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give-soup-please · 2 years

Note

What about the narrator trying to follow the reader outside of the game like giffany from gravity falls?

(warning, this turned out to be a very long post.)

Narrator tries to follow Reader out the game

(slight bending of the prompt, hope that’s cool)

The narrator is absolutely enchanted with you. Everything about you is perfect. In his eyes, you can do no wrong. He begins to bend the game in subtle ways, testing its boundaries. Glitches appear, but you chalk it up to the nature of the game.

You’re none the wiser, of course. You had no idea how deep his obsession with you ran. The narrator begins to bend and shape a new model to his purposes. Once he escapes, the sky’s the limit. He wonders what a true blue sky looks like. He hopes he gets to experience it with you.

Actually, scratch that. He will experience it with you. He loves you, so surely you love him just as much.

He can’t wait to spend time with you outside the game. He gets giddy just thinking about it.

You’re playing the game during a storm, wrapped in a blanket, mug of your go-to hot drink by your side. You feel so cozy, and the narrator’s voice adds to the wonderful feeling. The narrator bides his time, waiting for the right moment.

The lightning flashes, and the narrator moves forward out of some internal instinct. The power goes out, and you let out a yelp of surprise. He transforms himself into pure energy and surges towards your phone.

Once inside, he begins rummaging through your data, trying to work out your personal preferences. He looks at your social media, your saved photos, your fanfiction lists… You’re quite a big fan of him, aren’t you? He gets an idea.

A few minutes later, power is restored to the house. You let out a sigh of relief. Power outages weren’t uncommon during weather like this, but it still gave you quite the scare. You boot The Stanley Parable back up but the game has changed radically.

The narrator doesn’t speak during the intro. The music and cutscenes are there, but he’s missed his cue. This is the weirdest glitch you’ve ever encountered, and under the current circumstances is less than comforting.

You shiver slightly as you realize every single trigger in the game for when the narrator is supposed to speak has suddenly stopped working. You wander through empty offices and abandoned hallways, and eventually you put the game down, too disturbed to continue. Sure, you’ve done the escape pod ending before, but this was supposed to be a base start to the game. Where was he?

Your phone rings. Maybe it’s a local friend checking up on you after the power outage? You pick up the call without checking the number.

“H-hello?” The narrator grins. Showtime! “Hello, Reader.” You’ve got a death grip on your phone, and you start to shake. “Wh-Who is this?”

“I think you already know the answer to that. It’s good to talk to you personally- no script in the way.” He laughs. It’s not malicious, more general relief. You are not comforted.

You have almost every part of the game memorized; you know the cadence of his voice very well. He sounds more like himself than any AI could reproduce. This wasn’t an elaborate prank either, your friends couldn’t afford the voice actor for something like this.

You begin to shake violently. The phone falls out of your hands and clatters on the floor. He puts himself on speakerphone.

“Now hold on just a moment, I’m going to try and manifest properly.”

A black light begins shining out of your phone, and you throw yourself to the furthest spot from him, absolutely terrified.

The narrator’s hand reaches out first, stretching out of the screen like some sort of 3d monster film. His arm comes next, and it bends at an unnatural angle as he pushes himself out of your phone. You’re too scared to even make a noise.

The rest of his body comes shortly after. The narrator has finally broken through to your reality. But where were you? He looks around, confused. He finally spots you in the corner of your room, crying.

He approaches you, confused and wanting to comfort, but you throw your hands in front of you and say-

“Please, don’t hurt me.” No! No, no, no! This was meant to be his moment of triumph. The beginning of the rest of your life was about to start with him by your side. Why on earth were you so frightened of him?

His heart breaks. He realizes he’s messed this up quite badly if your negative reaction is that strong.

“Dearheart,” he says. “Oh, beloved. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I know I gave you quite the scare but can you- Can you look at me, please?”

His voice is gentle. Gentler than it’s ever been. You cautiously look at him through your tears. He looks just like you hoped he would. Your shaking eases a little. His eyes are soft, and he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

To him, you are.

“I’m not here to bring you pain or misery, I-” He tries to find the words to explain himself. “I felt- or at least I thought I felt your heart calling out to mine. And I know it’s a bit of a stretch, but I think I could show you something beautiful. I could make you really happy, if you gave me a chance. What do you say?”

You consider the person before you. Your fear has been washed away somewhat. You peer at him, shifting forward, to the narrator’s internal delight.

“I need to ask you some questions first.” Alright, that was fair considering the circumstances.

“You say you aren’t going to hurt me. Do you mean it?”

The narrator thinks this is a ridiculous question, but he’s not going to treat you badly for asking. He begins to understand how things might have looked from your perspective.

“Reader, you’re so lovely, I couldn’t even try.”

You pause, considering. “And you won’t hurt any of my friends, even if I hang out with them instead?”

“Of course not.” The narrator considers not elaborating, then continues, “I’m not sure who you were expecting, but you might have mistaken me for someone else. What a silly idea.”

“Alright, if you’re not going to hurt me, and you’re not going to hurt my friends, what exactly do you want out of this?”

“I-” The narrator hesitates. He’s not naturally good at being mushy, but for you, he’s willing to push through his usual barriers. “I want to spend time with you. Not inside the game, that’s not enough anymore. I want to be with you, listen to everything you have to say, do anything you ask!”

Woah, this guy really didn’t know what healthy boundaries were. He kept going, trying to explain himself.

“I don’t know why you’re convinced that I want something bad to happen to you. I love you. Love doesn’t mean hurting anyone who gets in our way, it means working through our problems together.”

Huh. Unhealthy, but not that unhealthy. Yeah, you could work with that. You reach out to him, then hesitate. “Narrator, I- '' You start to blush, and glance shyly up at him.

“I’m really glad you’re here. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize who you were at first. Could I- Could I give you a hug?”

“Anything you want.”

Yeah, you were going to have a long road ahead of you for teaching the narrator what was healthy. But for now, you held him close, and smiled when he kissed you on the cheek.

You felt safe in his arms at last.

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buckets-and-trees · 1 year

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These Hands Had To

Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: alpha!Joaquin Torres x female!omega!Reader Word Count: 963 Summary: After their first mission, Torres told Sam Wilson that people who said things were better during The Blip were wrong, and even though so many things have changed since the snap that reversed The Blip, he still firmly believes that. However, there was the emergence a rumor - possibly a reality - that was the stuff of folklore and fiction: a biological hierarchy of alphas and omegas determining new contexts for human interaction. It's Joaquin's job to sort and sift through the chatter of rumors, conspiracies, and whispers, and sort out what's plausible, but this...

Content Warnings: omegaverse, brief strong language, fluff to smut (abrupt SMUTTY SMUT, p in v penetration)

Additional Notes: Written for the week three 'Something New' challenge for @the-slumberparty to try a trope I've never written before. I was struck with a big want to write something for Torres because he really doesn't get enough love, and then one thing led to another and I knew I wanted to throw him into an Alpha/Omega situationship, and I had ideas for their meeting and also ... their mating, but my brain also got flooded with the WHAT IF idea of what if when the Avengers snapped everyone back into existence, they also triggered an omegaverse that was slowly but surely manifesting among the world population? because... why not start entertaining that what if? idk. if this lands, I think there's room for a lot more, but... no promises. Title inspo from our lord and savior Taylor Swift. Also, bonus trope I've never tried before: a "how it started/how it's going" fic.

A/N 2: Also a meet cute vote for @thestanceyg Trope Madness 2023.

HOW IT STARTED

Joaquin’s head snapped up.

There was a faint scent, but it was distinct – floral and a little something else, and it was there, pulling at something in his chest, his lungs yearning for more of it.

But he remained absolutely still as you smiled politely, stepped into the elevator, hit the button for the forty-seventh floor, and stood off to the right side of the elevator as the doors slid closed.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He’d read about this maybe two months ago. Reports and rumors of biological shifts, primal manifestations. Unpredictable, but undeniable once they manifested. The information was limited because it was an unprecedented phenomenon that seemed beyond belief, and almost equally becoming feared or glorified as it emerged across the globe.

And why was his brain hyper focused on the theories when you’re now in an elevator with him and in a matter of moments you’ll part ways?

What was on level forty-seven? Had he been to that floor before?

He was a naturally friendly and reasonably intelligent human, why couldn’t he form words? What was happening?

He didn’t need to flirt, he just needed to say something.

He turned his frame slightly towards you and “What’s on forty-seven?” tumbles out of his mouth.

“Oh, I’m not sure, first-time meeting with a potential client for me.”

“Who are you meeting with?”

“Strictly confidential,” she retorted, turning her face up to look at him, a coy smirk already on her face, but when her eyes met his, the draw was palpable, and he knew she could sense it, too, because her jaw dropped for half a moment before she blinked and then looked ahead again.

“What about you? Are you a regular?” she asked.

He smiled but looked ahead as well. He was glad she didn’t want to let the silence linger after that moment. “Semi-regular. I’ve been doing some consulting.”

He watched the floor count continue to rise, quickly approaching the forties.

“What’s your line of expertise?”

“Intelligence,” he replied.

And then she laughed, but it was warm. “That’s almost as vague as my ‘confidential.’”

He joined her laughter. “It’s the veritable truth. Cross my heart.”

“Your heart?” Her head inclined toward him again, and he mirrored that small side glance.

“Mhmm,” he hummed.

The elevator suddenly jolted and paused, the lights flickering, and they both reached out to steady themselves, resulting in each throwing an arm towards a wall and to each other.

But it was only half a second and then the lift continued its smooth ascent.

But he was now closer to you, and you locked eyes again. Joaquin slowly moved his fingers down your forearm, keeping his eyes on yours, and then lifted your wrist up. It seemed instinctual, natural to want to draw your wrist close and truly take in your scent. But he did so cautiously, he knew he wanted to do this, but he wasn’t sure if it was too forward for a connection like this. Softly, he pressed his nose to that tender pulse point and inhaled.

You chirped, which seemed to shock even you, as your eyes grew big, and you covered your mouth with your other hand.

But you didn’t withdraw your hand from his grasp, and your scent now was easy for him to identify – floral with a hint of citrus, warm. His heart swelled in his chest.

Then the elevator dinged, and the spell broke. You took your hand back and stepped out of the doors as they opened.

“Good luck with the meeting,” he called out to you disappeared and the doors closed.

Then he hit the wall of the elevator, cursing that in that final moment he hadn’t even thought to ask for your name or tell you his. His mind started racing through possibilities because that was clearly an Alpha and Omega moment and he needed to see you again.

HOW IT’S GOING

You were naked in his arms, straddling his lap, your breasts pressed against his chest, while he rubbed each of his wrists over your cheeks, causing you to whimper, overwhelmed by this act of scenting you yet needing more of his intoxicating smell at the same time. You rocked down against his erection, causing him to growl into the kiss you shared. A moment later, he had you on your back, looming above you, the powerful alpha showing his dominance, yet watching your face, eager to prove he would not subjugate you, but instead worship you. He did not want to merely claim you, he wanted to pledge himself to you but with the understanding that you give yourself in return.

“Are you sure? I want you with everything in my being, but not until you are ready to give me your body, your heart, and your soul, Omega, it has to be all or nothing.”

Looking into his eyes, the fire in them was so fervent, you didn’t hesitate. “I’m already yours, Alpha, please.”

“Say it again,” his voice was low, but every one of your senses was fully focused on him in this moment, as he guided his cock over your folds, only stoking the desperate fire your felt for him in your core.

“I’m yours, Alpha.”

“Mine,” he echoed, and plunged in with one powerful thrust, filling you completely, knocking the air out of your lungs.

You gasped and clung to his shoulders, a sob escaping you.

He brought his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed the corner of your mouth. “So good for me, Omega, how does it feel?”

You canted your hips, wanting him to move.

His hand moved quickly to your hip instead, stilling your movements.

“Use your words, Omega. How does it feel to finally have my cock inside your tight cunt?”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres #omegaverse #joaquin torres smut #mcu fanfiction #navy and roo's sleepover #how it started #how it's going #how it started/how it's going #aspen wrote something #trope madness 2023 #female reader

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ali-annals · 4 days

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Is this Hope just a Mystical Dream? (i)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Rating: T+ | WC: 2.7k | CW: Discussions of death/murder, dark humour, temporary character death, mentioned permanent offscreen character death (it's the villains it's fine/hj), morally grey MDC >:) | A/N: For the loml @sarcasticbambi <3 | ao3 | PART TWO (final) |

Did you know that some soulmates' souls are literally connected, meaning that when one half dies, the other follows them soon after to a personalized deathscape? Marinette and Jason sure did.

3…2…

Bruce wasn’t coming. Jason squeezed his eyes shut.

...1…

“Dad.”

Kaboom!

~~~

A soft white light surrounded the cloudlike bed he lay on, surprisingly not hurting his eyes when he opened them.

This was clearly not his room and he was not dressed as Robin. Maybe someone got him out of there in time after all? Maybe Sheila came back for him?

He didn’t feel hurt and wrapped in bandages or high on painkillers like the beating he’d received warranted. Had he been in a coma and was fully healed now?

“Bruce? Alfred? Dick? B?”

When no one answered his calls for his family, he edged out of bed, feeling as spry as ever, and cautiously stepped into a hallway.

This was definitely not the Manor, but it had a similar appearance. He wandered around, taking in the kitchen, living room, and a few other rooms eerily similar to the Manor’s. Then he saw the library.

Shelves full of his favourite volumes, plus his ever-growing list of books he wanted to read. A couch that looked like he could stay there for days, getting immersed in a thousand fictional worlds. Steaming tea just the way he liked on a table next to the fire, a bookmark in place at Chapter 34, where he’d paused his reading to disembark the plane in Ethopia.

A scuff drew his attention away from the setup of his dreams. He looked up, expecting Bruce or maybe Alfred or Dick, but it was a stranger. A girl with black hair and blue-grey eyes and a worried smile, around his height.

“Bonjour. J’mapelle Marinette.”

He eyed her carefully before deciding she wasn’t an immediate threat and relaxing from his defensive stance. “Hi, I’m Jason. Where am I? What is this place? What happened?”

The girl–Marinette–sighed and plopped onto the far end of the couch he was standing beside. “What’s the last thing you remember? Before you woke up here?”

“Um…I was in a warehouse, a bomb was about to go off. Joker beat me and left, but I managed to free m–my mother.--Do you know who saved me? Where B is?”

She smiled sadly, placing her hand on his knee in a confusing gesture of comfort. “I’m sorry, Jason…you’re dead.”

He gaped at her. “What?! Why are you here, then?”

“I’m your soulmate. We meet here, in this deathscape of ours. You know how some soulbonds manifest through dreams?”

“How do you know so much about this? How…long have you been here?”

“I just arrived, but I’ll be leaving soon, I think. I’m Ladybug, one of Paris’s heroes. Our team is powered by magical jewellery, which house tiny gods that lend us their powers to fight. Mine, the Ladybug Kwami of Creation, Order, and Good Luck, is one of the oldest kwami, and she explained the deathscape concept to me after the first time I died and ended up here.”

Jason shook his head. “That’s a lot to take in. Paris has heroes? And magical jewellery? The Justice League has seen weirder, though, so I guess you make sense. But you shouldn’t go around telling people your secret identity like that!” he scolded suddenly, straightening. “You could end up…”

Like me. Apparently, dead.

Ah wait, she is already.

She smiled sadly as he trailed off. “You’re my soulmate, if I can’t trust you, who can I?”

Jason sputtered, unused to such easy reassurance. “Still, you only just met me. Why did you say you’ll be leaving soon? Scratch that, why did you say ‘the first time I died’?!”

She grimaced. “My kwami has the ability to restore any damage that happens during a fight. Now that I’m dead, my teammates will pass my Miraculous on to one of them and continue the fight. Once it’s over, Miraculous Ladybug will cover the city and reverse any side effects of the fight, which includes my death. I’ve been in and out of this deathscape several times.

“I must say, this is a new look for it, though. It usually looks like a mix of my favourite places and my home, but this time it’s quite changed. I guess you influenced it since you’ll be here a while longer than me.”

“What?”

“Deathscapes are tailored to the soulmates’ lives, or so my kwami tells me. You must be well off, huh?” she glanced around the poshly furnished room.

“My dad is pretty rich, yeah,” he shrugged. “Er…how many times have …”

“Have I died? Mmm…28,379 I think. Will you throw me a party if I hit 30,000?” she blinked innocently at him.

He stared at her incredulously. “How are you so blasé about it?”

She shrugged. “Dark humour helps…and it makes others uncomfortable, so it’s not just me. And death is a social construct, y’know? So far, it hasn’t stuck. I’m sure you’ll un-unalive too. But a lot of these deaths, like 27,000, were in a now-erased timeline. So only 1,379 belong to other timelines.”

Taking pity on his confused look, she explained. “Two of the Miraculous have time abilities. We often spend hundreds of loops on one akuma, and until we figure out the correct sequence of events to take it down, we have to keep replaying the fight. Sometimes the collateral is a little higher than we’d like. But don’t worry, only a couple of us team members remember the timelines. The civilians are blissfully unaware.”

“That’s great for them but it must be tough for you, not being able to talk about it or get sympathy for it, Marinette.” Jason could feel his heart squeezing in sympathy for his new-found soulmate.

Taking a leap of faith (he was dead, what more could happen?) he told her his biggest secret. “I’m a hero too, so I understand how that feels, though I don’t have powers.” Being Robin gives me magic! “I’m Robin. From Gotham.”

“My ex-best friend loves superheroes; I think I heard her talk about you before. You work with Batman, right?”

“Yep. Can...I ask how you died?”

“The battle’s been going on for 24 hours. I was slow. I missed a piece of metal and got impaled. Can’t say it was the nicest way I’ve gone. You?”

Crowbar. Which hurts more? A or– ”I went looking for my biomom. Found her working as a doctor in Ethopia. Joker, one of B’s Rogues, was blackmailing her. I offered to help her and she sold me out to him. He…beat me with a crowbar, then turned on Sheila and left us in the warehouse with a bomb. I untied her and she escaped but I couldn’t…B didn’t…didn’t make it.” I hope he kills the clown.

Marinette winced. “I’m sorry.” After a pause, she added, “the piece of metal that impaled me was a crowbar, too. Kinda poetic, both of us dying by crowbar, huh?”

He snorted. “Crowbar buddies. Cool. When you get resurrected, do you think we can stay in contact somehow? Phone, ghostly apparition or haunting, telepathy, something?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll ask my kwami, Tikki. Try anything you can think of, I’ll be listening. While we’re waiting, do you wanna play 20 Questions?”

“Sure, but we have to answer our questions too, to get more mileage out of them.”

“Sounds good to me! Okay, when is your birthday? Mine is July 9–I’m fifteen.”

“August 16 and I’m fifteen, too. Oh–I can’t answer this one. What day is it?”

“April 27th, why?”

“I thought I lost time. Still the day I died. Do you like to read? I do.”

She looked around the well-filled library in surprise. “You mean these books aren’t mine?” she gasped sarcastically. “It’s not my favourite hobby, but I like classics and well written books.”

The game continued, the two traumatized teenagers bonding over mutual interests and mocking the other when they disagreed.

Finally Marinette looked at Jason. “I’m leaving now. I’m sure I’ll be back–hopefully not too soon. Is there anything you want me to look up to tell you when I return?”

“If Bruce killed Joker yet. Where I’m buried. Don’t come back for 80 years!”

“No promises! I’ll see what I can find. Au revoir, soulmate!” With a shimmer, she disappeared.

Jason collapsed lengthwise on the couch, suddenly feeling incredibly lonely. “Now what?”

~~~

The first time Marinette died, she’d woken up in a strange bed in a huge fancy house that was much nicer than Adrien’s. It definitely had a more lived-in, home-like feel, for one. She’d just finished exploring its vast premises when she woke up again in Paris, to her teammates’ relief.

Later, she’d asked Tikki about it. “You must have a soulmate, Marinette,” the kwami decided. “Some have dreamscapes, and a very few have deathscapes. They’re usually involved with the Miraculous or magic or supernatural forces of some kind. Both sides of the soulbond end up in the shared ‘scape when they die. They tend to join one another fairly soon…the Miraculous must affect it some. Your deaths are temporary because of the cure, so I do not know how that will affect your ‘mate’s bond and life. Your death must not be long enough for your soulmate to join you.”

The next several times she ended up there, Marinette took note of the things familiar to her from her life, such as the extensive sewing room. Other things hinted at aspects of her ‘mate’s personality, such as the large tea collection, the vast library, the well-equipped gym that has many types of equipment she wasn’t familiar with.

The deathscape appeared to have been shaped around more of their life than hers, leading her to suspect that they would be in the ‘scape longer than her.

