal Engagement: Thunder

Pairing: Thor x Alfheim!Reader ♥️ Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You are married off to the prince of Asgard, whom you have never met. He adds some Midgardian customs to the proceedings.

Contents: Arranged marriage AU. A shattered cup. Idk that should be it

A/N: All righty y’all! I have a bunch of fics due this weekend for various challenges and this is just the start so off we go! This is for Constantaking’s 250 Writing Challenge. My prompt was "I don't want to be loved. I want to feel appreciation for my existence, that's all.", which is bolded. There is an accompanying piece for Loki, if this one garners enough interest. Enjoy!

I saw advice not to put links in original fic posts for searchability reasons, so I will reblog with my taglist, tagging Constantaking, citing the header photo and the divider, and linking my masterlist.

A royal wedding in Asgard was a grand affair.

You sat in front of a vanity in the guest chambers you had been granted use of for this occasion, trying to steady your breathing. Behind you, servants you had never met before today were adjusting your hair, your skirt, your bouquet.

The only servant you did know, your best friend, Ragna, knelt beside you and held your hand.

“Are you all right, your highness?” Though her words were formal and perhaps stiff, her expression loudly communicated her concern and friendship.

You nodded, the movement small and barely perceptible, but it caused her to visibly relax.

She assured you, “I’ve heard the prince is a kind man, with bounteous love to give, your highness.” But that wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

You shook your head, and a pin came loose from your hair. The servant behind you scowled but said nothing as she set about fixing it.

“I don’t want to be loved,” you told your friend matter-of-factly. “I want to feel appreciation for my existence, that’s all.”

Ragna smiled softly. “I’m certain that you will, your highness. If by no one else, than by me.”

You smiled and gripped her hand tightly in yours. “And that means the world to me, Ragna, truly it does. But you understand why I am nervous.”

“Of course, your highness,” she said quickly. “Marrying a stranger is a nerve-wracking affair if ever there was one. But by all reports, he is a good man. I have much hope.”

Your smile brightened. “As do I.”

The last piece of your preparation was your bridal crown. It was a family heirloom, passed down for generations. It was a tradition to have one, but your family’s was particularly unique. The band was a braid of gold and silver, embossed with blue lapis lazuli gems. Across your brow, two bronze lions faced each other. It hung a little low because your head was smaller than your great, great, great, great, grandmother’s, but the servants found a way to style your hair to help it stay up and in place.

You took a few more calming breaths in the mirror, and then it was showtime.

It was an arranged marriage, yes, but the match wasn’t random. Thor would never allow himself to be indiscriminately married off to some unknown princess. He did his research. And he had already fallen in love with the idea of you. Now all that was left was to fall in love with the real you, and he had high hopes of that happening, as soon as he finally had the privilege to meet you in person.

And today was that day. He was buzzing with excitement as his servant clasped his armor.

By and by, Loki sauntered into his chambers.

“Do you feel prepared, brother?” he asked. He was leaning against the wall, his customary smirk on his face.

Thor turned to face him with a wide grin. “Loki, I feel I have been ready for this day my whole life.”

Loki gave him a skeptical look. “I would say you were far from ready to marry a stranger when you were still in love with that Midgardian woman.”

Thor’s head bowed and heat crept to his cheeks. “I was misguided then,” he whispered.

Loki chuckled. “I never thought I would see the day when you were officially over her. You mourned that relationship ceaselessly, it seemed.”

“Well, I have ceased,” Thor said decisively, straightening his back.

Loki was still eyeing him suspiciously. “You are prepared to commit yourself to a complete stranger?”

Thor shook his head. “I am prepared to commit myself to a woman I know is intelligent, and beautiful, and is prepared to serve by my side as my queen. Perhaps I have not formally met her in person, but that which I do know of her is leaps and bounds ahead of any other relationship I have engaged in in the past.” A servant meekly attempted to pass an ornate sword into the crown prince’s hands, and he gazed at it with reverence. “I am prepared to do my duty.”

Loki walked over and placed a hand on his brother’s arm. “I commend and admire you, brother. I could never undertake such an endeavor.”

“Well,” Thor smiled conspiratorially. “I can imagine it would be nearly impossible, when one has met the love of one’s life already.”

“I have not—Who are you—What—” Loki spluttered.

Thor laughed deep and hearty from his belly and slung his arm around his younger brother. “It is very obvious, brother. One only need see how you look at her to know. There is no use denying it.”

Loki took a deep breath and stared off into the distance past Thor’s shoulder. Several moments passed, and Thor began to grow concerned.

“I suppose I have not allowed myself to accept it because I know my fate must be as yours is,” Loki finally whispered.

Thor frowned. “Why? You are not crown prince. Why should you be unable to write your own destiny?” Thor’s tone was not bitter or jealous or sarcastic in any way; it was sincere. He honestly just wanted his brother to be happy.

Loki forced a smile. “Enough discussion about the affairs of my heart. This day is yours, brother.”

Thor relaxed and pulled his sibling into a tight hug. “I never mind sharing with you, Loki.”

Loki was surprised to hear that sentiment and it took him a moment to process it, but once he had, he melted into his brother’s embrace. When he pulled away, he was smiling, and to Thor’s relief, it seemed less forced.

“Time to get you wed, brother.”

You always dreamed of walking down the aisle to see the love of your life waiting for you, his face aglow with admiration for your beauty. It was an unrealistic dream considering your position; you always knew it was much more probable that you would end up married off to a prince you had never met.

What you did not expect was to walk down the aisle to meet a complete stranger, gazing at you with the reverence of a lover. It took your breath away. You never would have dared hope for such a reception from a man you had never met, no matter how promising the reports of his kindness. But he was positively beaming as you walked slowly towards him. The crystalline blue of his eyes actually began to water, and the music faded away in your own ears as he became the center of all your focus.

Thor was enraptured by your beauty. Heretofore, he had seen only painted portraits, and they did not do you justice. Your dress was a stunning royal blue that matched the stones in your diadem. It went all the way down to the floor, so you seemed to be floating toward him more than walking. An angel warrior from Valhalla bringing his happily ever after right to him.

When you finally reached the dais where he stood with the officiant, Thor broke the script a little. He grabbed both your hands and kissed the tops while looking right into your eyes. You couldn’t help but blush at his sweet actions.

“A union is a powerful creation,” the officiant began. They continued, but you didn’t hear much of anything. Thor was looking at you so intensely, so reverently, that all you could focus on was him. You were only jogged out of your reverie when the officiant said, “And now for the exchange of swords and vows.”

Thor took a step back, then unsheathed the sword at his side. The blade was long and elegant, the hilt weighty and noble with its red stones with golden streaks like veins running throughout. He knelt to the ground, holding the weapon out in front of him like an offering.

“This sword belonged to my grandfather, Bor,” he said. His voice at once filled the hall and felt intimate, spoken right to you. Right to your heart. “In all its millennia of life, it has never seen another as beautiful as you, I am certain of it. I surely have not, in my fifteen hundred years of existence.”

He cleared his throat and began his version of the traditional vows. “I bestow this heirloom upon you formally to welcome you to my family, to guarantee you fiscal security and independence, and to honor tradition. I give you this gift as a token of my esteem. To it, I attach a promise: I will forever be faithful. Every day I shall work towards the betterment of our relationship, and do my utmost to ensure your happiness.”

Thor looked up into your eyes and began to go off-script, into a personalized bit of vow that sounded more like something one might hear at the marriage between lovers, not a contract marriage between two foreign powers.

“Each day I shall endeavor to get to know you better and to like you more. I guarantee respect and esteem, and I shall strive towards love. I thank you sincerely for agreeing to be my bride, and shall honor your commitment with my own. I look forward to our future together with great hope, but more importantly, determination. Determination to do right by you in all the ways I can, for the rest of our days together.”

By the time he was done with his speech, your eyes were so full of water, you were afraid the moment you opened your mouth the dam would break. You felt ashamed of your rote and memorized vows, nervous to continue with the ceremony, but carried on as best you could. You unsheathed the sword from the holster around your waist and extended it. Though you weren’t expected to, after a moment, you kneeled to the same level as Thor, so you could more easily look him in the eye. It felt like an authentic, organic way to increase the intimacy of the moment. Your sword was cooler colors, contrasting the warmer tones in Thor’s. Purple and blue ceramic made the handle glitter in the lamplight of the hall and the fading sunlight filtering through the tall windows. The long, thin blade was more delicate than Thor’s, but had its own elegance.

You cleared your throat and began, your voice wavering a little. The acoustics of the room allowed your voice to carry further than you expected, but your volume was lower than Thor’s.

“This sword belonged to my great-aunt, Erika,” you began. You thought over the words memorized in your head, the gendered phrases you resented because they displayed you as a passive recipient of a gift, which made no sense to you because you were bestowing a sword same as he was. Kneeling had helped even the playing field, but you determined to do even more, even if improvising wasn’t your greatest skill.

“I accept your heirloom and am honored to enter your family,” you continued as expected. But as you went on off-script, you heard scattered gasps in the audience. They shook your confidence slightly, but you plowed through. “I bestow this heirloom upon you and invite you to join my family as well. I know you have no need for the fiscal independence this treasure could provide, but, symbolically, I bestow that as well. I honor tradition, and seek to create our own, as we create our own family by combining two mighty royal houses.”

You dared to look at Thor then, and he was beaming at you. His expression of admiration spurred you on, and you began to forget once again that there was even an audience.

His words had touched you so deeply, you sought to emulate them as close as you could, merging your memorized vows with his. “I give you this gift as a token of my gratitude, and also my respect. It accompanies a vow: I shall forever be true. Every day I shall strive towards the betterment of our relationship, and do my utmost to ensure your happiness.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest, but you were determined to match Thor’s level by adding some personalized vows, not because you sought to one-up him, but because you wanted to prove your dedication.

“I acknowledge I am entering a royal house with deep-seated traditions that I shall try to honor. I acknowledge that I am entering a family with dynamics that I shall try to navigate. I acknowledge that I am marrying a man, not a crown. So though I pledge allegiance to a new kingdom, my true allegiance is to its king, my husband. If and when the day comes, I shall rule by your side with grace and dignity, and always strive to do right by Asgard. But first and foremost I shall strive to do right by you, Thor. I look to the future with hope, but an active hope, one that drives action towards a better tomorrow, with you.”

Thor’s smile was so wide you thought it must be hurting his face. Since you were kneeling, he stood, and more gasps emanated through the audience. This was not the way the ceremony was supposed to go; he was showing a type of submission by allowing you to slide your sword into his holster first before rising and allowing him to do the same. But this move proved his dedication to an even and balanced relationship, and you were immensely grateful for that.

Once you were both risen, the swords sheathed, you took hands and faced the officiant again. They were smiling warmly at you, not at all perturbed by your improvisations.

“A union is a powerful creation,” the officiant repeated themself from earlier. “A creation unique to each couple. Passion ebbs, beauty changes, but commitment is timeless, and a strong bond that is continually fought for, is hard to break. Everyone please rise and bow to your crown prince and your new princess as they depart for the rest of their lives.”

Everyone in the hall rose to standing, then bowed their heads. Some in the aisles went all the way to their knees. You were a bit overwhelmed by the pomp; nothing quite so dramatic was the custom in your old kingdom. But Thor wound your arm through his and gently led you through the crowd. His ease was infectious and you found yourself calming.