And then she was fighting a metallokinetic akuma, and got impaled by a shiny crowbar. And there was someone else in the ‘scape with her–a boy with blue eyes and black hair, a little taller than her (but still pretty short) and scrawny but muscled, sipping tea and reading Pride and Prejudice.

“Bonjour, J’mapelle Marinette.” Does he know he’s dead, he’s my soulmate, this is our deathscape? That it’s my fault we’re here right now?

He took the news fairly calmly, all things considered, and appeared to tolerate her, though it could just be loneliness and shock keeping him so subdued. She liked him, like she knew she would–he was funny and smart and well-read and had a nice smile. It was relaxing to get to know him, knowing he was her soulmate for a reason and she could trust him. Besides, they were dead, who was he gonna tell she was Ladybug?

She was a little sad to feel the now-familiar tingling signalling her return to the land of the living. She only hoped that her return would somehow work through the bond to revive Jason as well, so he wouldn’t be stuck in their ‘scape alone for who knew how long. He knew enough he could look her up if he revived, she was pretty sure.

Once she’d reassured her team that she was fine, she zipped home as fast as she could, desperate to talk to Tikki alone about her soulmate.

Tikki hummed thoughtfully when Marinette asked if there was any way for her to contact Jason. The kwami told her to contact Adrien and get him to bring Plagg over so they could discuss a possible solution.

While the miniature beings confabbed, Marinette told Adrien about Jason.

Finally, Tikki turned to Marinette. “You should be able to communicate in a manner similar to telepathy.” The two kwami placed their paws on her forehead. “You can try to contact ~Jason~ now.”

“Jason? Can you hear me? It’s Marinette, your soulmate.”

“I can hear you loud and clear, Marinette. Can we contact each other? Is it telepathy?”

“Sort of…it’s like souls talking instead of our minds talking, because we’re uniquely linked?”

“Cool. Are you okay?”

“Of course, I’m alive now. The cure heals everything.”

~~~

Jason and Marinette talked to each other often, especially during school and fights, where he would coach or distract her as she wished (he was an invaluable help during her English and literature classes).

But even with his help during akuma fights, Marinette started dying more. Tikki said it was their bond trying to balance each other out, bringing them together once again.

In October, Marinette appeared beside Jason yet another time. “Hi.”

“Hey. What happened this time?”

She flopped on the couch beside him, tilting his wrist so she could see the title of the book he was reading. “I have the Miraculous.”

The non sequitur made him blink until he remembered her telling him her plans to retrieve the two abused Miraculous from Hawkmoth.”Really? That’s great! Wait, why are you here then?”

She sighed. “Our bond. I think I’m gonna be here for a while. Anyways, I was with Adrien at his dad’s–’cause he’s Hawkmoth and that’s why Nathalie had a heart attack so young, she was using the broken peacock Miraculous–and we were all transformed. We fought and I got the Grimoire and Miraculous. Then Adrien and I switched and I cataclysmed Gabriel. Then we detransformed after we said Hawkmoth and Mayura were gone for good. I went home and apparently died again.”

“You cataclysmed Gabriel?!” Jason’s voice went up an octave.

“Yep. He deserved it. He ruined Adrien’s, my, my team’s lives, terrorised Paris for years, abused Nooroo and his powers…he absolutely had it coming.”

“I just can’t see my sweet pixie Marinette cataclysming someone,” Jason shook his head in disbelief. “You’re so longsuffering. Everyone has a limit, I guess–and I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it, I’m just surprised you did it.”

Marinette gave him a shaky smile. “I hold one of the two kwami of balance. I’m perfectly capable of balancing the scales where I need to.” She promptly burst into tears.

Jason panicked for a second, bewildered, but recovered quickly, scooting closer and wrapped his arms around her, letting her sob on his shoulder.

“I’m so confused, Jay,” she wailed. “I’m glad he’s gone, but he was Adrien’s dad. I just killed one of my best friends’ parents! How can I feel so relieved to know everything is over? It’s not over for Adrien, I just made him an orphan! Yeah, he’ll be better off with his aunt, but that was still his father-”

Jason patted her back soothingly, understanding the sudden outpour of emotions coming from his soulmate as she was coming down from quite an adrenaline rush, being in a safe place to feel freely for the first time in years. He wouldn’t be surprised if she acted erratic and was extremely emotional for the next little while. He didn’t mind–he much preferred her to be her entire self, emotions and tears and all.

“It’s okay to feel relieved, Marinette. It’s okay to feel sad, too, or angry, or guilty. Feel it all. You’re safe now.”

She breathed out a shuddering sob, squeezing her arms even tighter around him.

They sat there for a good while, Jason’s shirt absorbing all of Marinette’s emotions. Finally she wiped at her face, scrubbing the sleeve of her shirt over the tear and snot tracks.

“Thank you, Jason,” she said hoarsely.

“You’re welcome. Anytime, okay?”

She shot him a watery smile. “I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you that I portalled over to Gotham before the fight and cataclysmed Joker.”

His jaw dropped. “You what?!”

“He definitely deserved it.”

“You’ve got no arguments from me, believe me, I just–you killed him? Why?”

“It was about time. He killed and hurt hundreds of others and he killed you.” She cupped his face in her hands. “I’m thrilled I got to meet you and know you, but I’d far rather you alive than with me right now, if it meant Joker never killed you.”

“Thank you, Marinette,” he whispered, leaning his head against her shoulder.

“You’re welcome. Anytime.” She repeated.

After a while he laced their fingers together, staring at their entwined hands. He looked at her. “I’m glad you’re my soulmate.”

“I am too. That you’re mine, I mean.”

“I know,” he snickered. “I…really like you.”

“Like, like-like?” she frowned. “That was too confusing. I like-like you as well, Jay.” Her gaze met his as they slowly leaned in.

Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips brushed over hers, so soft she barely felt them, and disappeared. She cracked one eye open.

Jason…wasn’t there.

“When I said I’d rather him alive than with me, I didn’t mean for him to resurrect before we even properly kissed for the first time!”

Taglist (open): @jennifer-rose123 @questioning-blob-of-fog

#jasonette #dcxmlb #ali writes #fic

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book-of-curse · 3 years

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A Guide to Lucid Dreaming, Astral Projection, and Hedgecrossing [Final]

Lucid Dreaming

Lucid dreaming takes place during REM sleep. In a normal person who isn’t sleep deprived, REM sleep sets in after about 90 minutes. This makes entering a lucid dream through the traditional way of meditating through the previous sleep states difficult, although it is possible. Some people attempt to enter REM sleep directly by waking themselves up and then going back to bed again; because their mind is interrupted mid-sleep cycle, they may enter REM again quickly.

The best way to attain lucidity during REM sleep, in my opinion, is to engage in reality checks. Reality checks train us to check during dreams automatically to see if we are sleeping or not. We pick some detail about dreams that sets them apart from reality, and during the day we check several times to see whether or not we are sleeping. Eventually, this habit carries over into dreams and we naturally question whether or not we are dreaming - which prompts us to enter a lucid dream if we ask this question while we are dreaming.

Here are some examples of reality checks: dreams constantly change and shift, so if you look at something, look away, and then look back - if you are dreaming, it should have changed. If you aren’t dreaming, it will stay constant. In dreams, you can manipulate things with your mind; try changing some element of the scenery as you would in a dream, or try to fly. Trying to do these mental exercises from a waking state feels silly and doesn’t work, but in a dream it can trigger you to realize you are dreaming if you check to see if you can do these things and you can. Regularly check to see if you are dreaming during the day, and check for these properties found only in dreams. Eventually, you will ask the question during a dream and will become lucid.

Intentions are helpful for the attainment of lucid dreaming. Before bed, enter into your mind’s eye and find yourself on a red beach with a large red 3. A door with a glowing red C awaits you. Enter it, holding your intention to lucid dream that night as you allow yourself to fall asleep. When you attain lucidity, think back on the red C and the red 3. This will associate these concepts with sleep. You can think on these red concepts in order to help with dream recall. These is called an anchor. Anchors can be used to help keep you present during the dream and remind you that you are lucid. Regularly think back on the red room with the C; create a glowing C or 3 in your hand. The action of doing this grounds you in your dream and prevents you from losing your lucidity or from waking up.

Additionally, you can check your dream journal for patterns you are encountering during your natural dreams. These should be your REM sleep dreams as these are the easiest to recall if you weren’t lucid during them. Recognizing common types of dreams and dream locations can help you recognize that you are dreaming.

Uses

Lucid dreaming is fun. REM sleep dreams are vivid and highly creative. Lucid dream states can be used to flesh out story ideas or to obtain inspiration. The emotional vividness and the surreal ideas encountered in this state of mind are ideal for creative inspiration, like to get inspiration for an otherworldly landscape to draw or for a fictional place or character for a story.

If you are going to use a lucid dream state for some purpose, set your intention ahead of time. It can be fun to explore dreams without an intention, but for goal directed purposes it is important to set your intention or else you will forget while you are maintaining your hold on your lucidity. Do you want to work on a story idea? Okay. Do you want to focus on the plot, the setting, the theme, or the characters?

You can focus on one element of your story that you want to flesh out, or several. You can focus on them one at a time, or all at once. It is difficult to hold many ideas in mind at once. Reminding yourself of your story world, or the characters, or a scene will cause it to manifest in your dream. Because dreams constantly shift and evolve, it will immediately come to life and go in a direction you barely control. This can be used for creative inspiration. That is how one uses dreams - anything that manifests in the dreams suddenly comes to life and takes on a mind of its own during a dream state. Interacting with it intensifies this effect, leading to interesting ideas and feelings.

[ If you liked this, check out my book, The Path: Psychomancy. It goes over this particular topic in addition to other occult and alternative psychological topics. https://www.amazon.com/Path-Psychomancy-Astora-Diam-ebook/dp/B08F2YD1GM ]

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whyralltheusernamestaken · 3 years

Text

A simple greeting

Where you find yourself trapped inside the world of what you thought was a fictional book and the only way you can leave is to say hi to your favourite character... Overhaul.

Overhaul x reader

Warnings : swearing

Words : 872

Masterlist

Series masterlist

A/N : I am the biggest chisaki simp and I have never even written a fic for him????

Chapter 1

One second you were getting off the train stop nearest to your home, surrounded by normal looking people and the next you were standing in a busy station full of people with extra limbs or bright skin colours.

You felt your mind swim in confusion as you stayed still, feet frozen on the ground and eyes darting around the crowds. A familiar mop of green hair and freckles walked past and you quickly ran after.

“Um hello?” you called out, reaching out a hand and grasping his wrist.

“Hi?” he jumped, turning around and nearly tripping over his own feet.

“Sorry!” you said quickly, letting go of his wrist and stepping back. “I thought you looked familiar, maybe not.”

“Ah,” he nodded, pausing slightly before reaching out a hand for a handshake. “Well it’s nice to meet you, I’m Midoriya.”

Your eyes blinked repeatedly, “Like... Midoriya Izuku?”

“Yeah.” he smiled. “I’m guessing you know me from UA’s sports festival?” he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “I don’t think I’ve met you before.”

You hurriedly nodded, not wanting to create unwanted suspicion. It was strange to see what had once been a 2d drawing stand before you, and gosh was the human version of him so much cuter.

“I’ve got to go to school now, it was nice meeting you...”

“Y/N.” you smiled, bowing slightly before waving as he ran towards the train.

“Bye Y/N!”

Watching his figure disappear, you realised the reality you had suddenly been thrown into, a fustrated sigh leaving you mouth as you quickly ran towards the exit. Your eyes blurred with tears as the calls you made to people in your world refused to go through.

You were stranded.

~~~

Sitting down at the table of a small cafe, you took a sip from your favourite drink as a snowstorm of questions running through your mind. The worldmaster? Alternate dimensions?

You had never once considered that the people in this world were actually alive and not just animated characters. And the worldmasters quirk had accidentally brought you, who was from your dimension, into theirs?

“So...? How do I leave?” you finally asked, deciding that even though you didn’t fully believe this guy, he was the only person knowing of the fact that you were not from here.

“Well it’s simple actually.”

“Really?” you piped up, a smile gracing your features for the first time since you had stepped foot here.

“Yeah.” the worldmaster, Haru nodded, “Since this is like a book to you, you just need to talk to your favourite character.”

“Favourite character?” you racked through your brain to see who was your favourite, your smile and hope instantly shattering as the image of a man with a plague doctor’s mask entered your brain.

“Yeah I don’t think that’s going to happen.” you sulked, burrowing your face into hands as the worldmaster looked at you puzzled.

“Why is that? UA doesn’t have the highest security and pro heros are always happy to talk to their fans.”

“That’s not it.” you groaned, shaking your head before taking another simp.

“Is it a civillain?”

You shook your head once again.

He sucked his teeth in before continuing. “A villain?”

You looked at him and nodded with a sigh.

“Well that’s not the biggest problem either. LOV is all over the kids these days.”

You srunched your nose at him. “Ew, don’t say it like that. And it’s not them either.”

“Are you seriously going to leave me hanging?”

You glared at him, before speaking quickly. “It’s the bloody yakuza.”

He looked at you, mouth open. “Your favourite character, in the whole of our world, is in the Shie Hassaikai.”

“Shut up.” you mumbled, hiding your face as you heard his cackles ring out through the entire shop, red spreading through your face as everyone’s attention turned to you two. “Shut up you’re so obnoxious.”

He eventually died down, before continuing. “Well, there’s no such thing as impossible, I’ll try my best to help you, after all I’m the reason your in this mess.” he sighed.

“You’d better.” you seethed, pouting from the embarrassment. “And how come you’re not helping the heros if you know everything about the past, present and future in this world?”

“I would end up like my ancestor.” he explained. “Our family, as the world masters must remain completely unbiased. In this world we are simply civilians who are socially neutral.”

“Gee, sounds kinda boring.” you snickered, placing the empty cup down on the table. “So where am I staying?”

“That’s a good question.”

“Please tell me you have an answer.”

“Well let’s get you closer to the world of heros and villains first.”

“Um, I don’t have a quirk.”

“No worries. I’ll take care of it.”

“Wait no I don’t want a quirk, Overhaul doesn’t like them.”

“I can’t just manifest you a quirk.” he stated, rolling his eyes. “I mean I’ll get you to stay with one of them.”

“What-”

~~~

You stood with your phone in hand, staring up at the dingy alleyway sign. “God I hate it here.” you muttered, wondering why the hell Haru had directed you to this musty highstreet bar. You knew you had to entually start earning money, as your mission at hand did not seem achievable in one day, but out of an entire city’s worth of jobs to apply for, the one he chose for you was... this?

You began to take a step forward before the door swung open suddenly, hitting you square in the face. Staggering a step back, your hands flew over your nose as blood slowly seeped out.

“Shit.” someone yelled. You heard a thump to the ground and watched as he threw the trash bag onto the floor before grabbing your hands. “Hold on let me see.”

“It’s fine.” you grumbled, shaking his grip off before stepping to the side of the door to let him through.

“Dabi.” someone screamed from inside the bar. “Hurry up and throw the trash away and get back in here.”

“Can’t you just wait a minute.” he shouted back. “Fuck um, I’ll be right back.”

He fumbled past, picking up the trash and running down the street as you walked inside, not bothering to wait for him.

“Hi.” you greeted, everyone to turn to you perplexed as you pinced your nose, your blood messibly wiped on your chin.

Shigaraki raised an eyebrow at you from behind his father’s hand as you stood there awkwardly.

“Wow not even a greeting in return? Rude much.” you grumbled, before clearing your throught to hopefully get rid of some of your nerves. “Um, are you hiring?”

“What?”

“Like, do you have any vacancies in your staff so that little old me could possibly occupy?”

“I know what hiring means.”

“Yeah well iI’m sure it didn’t hurt to explain it to you again.” you muttered.

“No, we are not hiring.” the purple mist behind the counter, whom you recognised to be Kurogiri, said. “Although miss are you alright there?”

“I don’t even know.” you rasped. “Why the fuck did Haru send me here if you guys aren’t even hiring?”

“Haru sent you here?” Shigarki perked up.

You nodded and he turned to look at Kurogiri, quietly exchanging words before looking back at you.

“You should’ve mentioned that to begin with. Alright you’re hired. ”

“Excuse me?”

“Little old you can occupy the vacancy in our staff.” he deadpanned.

You huffed out before grinning at him and throwing him a thumbs up. “Epic!”

You shuffled over to the counter, peering at Kurogiri eagerly. “So when do I start?”

“You can start by wiping the tables miss...”

“Y/N.”

“Right, miss Y/N.”

“Wipe your face before you start anything.” Shigaraki muttered, pointing over to a small door in the far corner of the room.

“Will do.”

Slipping into the bathroom, you pulled out your phone, him picking up a few rings in. “Haru I thought you said you weren’t biased, why the hell does the league act like they’re best friends with you.”

“I’m not biased if I’m friends with both sides?” he offers.

“Backstabber.” you quipped, washing your face.

“You know what? Enjoy your home because you’re staying with the league now.”

“You did not.” you screeched, grabbing your phone from the side as you watched him hang up. “You’re so petty you know that?” you muttered, glaring at your reflection in the mirror before exiting the bathroom.

“Right, who’s gonna show me my room?”

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ilkkawhat · 3 years

Note

All the numbers. (If not all then pick and choose a handful to answer).

lol you’re really going for it anon, huh?? 😂 bless your heart. I’ll do all of them and then idk. if anybody wants to send any again, I’m sure I can have a different answer

(I did just answer 7 & 22 so I’ll leave those out. rest below the cut)

1) is there a story you’re holding off on writing for some reason?

I guess if you count all of my active WIPs that have been sitting dormant for months or years, there’s those since I like. I know what I’m doing in pretty much all of them, just as I know what I’m doing in some of my unpublished WIPs, but I think I just need to be in a certain mood/energy to do certain ones (ie, Agony esp is a very heavy fic so I gotta be able to Deal with that)

2) what work of yours, if any, are you the most embarrassed about existing?

I deleted those 😂😂😂 but some of my reeeeeealllllly old stuff is still out there and I cringe thinking about that and though I could easily delete those too, I’m keeping them just since the harddrive that has the docs for it is corrupted lol

3) what order do you write in? front of book to back? chronological? favorite scenes first? something else?

Just all over the place these days tbh. Even chapter to chapter it’ll change, I’ll write snippets in future chapters--and I’m talking like three or four chapters ahead--just to get it out there. But then there’s other days where I’ll sit and just write and not stop.

4) favorite character you’ve written

Nick Stokes, of course 💜💜💜

5) character you were most surprised to end up writing

Any of the Macgyver characters outside of Jack. Cause though I’ll claim not to all the time, I do know that I know the CSI characters (though I’m surprised I’m able to write in their POVs outside of Nick.) I grew up with them. I have a bond with them. The mac characters? I’ve only known for like. two years now and not even that well anymore since I’ve stopped watching the show.

6) something you would go back and change in your writing that it’s too late/complicated to change now

Expanding on details. Almost every fic I write, I’ll read it again later and be like “ah shit I should have run with this idea...” but I guess that’s how I can do a sequel/missing scene

8) favorite genre to write

hurt/comfort (emphasis on the hurt, really I mean we’re talking like borderline horror)

9) what, if anything, do you do for inspiration?

See I haven’t really honed in on any one particular thing that inspires me to write. It comes out of nowhere, and the following list of things doesn’t like, always work. When I’m listening to a song. When I’m driving in the car. When I’m watching something unrelated to the source material (totes got some inspiring vibes watching Falcon and The Winter Soldier yesterday tbh lmao) When I dream. When I go on a walk. When people send me asks and I just go the fuck off and suddenly ten chapters later I’m writing a fic that they probably didn’t even want (coughSpecimenStokescough)

10) write in silence or with background noise? with people or alone?

I think the last couple times I’ve like, really written it’s been in silence. Definitely alone. Don’t got people to write around, really lmao (unless you count my parents being in other rooms with obnoxiously loud televisions and tablets)

11) what aspect of your writing do you think has most improved since you started writing?

All of it. And I’m sure it’ll keep improving.

12) your weaknesses as an author

Dialogue. I don’t know how people talk 😂

13) your strengths as an author

Detail, description, and I also like to think--emotion? but idk. It’s hard for me to assess my strength tbh

14) do you make playlists for your current wips?

Oh YES! At least for the longer WIPs like Last Breath or Agony. And listen to it on a loop when I’m trying to brainstorm or write if I want to write with music on. I’ve been starting to link the playlists when I’m doing with the fic (which is not many so far)

(I think Hellbound is the only one-shot I made a playlist for that I didn’t share)

15) why did you start writing?

I honestly can’t remember, cause I think I’ve been writing stories (fan fiction or not) ever since I was in middle school?? Maybe even elementary? But I do feel like I had gotten more encouragement for it than drawing from the few people in my life that did actively cheer me on, and there’s just something about writing that is so...fulfilling? Esp since I can’t like. Just manifest the images or make the “movie” in my head, at least I can write them down and hopefully convey what I see/feel in my mind through words.

16) are there any characters who haunt you?

All my neglected OCs lmao. I did and I guess on some level still do want to make an original series.

In a chilling way Veronica also haunts me cause I realize how much of that like, darkness in myself I put in her.

And Nick, well, he’s just always on my mind.

17) if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

Just fucking go for it! Don’t give a shit if anybody will read it or not. Take your time, flesh out those details. Describe what you see, what they see, what they feel.

If you think you’re going too far...you’re not.

keep going

18) were there any works you read that affected you so much that it influenced your writing style? what were they?

I mean any fan fiction I read in the past has probably influenced me on some level. I know that when I came back to CSI in 2018, reading all of kristen999′s nick whump def encouraged me cause I was like “oh...there’s others like me who like to see him hurt!?!?” and I do think that maybe sometimes after I read a fic, I might like. Try to incorporate those styles I see. The way words are described, sentences constructed. Not like, copy of course but I feel like a long time ago my writing wasn’t really idk, novel-like? very short, almost read like a script whereas now, since I’ve seen the way people write their stories (some novel length stories, too), I flesh mine out a lot more.

19) when it comes to more complicated narratives, how do you keep track of outlines, characters, development, timeline, ect.?

I don’t 😂 Thinking of my bigger projects like Agony, I do just kind make up some of it as I go with a rough outline although sometimes it is a bit more detailed--like First Flight actually has a super detailed outline but I know that once I start writing, something might come up, some twist I didn’t think of before--or even one that somebody suggests to me, but idk I feel like I do have a way of tying everything together regardless? Cause especially with those bigger WIPs I will try to go back and re-read if something seems familiar or if I’ve forgotten a detail, or if I’m planning on diving back into it after a long break from it.

20) do you write in long sit-down sessions or in little spurts?

Depends. I feel more accomplished with the long sit down sessions so I target that, but lately it’s been little spurts with maybe one big dump at the end of the week.

21) what do you think when you read over your older work?

Mostly cringe, but there are times I’m like “holy shit this is really good???”

like I remember recently I re-read Agony and loved it, when I wanted to delete it maybe like. a week before that. I think it honestly depends on my frame of mind, and why I’m going back to read the fic? Cause I’ve had times where I’m like “wait what was this one?” and then I read it and laugh at how bad it is, but then other times where I’m like, “I wanna read that one fic I did...” and then I do and it makes me happy.

But, I will always kinda criticize at the same time--”aw, I could do this better, I could have expanded on this,” etc

23) any obscure life experiences that you feel have helped your writing?

My life is suuuuuuper boring so. not really lmao. One of my earliest CSI fics that actually created what I consider to be my number one OC (she’d be the lead in that original series I mentioned earlier) came out of me sitting and staring into a campfire lmao.

also there was this teacher I had (one of those good IRL supports) that told me a story of something that happened to her (or was it her daughter?) and I turned it into a story (back in my teen days) so. I guess there are somethings.

24) have you ever become an expert on something you previously knew nothing about, in order to better a scene or a story?

Expert? No. But I will do numerous google searches to try and figure some stuff out and get lost in a rabbit hole of “research” for a while and hope that when I do write it, it comes off as I know what I’m doing when really, I do not lol.

25) copy/paste a few sentences or a short paragraph that you’re particularly proud of

haven’t really written much in this past week, and certainly nothing to be proud of, but this line hit me like a ton of bricks for Specimen Stokes and I’m in love with it:

“Because, my dear specimen, I wanted to see if you loved the danger...or if you loved me.”

#mk.fic #mk writes stuff #nonny #mk talks

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sabraeal · 4 years

Text

We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Chapter 7

Written for @k-itsmaywriting as her prize for winning the Trope Madness kitty last March! I’d make the usual groaning noises about how late I am, but honestly...this is about as good as I could do this year XD

“So let me get this straight.” Obi’s long fingers steeple over his character sheet. “Not only is homeslice the lord of this particular castle and its whole dealie--”

“Demense,” Kiki offers.

“--Right, demense. That sounds fancy enough. So he’s not only the big wig of this demense place, but also--” her stomach curls to match the trajectory of his smirk-- “my lady’s boyfriend.”

“Ah! It’s not like that!” Shirayuki waves her hands, attempting to scuttle this whole avenue of inquiry. “He’s not-- we’re not-- together.” She dares a glance at Izana. “I...think?”

His mouth twitches; no comment. This may be presumptuous of me, one of his first texts reads, burning a hole in her pocket, but would you be open to a potential failed betrothal in your backstory?

There was no way for her to know, not when her only image of Zen’s older brother was a blond man behind a backseat window, waiting in the school parking lot, but still, still--

I’m open to whatever you think would go best, should not have been her answer. Every poster on r/tabletop would have called her...well, nothing polite, that’s for one.

“I mean, maybe...technically?” She’s not entirely sure how fourth century betrothals work, especially fantasy ones. “Lynet is under the impression that this was all dissolved for, ah...” Izana offers her a beatific smile, like an angel before it sets fire to a city. “...reasons.”

“But officially,” Obi presses, “he has dibs.”

Her mouth pulls flat. “I guess if you’re the sort of person who thinks you can call dibs on a sentient being with free will, yes.”

“Right,” Obi bulldozes on, oblivious to the pothole he’s hurtling toward, “and now he’s throwing you this banquet--”

“The banquet’s for all of us,” Zen snaps, arms cross and cheeks flushed. “As a reward for saving Laxdo.”

“Oh, is that right? As I remember it--” Obi taps his chin, so thoughtful-- “Lynet was the one who figured out the whole compulsion thing. And who was it that broke the curse? Oh, right: Lynet.”

“No!” Shirayuki claps her hands to her cheeks. It would be nice if she could take even a fictional compliment without blushing. “You all helped!”

“See?” Zen cuts a hand toward her, smug. “It’s for all of us.“

“Oh yes,” Kiki deadpans, teeth peeking out from her smirk. “Moral support is just as important as actually solving the puzzle. I’m sure his lordship agrees.”

Mitsuhide rubs at his chin, stubble scraping over his palm. Four hours ago, he arrived clean shaven; now he’s sporting a five o’clock shadow. Shirayuki can only stare in wonder.

“I think...they might have a point.” He winces under Zen’s scowl. “Not that I think we weren’t important! But Lord Shuuka...”

He shrugs. It’s like watching mountains heave, but in a gentle, lovable way.

Kiki’s mouth twitches. “I have the distinct impression we were afterthoughts on that banquet invitation.”

“I’m the Prince of all the Britons and the Angles!” Zen shrills, slapping his hand on the table. “I’m not an afterthought.”

The room goes suddenly,awkwardly silent; the only noise the rattle of heating through the ducts. The exactly moment his words echo back to him is made painfully clear by the way he blushes, blotchy and red all up and down his neck, like he’s the one with a curse.

Kiki’s eyebrow nearly collides with her hairline. “You mean Arturius?”

“That’s what I said,” Zen grumbles, hunching down in his seat. “Or at least what I meant.”

“In any case,” Obi presses on, “what’s a king to a cute girl you’re gonna marry--?”

“We’re not engaged.” It’s pointless; Obi’s clearly concerned less about Lynet’s marital status and more about riling Zen up about it, but still. “I mean, not now.”

“Betrothed,” Izana interjects casually, tapping the end of his pen on his notebook. “It is different. Legally.”

Shirayuki nibbles on her lip, stomach wriggling in a concerned squirm. Nothing good comes of Izana getting pedantic.

“Sure, maybe you’re not now,” Obi allows with a shrug of his shoulder. “But come on, what better place is there to woo a medieval maiden than a banquet?”

“A ball,” Kiki offers, flat, at the same time Mitsuhide thoughtfully posits, “A stroll through the garden.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Zen snips, lifting his chin. “Shirayuki already said Lynet wasn’t interested.”

“Sure, sure. Hey, boss.” Obi pitches toward Izana with a smile that can only be described as looking for trouble. “How tall is this guy?”

For once, Izana seems flustered, eyelashes fluttering as he blinks down at his notes. “I’m sorry, come again?”

“This Shuuka dude. The lord here? The baron or whatever he is.” He rests his chin on his hand, smile sharpening into a feral grin. “How tall is he?”

“Ah...average, I suppose.” His brows knit, fingers shuffling through his papers. “There aren’t any good estimates of height for this era, but I suppose if you wanted a modern equivalent...five-ten? Five-eleven?”

“Really? You don’t say.” Obi cuts his smile toward Zen. “And just how tall are you, Your Highness?”

Shirayuki winces at the flush climbing Zen’s neck; if they’d been outside, she’d have suggested some aloe vera before the burn blistered. As it is...

Zen’s fingers crumple the edge of his sheet. “Arturius is six-one.”

Obi hums. “How interesting.”

It is a fine day at Laxdo; this autumn may still have a bite, but it’s crisp, refreshing after so many days in the confines of the great hall. A great hall that is now transformed, tables and benches populating it instead of the sick. Most of the afflicted now hobble about the grounds, slow and unsteady, but healing; the few still confined to their sickbeds are only the elderly and previously infirm, and your attentions are a boon to them still.

The manifest is in your hand now, the last few names in your care curling across the page. It is those men on your mind now as you sweep through Laxdo’s bright corridors, striding through the tiger stripes the sun leaves across the rushes. Your burden is light now that the castle’s healer is back on his feet, able to help with potions and poultices and whatever else you are able to fashion to ease the weakness in your patients, but logistics are ever the enemy. Supplies were depleted before you arrived and have only been brought lower. Winter is just around the corner, and--

Steel rings through the stone. Metal on metal-- blades meeting. Out in the courtyard.

Your heart flutters wildly in your chest, and your pace hurries to match it. Surely, surely it cannot be an attack; not now, when Laxdo is but a shade of its former glory.

The certainty of pragmatism grips you, your stomach roiling in its clutches. But of course it must be. What lord could suffer the sweet temptation of a neighbor brought low? It would be nothing to sweep in here and take the manor for a second son, something to placate him, to keep him complacent for another dozen years.

You steel yourself, wishing you had more than the bare pouch of herbs and water skein you carry on you, and step into the blinding light of the arcade--

Only to see a crowd of men gathered in the yard, conspicuously not fighting. Oh no, they are cheering instead.

Your mouth pulls thin, and ah, fortune favors you, for the crowd parts just so, and there are two of your recently healed patients, bare steel in hand, fighting each other in the yard.

Violence is not in your nature, but oh, you are contemplating a change of philosophy.

“Lady Lynet.”

You should startle; time and experience have taught you to shy when approached from behind, but strangely...you do not. Shuuka comes to stand beside you, a respectful distance as is due to your station, but closer than you have been used to these last few months, and it is-- easy. Familiar.

The lord of Laxdo has certainly seen better days; his shoulders stoop as if he expects to be smaller, and the circles beneath his eyes are quite deep still, but-- he smiles, and it is easy to see that time will heal his ills, even these.

“Shuuka,” you murmur in greeting, leaning against one of the arcade’s columns. “It is good to see you on your feet.”

“It is good to be on them,” he assures you with a laugh that brightens the day around you. “I see you are taking in this fine weather.”

“I am. And so are you men, it seems,” you add, wry. “Whether or not I told them to.”

“I know you told them to rest,” he says, lips struggling to rein in his smile, “but it has been a long season for my men. To be outside after such a long sickness, to be moving as one ought--” the longing on his face is plain to see and painful to witness-- “perhaps you might allow them this. Just this once.”

You watch the men dance around each other in the ring, laughing and shouting, breathless from both, and let your jaw ease. “Just this once.”

Shuuka smiles, a bright, earnest thing, and it is so hard to reconcile him to the boy you knew all those years ago. The small lord’s son who viewed the whole world through a veil of tears. He’s grown up better than you could have ever hoped.

He leans on the pillar across from yours, eyeing you with an eager sort of wariness. “I have set the night of the banquet.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” His skitters away, back toward his men. “Tonight. If-- if you allow it.”

“Oh!” You had not-- this was not-- you are not even prepared--

“Hey, you!”

You both jump, heads swinging to where Arturius storms across the yard, looking as unrelenting as winter itself. “You and I must have words, Lord Shuuka!” He glances at you, mouth pulled thin. “Privately.”

Shirayuki considers herself well read.

An understatement, actually; a well-crafted cover for the amount of hours she’d spent curled up in the B&B’s window, devouring books Jaja bought by the box at a yard sale, or the amount she could carry in her arms from the library.

(The maximum was supposed to be five at any one time, but during on particularly slow summer in middle school, the librarian had made a special “all you can carry” policy, applied solely to Shirayuki. It had turned her daily trips into weekly ones, and saved her from slowing her pace to a crawl Saturday nights, so that she could have something to read on Sunday)

She doesn’t have a favorite book-- just thinking about culling the list to top ten makes her break out into a cold sweat, let alone one-- but she has formative ones. Ones that became annual re-reads or just stuck with her, claiming a stake in the back of her mind, ready to whisper the words she needs when she wants a laugh, or the rest of the world gets too hard to handle.

So it’s no surprise when she looks at Obi, his grin stretching impossibly, gleefully wide, and thinks Cheshire Cat. It only makes sense, since she’s fallen down the rabbit hole.

“Well now,” he drawls, far too pleased. “I think we all saw this coming.”

Kiki arches a brow. “What? Because you goaded him into it?”

“Princess,” he gasps, hand pressed against his chest. “Would I purposefully rile up the Prince of all the Briton and the Angles?”

“Absolutely.”

His retort is lost, cut off by the heavy tread of Zen clomping down the stairs. If Shirayuki thought some hallway time might help him cool off, well-- that notion is instantly disabused when he turns the corner on the landing. If anything, he’s more agitated, neck flushed and mouth flat, slouching over to his seat like he’s asking for someone to start a fight.

Izana is not much better, even if his annoyance is more subtle. He settles into his chair with lips pressed thin, the corners of his eyes crinkled in a way that does not suggest good humor.

“Now if no one else has any more business,” he says, voice a trembling thread of his patience, “I think we can skip right to the feast.”

Shirayuki shifts, biting her cheek. It’s not important, it really isn’t but still-- “Um...”

Izana peers up from his notes, brows raised with a shocking lack of sarcasm. “Did you want to do something, Shirayuki?”

“Oh, no, I just, um...” She rolls a corner of Lynet’s sheet, tight and neat under her stubby fingernail. “I just wanted a...clarification?”

He blinks, flipping a hand out in encouragement. “Go on...?”

“It’s only, ah....” It’s silly, she knows that, but she’s already started asking. “Is this an...informal feast?”

Izana’s mouth parts, just slightly. “I’m...sorry?”

“I thought I would ask since Lynet didn’t exactly pack her, um, fanciest gowns.” Her cheeks flare with heat, and ugh, she really just should have let the chips fall as they may on this one. At least if the stares she’s getting from the rest of the table are any indication. “She was traveling light.”

“I...” His mouth opens once, then shuts. Opens again, brows furrowed. “Lord Shuuka has seen fit to outfit you all accordingly if you did not have appropriate clothing for the evening.”

She means to thank him, maybe even ask what might qualify as proper dress for a celebration such as this, but--

“So what you’re saying,” Obi interjects, grin slanted and sly, “is that Beaumain’s got some sick new threads.”

Regret etches itself on every plane of Izana’s face. “...Yes. I suppose.”

“Ha.” Obi leans back, eyes tracing a searing trail up her from heels to hairline. “Then yeah, I got something I want to do before this shindig.”