Once outside the doors of the hall, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. A servant led you to a small room, more of a closet really, where you were told to wait with your new husband until all of the guests had migrated to the banquet hall. The space was cramped, so you were face-to-face with Thor’s broad chest.

Using his fingers, Thor tilted your chin up so you could look him in the eyes. It was an odd angle for your neck, but you found you couldn’t look away from his dazzling sapphire eyes. He was smiling again, which caused wrinkles to appear in the corners of his eyes that were just so endearing.

His silence was making you nervous, so you broke it by softly saying, “Thank you for the kind words in your vows.”

His smile grew even wider. “Of course, my bride. Thank you for yours. They mean even more, being extemporaneous.”

Your face heated up and you pulled your face away from his grip so you could avert your eyes to the floor. “Was it that obvious?”

Thor chuckled and led your gaze back to him, with his hand on your cheek this time. “Due to their heart only, I promise,” he assured you. His tone was so sincere, you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

There was silence between you two for another moment, but this time it wasn’t awkward. It was sweet and comfortable.

Now it was Thor’s turn to break the silence. “I do not know if you are aware,” he said, “But I have spent a fair amount of time on Midgard.”

“Yes, I—I heard that,” you stammered. “Do—Did—Do you enjoy it down there?”

“I do, yes,” he confirmed with another chuckle. “But I did not raise the topic to make small talk.”

“Oh.” You could feel your face getting hot again from embarrassment.

But Thor’s gaze held no judgment whatsoever, nor did his tone. “I have attended nuptials on Midgard, and there are a few traditions there I am fond of, that we do not have here on Asgard, and I do not believe you have either, on Alfheim.”

“Such as?” you asked.

He reached up to a shelf above your head and pulled down a tiny velvet box. You had no idea what could possibly be inside a box so small.

“Well, for one, they exchange rings,” Thor explained. He flipped open the top of the box to reveal two simple gold bands inside.

You tilted your head and furrowed your brow. “But, your messenger presented me with a ring when he revealed your intention to marry me.” You extended your right hand to display the gorgeous ruby he had sent you. “I wear it daily. It is beautiful; thank you.”

“On Midgard, there are engagement rings, yes, but there are also wedding rings, exchanged on the day of the marriage ceremony. The perfect circle represents unending devotion. While the engagement ring is a token from the asker to the betrothed, the wedding bands are a sign of mutual affection. They are meant to be simple gold or silver; perhaps that is symbolic also, though I do not know.”

Thor was fidgeting with the box now, clearly nervous that he had overstepped with his introduction of a foreign tradition. You smiled softly and reassuringly at him.

“They are beautiful, and the sentiment is lovely,” you said. “What finger does it go on?”

He relaxed, and his relieved exhalation of breath fanned over your face in the small space. “Your left fourth finger,” he answered. “That is apparently the finger most connected to one’s heart.”

You nodded and extended your left hand. He slipped the smaller of the two bands onto your finger. It fit perfectly.

Then Thor handed the box to you. “Would you please do the honors, my lady?” he asked, then extended his right hand and wiggled his fingers.

“I thought you said it went on the left hand?” you asked.

He looked down at his hand for a moment, then quickly switched them. “I did indeed say that, yes.” A blush was rising to his cheeks, and you couldn’t help but giggle.

Once you had placed the ring on his finger, he took the empty velvet box from you and placed it back on the shelf above your head. Your ruby ring was on your right hand, and your wedding band was now on your left. You were gazing at them and rubbing the bands with your thumbs when Thor spoke up again.

“There is one more Midgardian wedding tradition I, um, thought I might bring up to you,” he said. The nerves had slipped back into his voice again.

“Yes?” you asked, looking up at him expectantly. He felt a surge of hope and gratefulness at the sudden thought that he would have the privilege of having you look at him like that frequently for the next several thousand years, if he was lucky.

“At the end of the ceremony, the officiant says the following words.” Now it was Thor who couldn’t look you in the eye as he tried to remember the words from long ago. “‘I now pronounce you legally married. You may now seal your union with a kiss.’”

Your eyes widened.

Thor began to ramble nervously, “That is the modern, gender-neutral version, which I prefer. The antiquated version is, ‘I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride,’ which I am less a fan of.”

Thor’s nervous rambling was really quite endearing, and you couldn’t help but giggle again. “All right,” you agreed.

“All right?” your new husband asked breathily.

“We are now legally married,” you said. “And now we have these Midgardian-style wedding bands. So it only makes sense that we should seal our union with a kiss, as you say.”

“Good, good,” Thor said, but he made no move.

You licked your lips. “While I appreciate your commitment to gender equity by preferring the more neutral version, I actually do not mind the other one,” you admitted. A moment passed; Thor didn’t understand. “So go ahead and kiss the bride,” you urged in a whisper.

“Oh,” Thor exclaimed in sudden understanding. Then he placed one hand on your waist and the other on your cheek before leaning in for a sweet kiss.

Your lips had barely met when the door to the little closet was swung open. You separated hastily, and the guard was gracious enough to pretend they had witnessed nothing. “It is time,” they said, and began to lead you to the banquet hall.

“May I present, Prince Thor of Asgard, and Princess Y/n, originally of Alfheim, now of Asgard!” the attendant exclaimed as you and Thor walked arm and arm into the grand banquet hall. Most of the room was occupied by a series of long oak tables, all overflowing with the most lavish meal you had ever seen in your life, along with seemingly endless bottles of wine and flagons of ale. Seated on the benches were all the noble citizens of Asgard, and they all cheered and raised their cups when you entered. On one end of the room, there was a dais with two grand thrones, in which were sat the king and queen of Asgard, your new parents-in-law.

Between the dais and the tables with the guests, was a strange space. The stone floor had been covered with wood in a square large enough for maybe fifty people, maximum, and only then all squished together shoulder to shoulder. Only the space was empty. Not only that, but there seemed to be a strange aura surrounding the space, almost like a force field.

Thor wrapped an arm around your waist and explained while he walked you through the room towards the back. “Another Midgardian tradition at weddings is to dance on a dance floor. I wanted to present us with that opportunity.”

You furrowed your brow. “Dancing is traditional at Asgardian weddings, I thought.”

“Well, yes, at some point in the evening, when people are inebriated enough, some of the tables will get pushed to the side, at the expense of all the ale on that table sloshing to the floor, and people will dance around in merry jigs. But at Midgardian weddings, there is a nice balance of joyous dancing, and… more… romantic dancing.” Thor rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “So my mother used her magic to create that little space. It is sound-proof, and there is music only within it. It was her wedding present to me.”

“That is very sweet of her,” you said.

Just then you arrived at your destination. A small table was set up at the back, near the tall, glassless windows, just for the two of you. Thor pulled out your chair for you, like a gentleman.

“Thank you, my lord,” you said.

“Of course, my lady,” he replied. As he slid into his own chair, he added, “I hope you do not use that formal language because you feel obligated. I want you to feel comfortable with me.”

You gave him a small smile, already beginning to relax around him. But it would be a process. “And I shall, my lord, I am sure of it. In due time.”

Thor nodded, and waved at a servant standing against the wall to come pour the wine and serve the food. “Perhaps we can take the opportunity of this intimate setting to get to know one another better,” he suggested.

“Yes, I do think that is its purpose,” you replied with a smirk.

He narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “I see you have some smartass in you. Well, I know how to deal with smartasses. I have one for a brother.”

You laughed then, heartily, and it felt good. It felt freeing. It felt like the first full breath you had taken since you had stepped foot on this foreign planet.

“May I ask…” you began.

“You may ask anything, my bride,” Thor said eagerly, sitting up straighter, prepared to answer even the toughest of inquiries.

But you merely asked, “Why are the windows open? I mean, why are there no panes?”

Thor smiled then, and stood up to go to the window nearest the both of you. Confused, you followed him.

“This is why,” Thor said cryptically, holding out his arm. For several long seconds, nothing happened, and you just stared at him. Just as you were beginning to get concerned, you heard and saw an object hurtling towards you at an impossibly fast speed.

You gasped, and went to push Thor out of the way of the speeding projectile, but he simply chuckled and stood his ground. He was an immovable block of muscle, so your attempts to save him would have done nothing anyway. The object, which turned out to be some sort of hammer up close, came zooming right into his hand.

“Ah,” you said in understanding. “Your own version of Mjolnir.”

“My own version?” Thor asked with a tilted head.

You shrugged. “Does not every prince have a ceremonial hammer for the wedding? For placing in the bride’s lap as some sort of stake of his claim over her? My older brother had one.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Thor said. “For ceremony.” He indicated for you to sit and placed the hammer on your lap, just as you remembered it being done at your brother’s wedding. The hammer was surprisingly heavy on your thighs, but not achingly so.

It was a bit awkward to eat and drink around the hammer, but you managed. You also managed to talk and get to know each other quite a bit through your first dinner together as a married couple, your first dinner together ever. Thor was easy to talk to, kind and smart and considerate. Unlike many men you conversed with, he did not talk over you, or wait the entire time you were talking just to respond. He truly listened and responded with compassion and curiosity.

As dessert was cleared away, you were feeling very hopeful about the future.

“Well, my lord,” you said, your language formal in a more teasing manner now that you were feeling more comfortable with the prince, your husband. “There is a dance floor that was your idea simply begging to be danced upon. Since your brother and his friend abandoned it, it seems so lonely.”

Thor nodded as he wiped his face with his napkin. So polite, for an Asgardian man, you thought. You saw out of the corner of your eye as one of his warrior compatriots slammed a stein of ale on the ground, sending shards of ceramic shattering everywhere, and cringed at the crudeness of it all. Wherever Thor learned his more refined manners—whether it was due to his upbringing as royalty or his time on Midgard—you appreciated them immensely.

“Yes, let us dance,” Thor agreed.

You removed the hammer from your lap and went to stand, and as you did so, Thor simply stared at you.

“What?” you asked.

Thor shook his head and grinned broadly, nearly as broadly as he had back in the ceremony. The light of his smile made your heart warm. “Nothing, my dear. Let us dance.”

And you danced with your husband, hopeful for the future.

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millennial-ring · 3 years

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Can we get more info on 5-7?

5. Dear God

So this one is ANCIENT (2012!!!) and idk why it’s still in my WIPs folder because I do clean it out/reorganize it every few years or so (which is why that unfinished powershipping christmas fic wasn’t on the list, cause I moved it to a different folder). Sadly the title makes it seem more interesting than it actually is - it’s just a few paragraphs and nothing really happens at all.

Russet eyes were glazed over as they watched the rain pelt the ground, each drop making tiny indents in the dirt, puffs of the still-dry earth floating up with each splash before settling down again, the process repeating over...and over... Rain drummed against the body of a beaten up jeep, the only prominent sound within miles, save to the sound of the rain falling in the grass, and the dirt, and the leather jacket Bakura wore.

The man blinked as water ran down his face, following the curve of his brow and rolling over the crease of his eyelid, flowing into his eye. The water pooled between his lids, blurring his vision for a few moments until he blinked again, and the water was squeezed out to mingle with the rest on his face, like a single, solitary tear. He inhaled slowly, then let the breath out in a quick huff, turning away from the long stretch of dirt road in front of him. Behind him, another long chunk of drivable desert. He growled under his breath and began to pace, wet sand squishing under his boots, gravel shifting with each step.