Had the Lord Himself but asked you if there were women in Laxdo, you would have sworn upon the grave of your mother that you and Morgaine were the only two. Surely you had treated none when the castle was under its curse. But when you attempt to beg off the feast, explaining that you are not properly clad for such a celebration--

Well, Shuuka finds you a gown easily enough. Your fingers linger over the remarkable wool, woven thin and tight, dyed a rich indigo. Woad, you think, though your own forays with it never yielded a color so impressive. The linen kirtle is the same, so light it might as well be air, and oh, you may be born a lady, but never did the Castle Perilous have such luxury.

A knock lands lightly upon your door, a quick little ditty sketched on oak. You’ve heard it before, though you can’t remember the words, or even the tune, just the beat. Ba-ba-bum. Bum-bum. A song from a better time.

You shake yourself. Song it may be, but a summons it is still. And you are the one who must answer it.

The door is heavy beneath your hands, but you coax it open with little effort. Behind it is the evening’s shadows, thick in the growing dim, and the gold that shines from them.

“Ah Beaumains,” you murmur as his outline resolves into a man, one dressed as fine as you. His colors are more subdued, the black of the shadows and the deep blues of his skin, humbler than any words that have passed his lips. “I was not expecting that you would, um...?”

“I am your escort, my lady.” He bows over his arm, a gallant. His pose gives the distinct impression of mocking Bedwyr, though the man himself is not in evidence. “What sort of shield would I be if I let you walk into the fray alone?”

“Ah...” You stare at his sleeve as he holds it out to you, hesitant. “I suppose that would be...unseemly, yes.”

“And I, the height of propriety.” His teeth flash like a knife’s edge as you slip your hand around his elbow. “Lucky, too.”

Your brows raise. “Oh?”

“Of course.” He shrugs; every inch a siege. “I get to see how nice you look before everyone else.”

“Hey!” Zen directs the brunt of his scowl toward Izana, though the angle of his glare is easily wide enough to include Obi. “Why is Beaumains getting this scene?”

“This scene?” Izana drawls, utterly mild. “Do you mean the conversation he just had with Lynet in her chambers?”

“Yes!” Zen’s jaw sets into an ill-tempered jut. “If anyone, Arturius--”

“You mean the scene wherein Beaumains takes the opportunity afforded by his current occupation to further their flirtation,” Izana continues, “the flirtation in which both players have built upon from their character introductions?”

A flush licks flames up her jaw, threatening to blaze across her cheeks. It’s one thing for it to happen, it’s another thing for everyone to just talk about it.

“...Yes.”

Izana raises a brow. “Because he asked.”

And it’s a whole other thing to do it like she wasn’t even here.

“Well, I want one too!” Zen pushes, hands gripping at the table. “Arturius--”

“Is missing the point that the DM is making,” Kiki supplies, deadpan. “Which is that Lynet is also choosing to have this scene too.”

Zen sputters, red-faced. “I know that! Shirayuki wouldn’t have any problem if Arturius wanted to--”

“Arturius is having a very long, very pointed heart-to-heart with the lord of Laxdo,” Izana reminds him. “Or have you forgotten?”

“Well, it’s not like that took all day!” he protests. “I have time to do both.”

Izana pinches the bridge of his nose, letting a long, noise breath out. “The next half hour is not going to be all and sundry complimenting Lynet on her sartorial choices.”

“It’s not everyone, just Artur--”

“Why not?” Kiki tilts back her chair, wedging her knees against the table. “Morgaine wants to tell her she’s beautiful too. How about Bedwyr?”

Mitsuhide stares at her, slack-jawed, before darting a worried look toward Iana. “W-well,” he says finally, with a hard swallow, “he certainly wouldn’t be able to disagree.”

Izana stares at Kiki, nonplussed. “Well then,” he drawls, mouth settling into a disconcerting smile. “What do you think, Shirayuki?”

She’s already pink, but with everyone’s eyes on her, her skin burns to a painful red. “M-me?”

“Shall we allow Arturius--” he darts a quelling glance at Kiki-- “et al to have their moment with Lynet, or shall we press on to the feast?”

Zen smiles at her, so kind and warm, just like he did that first day at school, and she-- she wishes that this wasn’t up to her. It’s not as if she minds the compliments-- fictional as they are-- but Beamains’ had been spontaneous, inspired by the moment, and this--

--Zen settles back, his smile curling smugly at the corners. His gaze is no longer on her, oh no, it’s on Obi, the challenge written clear in his eyes--

--has nothing to do with the game, and everything to do with the people playing it.

“I think,” she begins without a tremor in her voice, “I’m fine with moving on.”

Zen’s jaw drops. “What?”

“You heard the lady.” Izana lips twitch behind his paper screen. “She is content with only Beaumains’ love making.”

Shirayuki jolts. “That’s not what I sa--”

“Anyway,” he continues, ignoring his brother’s glare and Obi’s grins in response, “it’s the feast now.”

This is no longer the great hall you remember.

Or perhaps it is if you search your earliest memories; if you allow yourself to remember being seated upon the dais, a cushion placed beneath you so that you might reach the table and impress the court with your grace. You did not-- you sister would have, were she allowed, but it was you who would be sent to marry at Laxdo, not her, practically an infant still. It was no disaster; it was not your beauty that had brought the lord of Laxdo to break bread with your father.

“Lady Lynet!” Shuuka rises on the dais, holding up a hand. “Please, come here!”

It is perhaps a different tale now.

Still, this no longer resembles the hall in which you have been toiling in these long weeks. That was a dark, stifling place, the miasma of curse and compulsion lingering for days after you had dispelled them. But this--

This is a new country entirely. Candles twinkle in their holder overhead, the ceilings so high they seem as distant as the stars themselves. Bodies no longer line the hall but instead pack benches, the men dressed bright and boisterous, ale already flowing from their cups.

“Surveying your domain?”

You blink, eyes blurring as they settle on the shadow beside you. His teeth flash white against the indigo of his lips, too amused. “N-no! I was only thinking of how changed this place is. Only days ago man laid head to toe, and now...”

He tilts his heads, horns glimmering in the candlelight. “Now they are all hidden away, and we play at heroes.”

It is only the rough wool beneath your fingers, wrapped around the hard curve of his shoulder, that tells you once again you have acted without thinking. You cheeks burn as you pull away-- to think, you raised a hand to him as if he were one of the tenants’ children chasing you around the courtyard, as if you had known him all your life.

“Oh, my lady,” he clucks. “How rough you are with your servant--”

“You were unkind,” you murmur heatedly. “There are few enough that are still ailing, and they would be better served in their rooms. There is no harm in Laxdo’s lord wanting to celebrate their good fortune.”

“Mayhaps.” His nose wrinkles. “A little ridiculous, you must admit.”

You snorts, unladylike. “Says the one who polished his horns.”

Ah, now the shoe is on the other foot. His gaze is quick to drop from yours, expression rumpled with annoyance. Beaumains may be eager to ridicule the pageantry of the nobles, but he enjoys it as well.

“Come on then.” His arm tugs at yours, not gentle. “Let’s see what your skill has won you, my lady.”

You sputter, feet stumbling as you attempt to keep pace. “As I said, I am not--”

“Ah.” Beaumains mouth curves slyly, eyeing the tables he leads you past. “You may not be taking their measure, but it seems tonight they will take yours.”

It is only his words that make you notice; conversations quiet as you pass, the men’s eyes following you not with hunger, but with curiosity. For the first time, you prefer the former more than the latter.

“I cannot see why.” You take pains to place your feet more carefully, to strive for that ladylike bearing your sister achieves so easily. “They know me already.”

“But tonight is different.” He nods to the empty place beside Shuuka. You stomach drops when you see it is to his right. “Tonight they find out if you fit into the lady’s seat.”

You gut clenches. You did not come so far for this to dog your heels once again. “That-- that cannot be. I have been clear--”

“Lady Lynet!” Shuuka waves again, though more subtly. No need for grand gestures when you are already so close. “Come, take your place by me.”

Beaumains’ brows raise. “Are you sure?”

You thought you were, but the smile the lord gives you as you approach gives you doubts. Beaumains pulls out your chair, chin tucked respectfully, but you do not miss his amused smirk or his knowing look. Fine. He may think what he likes but this is not-- not that. Your betrothal is long in the past for both you and Laxdo’s lord.

“My women did well,” Shuuka tells you, friendly and bright, no hint of romance. “You look radiant, my lady.”

Well...not much of one, at least. “They have my thanks,” you reply, “I truly had nothing for a feast such as this.”

His smile widens, and it does him credit that he keeps it as he turns to Beaumains. “Thank you as well, for escorting my lady.”

To his other side, Arturius scowls, glaring as your shadow performs a polite bow, no respect spared. The same he categorically refused to show the prince. “My pleasure, your lordship.”

“You honor us with your actions, Sir Beaumains.” Shuuka gestured past her, hand open in generosity. “Please, take the seat next to the Lady Lynet, I--”

A chair scrapes across the dais, and Arturius stands, as thunderous as any storm. “That man is no sir.”

The room is so quiet it practically has its own crickets. Or at least it would, if the atmosphere hadn’t suffocated them all. Shirayuki has admit, she’s feeling a little stifled herself

Mitsuhide shifts, chair creaking, mouth grim. “Zen...”

“No,” he snaps, still on his feet, red-faced and tense as he squares off with his brother. “It’s ridiculous! He’s a commoner.”

Izana peers up from his notes, raising a mild brow. “Is this really something you think is appropriate to pursue right now?”

Speaking fluent teacher like she does, Shirayuki hears the warning loud and clear: back down. But of course, Zen doesn’t.

“Beaumains doesn’t belong on the dais,” he reasons angrily. “He should be down at the tables with the vassals and retainers.”

Izana’s expression doesn’t betray a single thought, smooth as still water. “I must concede the point, technically, but as he is a member of your party, it would make sense if--”

Zen barks out a laugh. “Oh, you’re such a stickler for accuracy, but now you’re going to break a simple rule of hospitality--”

“It’s for ease of play--”

“It’s meta gaming.”

If she’d thought the room was quiet before, she’s disabused of the notion now. All motion has ceased; even Kiki holds her breath, eyes fixed on Izana who-- who--

Stands. Or rather, unfurls; every inch is a journey as his long limbs draw straight. It’s hard to remember when Mitsuhide can hardly fit both his thighs on a dining chair, but Izana is tall, a good ten inches above her perfectly respectable 5′4. He uses every bit of that to his advantage as he looms over his brother, eyes cool and steady. “I think--”

“It’s fine.”

Obi lounges in his chair, ankle cross over knee without a care in the word. Big Dick Energy, Kihal would tell her, and wow, she really does not need to be thinking about that right now, in the middle of all this.

His lips slowly spread into a grin that does not help her brain stay on the straight and narrow, not one little bit. “Beaumains can sit among the masses.”

“Obi...” His head swivels to her, and oh, she really hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but-- it’s too late to turn back now. “You don’t need to--”

“Nah, nah, it’s no big deal,” he laughs, waving her off. “Let’s be real, given a choice between being in the box seats or getting trashed with the smallfolk, we all know which one he’d pick.”

Izana frowns, brow knitting. “As much as I appreciate your rationality in the face of the irrational, Obi, it isn’t necessary. It makes more narrative sense for Beaumains to be treated the same as the rest of the party--”

“Seriously, don’t worry about it, boss man. I can tank a hit for historical accuracy.” His gaze cuts to Zen. “In our fantasy roleplaying game where I play a demon and half the party does magic.”

Zen has the grace to look abashed, at least.

Izana lowers himself back into his chair, mouth set in faint disapproval. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, no prob.” Obi grins, sending her stomach into a tailspin. “Don’t worry, my lady, Beaumains knows how to keep himself entertained.”

You may sit at the lord of Laxdo’s right hand, but it is Morgaine who sits at yours, as radiant as any song. By all rights, she should be in your place; base-born she may be, but king’s daughter outranks a count’s, even born on the wrong side of the sheets. Still, she makes no protest when she takes her seat, only curling her lips in one of her mysterious smiles.

Shuuka is an attentive host, selecting the choicest cuts from the trays and laying them upon your plate. He chooses well for you, each morsel a delightful burst of flavor upon your tongue, but still--

Beaumains’ teasing spoils your every bite. It does not escape you that your host is not paying Arturius the same diligent attention but-- one does not feed a king. Or, rather, a prince. And you, well-- you would be the first to say that the curse was ended by the efforts of your whole party, but you know the men of Laxdo hold a different opinion.

(And for that matter, so does Beaumains, which he shares loudly and without prompting whenever possible, much to Arturius’ ire. It is flattering, but oh, you would much rather not be a needle used to provoke, no matter who holds it)

It is kind of Shuuka to pay you such an honor, but still, it leaves you feeling awkward, as if you were born with two left hands. You cast helpless looks to your right, but Morgaine only replies with sly smiles, ones that make your skin itch with expectation.

With no safe place to look on the dais, your gaze fans out over the press below. Lady you may be, but it’s the benches you are used to; your father had never stood much on ceremony, preferring to eat and be merry among his men, rather than make himself a proper lord. Even now you long to be among them; the talk may be bawdy and the drink more sour, but you would not suffer so many eyes upon you, measuring the curve of you breast and speculating on the red of your hair.

You do not look long before your eye catches on midnight blue and glistening horns; even dressed as a shadow, Beaumains is hard to miss among the lord’s men. He laughs, tossing his head back, hand pressed to his belly-- a truer one on him than any you have seen. To think, you had pitied him when Shuuka did not tender an invitation to the dais, but now--

Well, he’s certainly enjoying himself more than you are.

A sharp prod to your ribs sets you upright, your mind snapping back to the present, reminding you sharply that you are being watched and weighed by the same men you long to join. Morgaine pulls back her elbow, sending a pointed look over your shoulder. To Shuuka.

Shuuka, who is staring at you expectantly. Shuuka, who has almost certainly asked you a question that you did not hear.

Morgaine reaches for the wine pitcher, bumping your shoulder. “He’s asking if all this is to you liking.”

“Oh!” You stitch a smile to you face. “Yes. The fest is, ah...lovely. You do me a great honor. Ah, us a great honor.”

His own smile widens, sore pleased. “I am glad to hear it, Lady Lynet. It was my greatest hope that you would find Laxdo pleasing.”

You nod, awkward, before turning back to your meal. It is hardly touched, only a single bite from each dish, and you suffer a pang of chagrin to think you have so obviously ignored his generosity-- save that you notice everyone else’s plate remains untouched as well.

Shuuka’s chair scrapes across the dais as he stands, holding his arms wide. “Before we partake of this feast--”

Oh, Lord in Heaven, the blessing. You had forgotten it entirely. Your gaze darts guiltily across the table, trying to see whether the lord’s chaplain has caught your petty sin, but the only man of the cloth at the table is Bedwyr.

“--We must all give thanks to Our Lord in heaven, from whom all our bounty flows.”

A murmur of agreement shuffles out from the men at the tables, heads bowed with lips mouthing an impassioned amen--

Ah, right. Bowed heads. What she should be doing now, in this place of honor.

“I would be remiss if I also did not offer our gratitude to the Lady Lynet.” Your head snaps up, gaze tangling helplessly with his. “If it was not for her cleverness and diligence, not a single man would be standing here today.”

This is-- this is not the toast you thought he would make, not when he spoke of the feast this morning. Not when he had told you it would be in honor of those who saved Laxdo.

“We are blessed that the angels guided her back to us after so many years away,” he continues, every word adding to the pit of dread growing in your belly. “It can only be the provenance of Our Heavenly Father that she has returned, and in returning, removed the blight from our land. I would be turning my back upon God Himself and all His angels if I did not receive what blessing he has given us.”

You heart pounds loudly in your chest, rattling the drums of war. You had been so clear. You had said--

Not enough. Nothing short of an explicit refusal ever stuck in a man’s ear. you know this all too well.

It galls you that Beaumains knew it better.

“My father has passed, but his will has always been my guide.” Shuuka showers praises down on you, oblivious to how you wither beneath it. “It had been his wish to seen our houses joined, along with your father’s, my lady. I am eager to tread the path they left for us.”

You want to protest, you mean to protest. But all of the eyes of Laxdo are upon you, and-- and your hands clench helplessly in your skirt. For a man to be refused after such a speech, after such feeling, in front of all his men--

It would be kinder to leave a blade in him. At least that he might recover from.

Your gaze swivels to your left, to your right, but Arturius sits, stunned, and his sister is much the same. The moment for an objection has passed for them, for all those who sit on this dais, but on the floor--

You cast your gaze out, searching, hoping, but--

Beaumains is not among the tables, not anymore.

The chair squeals across the floorboards as Izana stands, smoothing down his pants.

“Wha-- where are you going?” Zen stares at him, jaw slack. “We’re in the middle of a feast. This jerk just proposed!”

Izana flips his phone, screen out, and there is Obi’s name, right at the top of his messages. hey boss can b get himself some quality hallway time

It buzzes, followed up by a long string of hot lips emojis, double hearts, and what looks like an eggplant..

“Well,” Kiki drawls, “now I know too much.”

Izana glances at his screen before swinging to glare at Obi. “Really?”

He shrugs, gleefully pocketing his cellphone. “Hey, you set it up. I just took the shot.”

“Well, I suppose I can’t argue that.” Izana sighs, gathering up his dice. “Give us a moment.”

“Don’t rush on our account,” Kiki hums, mouth twitching at a corner.

Izana groans, shaking his head. “At least pretend you’re going to behave.”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #dungeons & dragons au #my fic #ans #one more chapter to the end of this arc #thought now I'm also considering ending this fic after that #and then having the next arc being its own fic #i don't know #these are the funnicky things I have to consider while i'm writing these fics #because otherwise this will be like a 40 chapter 150k fic or something #WHO KNOWS #i got another chapter to decide

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nabrizoya · 4 years

Text

Instead of the odd grocery list you sent me, have this. @jb-lh 🙄 Thanks for the prompt by the way! I really hope you enjoy this! <3

Prompt: “Have you ever kissed anyone?”

Ship: Jesse x Lucie (Blackdale)

Statues and Ghouls and Eerie Romances.

“You’re mad,” Jesse hissed. “You’re mad to come in he-”

“I’m not mad,” she breathed, joy at the sight of finding him in the manor threatening to tear her face apart. “I’m Lucie.” She held her hand out with a grin.

“Oh, Angel help me-” he groaned. He put his face in his hands and swore softly. Lucie only grinned more, happy to see him after nearly a week since she last saw him on the outskirts of Alicante. Which wasn’t odd. Jesse had nothing to do with her, no reason to visit her. And thus she was here, because he wasn’t there.

They were in a vast living room. Two grand staircases overtly covered with vines encircled the foyer, a dead fireplace adorning the centre of the establishment. There were rare antiques everywhere, all of them put to dust and disrepair. She took a step forward, in awe with the ambiance the entire house radiated. She had never been inside the house, save for the ballroom, and now that she was, she liked it. It looked like fiction had come true; she stared at the balconies that the upstairs lead to, instantly drawn to them. She kindled the witchlight with some hesitance, wary it would ruin the atmosphere. She thought she could glimpse something behind the statue that stood at the centre and stepped towards it. Cold air seeped at her wrists.

“Why, why is it exactly that you’re here?”

“Oh, don’t be so disappointed in me,” she waved him off, still captivated by her surroundings. “I’m here for many things. First, I love the Gothic ambiance your house radiates,” she said, enchanted with the way the witchlight reflected off the chandelier at the top. “Though this doesn’t seem like the most humane place to live, if I am being honest. It is an interesting house.”

She turned to face him with a smile and was met with a steely glare, sharp as a blade. Under the darkness and the hollows spaces between her fingers through which the witchlight peeked, his eyes were gloriously green. She could see traces of black in them now and wondered if they had been there before; they hadn’t, right? They were always alive and green. “Lucie,” he said determinedly. “Why are you here?”

“Isn’t there a better place to talk? It’s awfully chilly in here.”

“Your mistake for not bringing a cloak,” he pointed. Anger surfaced his features even now but his tone wasn’t as cold as it had been before.

She was still glancing around her in awe: it matched her imagination of the Castle of Otranto, though it wasn’t as deadly as the book. Lucie didn’t want to press her luck though; she had only come to see Jesse and now that she had, she didn’t know what she was going to speak about. She tried devising a plan and imprudently said at the same time he spoke- “Can you show me-”

“Do you nee-”

She paused, her gaze fixed on his. When she was sure he wasn’t going to continue, she gave him a smile and said, “Well, go on. What were you saying?”

“I asked if you needed a cloak. I can show you Grace’s room; you can borrow one perhaps,” he offered. “Though I do doubt it will fi- nevermind,” he blushed. Ghosts couldn’t blush but with the way he looked down at the floor, eyes cast away, she was confident he was. “Do you need the cloak?”

Lucie thanked him, but denied. “Kind of you, though I think I am perfectly fine without one.”

“If you ask me-”

“Which I didn’t,” Lucie interjected.

Jesse glared. “-I would suggest you to borrow one. You said it was cold.”

Ghosts couldn’t feel or touch, Lucie noted, especially in this form that Jesse manifested. “No cloak. I’m fine- can you show me the library?”

He shrugged. “I can, but I don’t see a reason why I should. Especially when you’re invading my home.”

Lucie scrunched up her face at the word ‘home’. “If you ask me-”

“Which I didn’t-”

Lucie tried to glare, but laughed instead. “I can still command you to show me the library,” Jesse’s face hardened at that, “which I won’t because I’m a good person and I am requesting you politely to take me to the library.”

“Lucie- By the Angel,” he swore again vehemently this time. Lucie considered pointing out that it was ungentlemanly to swear in front of a lady but was secretly amused at how distressed he was at her presence. “Do you not realize that it is dangerous here? There’s demons- God.” He looked up at the ceiling as if demanding the heavens why he was feeling whatever it was he was feeling.

“I’ll tell you why I’m here on the way to the library,” she offered.

Jesse gave up and gave her a long look. He sighed then, anger completely vanishing from his fine face as he gestured for her. “Come along. It’s upstairs. You’re certain you don’t need a cloak?”

Lucie shook her head and turned to follow him. She took one last look at the ghoulish statue that seemed to share her amusement. She raised an eyebrow at it interrogatively; the statue didn’t reply, of course. “Have you ever kissed anyone?”

“What?”

Jesse’s incredulity was priceless. Lucie shrugged and pointed him to the statute. “It looks like it wants to.”

A moment of silence. Then two. Then three. And ten. Jesse peered the statue and then, surprising Lucie and the statue too, he threw his head back and laughed. Lucie’s smile grew; it occurred to her how she had never heard him laugh and now that she did, she admitted she liked the way he laughed; amused and contented as if nothing else in the world mattered then than laughing in that moment.

“Oh, Lucie,” he sighed, finally smiling and leading the way up the stairs. “Please tell me why you’re here.”