How could be trapped here, in the middle of fucking nowhere, with a flat fucking tire and no spare?

It was inspired by this Avenged Sevenfold song and I vaguely remember that it was going to be thiefshipping, about the various trials Bakura goes through to get back to Malik after a fight or something but... 🤷

6. Domestic Disturbance

This one is also super short, more fleshed out in my mind than on paper, and I started writing it after we had to call the cops on our neighbors because they were having a very loud and long argument (like, over an hour of yelling). Inspiration comes from the dumbest places with me, haha, but this is another one of those “why is this still in my wips” documents because I don’t have any intention of finishing it. After writing what I did I kinda had a “maybe these kinds of situations shouldn’t be your inspiration for fanfics, weirdo” moment and I scrapped it. But anyway!

The story goes that Bakura was playing some Wii game, lost grip on the controller, and accidentally chucked it and broke a vase because he wasn’t wearing the wrist strap. Malik hears the crash and comes around the corner, lecturing him about “how many times have i told you i s2g bakura why are you like this” even as Bakura’s already beginning to clean up the mess. Bakura gruffly tells him to chill out because nothing important was broken anyway, just “that ugly ass vase” and he holds up a piece for Malik to see. The tension thickens immediately and Malik speaks with measured anger instead of the usual screaming, so Bakura knows He Fucked Up. “That was a gift from my sister.” Bakura panics a bit on the inside, but outside he scoffs and he’s all like “even better, tell her she has awful tastes” because ykno. He’s like that. Doesn’t wanna admit he fucked up, doesn’t wanna take responsibility or acknowledge he hurt Malik’s feelings. At this point I’d stopped writing it, but still have the basic outline. The regular bickering becomes a super intense all out screaming match about basically anything and everything, all the tiny little things they’d been burying for as long as they’d lived together finally coming out, start demanding why they ever thought this would work and they’re just about to get to that great crescendo where they're about to break up (”Well then maybe you shouldn’t have brought me back!” “At this point I’m inclined to agree!” Bakura’s shocked. “Well...then is this going where I think it’s going?” “I think it is.” “Then say it.” “...” “Say you want to break up!” “I...Bakura, I...” when someone knocks on the door. Heyo, it’s two cops, saying someone called in a domestic disturbance. Malik snaps that they’re fine, still pissed from the fight, but obviously like no Malik that’s not gonna help. So one officer brings Bakura out into the hall to question him and the other stays with Malik. Cop asks if they’re together, how long, what the fight was about, etc etc, and then if the fight had been physical at all. Bakura recoils in shock and practically screams “No!” “You never hit Malik?” “I would never!” “And Malik wouldn’t hit you?” There’s a few things there, bc I wasn’t sure how I wanted Bakura to respond; make an “only if he asked wink wonk” joke that the cop rolls his eyes at, or stammer that “i mean he’s smacked my head once or twice but it never hurt and i was being super annoying at the time and it was more like playful slapping” but either way the cop asks for a more direct answer or for Bakura to elaborate and Bakura gets pissed, says Malik would cut off his own hand before he hit Bakura because obviously. Cop seems taken aback but nods, and then lectures Bakura a bit about volume, tells him maybe one of them should pack a bag and stay with friends or family for a few days. Their partner comes out soon after and the two cops leave. Bakura goes back inside, where Malik is standing with his arms crossed, looking shaken with red rimmed eyes. They look at each other, feeling awkward, but then they make tea, sit down, and have a calmer “are we really like that?” conversation. they admit a lot of their fights are pointless and stupid and they’re just fighting to fight because it’s Their Thing and aha, aren’t we so cute and quirky, arguing is our foreplay - which it is, but they admit they’ve taken it too far, gotten too used to snapping at each other when something happens, and some of their issues (like Bakura disrespecting Malik’s siblings, and Malik’s control freak attitude) really need to be sat down and talked out, not screamed out. They apologize, foreheads pressed together, and Malik thumbs a tear from Bakura’s cheek. Bakura strokes his fingers through Malik’s hair. Malik makes a “well you know the best part about fighting, right?” and Bakura laughs, and then it ends.

7. But he came back

So if y’all didn’t know I recently commissioned a(n amazing) fic from @/sitabethel (not properly tagging cause i don’t wanna bother them). In it, Bakura promises Malik he’ll come back after his final showdown with Atem, but ten years pass and Malik gets engaged to Seto. It’s corporate theifshipping and obviously I recommend reading it - but it’s based on an RP I did with a friend of mine years ago. In the RP, Bakura was pissed Malik hadn’t waited for him and does the whole “why did I even bother coming back I literally only came back to be with you?????” and Malik being like “Sorry? But you took a long fucking time and I had to do something to stop the loneliness.” We never finished it, but when we dropped it Bakura was starting to heal and move on and we had plans to end it powershipping and tendershipping - and Bakura catching the bouquet at the wedding and Ryou immediately being like >:) but anyway. The concept stuck with me and I really liked the idea of Bakura coming back to that situation and more so rolling with it - maybe a touch bitter at first, but hey, he’s nothing if not adaptable, and he absolutely invites himself into the relationship in the clunkiest way possible.

“But he came back” was the start of my own attempt to write something with that kind of plot. When I write a fic, I start with a vague collection of ideas or scenes I want to write, and then when I have enough to work with, I begin organizing them into an outline. This doc is just a very small collection of ideas and dialogue, mixing some things taken from the RP and my own ideas. It’s mostly things like how Malik and Kaiba get to the marriage point, starting with an impromptu kinda tipsy make out session hidden away in the kitchen during a party Yugi’s throwing, and how they navigate each other’s trauma and fumble their way into a genuine romance despite everything. I’ve never managed to sit down and work it out into an outline of any kind, and the way I wanted to explore Malik and Bakura’s relationship before the show down, Malik and Kaiba’s relationship building afterwards, and then the relationship building with all three of them meant 30 chapters, at least (the original rp is over 2,500 pages and again, we had only just started with Bakura wanting to ask Ryou out and going to Malik for advice adjklj, when we dropped it) and well. yall know i’m bad at writing multi fic chapters

#wip tag

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croissans · 4 years

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Idk if you were reading 3rd book of CAOS but there is a hint that Theo’s dad has crush on Zelda. Can you write a ff where Faustus is jealous of him? :D Love your writing btw!! Ps. Sorry, English is not my first language.

Omg HAHAHAHHA thats a great prompt!!! I didnt read the book but i heard some people i follow talk about it and its so cute how mr. putnam has a crush on zelda but like half of greendale does so its not a surprise LMAO

The whole Spellman ancestral home was filled with the sound of Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers playing on a vinyl record player and Ambrose was lounging around the house in his silk robe having the time of his life, eating peanut butter out of the jar.

He was absolutely clueless about the pure shitstorm coming his way. Luckily, the sound of knocking was heard through his loud ruckus and the first wave has entered the grid.

Ambrose turned off the vinyl playing in the parlor and made his way to the front door. He knows it couldn't be Aunt Hilda for she is working in the mortal bookshop downtown, it also can't be Sabrina since she's at the Academy and it most certainly isn't Aunt Zelda since she's all the way in Moon Valley, picking up some trinkets for the mortuary.

Opening the door, he was surprised to find Mr. Putnam, Theo, one of Sabrina's mortal friend's, father. He was holding a bouquet of roses, but Ambrose didn’t ask.

"Mr. Putnam." Ambrose greeted. "Are you here for the mortuary? If you are, I am terribly sorry for your loss." He said in professional fashion.

"Oh, no. No." He declined, giving Ambrose a polite smile. "I'm uh- Here to see Miss Spellman."

Ambrose's brows furrowed. "I believe you have to be more specific than that, sir. I am living with three Miss Spellmans."

"Oh!" He gave a nervous chuckle. "I- uh- Miss Spellman- I mean, Zelda." As if a lightbulb has gone off over Ambrose's head. The nervous wreck, wrong type of flowers, dressed in nice clothes, asking for his Aunt Zelda. Ambrose practically wrote a manual for what he's supposed to do in this type of situation.

"Unfortunately, she’s in Moon Valley at the moment but she will be coming home soon,” he glanced at the clock on the wall. “But you could wait in the parlor or I would gladly deliver her your handwritten love letter.” Ambrose joked.

Mr. Putnam let out a small polite laugh. “I think I’ll just wait in the parlor then.” “This way.” Ambrose directed to the parlor, opening the door wider. Mr. Putnam muttered a small ‘thanks’.

“So, how many…?” The older man trailed off, and Ambrose immediately understood what he was trying to ask.

“This week, nine.” He paused, trying to recall. “The whole month, at least twenty.”

“Oh.” That was all the man could say.

“Sit.” Ambrose gestured to the armchair in the parlor. “Don’t worry,” He smiled in reassurance. “She turned down all of them.“

“Oh.” He leaved the parlor to get the visitor a tray of tea in the kitchen, when the doorbell rang. And the second shitstorm has entered the server.

He gave Mr. Putnam a polite look and made his way towards the front door. He opened the door and found the High Priest standing there and a lot of things went through his mind. • There’s a mortal in the living room • This is the reason Aunt Zelda has been declining her suitors • Holy shit • The High Priest of the Church of Night and a mortal in the same room • Aunt Zelda’s lover and her suitor in the same room • His Excellency is holding the correct type of flowers; blue forget-me-nots

“Your Excellency,” he greeted. “This way to the parlor, please.” He didn’t even mind asking the man on what he wants. He already knows.

“Oh, no.” Faustus said. “I’m here for Zelda.”

“She is in Moon Valley, please wait in the parlor, Your Excellency.” He said for the second time this day. The man gave a curt nod and followed Ambrose into the parlor. He was absolutely confused as to why a mortal is sitting there, flowers in hand.

“Brother Ambrose, why is-” He starts to ask but Ambrose beat him to it.

“He is the suitor of the day.” He said, clasping his hands together.

Oh. Ohhhhh. “Do not worry, Your Excellency, she turned down all of them this month.”

Faustus’ eyes widened. “This month?”

“Twenty? Twenty-one?” He said, his hands shaking in a gesture of estimating. All Faustus could do was nod, although he and Zelda were an item, they didn’t exactly have a label. And truth be told, since they started their little liaison, she was the only witch that he went home with every night.

He made his way towards the parlor and Ambrose went to get the tray of tea on the kitchen island. He sat on one of the armchairs, opposing the mortal man, not bothering to look at him. Although Mr. Putnam felt like he wanted to retreat, he stood his ground. Although the man wore fancy clothes, he held forget-me-nots. He guessed that’s a point for him, then. He noticed the man had looks but had a dark aura and devil-like nails.

Faustus tried not to interact with the man although the tension could be felt throughout the room. Not only was he mortal but he was holding roses for Satan’s sake. His disdain for the man was simply because he was mortal not because he was wooing Zelda. Nothing more.

Ambrose entered the room holding a tray with a pot of tea with two cups on saucers. You could see the young man’s momentarily horrified expression when there came a knock on the door. He gave the guests a polite smile and made his way towards the front door, chanting ‘please be Aunt Hilda’ under his breath, in a tune.

Instead, he was met with Aunt Zelda and he found himself thinking that this was much better. Zelda frowned at Ambrose’s giddy expression. "Why do you have that smile on? What did you do?"