“Tell me about the ghoul first-”

Jesse snorted. “Odd of you to think I’d kiss a ghoul. It’s the statue of- ah, I’ve forgotten.”

“Perhaps you should pay more attention to the statues that look like they want to kiss you.”

Jesse laughed again. Lucie was smiling, suddenly shy. Where had this confidence come from? “Perhaps you should stop paying attention to the statues that you claim look like they want to kiss me.”

“I wouldn’t blame the- nevermind.” She blushed. What on earth? “I came here to see you.”

Jesse came to a standstill. “What?”

“For someone who claims to read a lot of books,” she said dryly, “Your vocabulary is very limited. You haven't come to the institute since I last saw you near the mausoleums. Besides,” she added, “Like I have mentioned before, I came here for many things. I wanted to take a look at your library and explore for books that may contain references to my odd power.”

“I hear the Institute has an exalting library.”

Lucie glowered at him sideways. “I know the Institute has a grand library, but given your grandfather’s odd dealings with demons and what not, I’m certain I shall find worthy material here. The more I know,” she pointed, breathless a bit with how the roof expanded even more above them, “the better.”

Once at the top of the staircase, Lucie beheld the view. She felt like a royalty who was peering at the visitors assembled near the door. Ahead of them was a strange corridor with long and rounded windows from which moonlight spilled. It took Lucie a ton of effort to not look away and admire the Ivy that penetrated through the walls from the windows savagely. It resembled Sleeping Beauty’s castle more than the Castle of Otranto. The entire place reeked of misadventure and risk. Lucie liked that.

Jesse considered her. “I know we are oddly bound,” he started, looking to where she was gazing at the intricate designs on the pillars that walked a path towards the balcony that Lucie had been admiring earlier. “But you could summon me whenever you want my help. Instead of coming here.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she said. “Yet. You say we are oddly bound and I do not disagree. You say you want to help yet are recoiled at my presence here. You-”

“That’s because there’s demons here- !”

“All right then,” she glared at him. “Where will you be vanishing then? I suppose you’re going to live in this tumbledown excuse of a house?”

Jesse shrugged, still not meeting her eyes. “I will have things to do.”

Lucie put her arms on her hips and tilted her head questioningly. “I’d like to know what strange trysts you have to attend in the middle of all nights.”

“I don’t-” he looked at his feet, a small smile on his lips. “What are you trying to say?”

Jesse looked up. Lucie felt her breath catch suddenly for a reason she couldn’t put a finger on. “I need your help,” she said slowly, “and I want us to work together in helping me understand my powers, despite you telling me I’m good on my own.”

“You can still be perfectly fine on-”

She narrowed her eyes, recovering from her past reverie, effectively shutting him up. “You are welcome at the institute whenever you please, as long as you are unseen and undisturbing. It’s rather unbearable to think of this place as a home,” she mimicked the face of a person ready to throw up. How could anybody live here?

“And you can’t disagree,” she warned lightheartedly, falling in step with him as he motioned towards the rightward passage, “because I can command you.”

“Oh, freedom,” Jesse grieved. They left the traces of their laughter behind as they marched to the library.

Thank you so much reading! I’m still accepting prompts (though it will take me a LONG time to get to them but I promise it will be worth the wait.) Send me a ship/character along with the prompt number in my ask box. You can find the prompts here.

#that was gold bro #i liked writing it #kinda proud of myself for being slightly able to capture lucie's personality #lucie herondale #jesse blackthorn #lucie x jesse #blackdale #tlh #mine*

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ouranor · 4 years

Note

I saw your latest hanyo no yashahime post because I followed the tag and I have to say as a victim of grooming myself, I would rather be aggressive towards the adult Sessrin shippers,I do think some of them have pedophillic tendency’s, I know you hate that word being thrown around but how else would you describe people enjoying seeing sexualized fanart/actual porn of child Rin and sesshomaru. And a ship is just a ship yes but when large amounts of people try to normalize grooming I draw the line

Dear Nonny

First of all: I’m so sorry that you had to go through such a horrible experience and thank you for sharing this so openly. I’ll do my best to explain my point of view about the current chaos and how to navigate it as best as I can. In order for me not to repeat myself too often, I‘ll assume that people reading this will also have read my previous post that prompted Nonny to message me.

About the ship itself:

As far as the ending of the manga goes, Rin and Sesshoumaru are blank slates, leaving lots of room for interpretation. What is true for both characters is that neither of them have any romance set up, because neither Rin nor Sesshoumaru are anywhere near ready for any kind of romantic relationship (no matter with who) at that point in time. Rin because she’s a child and Sesshoumaru because he’s an emotionally stunted and immature mess of a man (which is why I find the sequel‘s premise incredibly unbelievable. There‘s no way Sesshoumaru was ready to have half-demon children and this is a flat-out character assassination for Sesshoumaru but I DIGRESS). In the manga, not a single trace of romance can be found, and thus not a single trace of grooming. Giving a growing child a new kimono is not grooming, it‘s common sense.

Now, most people that oppose SessRin do immediately jump to pedophilia and grooming for multiple reasons and, while I don’t ship SessRin, reducing the ship to assumptions like these is not an okay thing to do. I firmly stand by this statement and I’ll do my best to explain why.

Now, because this will be important to understand the thoughts I‘m conveying, please remember these key points:

1) Explaining does NOT equal excusing. I will never make excuses for people that romanticize children in romantic relationships. All I‘m doing is do my best to cut through the very emotionally charged and hardened fronts in this ship-war.

2) We NEED to separate the ship from its shippers. SessRin is an extremely difficult ship to write that needs to be treated with much more care and awareness than most other hetero-ships, but because people abuse Rin as their Mary-Sue and don‘t give the characters actual care and love, you end up with terrible fanfiction that depicts SessRin as „a given / destined / Rin‘s the closest vagina in the near vicinity“. And yet: Sesshoumaru grooming Rin is not the ONLY possible continuation of this ship. I‘ll get back to this in a bit.

3) Grooming is a choice, pedophilia is a mental disorder. While the two overlap at times, they are NOT the same. I’ll broach this issue near the end of this post.

Now, to get the worst out of the way, I’ll agree to this: The interpretation coming from the loudest and most aggressive shippers (Celestia on Twitter is an excellent example) is highly problematic and, as mentioned, shows a lack of comprehension regarding subtility and a lack of emotional intelligence. They‘re very black and white and they romanticize the characters as they were left in the manga, saying (among other things) how Rin is Sesshoumaru’s soulmate and understands him like no other, in spite of being a child, and THAT raises all kinds of alarm bells. Because this is exactly the rhetoric used by predators towards impressionable children. People claiming that this isn’t the case are being willfully ignorant and I usually don’t tolerate such people and use the block button generously.

But this is the WORST manifestation of this ship. Notice how I say the worst, not the ONLY.

Unfortunately, this worst interpretation usually comes from the laziest and most aggressive shippers that simply lack the creativity to imagine anything else. I’ve read many a SessRin fanfiction that built this relationship up in a believable way, taking its time and addressing the potential pitfalls, unfortunately this type of dedication or writing talent is not easily found in a fandom as vast and trope-y as Inuyasha. But I‘ve also read a ton of fanfiction where SessRin is a „logical conclusion“ because the author is actually writing an InuKag fic and has no idea what else to do with Sesshoumaru and Rin, hence: Another pairing to make babies with, yaaaay. SessRin happens by proxy, which is a huge NO-NO. This echoes one of my mantras: In order for Sesshoumaru to even get into a romantic relationship (NO MATTER WITH WHO), there is an entire story and development that needs to be told first. The same goes for Rin because again, by the end of the manga, she‘s not much of a character at all. “Why do you even read SessRin if you don’t ship it??” I hear you ask (not you, Nonny, I mean this and the following in a general sense). Because I keep saying that every ship has its merit and I’m interested in the stories that can be told. I keep saying that all ships are legitimate and I don’t want to miss out on any potentially amazing stories, especially because those were seriously hard to come by back in the day (anyone remember the 2000’s? Anyone?). I’ve read fanfiction from literally every Inuyasha ship under the sun. So if I see the tell-tales of a bad SessRin fic, I leave the author and their world behind and move on to something else. I’ll use this short interlude to say this: It has become such a horrible trend in fandom to put the sole responsibility of one’s fanfiction-experience on the author instead of taking responsibility for the content one might consume. There’s an incredible lack of self-sufficiency, a lack of ability to just move away when people read something they don’t want to read without taking personal offense. Now, I’m not saying that you have to be like me, but at least take responsibility for your own experience. ANYWAY, back to the topic at hand.

So again: In order for Rin or Sesshoumaru to get together romantically at any point in the future, a LOT needs to happen first. A lot of development, a lot of questioning, a LOT of build-up, because this relationship needs a heck of a lot more explanation than most other hetero-ships out there, but most fanfic writers and shippers are too lazy to set this up properly, leading to problematic romanticization, sugarcoating and hand-waving away of serious subjects that need to be addressed. Most of these types of SessRin shippers I see are found on Twitter and Tumblr (many are Spanish, too, wth is up with that), as mentioned, and they are are extremely questionable, seeing no issue at all with this ship, and here’s my opinion on why that is: Given from what I’ve seen, these types of shippers equal Rin with themselves. If you read how they justify this ship, it has nothing to do with her being a child, and everything to do with the blank slate that she is (like Bella Swan in Twilight). Rin has endless potential and it’s much easier to project ones own fantasy on a character that has yet to BECOME an actual character you can write a love story WITH. Of course, shippers don‘t realize this, because projection is usually done on an unconscious level. But to someone who’s been observing in this fandom and lurking for years, this seems incredibly obvious. Neither Rin nor Sesshoumaru have any agency, because they’re fictional, and that’s why SessRin is such a ticking bomb, always has been. They can be turned into whatever you want.

Now, that’s of course what fandom is for: Fulfillment of fantasies and works depicting any dynamic from fluffy to dark. But here’s the second main problem: Because SessRin is usually depicted as your typical, trope-riddled “male is alpha, woman is beta at best” romance, it falls right into heteronormative standards. Heterosexual relationships are TEEMING with extremely lazy writing (and normalized abuse, but that’s a subject for another time) and for some reason, I’ve observed how hetero ships have this insane entitlement to “purity”. What I mean by that is that hetero-ships are much more likely to attract fans that need their ship to be canon, otherwise they can’t function. This is EXACTLY what happens with SessRin. If you just had SessRin shippers doing their thing, I don’t think we’d be in this situation. But because of the sequel and its excellent marketing strategy, SessRin shippers are full of hope and, worst of all, grasping at straws and lording their ship’s superiority over everyone else with renewed fervor. If Takahashi/Sunrise weren’t such absolute cunts (pardon the language), we’d not be in this situation. Because SessRin is now a “possibility” in the sequel, people suddenly see the fulfillment of their own personal fantasies within reach. Let me repeat: This is about the fulfillment of their OWN PERSONAL fantasy and has nothing to do with Rin. She just happens to be the female character that’s closest to Sesshoumaru. The fact that she’s a child does not factor in this particular scenario, even though it SHOULD.

So again: The ship is fine on its own, because it’s literally a blank slate that you can go in ANY direction with. It’s the people that desperately grasp for canon and have decided that SessRin is a foregone conclusion WITHOUT any build-up or explanation that are the true problem. They look to the sequel and their own interpretations to justify their lazy and problematic interpretation of the ship. They make the ship into the potential grooming/pedophilia shitstorm that many “antis” are caught up in, but that’s not the ships fault.

Speaking of which, let’s talk about the grooming and possible pedophilia.

I’d ask people, after reading all of the above, to remember this: If there is any grooming at all, it has yet to happen, because NOTHING has happened between Sesshoumaru and Rin after the manga. Hell, they didn‘t even speak to each other in the charity chapter. They are still the same blank slates now that they were back then. Whether or not grooming happens is in the hands of any creator that decides to take their dynamic further.

As for pedophilic tendencies: I will not deny that there are traces of that in SessRin shipping (some prominent people also ship Zabuza/Haku from Naruto which is telling), but I swear to you that 99% of SessRin fanfictions I’ve read do NOT depict Sesshoumaru with a child Rin (except for 1-2 dark fics that portrayed the dangers of a relationship with such a power imbalance, which are extremely important works as well imo). Same goes for the art. This again because Rin is not treated as a proper character, but as a vessel for wish fulfillment.

I have said many negative things about the shippers that are triggering the entire fandom at the moment, but people that oppose this ship need to be honest with themselves and acknowledge that them jumping to the conclusion of “SessRin ALWAYS equals grooming and pedophilia” also lack creativity and the ability to differentiate between different paths and outcomes. Accusing others of pedophilia is inappropriate and uncalled for, not matter how upset you are. I too have had to learn and accept that pedophilia is a mental disorder and needs a proper diagnosis and treatment. What happens because of a mental disorder should never be excused, no matter if it’s depression, bi-polar disorder or pedophilia, but what we can hopefully all agree on is that mental disorders are not something you choose.

So the only thing I can say to you, Nonny, is this: If you see something that looks like pedophilia or grooming to you, absolutely do report it. As someone once told me: The block button is a form of self-care. Use it! I have done the same over the last couple of days and it’s cathartic. If something triggers you, avoid it and find someone/somewhere to vent to if necessary. Your feelings are extremely valid, your aggression towards others (if you have shown any, that is) is not. Your experiences were horrific without any shadow of the doubt, but the way this possibly influences how you react to and treat others is absolutely something that is YOUR responsibility.

What I would, again, ask all of the people aggressively opposing SessRin is that you reconsider your stance on pedophilia. Its potential consequences are inexcusable, but accusing other people of being pedophiles because you’re jumping to conclusions is in extremely bad taste and leaves you not only on the same intellectual level as the shipper you’re accusing, but possibly even lower than that because you’re cherry-picking which potential mental disorder you’re discriminating against. It’s a free world, of course, but I’m sure we’re all trying very hard not to be hypocrites.

I wanted to TL;DR this entire post, but there’s honestly no way to do that without skipping over important parts. So thank you if you’ve made it to the end of this massive ramble. I understand that this is a very delicate subject and I am open to any and all people that would like to discuss this further. Special thanks go to Nonny for giving me the opportunity to talk about this more. I hope I answered your question, even if it might not have been what you wished to hear. Have a wonderful day and please take good care of yourself!

#inuyasha #sessrin #sesshoumaru #rin #hanyo no yashahime #hanyonoyashahime #hanyou no yashahime

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little-dragon-stories · 4 years

Text

King Chap 7

Your life changed completely when from a slave, you became a spy for the king. Will you be able to help him in his fight against slavery before it’s too late and the threat hanging over him comes true?

In this society where love comes after fortune, will your mutual affection be able to flourish?

Royal au fic pairing female reader and Kwon JiYong

Feat: YoungBae, TaeHyung, MinHo and SeoJoon (just because I had their face in mind when I pictured their character)

W.C: 2423

Warnings: angst, panic attack, main character dissociating

Disclaimer: Everything in this story is fictional. There is no research to be politically accurate or to fit a certain period of time or place. In one word, it’s all invented.

Chapter 7

You spend a couple of days, translating law documents with the king. Seo and sometimes Tae were following you everywhere, now. They seemed to be waiting for you and walked along with you from one place to another. It was now evident that the king had ordered them to protect you each time you were not in his presence. Tae had no choice but to agree when you confronted him with all your questions.You knew too well that questioning Seo on the subject would give no result. When he had to keep a secret, his lips were sealed. Tae for his part, it was easy to make him spill the bean.

“Y/n… you changed!” Seo exclaimed, stopping in the middle of the path, his arms crossed on his chest to observe you.

“Oppa… why would you say something like that to me? I didn’t change at all!” you pout.

He looked at you tenderly.

“You didn’t smile as much, before. You didn’t talk as much either, now you can’t stop. I even caught you singing this morning…”

“Yaa, stop teasing me” you blushed, hiding your face behind your hands.

“Don’t ‘ya’ me little miss! I ain’t teasing you. I just observed that happiness suits you well” he remarked before he patted your hair and pulled you for a hug.

“Thank you oppa. I am, indeed, happy here. And also, I’m happy to be here with you and Tae. You are family to me.”

“Yeah! Yeah! I’m stuck with an annoying little sister”

“Annoying? Me? I’m gonna show you what annoying means if I catch you and beat your ass” you said before teasingly poke his side.

The shadow of Mina and HyunSa hovered over you. Your happiness will be complete only when they will come and join you but time flies and they are nowhere to be seen. You will ask the king about his promise, you wanna know if something happened about it.

“I love you, annoying sister!”

“You… what?” you asked him, dazzled.

“Yaa, don’t make a big deal out of this. I just realised that we should tell people that we love them, when we can. That’s all. You are my family, Y/n. Thank you for never giving up on me, even if I put you in a lot of strange situations throughout the years”.

Big tears were rolling down your eyes. You tiptoed and you pulled on his face to kiss his nose, encircling him with your arms as soon as it was done. A guard walking around began to whistle "marry the girl, for God’s sake". Both of you chose to ignore such a stupid comment.

“I love you too, SeoJoon” you whispered before you finally let go. You and him never hugged before, but things were different now. You were closer than ever, spending so much time together.

“I shall go, I have to work in the king’s garden. Have a good day oppa”

“Aren’t you too pretty to be gardening, today”?

Suddenly, it hit him. When he looked at your pretty white dress belted with a pink silk ribbon, your elegantly combed hair cascading down your back and the new shoes you just bought at the village, he realized that something was wrong. You were much too nicely dressed to spend the day kneeling and digging up dirt. Now that he thought about it, you never had soil under your nails or on your shoes when he walked you back home at night after a supposedly day working in the king’s garden. Suspicious, he looked at you and frowned.

“Y/n, what’s going on? Are you in danger? Is everything okay? Is the king treating you well? Are you…” He asked, shaking your shoulders.

“Ya! Stop it, SeoJoon. Please, lower your voice, don’t put attention on me like that in the middle of the street. Ask the king if you have any questions, please oppa”

“Is he treating you with the respect you deserve?” He lowered his voice.

“What does that even mean? Of course, he’s treating me well. I promise you SeoJoon oppa, I’m fine. I’ve never been happier in my entire life. You have to trust me on that”.

Scratching the back of his neck, he seemed relieved.

“I guess I have no choice, I just mentioned how bubbly you were recently. Ooooh… I get it now. Okay, okay!” A teasing smirk curved his lips.

“ I don’t think you see things as they really are but trust me, I am doing fine. On that, see you tonight”

Turning to face the steps that lead to the palace executive room, you were welcomed by the king himself standing in front of the opened door. He was waiting for you with his arms behind his back, an impassive look on his face, stoic as always when you were in public. Did he catch your conversation with Seo?

“Thanks for bringing her safely, SeoJoon” he told him but he kept gazing at you.

“It’s my pleasure majesty. Take care of her, she’s my annoying little sister” he beamed with joy.

At these words you showed your annoyance by letting out a feigned sigh. The king looked at SeoJoon when the latter called out for him. A message passed between them, silent but they seemed to understand each other as the king nodded to a non-verbal question from Seo.

“Good afternoon, sir!” you said as you walked in front of him and confidently led the way to the study room. You knew the way, now.

“After you, my lady” he laughed and bowed teasingly as soon as the door was closed. He followed you.

The servants had placed tea and cut fruit on a tray. Filled chocolate, a delicacy that you had never tasted before yesterday, generously stacked between the fruits. They had left everything at the entrance on the middle shelf bookcase, as the king asked them to do.

Little by little, you have found your pace, you’ve developed your own personal routine with him. You were using his study to work, side by side on his table but as soon as someone came in, he would hide the book you were working on under his journal. Sometimes, you stayed by his side, sometimes you went in the background, depending on who was announced. He hired someone from the village to have some gardening work done during the night, your official reason to be here, covered.

He gave you a key to lock yourself inside the study when he had to leave to conduct state affairs. The whole situation started to make a lot of noise among the staff but you didn’t really care how they would look at you. They multiplied their visits to catch a glimpse on the king and you. It was irritating but JiYong was always collected. You had to admit that he made you see authority in a better light.

He was determined to discover the flaw in the documents but did not lose patience or show anger towards you even though the process took more time than he expected, that also was new to you. He always offered you to take care of yourself and take a break if you felt the need to rest. But you didn’t want to stop.

“You see here? There is a difference in the transcription. I don’t think it’s significant, but I’d rather tell you” you told him as soon as he arrived from god knows where. He was so busy during the day.

“Still not the one I’m looking for” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose while sitting next to you. “What if I am wrong… what if I misinterpreted it all, what if...”

He was not confident anymore. He was scared that he didn’t read the whole situation correctly. After spending a few days by his side, you were now able to read him, to interpret his non verbal attitude. He was doubting himself, the reason why you were looking for evidence in the first place.

“Oh no, sir! Let’s stay positive. I’m sorry if I don’t work fast enough, I will try to…”

He stopped you from speaking a little abruptly but not aggressively. He seemed irritated by the situation but not particularly by you. Despite the fact that you felt safe with him, at the slightest manifestation of impatience on his part, your hands began to tremble. He noticed it and was internally swearing against the man who had traumatized you so much.