"Nothing, Aunt Z." Ambrose said, smiling. "But I have to warn you, the suitor of the day came in with your prince charming."

"What?" Zelda asked, handing Ambrose the bag of supplies for the mortuary.

"Let's just say that the High Priest of the Church of Night is having tea with a certain mortal in the living room." Her eyes widened. "What?"

"Yes." Ambrose teased, already heading down the mortuary.

Zelda peeked in the parlor and saw what Ambrose meant. Satan, she felt like she was sixteen again.

Sighing, she walked into the parlor and the two men stood up immediately. She had been in this situation once and vaguely remembers a duel between the two warlocks.

"Gentlemen," she greeted. "I am terribly sorry but I am afraid I'm taken at the moment." The two men was shocked, especially Faustus. Since Zelda seemed like she just made their relationship official. "And I don't really think Sabrina would like me dating one of her father's friends."

In the kitchen, you could hear Ambrose snickering and Zelda rolled her eyes.

"Please see yourself out." She said with a small smile. Mr. Putnam gave an understanding yet sad smile while Faustus stayed behind.

"You're taken, huh?"

"Not really." She retorted.

"Really? I wouldn't be surprised since you had twenty suitors asking for your hand this month."

"Oh, don't be such a baby, Faustus." She said, pouring herself a glass of scotch on the nearby table. "I'd say you're just jealous." Now that was a slap on the face because it was true, he just had too much pride to admit it.

"No, I'm not." He said, with much scorn.

"What's with the flowers?" She asked, handing him a glass of brandy.

"It was supposed to be yours but then it seems half of Greendale probably gave you flowers this month."

She gave him a look. "Stop whining, it's not like I slept with any of them."

He opened his mouth to speak but Zelda beat him to it. "And don't mind Mr. Putnam, he's been like that since last year. It's not a surprise anymore."

"The men of Greendale has been like that towards you since you turned sixteen."

"Satan, Faustus, what do you want me to do?" She asked, now annoyed.

"I just," he stood up walking towards her, searching for the right words. "A warlock or even a mortal could walk in your parlor and just ask for you and you could say yes and-"

"So, you're jealous?" She asked once again.

He sighed. "Fine. I'm jealous." He said the word like it was poison.

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck, taking him by surprise. "Don't be." Her voice was muffled on his shoulder. This was unlike Zelda but he made no move to disentangle himself from her. He wonders if it was the scotch but she only had one glass. He rested his arms on her waist, his chin atop her head.

He had never done this with anyone before, not even with her in their Academy days. He found it quite pleasant. "Would you mind being my top lady, then?"

Before she could answer or even register the sound of someone snapping their fingers in the other room, Unchained Melody started to play from the vinyl in the corner.

Ambrose has never been so proud of himself before.

● ■ ● ■ ●

author: ok im so so so so sorry this sucks i had a hard time writing the ending but i just ughghg MY HAND SLIPPED WITH THE UNCHAINED MELODY THING AHHAHAAHAHAHAHAH rip mr putnam thoLMAO also, im so confused if i should call susie susie or theo?????? But i jist settled with theo for respect

Im an old soul thats why i love unchained melody so much atm and also i accidentally posted this here instead of my otha account, my apologies lmao but its still tagged spellwood ;))

N e ways, stay safe and i hope u loved it :)))))) ;))))

#spellwood #zelda spellman #faustus blackwood #chilling adventures of sabrina

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casglistenedashefell · 4 years

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Private Investigator Sander’s Sides AU. Prinxiety, Logicality, and background Demus. I want to give great thanks to Lexi @coconut-cluster who’s awesome posts inspired me to write this. Also she introduced me to bullet point fics. I’ll link the posts at the end! I don’t think there are any warnings but let me know if there are so I can tag them. Like 800 words.

Private Investigator Virgil Knight and he’s super good at his job.

His roommate Roman Prince is a musical theatre actor.

And they’re so totally not in love with one another, of course not.

Logan Foster is a lawyer who on occasion needs Virgil’s help finding evidence for cases, so he hires him. He may also help Virge out on occasion.

Patton Lightfoot is the soft hearted A.D.A.

Patton always brings Logan cookies whenever the two work together, but only because he’s nice, of course.

And it’s the highlight of Logan’s days. And maybe he finds more reasons to work with Patton. Only because he makes the best cookies, of course.

Janus Rennington is also a theatrical actor who happens to be Roman’s flirtatious revival.

Virgil does NOT like him, but only because he’s a jerk. It has nothing to do with him flirting with Roman. Shut up.

Remus is Roman’s twin who also does tech work for most of Ro’s shows.

Rem and Jan immediately struck a friendship that naturally evolves into something more, much to Virgil's relief.

What? It chilled him out a little more.

Ro is much less pleased because it’s his brother and rival.

Virgil knows nothing about musical theatre, despite living with an actor. Luckily Roman knows a lot about it.

So when he gets hired for a job where he has to find someone trying to sabotage a show and he needs information about the trade he knows exactly who can help.

Virgil enlists Roman’s help and quickly regrets the decision when Roman is loud mouthed when they’re supposed to be sneaking around.

Virgil keeps shushing him the whole time but the dude can’t even whisper quietly.

“Dude be quiet, it’s called sneaking for a reason.”

“What I like seeing you in action, I’ve always wondered what it is that you actually do. This is so exciting.”

“You wonder about me?”

“Uhhh yeah? You don’t wonder what I do?”

“I come to all of your shows, I know what you do.”

“Then why’d you have to ask me for help?”

“Shut up.”

“Make me, emo boy.”

“No seriously, shut up, someone’s coming.”

A scary looking security guard rounds the corner and Virgil absolutely panics.

He looks Roman directly in the eyes and makes a split second decision.

The next thing they know, they’re kissing and it’s AMAZING. It’s so soft and he can feel Roman softly smiling into his lips.

For a small moment they forget what got them here. That is until Roman gets tapped on the shoulder.

They pull away slowly but Roman’s brain has fritzed and he can’t even bring himself to look away from Virge let alone take his hands off his face.

“We were just practicing lines. And scenes.” Virgil weakly responds.

“For what play? The only production being put on is a horror, no kissing.”

“Sorry sir, I just wanted to impress my date here and bring him to the theatre.” Roman’s brain finally comes back online at that point.

Which means actually thinking about the fact that he just locked lips with his best friend since high school aka the guy he’s been crazy crushing on for years.

“So sorry Mister Prince, I had no idea it was you. Carry on.”

After that little hiccup the case goes smoothly. And things are totally normal between the two of them. Not awkward at all.

Virgil doesn’t panic at all and buys Roman a bouquet of really pretty flowers. They’re absolutely not all of Ro’s favorites.

After work that day when they’re both home Virge decides to give it to Ro.

Roman accepts it with a small shy smile. “Thank you Virge.”

“It’s a thank you for helping me with this case. Not cos we kissed.”

They both stand there blushing like crazy before Roman caves.

“About that, please tell me, you see,”

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I panicked and did literally the first thing that came to mind. So, sorry.”

“No I’m not uncomfortable, honestly that was the best kiss I’ve had.”

“Really?” Virgil practically smirks the word out.

“Yeah and as an actor I’ve had a lot of them.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if we did it again.” It wasn’t a question.

“Wait, hold on, just kissing?”

“No, I was wondering if, y’know what nevermind. It was stupid of me to,”

“Yes I’ll go on a date with you, hopefully more than one.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

Then they kiss again but there’s no urgency or panic this time. It’s just like coming home after a hard day and being able to let go of the day and relax. This kiss is the first of many.

This post

This one

And sort of this one

#sanders side fic #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #logicality #deceit sanders #Janus sanders #remus sanders #demus #private i au

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neshabeingchildish · 5 years

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Poly Wanna? Ch. 7

This is probably my messiest chapter YET. We get some action too, and some pain and even some violence, so TW for that. I didn’t put a warning on the ffnet post, but I think most of the readers read this here anyway and only my two muffins read on that end. They know who they are. At any rate, prepare to drama to the fullest reality TV style extent.

Lemme know if I need to take you off the tag. Idk who’s actually reading because I’ve only heard from a couple of people, so idk if y’all still interested.

@adorkable-blackgirl @chenoahchantel @ciara-knightly @cactus-con @up-the-tube @riebellion @itsyaapollochild@oof–musicals @lesbian-so-what @woahjusttakeiteasy-man @meadowstryingtobepretty @imma-sensitive-btch @okaygal21 @midernacht @divinereign4ever @xoxoemille

The Unspoken Stories

“You know how sometimes, people say things like ‘I had a feeling about this’ or ‘I simply just knew,” or anything else to indicate that they possessed some intuition about things? I often wonder where that comes from? Is it like Charlotte says - the universe, energy, spirit, etc or whatever, or is it something inside of you that just tells you, like a superpower? I don’t tend to have a lot of intuition about many things. I tend to try to assess what I see, but I’m usually battling with multiple questions about exactly what that is. I don’t have any intuition that I know of, so the feeling that I’ve been getting around Char and Jasp… I think it’s probably wishful thinking, but they’re warming up to me.”

Jasper decided that a good place to maybe talk out some of Charlotte’s tension, as it related to Henry and the other two girls was to have them air it out at the spa. Henry and Charlotte both thought that was a terrible idea, but he raised a good point, “Would it be better at a fancy restaurant, at dinner, where drinks might be thrown? Or at one of our homes, where possessions might be damaged? At least if things go poorly, everyone can go to a different room and get some stress relief treatment.”

“Why are your expectations filled with violence?” Charlotte wondered, knowing that he probably was lowkey accusing her of possibly whipping somebody’s ass.

She wasn’t violent, so much as she had been more likely to fight since her breakup with Henry. That was the first time she struck someone in anger, and it felt good at the moment, but definitely bad afterwards. Even if she hadn’t hurt her wrist, she hurt her pride. She let him make her so mad that she resorted to putting her hands on someone. She didn’t like that about herself. And, it made it easier for her to be willing to put her hands on others, since then. Boxing helped, though. Punching a bag instead of punching people, whether or not they deserved it, kept her from punching her dad right in the chin any time that she saw him.

“Because, I’ve had to pull my girlfriend backstage for fighting customers,” Jasper answered simply.

“Wasn’t a fight. He grabbed me and I defended myself.”

“You broke a glass over his head. I’ve DROPPED those glasses, numerous times. Do you know the level of not with the shits you have to be to break one of those on a human being?” Jasper wondered.

“He had a thick skull,” she said and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m not violent. I’m defensive. There’s a difference. Whenever I punched at Henry, it was a reflex to him grabbing me when I was trying to leave and was already pissed. I’ve only ever hit men who made me feel threatened or violated my space. They might rule this world, but I’m not a part of any man’s inheritance.”

Charlotte had a WHOLE regimen planned for the day. She had checked on the prices and made a checklist of what she was having done and they had decided that their chat could be held in the steam room. She and Jasper rode together, of course. He had his hair pulled up into a tiny bun that she kept snapping photos of and K(her)SL. Along with the stubble on his face, he looked so “Daddy,” and she lived for it, but that bun was SENDING her.

The owner of the spa (the one with the history with Henry that he never quite acknowledged) made sure to be there herself to make sure that the group was treated fairly. Charlotte hoped to see some juicy backlash, but Henry was already there when she and Jasper came in, sweet-talking her. There were flowers there and a handwritten card. She was guessing that he apologized… She stopped Jasper and asked, “Is that Henry’s handwriting?” in a quiet voice.

“Girl, no. Henry has a pensman.”

“That’s not a real word.”

“Penman?”

“Somebody writes letters for Henry?”

“Whenever he wants to suck up extra hard. The dyslexia, you know, makes letters from him more heartfelt?”

“But, if he didn’t WRITE it himself, how is it heartfelt?”

“She doesn’t know he didn’t write it.” Charlotte started to put him on blast, but they needed to have the big conversation and she could always clarify with homegirl, later. There was no way that she was gonna just let that woman be played out by this boy again.

Henry smiled at Charlotte and Jasper as they approached. “Look who it is! My favorite people!” He cheered and went to hug them. “Got you some flowers,” he said and handed each of them a yellow rose.

Jasper forced a smile, but looked sad. Charlotte definitely noticed and wondered, “What’s wrong?” She was on the alert and ready to defend him, if need be. He gave her a kiss on the temple and whispered that he’d rather not get into it. “So, whenever Henry and I were… involved, if he did something mean or hurt me, he’d always apologize with yellow roses. He said yellow roses were for apologies to your friend, and since I’m his best friend, he never wanted to let any kinda problems go unchecked or any kind of hurt he caused me to go without apology… When I went to the hospital, he didn’t even come to see me, but he sent me six dozen yellow roses and I honestly thought that I’d never get another from him. I had a lot of feelings when he handed me a single…”*Starts crying and gets up.*

The spa owner got a whole bouquet of various apology flowers, but since they were having a spa day, Henry felt like single yellow roses were the way to go for his company. He knew that Jasper would get it, if nobody else did. Jasper seemed pretty emotional about it. Henry didn’t have the intuition to know whether it was good or bad. Charlotte had the intuition to know that it was a mixture of both, but she didn’t know the context and that irritated her.

Chloe and Bianca showed up, holding hands and laughing together. Chloe had on some open toe shoes and Charlotte looked down and asked, “Getting something done with those feet today?”

Chloe smiled awkwardly and laughed a little, “Should I?”

“It’s up to you,” Charlotte said, then unintentionally, but intentionally looked right at the camera as she tried to stifle a smile. “My mother used to tell me that I had to remember to moisturize so that I wouldn’t be ashy. I didn’t realize that Chloe needed to moisturize too.”

Bianca said, “Oh, we should TOTALLY get our feet done!”

“I saw a foot mask made especially for crack repairs,” Charlotte suggested. Henry tried really hard to not laugh, realizing that even though her voice was very sweet, that was most likely shade. Chloe’s feet were looking kinda worn.

“Charlotte must have some kind of foot fetish or something. She was REALLY centered on my feet! What people don’t know is that I’m an athlete. I’ve been on multiple reality show challenges and have even won some seasons. So, yes, my feet are a little less feminine than the girl who can’t decide if she’s a singer or a scientist. I’ve actually gotta get out there and grind.”

“Would you like a naked steam room?” The owner asked. Henry looked around at his company. Bianca and Chloe looked down for it. Jasper didn’t seem to care (or maybe he didn’t hear. He was staring at his rose). Whenever Henry made eye contact with Charlotte, she had a raised eyebrow DARING him to say yes.

“I think we’ll be good in one with clothes?” He said, still looking at Charlotte to see if her face changed. She relaxed a little.

“Robe sizes needed?”

Charlotte snuggled up to Jasper and wondered, “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” He looked up at her and smiled. She was a happy part of life. He didn’t need to dwell on the dark parts. “I was just thinking about how lucky I am now, versus how it could have been, how it used to be.”

She nodded, “Well, you won’t be able to bring that into the steam room. You wanna put it in a locker and I can maybe preserve the petals for you when we get home?”

“No,” he said and tossed it into the trash. “I don’t need to hang on to any of that.”

She didn’t know what any of that meant, but she wrapped her arm around him from the side and leaned up to make him bend down for a kiss. “Jasper threw my rose away. I didn’t know if that meant that he didn’t accept my apology or if it meant that there was nothing to be forgiven, but it hurt to see. But, Charlotte, she kissed hers and she put it away safely. I know that she’s probably gonna save the petals, like she used to… or I hope. I don’t have intuition, like I said. I’m guessing, here.”

Charlotte kept her spa shoes on her feet, grateful to have them. Who knew what those roach stompers Chloe had might bring into the room with them? Jasper was sweating before they even got into the room. He and Charlotte sat next to each other, Bianca and Chloe sat across from them and Henry tried to figure out where he might be best seated… He decided across from Charlotte and Jasper, since they were what was really important to him and he wanted to look them in the eyes as they did… whatever would be done here today.

“Okay, so, thank you everybody for coming here today. I don’t want to ruin this place for you, so I sucked it up and apologized to the owner, even though most of that was all in her head. I just want everything out, like I told Jasper. I want to deal with it head on and show everyone that I have changed and I want to introduce you to who I am now. I want you to get to know me, today, as I am… But, I also understand that might not be possible without addressing the shit that I’ve done in the past, to everybody here, really. If anybody has any questions or comments, I am open for them.”

Charlotte looked at Jasper, “You wanna talk to him about something between the two of you?” Maybe, Jasper might open up now that they were having this time together. She knew that he wasn’t okay and all she wanted was for him to be better. This whole thing was more of Henry’s idea, she gathered, to curb his guilt, but if Jasper could benefit from it; she wanted that more than anything she wanted for herself. She must really love that dude, she realized.

Jasper cleared his throat and said, “I’m not that concerned with our past. It ended very miserably for me and I didn’t come here, today, or agree to the show to rehash any of that or relive it. But, I’ve been rehashing and reliving things, and you’ve seemed fine. If I want to know anything, it’s about right now. Right now, what is it that you want, Henry? Why are we all here?”

He said in a very low and soft voice, “I just want you two to love me again.”

Jasper noticeably, immediately went soft and nodded his head. The answer was good enough for him. “What I think a lot of people don’t understand is that no matter WHAT happened between Henry and I, no matter how he hurt me or how I processed it; we were best friends for most of my life. My dad and his mom used to be super close and we were brought together before either of us were conscious about our surroundings.” *Tears up* “We were… soul mates. However you consider that to be. We were connected at the soul, like one person, for a huge portion of my life - my entire fucked up childhood, there was nobody that treated me better than Henry, and why wouldn’t I forgive him for mistakes that were made when we were young and he was already hurting? Nobody gets to control how I choose to respond with him reaching out and asking for my forgiveness. Maybe that’s stupid. Maybe it’s foolish, but how do you hate a part of yourself forever? Even the less shiny parts, you have to figure out a way to live with, and Henry has been a super shiny part and a super dark part of ME. Not just my life, but a part of me. I’ve carried him in my heart since before I knew what love was. Of course I could love him again. I do love him. I never stopped. I never would stop.”

Charlotte wasn’t as moved in the same direction as Jasper, and to be honest, in hindsight, they probably should have had separate conversations, because seeing Jasper just forgive him in his heart, while he might not have actually said it out loud… that made her heart harder. He noticed the darkening of her features as she glared in Henry’s direction and took her hand and kissed it, trying to smooth her over. Because him loving Henry didn’t take anything away from him loving her. He loved both of them for different reasons, in different ways and he never wanted to be apart from her, no matter what kind of love he had for anyone else. “What did you do to him, Henry? What would make this big hearted, kind spirited person who has always taken mistreatment from loved ones with a grain of salt… What would make him turn against you? I do some things that I’m not proud of to Jasper every single day and he still loves me. We watched his parents not give even pinches of fucks about him all throughout school, and he still loved them. We saw him idolize our boss, who wasn’t really that fond of him for many years, and he loved him… So my suspicious self, my smart self, I have to always wonder what in the world that you did to somebody that I LOVE, with most of my heart to make him not love you?”

“I didn’t stop loving him,” Jasper injected. She gently pulled her hand away. “I only say that to say… The things that you’re saying right now, they’re very triggering and just stirring things up and it's not really like that, so please…”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered and nodded at him, empathetically. He took a deep breath and leaned back. “I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay, Babe.”

“Please, don’t do that. I hurt you and I don’t want you to just brush it off, like it didn’t happen. Everyone needs to be held accountable for what they do.”

“Every time somebody hurts someone, it isn’t necessarily on purpose. I think that intent matters,” Jasper said. “I love you, too. I don’t care if you hurt me, because I know that wasn’t your intent.”

“But, you’re still hurt.”

“And you feel remorse for that. Don’t beat yourself up.” He hugged her. She was soft, but she was still wondering, “Seriously, what did he do to my man to have him in the bad way that I’ve heard he was in after they broke up?”

Charlotte heard one of the other two girls mumble something and her head snapped in their direction so fast that they both startled. “Did you have something to add? To help out? He didn’t say anything about wanting your love, so what’s the tea? Why are YOU TWO here? Oh, yeah, to discuss your part in all the bullshit.”

Bianca cleared her throat and said, “I was simply saying that you two are so good together that I don’t know why you even care about what Henry wants, at this point.”

“I thought that me and Henry were good together at some point too, but you didn’t right? And that’s fine, you’re entitled to feel how you feel and do what you do. You’re grown, you were grown at the time, and you weren’t involved with me, so I never came at you or confronted you or anything like that. But you, both of you, came over to our place, smiled in my face, played nice with me, and both of you weren’t about shit, behind my back.”

Bianca scoffed a chuckle and said, “Well, we were all pretty young when all of that happened. I had recently learned that you were the one who initially suggested that Henry ask me out, and Chloe felt some kind of way about it…”

Chloe threw in, “Henry and I hadn’t officially broken up, but you were pretty accepting of another girl being brought into his life, back then.”

“GIRL! You are really here, sitting here telling me that the reason you were disrupting my love life was because of something that happened when we were in school?” Charlotte cackled, but there was a terrifying anger in it. “BITCH. PLEASE.”

“Well, today, it’s like 6 or 7 years since that happened and you’re still mad. For me, at the time, it had been maybe about the same amount of time, I was younger, and I thought that Henry had just moved on because of distance, when really, he moved on because you pressured him to move on. I wasn’t even mad that I had lost Henry, but when I found out, I was hurt about it, so I wasn’t that concerned about your relationship, just as you hadn’t been concerned about mine. We’re ALL older and wiser now and I’ve moved on.”

“You’ve moved on because you didn’t have something important taken from you. You had the chance to go be on TV or be with Henry and like any kid would, you went with TV. Henry had a crush on Bianca and I, as a friend, supported that. When you left, in my head, that was that. What you did to me, we were grown and Henry and I were in a REAL relationship. And to this day, I’ve never come at you about it or anything. So, for me to be trying to console Jasper, who was SUPPOSED to be your friend and for you two to be having a little side conversation, ah kee keeing and shit… Man, fuck y’all. Y’all are so fake. To this day. You’re both some fakes and Jasper deserves better friends.” Charlotte was fuming.

Henry finally spoke up and said, “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have been airing out things to Bianca, but when that started, you and I were having some issues and I couldn’t talk to Jasper or any of our mutual friends about it, and I didn’t really have a lot of alternatives.”

“So, fuck me?” Charlotte asked and laughed sarcastically.