“Y/n… Y/n…” He put his hand on your arm to get your attention before you lost yourself in explanations.

“Yes, sir?”

“Yes, JiYong… you never address me like I want you to” He smiled at you, a dazzling grin on his face.

“I’m sorry…” You lower your head.

“No, don’t be sorry. You did nothing wrong. Also, don’t be scared of me, I would never harm you. I hope you know that”.

“I feel it sir, I know” you timidly answered.

You were interrupted by 3 little knocks on the door.

“The Queen demands to see you, Cheon Ha” the maid said.

Hearing that, you froze. You never met the Queen, you only heard about her. She apparently was a beautiful woman with a generous and caring personality. What is she gonna say, if it came to her hearing that her husband is spending so much time alone with another woman, in his quarters?

“Sir, it’s your wife” your eyes were round in shock and you looked mortified.

“I know who the queen is Y/n, please, go to the back room right now, she cannot find out what we are doing” In a split second, he was cold and seemed irritated again.

It’s always in times when you have to hurry that you become the most clumsy. When you got up, you hung a jar on the table and the ink poured all over the king’s diary and dress. A real disaster, if any. You had no choice but to go and hide in the back room because the door opened on the queen and you were not to be seen. What happened between the queen and the king, what they said to each other, you heard nothing at all.

This accident, so innocuous it seemed to the king, put you in a second state of mind. You suddenly remembered all the times when you awkwardly and despite your best efforts, made a mistake with Master Minho. Your punishment was always the same, always violent. Your primal instinct from the long years on the plantation came back immediately. Sweat poured down your forehead, your hands trembled and your face turned white. Alone in the back room, you were no longer at the palace. You were a slave, waiting for Master MinHo to punish you. For what seems like an eternity, you waited.

When the king called out your name, you didn't hear him, even less recognize his voice.

“Y/n? Where are you? Come back, she left already. She just informed me about…. What the hell are you doing?” he exclaimed as he entered the room.

You were completely naked, kneeling with your forehead on the floor and hands joined on your back in this awful position you were taken the first time he met you. Trembling with fear and cold, you were not able to stop crying.

“I’m sorry Master MinHo. I’m sorry for the mess I made on your clothes. I accept my punishment because I’m just a stupid slave, Master. No… Please, I beg you… Please… Can you please spare me this one time? Please I’m begging you, I can’t take it anymore… Please spare me just for once”

In your head, even though you knew that begging for MinHo’s forgiveness would just make it worse, you had no choice but to try. Normally you never tried to make him spare you, it only made him more angry and more violent. But today, you felt weak.

“Y/n… Y/n… it’s me…What the hell is going on? You are not in the plantation anymore…” His words didn’t reach you. You kept begging, flooding the floor with your tears. The sound of your teeth snapping together was breaking the silence when no one was talking.

He took off the coat covering his robe and placed it on you while thinking about how to make you come back to reality.

“Y/n, look at me” he begged, making sure not to touch you.

You lifted up your gaze but were unable to lock eyes with him, too far away in your awakened nightmare. He was shocked by the paleness of your face. Your lips were blue and your eyes empty. It seemed like life had left you and a ghost from the past was haunting you.

“I’m cold, I’m so cold” you whispered, your lips trembling and your teeth chattering. He had an idea.

“Y/n, wait, I’m coming back, hold on please, hold on!”

He went to the corridor, ordered the 4 servants stationed there to have a hot bath prepared with towels for his room, immediately and without the presence of his courtesans. He told them to prepare hot tea and some food as well.

“Cheon Ha, it’s unusual…”

“I said, right now. It’s an order” for the first time ever, he yelled at them.

He went back to the library and hid the documents you were working on. Even though he left for only 30 seconds, he feared the state you would be in when he returned. You were in the exact same position you were. He knelt in front of you and cupped your face gently. He made sure to close the coat in front of you to preserve your nudity.

“Y/n, look at me, please… you are with me, JiYong. I will never let anything happen to you. I won’t punish you either, it was an accident. You poured ink by accident”

At the word ‘punish’, you start shaking more if it is possible. Your chest grew tight as bile rose in your throat. You were so scared and cold.

“Y/n…” the voice that managed to reach you was far away, almost like through the thick mist of dawn. “Look at me”

You lift your eyes to meet his this time. In front of you was not your Master MinHo, but your king, the kind and thoughtful man that became your friend. When you realised what you just had done, you fainted.

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bureau-noir · 3 years

Text

I am very late to the #BronBroen binge party... 😅

»Saga Norén is the best reflection of myself I’ve ever seen in fiction, but she is me as I know myself to be inside, and not remotely like me as I present to people in my life. I only realised as an adult that not everyone goes about with a mental monologue of 'Make eye contact…OK, that’s enough, look away…listen to what they’re saying and mentally write your response at the same time so there isn’t a gap in the conversation…now run it over it to try to make sure it’s not rude or weird…'

It’s a heavy price to pay for being able to have slightly easier trips to the supermarket as an adult, especially when being able to semi-pass as #neurotypical doesn’t exactly help me make friends because the effort it takes can make me seem cold and fake.

Saga doesn’t do that. It’s not clear whether her #autism manifests in a different form or if she’s just not someone who feels the need to conform, but in her I saw all the parts of myself I’ve suppressed for years acted out. [...]

A white, non-disabled cishet man can walk into any multiplex, any week of the year, and see someone who looks like him with a more muscular jawline righteously gun down the bad guys. No other groups can, and while I can admire some female characters in books and TV shows, they still seem to me like a similar but distinct species.

If I want to see an autistic woman who’s tough and fearless, who can suddenly reveal a knowledge of the Sumerian alphabet or sign language to crack the next step in a case, who drives a vintage Porsche, who’s sometimes discouraged but never gives up in her quest to stop the dangerous people — if I want an autistic heroine — my only option is Saga Norén. [...]

She’s not and shouldn’t be the sole fictional representative for autistic women, not least because Sofia Helin, despite the production team’s efforts to de-glamourise her by dressing her in the same pair of leather trousers and olive T-shirt all the time, is a very conventionally attractive thin cisgender white blonde woman. Those aren’t negative qualities, of course, but they shouldn’t be used to make Saga’s differences more palatable.

We desperately need a fictional portrayal of the diversity of autistic people in the real world, including [Black and Indigenious autistic people and] autistic people of colour, autistic LGBQT[IA+] people, and autistic people with other disabilities. [...]

Until society, including the people who produce the works of culture we enjoy, stop being afraid of autism and start accepting it as a fact of life, Saga Norén is the only fictional portrayal I have that gives me hope I can celebrate the strengths the condition gives me, cope with the struggles it causes, and live the life I want on my own terms.«

#actuallyautistic #thebridge #bronbroen #autisticrepresentation #neurodiversity

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an-ambivalent · 5 years

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Oath Of Desires: Six

Synopsis: [Yandere! Jungkook x Reader x Taehyung] [Poly AU]

It had only been them three for a long time. Not one person more, not one person less – just Jungkook, Taehyung and [Name].

Jungkook was elated when Taehyung and [Name] told him that they had become a couple. He literally could not have been happier.

They were his favourite couple, and he loved them both…. A little too much.

When there was a hindrance in Taehyung and [Name]’s relationship which caused them to fall apart, Jungkook was distraught. Afterwards, when he realized the depths of his love for his ‘friends,’ Jungkook made an oath of his dark desires – he was going to do whatever it took to get them back together. And this time, he was also going to become part of their relationship.

Warning: As this story contains yandere themes, the characters display behaviors that can be triggering or uncomfortable to read. Read at your own risk. This work is purely fiction. I do not believe any of the mentioned members would display any sort of this behaviour irl.

___________

“Love is an obsession; it has that quality to it. There are healthy obsessions, [but] mine is [not] one of them.” -Pamela Stephenson

___________

“I kissed [Name],” Jungkook interjected, as Taehyung leaned on the couch with his upper body hunched forward. Since the effects of the sleeping pills still lingered, Taehyung’s body was limpy; and although he was conscious for the most part, a part of his conscious was still in its slumber. After Jungkook’s bold exclamation, silence surrounded them — an uncomfortable silence that was full of unpredictable catastrophic possibilities. Jungkook was merely standing there, blinking owlishly with his large eyes, and his arms hung loosely by his sides, waiting for a response from Taehyung. And due to his groggy state of mind, Taehyung merely stood as he was, not being able to digest Jungkook’s words for a brief moment. “You what?” He asked, and as if he could sense the dread of impending doom one felt before there would be anger, he felt his heart drop to his stomach. Meanwhile for Jungkook, it was like thinking of those words, and saying them out loud again was a sort of revelation he had been waiting to hear his entire life; the pupil of his irises widened slightly as he started intently at Taehyung, and repeated himself. “I kissed [Name].” Just with hearing those three words once again, whatever blissful reality Taehyung had been living in, in which he got away with only caring about his own selfish desires ruled by his insecurities, was shattered. The bliss was now starting to vanish in thin air, leaving nothing, but the suffocating dust of ashes behind. Suddenly, fury seeped into Taehyung, and red clouded his vision. He disregarded his current weak state, and lunged towards Jungkook. Out of everything, Jungkook had not expected Taehyung to become physical with him. As a result, he simply took whatever hurt Taehyung inflicted on him. Taehyung shoved Jungkook angrily, as he began his rant. “You fucking piece of trash, you— you kissed [Name]?! How dare you?! I fucking— this was your plan all along wasn’t it?! You planned to steal her from me since the very beginning, didn’t you? That’s why you clung so pathetically to her all the time. I knew it, I fucking knew you were after her all this time. Your promises of being my best friend and endless loyalty were nothing but bullshit, weren’t they? I should’ve known you were going to turn out to be a bastard and thirst over my girlfriend with how creepily obsessed you were about her all the time,” Taehyung spat, as he clutched the collar of Jungkook’s shirt tightly, and shook him. Due to Jungkook’s build being bigger, heavier and stronger than his, and his current weak state, Taehyung’s attempt of violence did not have much effect on Jungkook. Not to mention, Jungkook’s hair was over casting his eyes, and shadowing his expression, so Taehyung was unable to his reaction. For now, Jungkook merely allowed Taehyung to vent. “Everything was perfect when it was just [Name] and I, before you came and ruined everything. I never doubted, even once, never doubted her love for me before you-- before you came along and took her from me. It was you, it was because of you I became so messed up, your fucking creepy obsession that made me hurt her. You changed her and it was because of you she stopped caring only about me. Why couldn’t you have just gone and died somewhere instead of coming in our lives and messing everything up—“ Taehyung hissed, however, he abruptly stopped talking when he saw that Jungkook’s lips had widened into a wide grin — a manic grin. The suddenness of it was troubling. Even for Taehyung, who had been too invested in his emotions of heartbreak and anger, was forced to snap out of his emotional trance, and examine Jungkook with a cautious gaze. There was an indescribable and minute inkling of fear that formed in his gut, and subconsciously, he gripped Jungkook’s shirt tighter. He glared, and growled. “Why are you grinning you asshole? Am I a joke to you?” Taehyung snapped, as Jungkook combed his hair away from his eyes smoothly, and Taehyung was finally able to get a glimpse of his face. Jungkook’s eyes were twinkling in joy, as his grin widened, and he cupped Taehyung’s cheek tenderly. His unanticipated touch startled Taehyung. With wide eyes, Taehyung’s stare flickered to Jungkook’s hand on his cheek, and then back to Jungkook, who was looking at him with deranged infatuation etched in his eyes. “You don’t have to be so jealous Tae,” Jungkook began using the nickname ‘Tae’ that Taehyung only ever allowed [Name] to call him. Subconsciously, Jungkook licked his lips in a poor attempt to moisturize them. Then, “I love you too,” He confessed sincerely. A sense of utter disgust immediately went through Taehyung. Right away, he roughly shoved Jungkook off him in order to create some distance between them. “You fucking sick psycho! What kind of game do you think you’re playing—“ He voiced, and as he had spoken, he winced at the headache that had been brewing, and suddenly manifested in his head. Taehyung never received the chance to finish his sentence since Jungkook had interrupted him. There was extreme madness glinting in Jungkook’s eyes, which made Taehyung freeze in surprise. “Both you and [Name] will be mine,” Jungkook breathed obsessively, before he raised his arm, clenched his fist, and swung it at Taehyung’s head swiftly, and quickly, and knocking him out.

A few days later [Name] was drenched as she entered Jungkook’s residence. See, instead of catching a ride with Taehyung like she usually did whenever she visited Jungkook at his place, or catching a cab, she had decided she would walk to his place this time. Granted that his place was far away from hers — a couple of kilometres that would usually be a bit too much for a person’s liking to walk it. However, for [Name], it was a work out that she had desperately needed. See, for the last few days, due to her emotional baggage, she had become a mess. [Name] had not eaten, slept, or looked after herself properly, and isolated herself in the four walls of her new apartment’s run down living room.

Each time when [Name] reflected on how she had come onto Jungkook so strongly, only to kick him out and give him no matter in the say, her mental health worsened. She was overwhelmed with guilt, and she hated herself for her recklessness. She had acted selfishly, by pushing herself onto Jungkook in order to find some sort of escape from her emotional predicament, even though he was not even attracted to her. If anything, Jungkook was like a younger brother to her. So, after she had come to her senses, [Name] had felt disgusted with herself. More so, when she realized that what she had done, was exactly the type of thing Taehyung would do — let her emotions rule her actions and cloud her judgement. As much as she did denied it, deep down [Name] knew that she was like Taehyung in many ways — it was one of the main reasons why they always clicked so well together. Their connection, and understanding of each other was impeccable. For that reason, whenever they fought, it hurt more because they knew each other so well, whatever harsh things they said, it was said out of the ugly truth that the other did not want to acknowledge about themselves. They knew each other wounds, and how to cut deeper in it. Aside from this, [Name] felt as if she needed to apologize to Jungkook big time. It took her a few days, but she did manage to collect herself -- even if it was the bare minimum. For a further piece of mind, and due to the nice windy weather, [Name] had decided to walk. She did not think it would rain heavily when she had left her own residence. As a result, there did not carry an umbrella or a raincoat. So, when was nearing Jungkook’s residence, she was only able to shield herself from the rain with her light summer coat that had a loose hood. Of course, it barely protected her. She was drenched, so her wet hair stuck to her skin, droplets of water hung on parts of her clothes and skin, and water was dripping from her coat and down onto the floor. The moment she had entered his residence (the door left unlocked), Jungkook had run up toher to greet her. Frankly speaking, [Name] found this to be a tad strange because of how quickly he had arrived by her side. It was as if he had been waiting eagerly for her arrival this entire time.

Jungkook’s hair was somewhat frizzled, and falling messily over his face. As he took [Name]’s coat off her, she noticed how his warm fingers had lingered on her cold skin a few seconds too long, before he hung it on the coat hanger. Additionally, she also took note of the few new cuts that scarred his cheeks, and a bruise on his lips. The entirety of just this small interaction was a bit bizarre, but [Name] decided not to comment on it. Instead, she waited patiently for Jungkook to invite her in, and offer her a remedy for her shivering body. However, before did invite her in, Jungkook had become preoccupied with something else. Just like her hair, [Name]’s wet clothes were also sticking onto her skin. Since rain had seeped through into [Name]’s shirt, it was now see through. The colour of her bra was visible, and Jungkook’s gaze lingered on it. However, just before [Name] could notice his staring, he snapped out of it, and returned his gaze to her face. She looked absolutely angelic and vulnerable with the way she hugged herself in order to protect herself from the cold. And the way the rain droplets glistened on her — they were like small twinkling diamonds. Just the sight of her made Jungkook’s knees feel weak, and he knew that along with Taehyung, he had to have her. Jungkook gave her a tight lip smile. “Come in [Name], I’ll make you some warm tea. There’s a few hoodies of mine on the couch if you want to borrow one in case you feel too cold. Pick whichever, I don’t mind. I’m sure they’ll all look really lovely on you,” Jungkook said, as he turned around, and walked from the entrance door of his house, to towards the kitchen. The compliment at the end of his sentence was rather weird, and made [Name] furrow her eyebrows in confusion. However, many things about Jungkook were weird and confusing: like the fact that despite being an orphan, he owned his own house without being in debt. Taehyung had once joked about that to her in private. He had said that Jungkook probably had it passed onto him because he killed his entire foster family or something. It was a joke that was just downright insensitive for [Name] so she had told him off for it. But by now, [Name] was accustomed to Jungkook’s weirdness anyway. So, like usually she did, she was quick to shrug this off too. [Name] chose a plain black hoodie to wear, and as Jungkook started making the tea for her, she addressed the elephant in the room. “Thanks for calling me Jungkook even though I promised to be the one to do it…” [Name] started, and trailed off awkwardly. Jungkook’s build prevented her from seeing the things he was putting in her tea. Just as he finished adding a crushed powder of some sleeping pills he had given to Taehyung in her tea, Jungkook quickly threw away the packet, and turned towards [Name]. He smiled widely, showing off his white teeth. The emotion never reached his eyes though. “It’s alright [Name]. That’s what friends are for,” He said, with another wide grin. To be frank, there was a sort of eeriness etched in his smile that sent shivers through [Name]. She nodded awkwardly, and started to fiddle with her fingers nervously, as she spoke once more. “Yeah friends. That was another thing I wanted to talk to you about. Um, you know about the whole situation of me kissing you…” [Name] said, and trailed off, as she glanced away from Jungkook for a moment, and then returned her gaze on him. He licked his lips subconsciously. [Name] noticed how he had suddenly narrowed his eyes at her, and his aura seemed to have darkened. Oh god, she thought, was my kiss really that bad that he’s giving such a horrid expression? Oh god, I really messed up this time. I need to apologize and clear the air with Jungkook if nothing else. “What about it?” Jungkook asked stoically. The lack of emotion in his voice, that was usually always filled with wonder, and a child’s sparkle of curiosity, made [Name] bite her lip in nervousness. Why do I always end up fucking up my life? [Name] wondered, but quickly snapped herself out of it. “I’ll say this one more time and I truly mean it. Jungkook, I’m really sorry about doing that to you. I— I wasn’t in the right state of mind, and I know that that’s no excuse for me using you like that— oh god, I’m so awful. I swear I didn’t mean anything by that kiss, it was just a mistake. I’m so sorry—“ [Name] cried, however, she was abruptly cut off. See, while she had started her little vent, Jungkook had abandoned the tea he was making for her — he had become a wild predator who was driven by his instinctive desires. By the time [Name] had got to her second ‘I’m sorry’ of this chapter, Jungkook stood right before her. Then, he suddenly grabbed her face, and forcefully pressed his lips against her. [Name]’s eyes widened, and she stilled in surprise. As Jungkook increased the intensity of the kiss, he forcefully guided [Name] to stand up on her tiptoes in order to keep up with his pace. This kiss barely lasted, and as soon as the rush of intensity of the kiss had come, it was gone. Jungkook pulled away momentarily, but still kept his face extremely close to [Name]’s as his breath fanned her skin. The [h/c] female stared up at him with wide doe eyes. “You apologize too much mum. If you’re truly sorry for what you’ve done, you can make it up to me by doing what I say,” He said smoothly, and smirking, before he pressed his lips on [Name]’s once again. This time, [Name]’s response was the complete opposite. She did not freeze like she had before, nor reciprocate it like Jungkook wanted her to. Instead, with an incredible amount of strength one would not expect of someone like her, she pushed Jungkook off of her. “What the fuck Jungkook?” [Name] exclaimed, as she wiped her lips with the sleeve of Jungkook’s hoodie she was wearing, in disgust. Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Did a single word of what I said before not go through your thick skull? I said it was a mistake and I regret it. If you try to pull off shit like that again—“ “You’re just confused! You don’t regret it! You love me! You and Taehyung would anything for my happiness, I know it! Here, let me kiss you again and you’ll see what I mean,” Jungkook said, smiling reassuringly, as he tried to grab [Name] and kiss her again. However, he never got to, because [Name] swung her arm instinctively, and punched Jungkook in the face. His head swung back, and there was a loud noise emitted as a result of her hit. Although her hit was strong, it was not enough to have knocked Jungkook out; and while [Name] should have used this time to run away, leave, and get help she stood still frozen in shock. Seemingly, she was not able to comprehend that she had hurt Jungkook like that. Jungkook tilted his head slightly as he straightened himself up. As he brought his face forward, his eyes were wide in anger, and there was blood oozing out of his lips. Of course, being the caring and always selfless person at the wrong times that [Name] was, she blinded herself to his seething expression, and instead focused on his injury. She gasped and took a step closer to him. “Jungkook I’m so sorry—“ BIG MISTAKE. As soon as she had started apologizing, she had stopped. This was because Jungkook had cut her off with a growl, before he lunged at her.

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lower7896 · 4 years

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Scarface (1983)

Notable Music: The “dope” soundtrack and original score by Giorgio Moroder

An American / Drug Culture / Hip Hop Culture / Pop Culture Icon

I recently bought the newly released 4K UHD Limited Edition of Scarface that comes with the 4K disc, a remastered Blu-Ray disc, the original 1932 version of Scarface, and a little replica “The World is Yours” statue as seen in the movie.

It’s a nice looking set and I got a good deal on it during Amazon Prime Day. I was really glad to see that the video quality had substantially improved since I last saw the movie on DVD many years ago.

** Spoilers Below** (My reviews are meant to be read by those who’ve already seen the movie. I don’t rehash the plot, I just muse, ask questions, and share my perspective on things.)

Scarface has been deeply ingrained in pop culture and hip hop culture since I can remember. One of my friends used to have a Scarface poster in his room and I remember watching MTV Cribs back in the 2000′s and seeing that every rapper on the show had Scarface posters in their homes. There were countless references in 90′s hip hop. I remember listening to Nas on “If I ruled the World” say

Just some thoughts for the mind. I take a glimpse into time, watch the blimp read “The World is Mine.”

I’ve only seen the movie a handful of times throughout my life, which is nothing compared to the hundreds of times that I’m sure the many enthusiasts of my generation have. I’ve never actually been a hardcore fan of it and have always just observed how so many people truly love this movie inside and out, revere the character of Tony Montana, and have idolized him. Tony has been such an inspiration for people and symbol of a person who made himself into something out of nothing. This is essentially the definitive “rags to riches” story of Generation X and early Millennials.

Say goodnight to the bad guy - T. Montana

I don’t know how to feel about Tony. I feel like my biggest question throughout this movie is “Is he a good guy or a bad guy?” He’ll tell you that he’s the bad guy, as he did in the restaurant scene (although this was said in irony, pointing out the hypocrisy of the other diners judging him when most of them probably used cocaine themselves.) His staunch supporters will fiercely defend him and point out the fact that he refused to kill the ambassador because his wife and children were in the car with him, therefore pointing to the fact that Tony had a moral code, and was unwilling to cross that line, even though it meant betraying Sosa and leading to his demise.

I got my balls, and I got my word, and I don’t break ‘em for anybody - T. Montana

People also love his ferocious nature and ambition to succeed, making the argument that he is loyal to those who are the same to him. I would like to point out that although he may have been loyal, he never trusted anybody and for someone who has nothing, that’s bad enough, but for someone who has everything, that manifests itself into extreme paranoia and becoming psychologically reclusive while shutting out all others, no matter how close they might be.

Mix in the heavy cocaine abuse, violating Rule #2 “Never get high on your own supply.” (Another line referenced in hip hop, the Notorious B.I.G.’s The Ten Crack Commandments) and suddenly Tony just self-destructs. He cruelly mocks his wife, Elvira, in public, chastising her and hypocritically calling her a “junkie” and talking about how “her womb is so polluted” that she is unable to bear him any children, resulting in her leaving him.

Then there is Manolo. Everybody loves Manolo. Steven Bauer (who is actually Cuban, unlike the rest of this mainly whitewashed cast) did such a good job playing Manolo that he was able to share every scene with Al Pacino and not let him take all the attention. (Who else other than DeNiro have we seen that has successfully pulled that off? I can’t think of anyone.) Despite Manolo being such a good dude and a loyal friend to Tony, Tony still didn’t trust him when it came to Manolo’s romantic interests in Gina. Granted, Manolo was definitely a ladies’ man, so Tony had good cause for concern, but towards the end of the movie when it becomes known to Tony that Manolo had slept with Gina before Manolo had a chance to tel him that they had secretly gotten married, his shock turns into pure blind rage and he kills his best friend, ironically crossing a different line than the earlier one involving the wife and kids.

I think people wrestle with this tragedy, but I feel that they look past it for the sake of seeing Tony in a positive light. Gina’s hatred for Tony consumes her and she eventually loses her life, and their mother’s words become reality.

Why do you have to hurt everything you touch? Why do you have to destroy everything that comes your way? ¡Malagradecido! ¡Mal hijo! - Mama Montana

She is absolutely right. Tony’s ambition and disregard for whoever got hurt exacted a heavy toll on those closest to him. They were the ones who paid the price for his actions, his greed, and his recklessness. And I feel that this is the central message of the film. Sadly, no one acknowledges this. Everyone pretty much turns a blind eye and continues to romanticize Tony Montana, and I feel that says a lot about the fans.

Perhaps we live in a culture of entitlement, of people who would rather try to get rich quick and profit on the misfortune of others than to grind out the years of hard, honest work, or at least applaud those who can (**cough**Trump**cough). Tony Montana couldn’t last a day washing dishes at the sandwich shop. For Tony, that kind of work is for suckers. The life of a “working stiff” is looked down upon in every gangster movie. They would rather bulldoze their way past others in their efforts to secure power and riches.

For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, and loses his own soul? - Mark 8:36 (NKJV)

In the end, people will see what they want to see. Maybe they see the allure of infinite possibilities. Maybe they see themselves in Tony Montana, and they think to themselves “If I became rich, I would do noble things, give money to the poor, etc” without anticipating how complicated life can become to those who achieve those feats. We don’t anticipate the new problems that would come our way, along with all the new people looking to capitalize on your achievements.

Maybe, in his infinite wisdom, God keeps some of us poor to keep us humble. It’s not that money and power changed Tony, its that his character deficiencies didn’t allow him to make good choices when it came to relating to others. Sure he made good business decisions. He was smart in that way, but he lost those who loved him. He was not smart in that way. The money and power just enhanced those shortcomings.

Say hello to my little friend! - T. Montana

Conclusion

I didn’t expect his movie review to be a criticism of Tony’s character when I started writing it. It just naturally became that way. And I think that I wrote it this way in order to balance out all of the gushing praise and love for the character without any reflection on the negatives. But to answer my earlier question of whether Tony was a good or bad guy, I will conclude by saying that it isn’t my place to judge, even if he is a fictional character. I will say that he was fantastically written by Oliver Stone and brilliantly performed by Al Pacino. I’ve enjoyed musing on the depth of his character and will continue to enjoy repeated viewings of Scarface in the future.

#scarface #tony montana #manolo #miami #80's #giorgio moroder #cocaine #movie review #film #bluray #cuba #bad guy #say hello to my little friend #yeyo

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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Bram Stoker’s Dracula and the Seduction of Old School Movie Magic

https://ift.tt/3j6X6Ga

It was one of the most challenging shots in Bram Stoker’s Dracula. Sitting before Roman Coppola’s second unit camera was a 50/50 mirror, the kind that was once commonplace in any illusionist’s magic shop, but which hadn’t seen the inside of a Hollywood studio in decades. On the other end of the glass lay Winona Ryder in bed, ostensibly asleep but soon to be bedeviled by a monstrous vampire.

Yet co-star Gary Oldman wasn’t on hand that day. Instead, at about a 90-degree angle away from Ryder’s boudoir, stood a duplicate set of the same size and shape, but buried in black velvet Duvetyne. And in that blackness, smoke created by dry ice was oozing its way around the velvet. When lit by green lights and reflected in the mirror, a sentient emerald mist suddenly appeared in the same room as Ryder. Dracula manifested out of thin air.

“That was a good one, if I may brag a little, in that it was a backwards photography [shot] with a 50/50 mirror,” Roman says in 2020. It’s been nearly three decades since that day on set at the legendary Culver Studios, and Roman Coppola is a bit older and far more seasoned, yet when he looks back at what he and his team achieved on Bram Stoker’s Dracula, he can’t help but marvel. After all, you could now run a video taken by your iPhone in reverse with the swipe of a finger. But there they were in 1991, “puppeteering” dry ice fog in reverse, so it would appear to be sneaking below a mattress when reflected off a mirror and captured at a 45-degree angle in a camera that was running its film backwards.

In truth it’s more or less the same effect John Henry Pepper invented in 1862 to conjure a ghost on stage. Literal smoke and mirrors in the digital age.

When Bram Stoker’s Dracula opened in November 1992, it astonished the industry and silenced many of Francis Ford Coppola’s sharpest critics. Snarked about in the press beforehand as “Bonfire of the Vampires”—a reference to Brian De Palma’s misbegotten Bonfire of the Vanities (1990)—the whispers were that director Coppola had created a lurid and weird vampire movie based on one of the most oversaturated characters in fiction. Well, Bram Stoker’s Dracula was certainly lurid and weird, but in the best possible way.

Originally conceived as a Victorian man’s repressed anxieties about lust and passion being given demonic shape, Coppola’s vision for Dracula was entirely divorced from the pop culture image of Bela Lugosi in a cape. While the movie was marketed as the director of The Godfather going back to the 1897 source novel that no one had ever faithfully adapted (which turned out to be only partially true), the movie’s true appeal lies in its decadent imagery. It’s a marriage of lavish costumes, freaky makeup, and half-forgotten magician’s effects. And the last bit was given new life by Francis’ son, Roman, who became the film’s visual effects director.

Somehow it all came together, with performers such as Oldman, Anthony Hopkins, Tom Waits, and Ryder going so big that their cries threatened to burst through the soundstage walls. The hypnotic union thrilled audiences, who made Bram Stoker’s Dracula a surprise holiday blockbuster, and was ultimately celebrated by the industry, which awarded the movie three Oscars, including one for Eiko Ishioka’s dazzling costumes and Greg Cannon’s makeup. The irony is that, in its way, it was the industry’s skepticism toward Francis Ford Coppola that made the movie’s unusual vision possible.

“For some reason I always thought it was unfair I had the reputation of being a director who spent a lot of money, which is not really the case,” Francis said in a recent interview with film critic F.X. Feeney. “The only movie that I really spent a lot of money on, and went way over budget, was Apocalypse Now.”

Be that as it may, when Ryder first piqued Coppola’s interest about making a Dracula movie, which as it turned out was a favorite novel from his youth, he knew the studio would never agree to Coppola’s first inclination: As with going to the jungles of the Philippines on Apocalypse Now or Sicily in The Godfather, Coppola initially imagined shooting Dracula in Transylvania and inside actual crumbling castles.

“I knew the studio would be a little leery of getting this director with three names to do this Dracula picture, and possibly go off to Romania, and it’d be a Heaven’s Gate scenario, or Apocalypse Now scenario, so I played into that. I said, ‘You know, we could go and make the film in Romania, we could go to the real Castle Dracula… or I could make it all in the studio… In fact, I’ll make the entire picture right in a soundstage, a group of soundstages right under your noses. They just loved it, they ate it up.”

That was how Francis pitched himself into the movie, but how he made it worthwhile stemmed from two separate ideas bleeding into one otherworldly vision: First that the laws of physics would never apply when you were in the presence of a vampire; and second, if he was going to attempt to authentically return to the Victorian world of Stoker’s 1897 novel, he also would return to the early world of cinema where the laws of physics were never even considered.

“The period of the turn of the century was the birth of movies,” Francis said. “And movies, as you know, largely came about because of magicians who started to use the cinema to make illusions…. That’s when I became excited about the idea of [having] this story 100 percent shot in soundstages and not only using illusions and magic, and effects, but using effects as they were done at the turn of the century, which was in-camera.”

Thus entered Roman Coppola. Only 26 when Bram Stoker’s Dracula went before cameras, Roman wasn’t necessarily his father’s first choice to lead the visual effects. While Francis’ accounts have varied over the years as to whether his first head of special effects quit or was fired, the one consistency in Francis’ telling is that modern effects experts were exasperated by the idea of using almost no optical printers or new digital effects, and instead focusing on in-camera tricks. “Absurd” was the word Francis heard. But as it so happened, his son already had a passion for magic and the old ways, absurd though they may be.

“I was involved [on the movie] already,” Roman says. “I was going to be second unit [director], and we wanted the effects and second unit all to be one group effort, and do that stuff live. And when I started to take certain leadership and do storyboards, and supervise certain preparation, it was just clear that I was able to direct these efforts in a way that was more in my dad’s wishes, which is to really genuinely, deeply embrace the idea of total adhesion to ‘how would they have done it back in the day?’”

In retrospect Roman taking over leadership on the effects in Bram Stoker’s Dracula—to the point where he’s given the title card of “Visual Effects and Second Unit Director” in the end credits—seems natural. Ever since his uncle David Shire introduced him to theatrical magic as a young child, Roman has had a lifelong fascination with the tricks of illusion and sleight of hand. He still recalls boyhood days spent at Los Angeles’ Hollywood Magic store and San Francisco’s House of Magic, learning the trade of visual trickery, such as John Pepper’s “Pepper’s Ghost,” and staying up to watch Paul Michael Glaser in the 1976 TV movie The Great Houdini. In San Francisco, he saw Tony Slydini on stage.

“After 12 and 13, I stopped being so active,” Roman says. “But later, as a younger person in my 20s, I started to get back into it and get a lot of books, and collect certain apparatuses. It’s just something I found a real love for.”

Culture

The Bleeding Heart of Dracula

By David Crow

It also perfectly positioned him to spearhead Dracula’s visual effects. And one of the first things Roman and his team did was curate a film reel, or “visual library,” of all the points of reference from classic cinema they could use as inspiration.

“The movies that were much more points of reference are a touch later, but still drawing on the same principles,” Roman says when we mention early cinema pioneers, including Georges Méliès. “Jean Cocteau was a particular influence, Beauty and the Beast [1946], Orpheus [1950], and Blood of a Poet [1930]. So those are all movies that we drew a lot of inspiration from.”

Indeed, during the scene where Keanu Reeves’ Jonathan Harker explores Castle Dracula, a single carved arm in the wall is holding a candelabra in homage to Beauty and the Beast. Meanwhile Mario Bava’s Black Sunday (1960) inspired the nightmarish imagery of Harker’s carriage ride through a desolate mountain range, with the ominous passing tree branches actually being grips whacking the carriage as it was rocked in place.

Other films in the reel might include F.W. Murnau’s Nosferatu (1922) or Carl Th. Dreyer’s Vampyr (1932), but Roman cites the biggest influences as being actual books on magic he turned to for research. Some were as old as Stoker’s novel itself. Erik Barnouw’s The Magician and the Cinema (1981) was a major touchstone on the movie; Sam Sharpe, author of Neo Magic (1932) and Conjurers’ Optical Secrets (1985) was another; and then crucially there was Magic: Stage Illusions, Special Effects and Trick Photography, which was written by Albert A. Hopkins in 1897.

Explains Roman, “Those books were the bibles of the research, and those have all sorts of references.” For instance, recall the grandiose prologue of the film. With baroque glee the movie begins not in 1897 but 1462. That is the year the real-life Vlad the Impaler repelled the Ottoman Empire and protected Christendom by slaughtering thousands of Turks. The sequence was Francis’ invention, and one he called his “Origin of Batman” scene on the set. But rather than actually film a battle scene, or even actual daylight, the warring portion of the sequence is completely captured via unnatural silhouette, with shadow puppets before a blood-red sky standing in for actual humans as they are impaled on a forest of pikes.

Says Roman, “If you get the book of Hopkins’ Magic, you will see other things like shadowgraphy, which is using shadow puppets. There was a guy named Caran d’Ache, who I think became famous because he’s the namesake of the Swiss colored pencil company. But he was the originator, or at least excelled in, shadowgraphy. And when you see the opening of Dracula, all those shadow puppets, that was inspired by an example from that book.”

This focus on the classical principles of stagecraft and magic, reverse photography and compositing images with a forced perspective, is the secret of Bram Stoker’s Dracula’s lingering appeal. As Roman points out, there were no effects they feared wouldn’t work. If they could achieve how things were done then, they’d appear inexplicable in the dawning age of digital effects.

“There’s a lot of steps and a lot of process that can be painstaking, but I don’t think we did anything that was pushing a boundary,” he says. “I think everything was an accepted principle that we knew, ‘Well, this is going to work if we do it right.’ There was nothing groundbreaking. We adhered to all the old tricks.”

There could certainly be setbacks, Roman recalls during Dracula’s voyage to London on the doomed Demeter that they exposed the same negative to five passes of filming. This is to say they attempted to combine five separately filmed images as the camera swung on the set by rewinding the film before each new pass. But because the frame line was incorrect on one of the passes, the whole multi-step take was ruined.

But the effects they did achieve all have a potency that register as alien to our modern eye. Some can be as simple as running the film backward in the camera, giving a macabre, unnatural sense of movement as Sadie Frost’s newly turned vampire Lucy climbs into her coffin after being accosted with a crucifix. In reality, she was filmed simply climbing out of it. Others might be slightly more complex, such as a black matte box being used over multiple passes.

For instance, when rats appear to run upside down on a girder above Jonathan Harker in the castle, two passes were used. In the first, the camera was upside down with the black matte covering the top of the lens as rats ran across a piece of set; then the camera was turned upright, the film rewound, and the other half of the lens was exposed while the original portion was covered as Reeves was burned into the negative.

BBC/Netflix Dracula’s Behind-the-Scenes Set Secrets

By Louisa Mellor

Among my personal favorites is the extreme perspective of Ryder’s 1462 Princess Elisabeta flinging herself from a castle parapet into a river, which Roman reveals “was basically a puppet with a forced perspective, and a little river below, [with] some tricks to make the scale look correct.”

Another was the much more complex series of techniques used during the vignette of Jonathan Harker traveling by train into Transylvania. In the finished film, Reeves sits in a shadowy train compartment with stark mountains out the window. Soon they fade away into darkness as Oldman’s predatory eyes appear on the horizon. Outside the train, Harker’s journal entry about the day’s travel is visible in the frame, running the length of the train track and just below the crossing transport.

“That was done by Gene Warren Jr. at Fantasy II [Film Effects], and that was multi-pass, multiple exposures,” Roman says. Among them was a rear projection created over two passes on the same piece of film. The first was comprised of multiple layers of the mountain range background moving at different speeds from right to left, while the camera moved left to right. In the second pass, the lights were turned out and Oldman’s eyes, as filmed by Roman, were projected as the only source of light onto the same background. All of this was then rear projected behind Reeves in a separate shot while he sat in his carriage. Conversely, in one of his close-ups, a map of 19th century Transylvania appears on his face via front projection.

And as for the journal in the same frame as the train? According to visual effects camera operator Christopher Lee Warren in “In Camera: The Naive Effects of Dracula,” they built a 20-foot wide replica of Harker’s journal entry so it could stand 10 feet in each direction between the camera and a miniature train, all to get the right type of sunset shadow being cast across its pages.

As just one in a string of intricate effects and set-pieces achieved by Roman and his team, the effects’ cumulative impact is immeasurable. In its way, Bram Stoker’s Dracula works on the level Francis wanted: He was able to bring it closer to Stoker’s world and plot, if not necessarily Stoker’s themes. As Francis more openly admits in recent years, when Ryder first approached him with a draft of James V. Hart’s script for Dracula, it was about a gushing love story between the dashing Count and Mina Murray Harker.

Ironically, that may be the element of the film that lingers most on subsequent pop culture depictions of Dracula. But it was Francis’ insistence on the script being rewritten, and rewritten again, to incorporate all of Stoker’s narrative beats, side characters, and supernatural wickedness, as well as the sense of a British society in upheaval. It was the dawn of a new century, the twilight of an old monarch, and an age for scientific discovery and technology, be it in the realm of blood transfusion… or moviemaking.

Bram Stoker’s Dracula is at its best when it drinks deeply from its dreamlike environment and atmosphere, capturing the base dread in Victorian culture of suddenly being confronted by what it deemed irrational or lascivious. And those elements mingle to gory delight when the aspects Coppola cared about most took center stage.

“The focus [was] on the actors, the costumes, and this unusual way of doing live-action and multiple take effects done in-camera,” Francis said. And when it’s Hopkins, Richard E. Grant, and the rest of the ensemble standing around Sadie Frost in an extravagant 19th century wedding dress while being filmed in reverse, its sense of tone and style is overwhelming.

Talalay’s Terrors! The Director Breaks Down Her 5 Scariest Scenes

By Kayti Burt

On his end, Roman met that goal, and underlined the movie’s macabre madness, with ideas as primal and orgasmic as firing waves of blood out of air cannons during the scene where Dracula kills Lucy—“That was just a total last minute thing of like… ‘Hey don’t we have a bunch of blood bullets? Let’s put it in those air cannons and see what happens”—and it also paid off in old-fashioned Hollywood bravura, like the climax where Harker and the other vampire hunters chase Dracula down the Borgo Pass.

As second unit director, Roman shot much of that finale—as well as about 20 percent of the finished film—on the same soundstages where Merian C. Cooper filmed King Kong (1933) and David O. Selznick burned Atlanta in Gone with the Wind (1939). And a few years before Jurassic Park changed movie effects forever, Roman and his father were in that space, filming Reeves, Hopkins, and the rest approaching on horseback an enormous looming castle… which was created by Michael Pangrazio and Craig Barron by painting it on matted glass.

“That is remarkable that that would still be done in our time,” Roman reflects. “It’s hard to imagine that will ever happen again, latent image matte painting. It’s a great way to do something, but you need to have the skill to do it… and that’s just sort of a dying art.”

Not that Roman doesn’t still indulge the old ways. Many of his modern collaborators adore miniatures, for example. “I work with Wes Anderson often, and he likes to use miniatures, and he does it pretty liberally,” Roman says. “So I think there’s always a place for that.”

But composite shots? One where you put a sky or castle in the same shot with a miniature and live-action over multiple passes?

“It’s not possible to imagine someone wishing to do that on an optical printer, because for one, they don’t really exist [anymore],” Roman says. “Number two, it degrades the image, and there’s a lot of reason not to.”

Like the in-camera effects that fascinated two generations of Coppolas, even the optical printing techniques they were largely forgoing in 1992 have become obsolete in the age of computer generated imagery. Even the backwards-looking Bram Stoker’s Dracula has a single CG effect, with Roman conceding the transformation at the end of the movie, where demonic Dracula turns back into Prince Vlad in death, was done with CGI. But as Roman says, it was used judiciously at the conclusion as “a real punctuation mark.”