“At the time, I was worried that talking to you about it wouldn’t be received properly. So, I started talkin’ to Bianca, and a few things came out - that weren’t necessarily secrets, but stuff we had never talked about. I was actually speaking pretty generally about it all when I told her that you were the one that encouraged me to ask her out, and she told me that she’d kissed Kid Danger when we were together and I told her that wasn’t important anymore and we just were chilling and laughing and connecting. I didn’t expect it to turn emotional. I didn’t expect her to talk to Chloe about what she’d learned. Whenever Chloe asked me about it, I very nonchalantly told her the truth and it was years before, so like you said, we were kids, I didn’t think anything of it. But, I didn’t know that she felt hurt to find that out. Sometimes, we hold on to things that happen, not specifically because of that event or the person involved, but because of other things in our makeup.”

“Okay, but if she was still feeling a way, she could have said, ‘Hey Charlotte, I know this was a long time ago, but it’s fresh to me, because I just found out that you openly supported my first boyfriend moving on while I was away for a little while, and I’m having trouble feeling okay about that.’ We could’ve discussed it. Not… started a group chat with the two of you to fish for information about our problems and then deliberately try to drag me.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Chloe said.

“I read the entire thread. It took me hours, because it was months of inappropriate things. You started it off with a little disparaging joke about how you three could be the Charlotte is the Blame Club. Bianca had told you about my “prude problems,” and you wanted to let Hen know that you two were there for him, if he needed to blow off any steam. “Emphasis on blow, lol.”

Chloe was speechless. She didn’t even remember most of that chat, but apparently it had mattered to Charlotte.

Bianca said, “I promise, it was completely innocent, in the beginning. We thought it was kinda funny that you two dated so long and you didn’t do certain things for him.”

“It's nobody’s business what hangups that I have, but since everybody’s business is out right now, I will say this, I wasn’t able to slut around when I was young. My mother tried to be supportive of me being sexually aware, but long story short, she was very sexually wholesome and I didn’t do anything with anybody until Henry. So, yes, it took me a while to get into the habit of things. This boy didn’t even wash his legs whenever we got together, so no, as a science minded person who understands how germs

work and shit, I didn’t wanna be doing a lot of risky stuff with him. And whenever I WOULD do something, I had to be sure everything was clean and clear and ready. Henry was the one who didn’t feel like “going through all of that for a BJ.’ Okay. That was his choice, just like it was my choice to not get ball sweat or ball hair anywhere near my face and mouth area! Maybe you’re fine with musty nuts in yours. I wasn’t. And that was MY. BUSINESS. With MY. BOYFRIEND. But, it's not your fault that he told you that. It WAS your fault that you shared it with Chloe, because if he wanted to share our business, okay, but why did you feel like you could share it?”

“Because I didn’t give a damn, Charlotte!” Bianca snapped. “I’m sorry that early college years, I didn’t care about privacy or things like that. It sounded like a scandal and it was humorous to me. I didn’t know that it would become what it became, which, even right now, wasn’t anything very important to me. It was a part of my life as a young adult. I’m sorry that it affected you like it did. I truly am. You seem like you were very kind to Henry and I feel like what we did made you less kind. I’m sorry that I helped you become this bitter person…”

“BITCH…” *Camera shakes and moves around through a lot of shuffling and winds up on Charlotte, getting tackled by the security* “This bitch got me injured. Couldn’t even angrily speak my mind without being seen as a threat.”

Jasper was pulling on the guard, “Get the fuck off of her! She didn’t DO anything!” Charlotte was screaming, in pain and Henry was signaling to cut the camera. The camera didn’t stop. They might need the footage. Chloe and Bianca had rushed to the other side of the sauna and Henry and Jasper were both fussing with the guard. “You get the fuck out, You’re fired. Hell no! You don’t get to grab her like that, are you serious?”

“What is happening?” the owner of the spa asked from the doorway.

The guard said, “She was about to attack, and that’s where I have to step in. It’s my job.”

“SHE STOOD UP AND WALKED TOWARDS HER!” Henry yelled, at the same time Jasper yelled, “SHE DIDN’T EVEN TOUCH HER!” They were both yelling about how Charlotte sometimes gets in your face, but she wasn’t violent and threatening to press charges and insisting that he left immediately before he got his ass kicked. They heard Charlotte groaning and went to check on her.

“I’m pretty sure he bruised my ribs,” she said crying. “Whenever the guard tackled Charlotte, everything happened so fast that I froze for a moment. But, when I snapped to… This motherfucker, a big grown man, had slammed my girlfriend onto a hard tile floor, crushing her and pinning her down in the process, and… I have never been more pissed in my entire goddamned life.”

“Whenever the person I hired tackled Charlotte for essentially standing up while angry, I felt responsible for that. She was hurt. It wasn’t as serious as it could’ve been, but he’s got size on her and the situation - you see a tiny woman, in a bathrobe, in a steam room approaching another woman, you can easily step in front of her and maybe ask her to step back. Tackling her was so unnecessary and infuriating.”

“I was in so much pain. I hit my tailbone on that tile, and my elbow. I bumped my head when I reflexively tried to get away and he slammed me back down telling me to hold still. If they show that footage, you’ll probably see my entire puss. He had me straddled, restrained and bruised me up pretty bad, including how hard he pinned me down. I looked like somebody beat the hell out of me and I felt like it. Because I dared to walk in a white girl’s direction while Black and pissed.” *Sighs hard and shakes her head.

Charlotte was hurt enough that she just wanted medical attention and didn’t care how that happened. Henry and Jasper took her to the ER and once she was treated, Henry insisted that she stay at the brownstone to recover. It had more room, and was more luxurious and she accepted. She was going to be resting and taking meds. Jasper collected her stuff from home to bring over. “You wanna stay? I have much more room than I need, or even two people,” Henry said.

“No. I’ll let you two try to work some things out while she heals. Maybe it can be a double healing. If she asks me to come to stay, then I’ll take you up on the offer. I think she’s just trying to process the attack by herself and I’m glad that you’re providing a safe space for her to do that.”

Henry nodded. “I can’t believe that happened.”

“I can’t believe that we didn’t kill him,” Jasper said. “But, then I’d be in prison and she’d still be injured.”

“Yeah, I might pay him a visit in the suit later. Asshole.”

Jasper nodded. “Well… I’ll have my phone right by me and on the loudest setting if she needs me. Take care of my bae.”

“I’ll take care of her like she’s mine.”

“Not… That much,” Jasper said and partially smiled.

“We didn’t really finish the conversation…”

“We did. Sorry it didn’t happen how you hoped, but… I think she at least feels a little more trusting now. She’s staying here, isn’t she? Just… work with what you’ve got. I’d love for the two of you to patch things up. I miss the three of us.” Jasper and Henry hugged and Jasper left.

Henry peeked in on Charlotte. She was passed out, asleep and medicated. Jasper had set her things in certain places that Henry was sure were how she must’ve liked them. Jasper was really good at stuff like that. “Sweet dreams, Char,” he softly told her.

“Night,” she said, mostly in her sleep.

#Poly Wanna #Nesha HD Fics #henry danger #henry hart #charlotte page #jasper dunlop #hd ot3

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chromecutie · 5 years

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Cable x Reader - burlesque fluff!

A/N - unedited because I got sleepy but I still wanted y'all to be able to enjoy it for Saturday Night!

Tag: @starman-thorsus-canos-jock @emma-frxst (idk who else would want to be on a Cable taglist if I had one, but here y'all go!)

________

It was a Saturday night, and the team managed to not have a mission. Colossus tried to suggest a board game from the fancy high-strategy collection, but was quickly shot down by Wade (“What, so Domino can ruin us all again? I don’t think so!”). Wade tried to suggest a movie, but Cable cut him off before he could finish his suggestion (“I cannot watch the porno version of Predator again.”).

Domino hoped you might make a suggestion everyone could agree to, and finally asked, “Where the hell is Y/N?”

Wade howled at the top of his lungs, “YYYYY/NNNNN???”

“SHE’S NOT HERE,” Cable practically roared to make himself heard.

Colossus couldn’t help glancing around. He hadn’t noticed when you left, and felt a little embarrassed like he’d made a rookie mistake. “Do you know where she went?”

Cable fixed his gaze back on the gun he was cleaning. It was already clean; at this point he was fidgeting. “If she wanted us to know,” he hedged, “she would’ve said something before she left.”

“Ohhhh my god,” Wade gasped, “You do know!” He clapped his hands, excited to play a guessing game. “What’s she up to? Underground boxing? Secret meth habit? Robbing a bank?”

“No.”

“High stakes poker? Cock fighting?”

“No!”

They all said some variation of, “Then what??” in unison.

Cable sighed. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to see you, but he was pretty sure you wouldn’t want the whole gang showing up. Surely, if you had, you would have dropped some kind of hint. “We gotta dress up,” he said finally. “Black tie. And we gotta pick up flowers on the way.”

…

The gang had done their best on short notice. Domino wore a short, black cocktail dress cut so tight it was a wonder it didn’t split when she got in and out of the car. Colossus still wore his cargo pants and work boots, but classed up with a dress shirt, black suit jacket, and a tie. Wade, to no one’s surprise but everyone’s quiet exasperation, was in full Deadpool gear with a bow tie. Cable had managed to find a full three-piece suit, and though it wasn’t a perfect fit, he made it work. In his metal hand he held a bouquet of roses. They weren’t the freshest flowers, but they were the best that the store had.

They stood in the parking lot of a shabby strip mall and Domino said, “Looks like a nice neighborhood to sell your kidney.”

“This way,” Cable led them to the back door of one of the suites. He knocked and was quickly greeted by a drag queen in green glitter eyeshadow and three-inch long lashes.

“Hi honey,” the queen made a kissy noise and asked, “Who y’all with tonight?”

“Liz Lugosi,” Cable said as if he had been here several times.

The queen lit up with glee and put a long-fingered hand on Cable’s shoulder. “Ohhh! Lizzie didn’t mention anyone coming tonight!”

Cable gestured vaguely to the roses. “She’s not expecting us.”

The queen made a purse-lipped smile and shimmied her shoulders, hardly able to wait until she could spill this tea later. The team paid for their tickets and were ushered inside to pick a table.

The floor was full of glammed up people milling about, sipping cocktails and snacking on Chex Mix. The tables all faced a makeshift stage with a curtain made of cheap velvet. “What is this place?” Colossus folded himself into a chair that was too small for him, but he wouldn’t complain.

“It’s a kids’ ballet studio during the day,” Cable replied. “This is probably how they pay rent, though.”

Domino caught on and grinned, “It’s a speakeasy burlesque show.”

Wade cracked up laughing in earnest. Pretending to wipe away tears from his mask, he said, “What’s her act? Kicking off her boots and sexily peeling off a spandex onesie?”

“You’ll see,” Cable said impatiently. “Shit like this is probably why Y/N - Liz - never mentioned it, you assclown.”

The show started soon enough. Three performers in sparkly costumes made a show of sneaking out from behind the curtain. Each held a microphone. “Good eeeevening, daaaarlings!” the one in purple sequins drawled. The crowd applauded, some hooted.

The second performer wore something like a green velvet bikini with a lot of feathers. She tossed her blonde curls and said, “Who here has been to our show before? Come on, make some noise!” Almost everyone gave a shout except Cable, Wade, Domino, and Colossus.

“I don’t know that we should have come here,” Colossus whispered. Domino hushed him quickly.

The third performer wore a long, black satin robe, trimmed in purple rhinestones that glittered in the stage lights. She wore a wig of bright pink waves and cocked a hip as she turned toward their table. “I understand we’ve got some new blood in the house tonight.” The pink-haired performer sauntered between tables as she continued in a sultry purr, “So let’s go over the ground rules. If you’ve been here before, say them with me! Rule One!”

The audience responded, slightly drunk and mostly in unison, “No photos or video! We do this show live and only live!”

“That’s right,” she let out an easy giggle. “Rule Two?”

“No touching the performers unless you are specifically asked!” One young woman added in a buzzed, but enthusiastic slur, “Consent fucking matters!”

“YES, HONEY!” the blonde in the green bikini agreed.

The pink-wigged woman beamed. “Wonderful. You know, just to make a point,” she went over to the buzzed woman’s table. “Why don’t you give me a good slap on the ass, huh? Not too high on the cheek now, nice and low.” She leaned over, sticking out her round butt. When the patron gave a smack loud enough for every table to hear, the performer snapped straight again with a surprised hoot. “That’s how I like it! Haha, and Rule Three, let’s go!” She gestured grandly, long sleeves swaying.

The veteran audience chorused, “If you see something you like, make some noise!”

The three performers gathered in front of the curtain again and struck a sexy pose that showed off cleavage, thighs, and arched spines. The crowd made a good ruckus of whistling and applause, the X-Force gang included.

The show continued - there was an opening group number, the drag queen from the entrance sang a parody cover of a popular love song, there were a few aerial silks numbers, and of course classic burlesque striptease. Domino and Wade had gotten comfortable quickly, cheering and applauding each performer like they were the sexiest they had ever seen. Colossus took a while to loosen up, but even he enjoyed the athletic fluidity of the silks performers. Strength, flexibility, and making it all look beautiful with a big showgirl smile? Gold star in Colossus’s book. Each performer had gotten a funny and colorful introduction by the drag queen, who was emceeing most of the show.

“Our last lady of the night,” the queen teased, “has a slither that’ll make you shiver and she has NOOO idea how to just SIT in a chair!” The crowd chuckled. The drag queen bobbed her head and gave a wide flourish, “Just make sure you check for fangs before you kiss her - it’s Liiiiz Lugosiiii!!!!” The crowd hollered and clapped as the curtain drew back, revealing the pink wigged woman with the black satin robe.

Something steamy and full of saxophone blared over the sound system as Y/N, aka Liz Lugosi, swirled her robe - and disappeared. She reappeared a few feet away in a puff of smoke, similar to Colossus’s friend Kurt. As Liz Lugosi swirled, floated, and poofed around the stage, Colossus couldn’t help but note that where Kurt’s ability was abrupt like popping a balloon full of smoke, Y/N was smooth and soft, like drips of ink in water. A simple folding chair was on the stage, and in another few beats, Liz let her robe slide from her shoulders, down her back, and onto the floor. Domino glanced over at Cable and saw his face was relaxed in a gentle smile, eyes shining in the light.

Liz Lugosi turned to the front - and revealed that she appeared to be wearing nothing but black and purple rhinestones. Of course, her thong and pasties were there, but they matched her skin tone and the stones and beads had been carefully stitched and glued to cover them. The crowd screeched their appreciation. Wade yelled, “Holy shit!” but Cable barely even registered it.

“How did you find out about this?” Colossus asked him.

Cable answered without taking his eyes off Y/N, “I followed her to rehearsal once, to see where she goes.”

The stage floor filled with rolling fog as Liz Lugosi tossed her pink waves and slid over the chair so her chest was on the seat and her legs arched over her head. The rest of her routine was a series of acrobatic rolls and stands on and around the chair. Just when it looked like she would sit normally, she would turn and suddenly she was upside down, nearly sitting her butt on her head, with her legs in a deep split.

“Is that a mutation?” Domino asked, astounded.

“No,” Cable beamed, absolutely smitten, “she can just do that.”

Wade clapped for a particularly unexpected roll off of the chair. “I can’t believe she’s been holding out on us!”

Colossus agreed, smiling despite the awkwardness of seeing a coworker mostly naked for the first time, “You can tell how much she’s enjoying herself.”

As her number ended, Liz Lugosi bowed, dramatically tossing her pink waves. The team cheered louder than any other table and drew her attention. If she was caught by surprise, she didn’t let it show, maintaining her stage persona. She swayed her wide hips over to their table, and made the rounds expressing her thanks. She kissed Colossus on the cheek and left a red print on his chrome skin, though he froze when her boobs touched his arm. Domino soaked it up when she got a kiss on the cheek too. Wade didn’t get a kiss until he laid his palms on the table, and he all but squealed with delight. Cable, subdued and a little sheepish, offered the roses when she got to him. Instead of kissing his cheek, she pressed her lips to his and made it steamy enough that the crowd hooted and whistled louder than ever.

Y/N pulled away and teased in Cable’s ear, “Do I need to learn to cover my tracks better?”

“Aw, I hope you never do,” he was still grinning like a fool, “I’ve been wanting to bring you flowers for a while.”

She pulled away and she was Liz Lugosi again. Bouquet cradled against her heart, she winked and sashayed back to the stage to pick up her robe. The curtain closed, and Cable didn’t even try to hide how light and pleased he felt after getting to kiss the woman he’d been quietly pining after for months.

#cable x reader #summer snacc #fluff #fanfic #deadpool 2 #xmen #nathan summers

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tespuco · 5 years

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PotC Liveblog: Curse of the Black Pearl

CotBP is one of my ‘forever films’ for sure - every time I rewatch it I not only feel the same sense of wonder and delight as the first time but invariably discover new things to love and squee over as well.

I would love to learn more about Elizabeth as a child: this lonely, solemn girl who feels something perverse in her thrill at pirate stories and gallows humor, yet who gravely takes on the duty of looking after young William Turner because she wants to be good, too. (@dollsome-does-tumblr‘s Elizabeth-centric, post-CotBP fic Shrouded Heart explores this ambivalence in her self-concept with heart-wrenching emotional realism)

Wow, Will was doomed from the start, wasn’t he? I would be too if I were a 12-year old piece of half-drowned human driftwood waking up to a miniature guardian angel who softly murmurs, “I’m watching over you” before I drift back into unconsciousness

Framing Elizabeth’s memory of seeing the Black Pearl and meeting Will as a dream, one that impels her to put on the medallion, suggests fate or some other supernatural influence at work - a nifty way for writers to sidestep accusations of Contrived Coincidences and call it Destiny instead!

Keira Knightley is so beautiful hELP

Awww, Will is so proud of his handiwork! It’s interesting because the film puts a fair amount of emphasis on it early on, his skill and pride in not just wielding swords but forging them - only to tell us later that he’s really a pirate by blood and at heart. I like it when fics like fried_flamingo & salr323′s At World’s End: Redux lean into Will’s identity as a blacksmith and extrapolate from it an affinity for land/earth/balance/creation as opposed to the sea’s wild potential for destruction. (He lost his father to the sea and to piracy; he never learned to love either.)

My god everyone’s layered in buttoned-up and corseted finery in the fucking TROPICS no wonder Elizabeth passed out (ngl despite the ‘Caribbean’ in the title and visiting the Disney ride in New Orleans Square, I remember stupidly assuming Port Royal was part of England, not Jamaica; at 9 yrs old my geography was shit and I had yet to learn what imperialism was ok)

“A ship with black sails that’s crewed by the damned and captained by a man so evil that hell itself spat him back out.” shiver me timbers now that’s how you tell a ghost story

“If he were telling the truth, he wouldn’t have told us” has the same antimonious energy as Winnie-the-Pooh going, “Well, it’s a good thing I noticed it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have seen it”

This is definitely tmi but in retrospect the rescue scene played a formative part in my (bi)sexual awakening: for a long time my go-to pubescent fantasies involved near-drownings followed by hypersexualized resuscitation attempts and frantic uncomfortable sex on wet rocks in damp subterranean caves

Omg I just realized Elizabeth’s scene with Jack on the docks mirrors the one she had on deck Will in the flashback: a (wo)man overboard recovered, rescuer hovering over a supine body and fingering the pirate medallion around his/her neck, love at first sight

“One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness.” “Though it seems enough to condemn him.” Basically “no good deed goes unpunished” but with style

16 years later and the swordfight between Jack and Will holds up as an iconic example of swashbuckling fight choreo. I also love how the exchange establishes the Jack/Will dynamic: the former as a kind of ironic mentor (“Excellent form. But how’s your footwork?”), the latter as an unwilling pupil who nevertheless mostly plays along

“I practice with them three hours a day.” “You need to find yourself a girl, mate.” Raunchy Shakespearean-grade comedy at its finest (along with “This sweet, proliferous bouquet that is Tortuga…What do you think?” “It’ll linger.”)

“This shot is not meant for you.” I love the hints we get of Jack’s darker side: he keeps his bitterness close and his grudges closer; for 10 years he saved that bullet for one man, refusing to expend it in any number of life-threatening situations in the interim; he drawls, “Worry about your own fortunes, gentlemen. The deepest circle of Hell is reserved for betrayers and mutineers,” like a witch uttering a curse. A dishonest man, methinks, would not feel the stab of betrayal so deeply.

The running joke of Will not getting recognized for his skills and earnest efforts is what makes Norrington’s parting words to him at the end so satisfying: “This is a beautiful sword. I would expect the man who made it to show the same care and devotion in every aspect of his life.” (NORRINGTON KNEW IT WAS HIM ALONG BUT WAS TOO JEALOUS TO EVER PRAISE HIM TO HIS FACE that petty little shit lmao)

I remember looking up the definition of ‘acquiesce’ after watching CotBP as a kid, so Barbossa had a direct hand in expanding my 9-year old vocabulary.

Competent, hyper-focused!Jack at the wheel with an unholy gleam in his eye as he gets drenched in a torrential downpour is my kind of Byronic hero

I prefer Jack Sparrow’s backstory to remain a loose collection of rumors and half-truths jumbled together even in his own memory, but I DO want to know how Jack and Gibbs met, how the former earned the latter’s (mostly) steadfast loyalty. I want to eavesdrop on all the inebriated conversational musings they’ve shared over a bottle of rum, whether topside on the decks of a ship not the Pearl or shouted above/muttered below the ruckus of a Tortuga tavern.

I’d also read/watch a prequel about the mutiny. “He plays things closer to the vest now. And a hard-learned lesson it was.” WHO HURT YOU JACK

Well obviously Barbossa did, but I still have so many questions! How did a younger, more trusting Jack earn the ire of his first mate and crew, to the point where they’d stage a mutiny? Then again, to hear Gibbs tell it, Barbossa simply appealed to Jack’s sense of fairness; perhaps in their unadulterated greed they saw Jack’s honest streak as a vulnerability to exploit? Or was it something in Jack’s manner of captaincy that fomented discontent? Idk, I can’t tell based on the way the crew jeers at “Gents, you all remember Captain Jack Sparrow?” whether their antipathy smacks more of derision or vitriol.

“Mr. Gibbs? …Jack? Jack Sparrow?” Elizabeth must be SO confused by these blasts from her distant and more recent past: who knows when Gibbs left Norrington’s employ, but the last time she saw Jack he had her in chains and at gunpoint, and now apparently he’s conspiring with Will??