And perhaps Bram Stoker’s Dracula is itself a punctuation mark. A last hurrah for antiquated styles of moviemaking that were long gone, or about to be, and a chance to open a magician’s bag of tricks to fool the eye into believing, as Francis says, “the earth doesn’t rotate at exactly the right speed” in the presence of a vampire. It’s why the movie has aged like fine wine (if you drink the stuff), and likely will continue to do so while many other effects-driven movies are practically timestamped by their imagery.

“It was unique to a time and place,” Roman says. “I’m sure other movies, other horror movies in particular, over time will represent a time and a place, but this seems to be the one that represents that time and place.”

That time, and perhaps that of a century earlier.

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khadij-al-kubra · 5 years

Text

Ticklish

Pairing: Logince (platonic or romantic)

Characters: Logan, Roman

Words: 1411

Author’s Note: A short fic I wrote a while back based off this post. I realized i’d only written/posted it in the reblogs, so i thought i’d make it’s own post.

AO3

It had been a rare quiet afternoon in the Mindscape. Roman was off on one of his quests in the Imagination, Virgil was holed up in his room, and Thomas had summoned Patton to help him with a social event. So Logan had chosen to take advantage of the peace to curl up with a good book.

Today’s selection was a variety of science fiction short stories from “The Time Traveler’s Almanac,” a favorite of his. He has been captivated by a Ray Bradbury story but paused in his page, taking a moment to enjoy the delicious solitude. The sun shone through the living room window, the thermometer was at a comfortable temperature, and he was halfway through a cup of jasmine tea. Logan took a deep content breath and smiled. So peaceful…

SLAM

“I’m baaack!” sand Roman, bursting through the door. “Did you miss me?”

Logan groaned. ‘So much for peace and quiet.’ “Greetings Roman. I take it your ‘quest’ went well?” he asked, attempting to be polite.

Much as the creative side aroused his ire, the four of them did live under one roof. It was wise to attempt maintaining some semblance of civility.

“Why of course. I always emerge triumphant! Still, it is good to know that I was missed,” Roman smiled, his teeth practically glinting. “So, did i miss anything? Where are padre and the stormcloud?”

“Patton is busy with Thomas and Virgil is in his room. I meanwhile have been here reading all afternoon. Nothing of note happened in your absence, other than the interrupted quiet upon your rather boisterous entrance.”

Logan adjusted his glasses and gave Roman a pointed look. Apparently the creative side didn’t get the hint. Instead he chose to plop right next to Logan on the couch. Rather close might he add.

“Oh hush sub-astute teacher. So,” Roman leaned over Logan’s shoulder to peek at the page. “Whatcha reading anyways?”

“A science fiction story,” said Logan.

“You? Fiction? That seems out of your realm.”

“I’m not opposed to delving outside of my usual genres from time to time. Besides, I happen to appreciate well written prose.”

“So what’s it about?”

Ordinarily Logan would take any opportunity to share knowledge with someone else. However he has rather enjoyed his previous solitude and frankly wanted to just get back to reading in peace. Besides, he was just getting to the good part when Roman had popped in. Nothing worse than being interrupted during the big climax.

“Roman, if you’re so curious I shall lend you my book later. For now though I’d prefer to get back to the story.” Logan lifted the book up to his face.

“AWw come on Logan! Just tell me.”

Then Roman poked him in the side. It was only a light finger jab, but it had been right beneath Logan’s ribs, a.k.a. his hidden proverbial Achilles Heel. Before he could hold it in, Logan let out a giggle. He shut up and sat up straight as a meerkat. Too late. Roman had heard.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Logan cleared his suddenly high voice. “Nothing at all.”

“Logan…are you ticklish?”

“……no.”

Logan slowly turned to Roman. To his dread the creative Prince had the most villainous grin plastered to his face. He let out an ominous giggle and held up his fingers, wiggling them in front of the logical side’s flushed face.

Oh no.

Logan didn’t need Virgil around to know his fight or flight reflexes were kicking in. Fast as he could Logan fled from the living room, Roman tailing behind.

“STAY AWAY FROM ME, FIEND!”

“I’m gonna getcha Logan!”

“Nooooo!”

Roman chased him around the kitchen. He chased him up the stairs and past the bedrooms. Logan almost lost him outside the bathroom when he slid under tho taller side’s legs. Logan had considered shouting to Virgil for help, hoping that the anxious side would surely come to his rescue against a common enemy. However when he passed Virgil’s room he could hear music blaring loudly from the other side. Not the usual kind that signaled Virgil was having a panic attack, but even so there was no way he’d be able to hear Logan. Just as Logan was debating on whether or not to slide down the banister he felt Roman wrap his arms around his torso. Roman pulled Logan away from the stairs and then…oh the torture.

“Tickle-tickle-tickle!” said Roman as trailed fingers lightly up Logan’s sides.

Logan couldn’t fight against the ticklish sensations. They set him into a racoucious laughter that left him breathless. He felt himself sinking to the floor beneath Roman’s phalangial assault, taking the princely side down with him.

“Ro-ro- ROMAN! HA! P-pl-PLEASE AHA-HA!I ca-can’t BREATHE!” Logan laughed, tears running from his eyes. “Plea- STOP!!”

Mercifully so, he did. Logan fought for air, taking several deep breaths. Finally, after a trail of weak laughs, Logan was able to compose himself again. He glared at Roman fiercely. He despisedbeing tickled! Not only was it an awkward sensation that forced him to show laughter when nothing was amusing, but it made him lose all sense of composure. It was rather embarrassing.

“Don’t ever do that again!” said Logan, his tone pencil sharp.

Roman winced. His face shifted from amused to genuinely sorry. Logan almost felt sorry for his harsh tone.

“I…I’m sorry Logan. Truly,” said Roman, his voice soft and hesitant. “I didn’t think you’d mind that much.”

“Well i do.”

“Patton usually likes it when i have tickle fights with him.”

“I am not Patton.”

“No…you’re right. I-I am sorry Logan. I just…really needed a laugh after my last quest. And ordinarily I go to Patton for that, or even Virgil if I can rope him into playful banter. I did not mean to violate your personal space in such a way. It was…wrong of me.”

Logan could hear the genuine remorse in Roman’s voice. He took a deep breath. “…Apology accepted Roman. Just…don’t ever do it again.”

“I promise!” Roman held a hand over his hear and raised his right hand as well.

They sat on the carpeted floor for a while in silence.Ironic given that was what Logan had been trying to regain in the first place.

“You know,” Roman said , looking at him with a small smile, “you have quite a nice laugh. Shame I so rarely get to hear it. Truly.”

Logan didn’t understand why his face suddenly felt warmer. Perhaps it was a side effect of being tickled. Still, he cleared his throat before responding.

“Well…thank you Roman. That’s flattering, i supposed.”

“So,” Roman lay on his side looking up at him. “What was that story you were reading about anyway?”

“Oh. Well, it was, in short, a story exemplifying the repercussions of the butterfly effect. Quite good actually.”

“Sounds like it. Would you…” Roman looked away, blushing. “Would you read it to me?”

Logan stared at him baffled. “Why would you wish to read with me?”

“Honestly? Because, like i said, it was a difficult quest. One that had left me tired and, well, rather down. And the two things i need most to make me feel better after something like that is a) a good laugh, and b) some peaceful relaxation. And i can think of nothing more peaceful that hearing you reading aloud. Unless…you’d rather be left alone.”

Something in Logan softened at the sincerity of Roman’s explanation. It was only then that he realized just how drained the other truly looked.

“I supposed that would be an adequate way to spend the remainder of the day.” Roman sat back up, beaming at him. “However, notickling. Do not even entertain the thought.”

“You have my word!”

So they went back downstairs and sat together on the couch. Logan picked the almanac back up and went back to the beginning of the story so he could catch Roman up on the tale. As promised, Roman did not attempt to tickle Logan again. However, he did lean against Logan’s side as the logical manifestation read aloud in a soft yet steady voice; a gentle smile of easement resting upon his handsome face. To Logan’s surprise though, he didn’t mind. He still had the light shining gently through the window, a freshly brewed cup of tea, a good book and comfortable quiet. Perhaps, he mused, solitude wasn’t necessarily needed to feel at peace.

General Tag List: @quoth-the-sparrow @altruistic-skittles @em-be-lievable @justisaisfine @broadwaytheanimatedseries @thekeytohappiness-is-you @jynxlovesluck @queer-human-being @phlying-squirrel @ab-artist @grey-lysander @a-valorous-choice @xx-fandom-potato-xx @impatentpending @book-of-charlie @randomslasher @tinkslittlebelle @insanelycoolish @ironwoman359 @icecoldparadise @bluebloodstains @purpleshipper @patchworkofstars @axyzel @hissesssss @beautifully-terribly @pink-and-purple-flowers @thatsanswitch @6tick6tock6 @hanramz-the-fander @azlinne @helplesscreator @thestoryofme13 @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @accidental-sanders @moonstone-fox @smokeyrutilequartz @madly-handsome @puns-and-patton @notveryglittery @eequalsmcscared @safesandersides @lizziepopanime @anxiously-unsatisfied-world @unikornavenger @fuck-my-life-i-want-food @backatthebein @mephonic @paperghastly @ravenclawangst @iamtrashcans @loganberrysanders @icequeenoriginal @ierindoodles @a-new-witch-in-learning @punsterterry @your-average-pangirl @goldteethandacurseforthistown @dragonsight9

#KDsWriting #logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #tickling

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timetoresurface · 5 years

Text

EXCHANGE / JJK (4)

to give something and receive something of the same kind in return

Note: It took me a while to write this part and I'm sorry. I’ve been really busy with work, extra classes and keeping up with all my fictional worlds such as The Avengers, Game of Thrones, ... Also BTS have been so active lately and I don’t want to miss a thing even though I want them to rest. Also show my story some love by reading, liking, reblogging and commenting. Love to hear your thoughts.

Pairing: reader x Jungkook

Genre: romance, non idol AU

Warnings: none

Word count: 2700 words

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / / PART 5 / PART 6 / PART 7

Summary: Yes, you are an exchange student. You noticed EF also organized trips to Seoul and you wanted something different than the same five people in your hometown. You came to the beautiful city to learn and relax, most definitely not to fall in live with one of the teachers. Definitely not the young extracurricular teacher who seemed to be good at everything.

*Y/N = your name *Y/C = your city/country

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Nothing could have prepared you for a dance class taught by Jungkook. You already knew you weren’t a great dancer but apparently you were even worse than you thought you were going to be. Even Alfie was better than you were and he moved as stiff as a wooden plank.

Maybe you were bad because of Jungkook and his staring eyes. He had chosen a rather cute but sexy song, Likey by TWICE, and you had never felt so uncomfortable in your own skin before. If Alfie hadn’t filled you in about campus gossip that morning, it might not have been such a big deal. But it was.

Maybe it was because he was such a great dancer and you couldn’t fully focus on moving your own body while following the flow of his. He was a living work or art, his tanned skin so tempting to touch, every move giving away his strength. Maybe it was because of the glaring eyes of the other dancers in the room you stumbled over your own feet.

“That was great everyone? Let’s do this again this Sunday. If you have some spare time to practice, please do. Exercise is good for your health, definitely when you’re crammed into a study room all day.” Jungkook concluded his class and everyone started to circle around him. You and Alfie were both tired and decided to leave immediately.

“Well, that was more challenging than I expected.” You confessed.

“Yes, you suck.” Alfie laughed.

“That’s harsh. I’ll practice so next time I will at least be better than you.” This was said with a determinate look on your face.

“You can always ask for some private lessons. Our teacher won’t mind.” A grin spread over Alfie’s face, wide and open, showing his over-whitened teeth.

“See you tomorrow, Alfie.” You said completely ignoring his remark.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N! You look better without it. I’ll see you tomorrow in class. Goodnight.” He waived and vanished toward his room, leaving you alone in the cold hallway. You weren’t actually planning to go inside your room but you quickly remembered the blanket you had stolen from Jungkook’s place. You waited for five minutes before leaving your room and sneaking toward Jungkook’s.

You hid behind doors when someone walked near you. You tried to hide every time you heard an unknown noise behind you. Never in your life had you felt so unsafe before. Nobody was even allowed to get a glimpse of your scheming body. They could create a story more spectacular than the last and you weren’t ready for another round of campus gossip with you or Jungkook as main characters.

“What are you doing?” Someones asked behind you making you fall to the ground. Luckily for you the blanket you carried kind of broke your fall.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry Y/N.” A panicked Jungkook helped you get up and didn’t want to let you go before checking if nothing was broken or bruised.

“Really Jungkook, I’m fine. I did ask you before to stop surprising me. I scare easily and maybe next time your blanket won’t break my fall.” You brushed the dust off your legs and picked up his blanket.

“Here you go.” You said while handing him back what was rightfully his. “I did technically steal this last time I was here.” He gratefully accepted and leaded you into his room. Well, it is more than a room, it is a studio that’s quite typical in Korea. Ground-floor kitchen, bathroom and living area. Small stairs leading up to his bedroom you suspected. Last time you were here you hadn’t fully paid attention to Jungkook’s private space so you made sure you did now. Something in you wanted to know more about him.

“You are very clean Jungkook. You have lived here for over a year and it is spotless. My room has only been occupied by me for a couple of days and I can barely find my bed.” You complimented him while sitting down on the sofa you had slept on last time you were here. It was still as comfortable as you remembered. The awkward memories of the morning after filled your thoughts and manifested on your cheeks.

“Thank you.” He shyly smiled. “How are we going to do this?” His question made you uncomfortable for a second but then you saw the black hair dye on his dinner table. Yes, you were just going to dye his hair and nothing more.

“First you will read me the back of the box. So we don’t miss any steps. And also get a towel you’re not really attached to.” This was the beginning of you being bossy and telling Jungkook what to do. He happily obliged and completed every task you gave him with eager puppy eyes.

Finally, after half an hour or so, he was seated and you stood behind him dying his hair black. It wasn’t a difficult job to do but it did give you some anxiety. What if he didn’t like his black hair and would blame it all on you? What if you didn’t like his black hair, could you look him in the eye and tell him so?

“Don’t worry Y/N. I won’t blame you if I don’t like my hair.” Jungkook suddenly said disturbing your running thoughts.

“How’d you know?” You silently asked him.

“You’re suddenly very quiet and what I’ve gathered of information about you, you’re usually the talkative kind.” He tried to look up at you but you pushed down his head while simultaneously working on his hair.

“That sounds quite stalkerish.” That’s what you said but you felt a little bit special that he had taken his time to discover little things about you.

“I’m not used to talking to girls.” His smile was heard through his little confession.

“You talk to girls for a living, Jungkook. Don’t lie to me.” Pushing back his hair you went and stand in front of him to get a better look at your masterpiece in progress. His beautiful dark brown hair was being replaced by a much darker tone by your hand.

“I usually don’t talk to girls as pretty as you are.” You almost dropped your brush at his remark. He didn’t look up at you. His eyes were wandering everywhere except over to you, who so desperately wanted to make sure this was a joke. You noticed his ears turning red so you just decided to play along and ignore the awkwardness that was comfortably settling around the two of you.

“Well, I haven’t talked to such a handsome guy as you before either. So we’re even.” You giggled while continuing to color his hair. He started to relax again and you could see the tension leaving his body.

“Did you enjoy my dance class?” He asked changing the subject. You just sighed.

“I’m a terrible dancer and I’m sure you noticed. So you were great, but the dancing part not so great.” You blurted out as you had to ventilate to someone and Jungkook was just so easy to talk too.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself Y/N. I thought you were great for a first time and I’ll make sure you’ll improve.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” You shyly started. “Have you heard some of the campus gossip?” The last part was whispered. Scared that someone might hear the word ‘gossip’ and would barge into Jungkook’s room looking for the gossip.

“There is always gossip and I can’t keep up with it anymore.” He kept looking at you and his stare felt so much more intense you couldn’t look at him. You just kept dying his hair even though you were almost finished.

“Well, there is gossip about you and kind of about me, you know about us.” Your silent confession created a weird atmosphere between the two of you.

“Did someone see us have dinner?” He asked sharply.

“No, but I’l glad nobody did. The gossip would’ve been worse if someone knew.” Your voice was soft as the hard look in his eyes started to worry you.

“It’s not like I think there is something going on between us. I know that, but not everyone believes the innocence of our conversations. So I think it is better that nobody knows about us secretly hanging out and maybe we should just stop that too.”

“So you don’t want to hang out with me anymore?” The hurt expression on his face made you doubt you actions for a second.

“No, that’s not what I meant. We just can’t do stuff alone, you know. We can still hang out in group.” His hair was finished so you walked away from him to clean the stuff you had accidentally touched with the brush in your hand.

“If that is what you want than I will, because I’m not ready to stop getting to know you.” His words were strengthened by him softly touching your hand and you felt a tingling sensation where he had touched you briefly.

“Thank you.” Was the only thing that came out of you and luckily he didn’t notice your heart racing in your chest.

“So what do we do now?” He asked while helping you clean.

“Now we wait for ten minutes or so and then I will rinse your hair to get rid of the product.” You stopped cleaning your hands and moved your body to face him. His features highlighted with his hair pushed back.

“Let’s play a game.” He cheerfully said with the biggest grin on his face.

“What do you want to play?” You were bit more hesitant as games brought a competitive side out of you, you mostly tried to hide from people.

“Maybe it’s not really a game, but let’s ask each other questions.” The excited look on his face made your insides feel funny, but as always you tried to ignore the feelings Jungkook brought out in you.

“You first.” You said.

“Why are you in Seoul with EF?”

“I’m obsessed with Korean tv shows so I wanted to see the place where a lot of my favorite dramas are located. And EF offers Korean lessons so maybe in a couple of months I will be able to watch without having to rely on subtitles as much as I do now.” It felt weird to tell him the truth as it sounded so lame and cliche. Maybe next time someones asks you this question, you just lie and make your reason more juicier than it really is.

“So you don’t have like this Asian fetish?”

“Isn’t it my turn to ask you a question?” You laughed and he blushed. He nodded is head for you to continue. “Why are you in Seoul?”

“To avoid responsibilities and I’m also trying to prove to my parents that I can make it on my own. It’s harder than I expected but on days like this, I’m glad I’m here.” Every time he opened up he showed so much of himself. He was so confident in confiding to you it made you feel like there was something strong connecting the two of you. Something you both felt but couldn’t describe.

“Why is that?”

“My turn. So answer my last question.”

“No, I don’t have a really weird fetish. I do like the idea of an interracial relationship but I need way too much attention for it to ever really work. Now you answer my question.” Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything about relationships as you felt like you had just courted him.

“I’m always busy and most of my friends are in Busan. So on days like this when I get to hang out with someone fun, someone I just met, I’m really glad I made it to Seoul.” His confession warmed your heart. He was you as someone fun, as someone who was worth spending time with. It had been a while that someone had said something like that to you.

“Have you had a lot of relationships?” He asked while fumbling with his hands.

“I had a few but only one that was meaningful, you know.” It still was a bit hard for you to talk about your last relationship even though it had been over more than a year.

“No, I really don’t. I never really had a real relationship. Only a few dates but no one really caught me into a real working relationship.”

“Maybe for the better. Heartbreak is really the worst and nobody deserves it.”

“Have you experienced heartbreak?” His eyes filled with worry as he asked his question.

“Let’s not talk about these painful subjects.” You said while looking at the time. “I think ten minutes have already passed so I should rinse out the product.” He quickly stood up and made his way toward the bathroom. You hadn’t talked about how you were going to remove the product out of his hair but you thought the best option was in his kitchen sink.

“Where are you going?” You asked him confused. You followed him into his bathroom and you caught him taking off his shirt. He turned around and you sucked in a sharp breath as his shirtless torso was exposed to you. You were shocked, stunned, amazed, mesmerized by his physique. It was like nothing you've ever seen before. His body was drool-worthy. His abdominals were sculptured to perfection instantly giving off the impression that he came out of a Calvin Klein shoot.

“What are you doing?” You whispered.

“I don’t want my shirt to get wet. You already ruined my towel with your unsteady hand.” His face showed a smirk on his god like face, casting a spell of lust to eyes that dare to look his way. He put on the shower and water started pouring out of the shower head he had just given to you. He bowed down so you could easily rinse all of the remaining product out of his hair.

You did your best to not touch him but your hand found its was to his shoulder to steady you. Your hand also travelled through his dyed black hair to wash it clean. He handed you his shampoo and you started to wash his hair while he held the running shower head for you. The actions were more intimate than you had first accepted his offer to dye his hair, but you weren’t complaining. No, you were really enjoying the feeling of your hands running through his hair? You appreciated your view of his bare back while his muscles tensed every time you accidentally touched him.

“I’m all done.” You said while turning off the shower. You gave him a new fresh towel so he could wipe the water from his face.

“What do you think?” He asked you. With is hair all wet and pushed back he looked almost god like, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“You look extremely good with black hair, Jungkook. I’ll give you my final grading tomorrow when I can admire your new hair in day light.” His ears turned red but his eyes shone bright because of your compliment.

“I’ll get going now. It’s late and I’m still tired from yesterday.”

“I’ll walk you to your room.” He offered while putting back on his shirt.

“You don’t have to do that. Remember the campus gossip I told you about?” These words saddened his face a bit but he seemed understanding.

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Thank you so much for helping me.” His hand was massaging the back of his neck out of nervousness and the cuteness was almost too much to handle.

“My pleasure.” Were your final words before you stepped out the door in the cold hallway. He kept standing in his doorway before you were completely out of view. Somehow it felt like the both of you were closer than before even though you wanted to accomplish the opposite. Even though you asked him to stay away, your heart wanted him to keep on bugging you with silly questions.

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