I’ve always been kind of baffled by the cabin scene between Elizabeth and Will. What is she apologizing for? Taking the medallion and not telling him? Or for telling him and making him realize his father was a pirate?

Also her tearful, “Because I was afraid that you were a pirate. That would have been awful” is the biggest, bald-faced lie if I’ve ever heard one. She took an interest in him BECAUSE she thought he was a pirate (although I do think young Elizabeth had been afraid FOR him, after Gibbs’ pantomime of the hangman’s noose)

“daft like Jack” should be my Jack/Elizabeth/Will OT3 tag

Ah, back when PotC incorporated visual gags to spice up their action sequences instead of building the equivalent of a Rube-Goldberg machine around a single, unfunny gag. Compare: Gibbs’ canteen making its unlikely way from the Interceptor to the Pearl and back as an accompaniment to the battle and Jack’s breakout from his cell VS the overextended Tortuga sequence in DMC where Jack weaves in and out of a brawl to no apparent purpose except to try on different hats and then exit the tavern.

“Though it does seem a shame to lose something so fine, don’t it? …So I’ll be having that dress back before you go.” Barbossa is despicable and Geoffrey Rush delivers his lines with such RELISH

I will squee over the island scene & its deleted segments at length in a separate post so for now I’ll just say: Elizabeth is obviously a huge Jack Sparrow stan and she’s doing a piss-poor job of hiding it

Listen it’s easy to overlook Norrington’s sense of duty and decency in the face of the stick up his butt and his bouts of extreme pettiness. But the fact is that Jack’s attempt to manipulate and appeal to his ambition fails. Because the Commodore is no Barbossa - he’s a fine man who serves others, not only himself; who cares whether a woman’s acceptance of his proposal is less than sincere; who wouldn’t have risked his men ambushing the Pearl’s crew had he known about the curse (last two courtesy of the deleted scenes on the Dauntless).

Now that I’m paying closer attention I’m just blown away by the careful consideration in Jack’s plans. He’s playing both sides to further his own goal of enacting revenge at minimal risk to himself, but he looks after the unwitting parties he involves in the process, too: while the Royal Navy occupies the undead pirates from the safety of their long range cannons, Jack can intervene to save Will, use him to break the curse, and kill Barbossa. All the good guys win! (He couldn’t have foreseen the Trojan Horse or the en masse submarine attack; nor Norrington’s pettiness in defying Jack’s instructions to man cannons that would’ve blown the undead into smithereens.)

Exhibit B: “Now, to be quite honest with you, there’s still a slight risk for those aboard the Dauntless, which includes the future Mrs. Commodore.” Disregard his insouciant delivery here, and you get Jack telling the whole, unvarnished truth!!! “What do you have to lose?” he asks Norrington, who brushes him off: “Nothing I’d lament being rid of.” It’s JACK who reminds him that for all their precautions, the ambush might put Elizabeth in danger. Jack knows about the curse, and after being marooned on an island with her, he knows Elizabeth will do whatever’s necessary to save Will. So he finds a way to ensure not only that she won’t interfere, but that she’ll be kept safe from harm!! I’ll never be over it

And Murtogg’s “You think he wasn’t telling the truth?” line is such a great callback to their early sketch as Rosencrantz and Guildenstern on the docks of Port Royal. These dimwits happen to know Jack does tell the truth, expecting no one to believe him. His own exhortations on the subject notwithstanding, Jack’s real trickery lies in rarely telling the whole truth, letting people make their own assumptions, and giving them enough rope by which to hang themselves.

Governor Swann is such a darling, the ultimate doting father. It’s easy to assume he doesn’t get Elizabeth at all, but he’s no idiot. He rightly suspects she only agreed to marry Norrington to save Will, and while he’s not above nudging her in that direction (“I believe you made a very good decision today. Couldn’t be more proud of you.”), he’s also not about to let his only daughter bargain away her happiness for the sake of his OTP. (And his face of exasperated affection at Jack’s hanging, when he realizes she only pretended to faint as a diversion! Notice the lack of surprise in his expression: that’s the face of a father who is all too used to her Pulling This Kind of Shit)

Jack keeps popping up like a bad penny and both Norrington and Barbossa are so appalled every time lol

The sequence where Will breaks the curse and Jack shoots Barbossa and Elizabeth jerks like she’s the one who was shot is just - *chef’s kiss* the CHOREOGRAPHY! the CAMERAWORK! the EDITING!

“I feel…cold.” *a single apple rolls out of Barbossa’s dead hands* Can you believe a summer blockbuster movie invented poetic justice tell your English professors

“If all I have achieved here is that the hangman will earn two pairs of boots instead of one, so be it.” Ugh Will is sooo not my type but he’s so DASHING and GOOD no wonder Elizabeth covets him. What a hero

“My place is between you and Jack.” Ohhh you know what I would love to track the main characters’ alignment arcs throughout the series. Here Will’s situating himself as the Chaotic Good between Jack’s Chaotic Neutral and Norrington’s Lawful Good. But I would argue he’s still pretty Lawful and, even under Jack’s tutelage, only resorts to Chaos in extremis; meanwhile Jack flits between Chaotic Good and Chaotic Neutral; Elizabeth’s arc is similar except it’s unidirectional; and without the Law at his back Norrington spirals into Neutral Evil.

It’s the Sparrabeth shipper in me but the last line of the movie is Jack singing a song that Elizabeth taught him. (*Cutler Beckett voice* “We’ve had dealings in the past. And we’ve each left our mark on the other.”) For a fic about what Jack leaves her, may I redirect you to Shrouded Heart by dollsome, linked above - and this brain dump comes full circle!

#this is already too long and it's...only the tip of the iceberg that is my potc feels #i've reserved my more effusive observations for illustrated commentary #stay tuned for comments & tag novels on edits i've found of my fave scenes #pirates of the caribbean #the long and short of the meta #t-recs

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aegissi · 5 years

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50 questions tag 💕

I was tagged by @sophrosynes (this took me like a month im sorry)

1. what takes up too much of your time? definitely social media n looking at kpop stuff or youtchube videos :////

2. what makes your day better? nowadays the only thing that will always lift my mood is working out bc of all those chemicals

3. what’s the best thing that happened to you today? i procrastinated today so i didn’t do much sjgvdfhdbk i did an arm workout tho and it was so satisfying to be able to do all the moves without a break bc it shows that im getting stronger n i luv that

4. what fictional place would you like to go? the house in my neighbor totoro bc it just looks nice and peaceful

5. are you good at giving advice? i think i am but ultimately the receiver decides if the advice was indeed good or not

6. do you have any mental illness? hahahahahahhaa yea maybey probably im seeing a therapist anyway

7. have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? no it sounds very intriguing tho n i was surprised that so many people experienced it

8. what musician inspired you the most? epik high and 2ne1 :(((

9. have you ever fallen in love? nah i don’t think so,, im more of a “intricate daydreams abt romantic scenarios that won’t ever happen” type girl

10. what’s your dream date? roberta im litcherally the same sjgdvfjbhk so yea museum or art gallery and then going to a place to talk,, i think a picnic would be nice too??

11. what do others notice about you? well first off they notice im #asian asfhjdg and also like my eyes i think? especially if i put on makeup (tbh i don’t even think that people notice things abt me)

12. what is the annoying habit you have? i always hum or sing-song randomly,, i personally don’t find it annoying but maybe others would ig

13. do you still talk to your first love? my first crush is a business major now so no lmaooo

14. how many ex’s do you have? zero

15. how many songs are on your playlist? 182 on my current tunes playlist but i have like 30 playlists in total

16. what instruments can you play? none unfortunately :// (i want to learn gayageum tho bc it sounds cool)

17. who do you have the most pictures of? 80% of my phone galleries are selfies bc i Love Myself

18. where would you like to go before you die? i want to go to a place where there’s a lot of snow n it’s really white n quiet

19. what is your zodiac? capricorn babey!!

20. do you relate to it? yea im very earthy n i like money

21. what is happiness to you? being at peace and not worrying,,, just being in the moment n enjoying it to its fullest

22. are you going through anything right now? yea but a bitch is gonna survive as always

23. what’s the worst decision you’ve ever made? i don’t really remember and i don’t even want to bc thats not useful to my growth

24. what’s your favorite store? there’s a vintage store i really like and also artbox in korea,,, they have so much stuff i almost bought the whole stationary section

25. what’s your opinion on abortion? it should be as safe as possible for the people who choose to have one

26. do you keep a bucket list? yea but i always forget what i put on it anyway and i end up remaking it every year rsgjbjkf i do have a bucket list for the month tho!!

27. do you have a favorite album at the moment? not really i feel like it’s been a while since i last listened to an album in its entirety

28. what do you want for your birthday? a hair straightener bc my bangs are currently out of control

29. what are most people’s first impression of you? i have no idea honestly but i think it’s mostly good? but i can appear kinda distant bc i am quite distant if im not feeling the person

30. what age do you seem according to most people? i look my age tbh i’ve never had anyone give me more at least

31. where do you keep your phone while you’re sleeping? on my desk or charged near my bed

32. what word do you say the most? uuuuhh idk but i write “okey” a lot by texts shfdbhkf

33. what’s the oldest age you would date? like 22?? i don’t like huge age gaps

34. what’s the youngest age you would date? people born in december 2000 sjbhkdb otherwise ur babey

35. what job/career do most people say would suit you? one of my best friends used to tell me i would be a good therapist but i feel like thats bc im a good listener?? other than that idk (i asked my parents once n they were like. just do what u want zjvhjgbfk thats not helpful!!!)

36. what’s your favorite music genre? the type of music they put in chill study music playlists on youtube honestly (and also anything that sounds gay. i luv disco sm u guys don’t even know)

37. if you could live in any country in the world where would it be? korea bc i need yakult and karaokes

38. what is your current favorite song? shine by pentagon bc i relate to the lyrics now sgdbkjfnkjb

39. how long have you had this blog for? uuuhh i wanna say 2 years??

40. what are you excited for? my paris trip with my friends!!!!!!!

41. are you a better talker or listener? im a good listener but i luv talking bc i luv attention,,,, but im also not very eloquent most of the time??? so im gonna go with listener

42. what is the last productive thing you did? not 2 repeat myself again but working out (im a jock i tell u)

43. what do you want for christmas? money would be nice

44. what class do you get the best grades in? according to my exam results it’s english but i had good grades in physics in hs and also in literature

45. on a scale from 1-10, how are you feeling right now? a solid 4.5

46. what can you see yourself doing in 10 years? in a nice apartment with lots of plants and wearing a long white dress while playing the ukulele to my flower bouquets

47. when did you get your first heartbreak? ay it’s always been broken fellas 🤠🤠 if we wanna get more specific i’d say first year of high school during my first friendship breakup

48. at what age do you want to get married? honestlé? i don’t wanna get married,, to me it just seems like another thing to be trapped in and i value my independance too much

49. what career did you want to have as a child? i wanted to be a vet bc i loved animals!! i also wanted to be a jedi too but thats smth else entirely

50. what do you crave now? affection/purpose/peace/blueberry muffin/tteokbokki with cheese

im tagging: @1fancafe @twejoon @ilovemeghan @flowerene @scy @rainmv @jinseas (idk who did this already but ignore if u want to sgjdbgkfn)

#this was kinda long shbfkdbnl #tag

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