#purple king climbing bean | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1moreoffkeyanthem · 3 months

Text

Ok so I did the hcs of what OrangeJuiceVerse Stan and Kyle look like already (here) so now I gotta do the rest of the Star Seven

*Kenny- this guy is littttllllleeee like short king oh my god this poor mf grew up constantly malnourished and never grew taller than 5’5! I’ll write Kenny all across the board appearance wise but ojverse? He’s short. And he OWNS it!!! He’s also my king of fully climbing on everyone physical boundaries are not a thing with him (this is a problem when he meets Craig and Tweek) and he and Stan both have a penchant for hugging people but Kenny is the type to be like “watch if I run at Stan he’ll catch me” “wait no Kenny I’m holding coffee” *catches him* lmfao my beloved Disaster Duo. Kenny’s tiny ass is literally alllllways on Marj.

Sandy blond hair and the style changes CONSTANTLY he’s a MENACE with the scissors, but it’s usually on the long side and YES he grows a beard in his late 20s (this started as a bet with Stan to see who could grow the better one) he 100% braids it and puts glitter and flowers in it smh eccentric icon. Pretty light blue eyes, they look vaguely purple for a few days after he comes back from a death.

He dresses like a damn muppet half the time, and a lot of his clothes are stuff he made himself (artist slay) or found at a thrift store and altered, out here wearing shirts with vulgar sayings, weird clown pants, juicy sweatsuits, obnoxious Hawaiian shirts with leopard print leggings, like this man lives for looking like a weirdo. But the other half of the time he’s in jeans and t shirts, hoodies, and (also artist slay and literally me) so much of what he owns has some kind of paint or bleach stain. His go to “formal” attire is legitimately a floral suit with PRINCESS embroidered on the back.

*Marjorine- my tall goddess! She’s the third tallest of the 7 at 5’11 (Kenny is very into that) and loves to wear heels so she’s really out here towering over the peasants like the QUEEN she is lmao. She also dresses like a BARBIE I’m talkin the pastels that perfectly flatter her coloration, def some seersucker a-line dresses, MONOGRAMMED STUFF bruh they may be from assfucknowherecolorado but this lady dresses like she’s a pageant queen in the Deep South! It very much fits her as the baddest bitch in the mlm meeting (y’all keep her away from that shit frfr) she’s such a sweetie but she’s so damn susceptible to stuff like that oh noooo but then she winds up running the show 💀

She does indeed have the Eye Scar (blind in that eye she can’t legally drive rip) one eye is this pretty disney princess blue and the other is almost white but she looks SO fucking cool and the juxtaposition of her otherwise angelic features with a badass anime protagonist scar is KICKASS! Plussss since she dresses like fuckin Elle Woods but is taller than God just the BAD BITCH VIBES!!!

*CRAIG TUCKER MY DUDE!!! Ok so I believe I said that this mf is whole ass 6’4!!! “Yer a long boi ain’t ya” like bruh he’s so damn lanky whole ass string bean lmfao. I am an enjoyer of the Peruvian Crog hcs, so yep. Really dark black hair and grey eyes, he’s also like super hot??? I’m talking PERFECT skin, the most gorgeous chiseled face he deadass looks like a statue and women are all over him tryna flirt BUT!!! this mf is gayer than a mf picnic basket 😭

He’s seriously so cool looking but if you tell him that he’ll be like ?? It’s so funny bc Stan’s over here like “dude how do you wear a leather jacket without looking like a douchebag” and Craig’s like “idk?? I just do?” smh poor Stan he wants to look cool so bad and and Craig’s the only “cool guy” he knows but he’s not helpful at alllll.

He mostly dresses in dark colors, black, gray, navy, he’s like super hot but he is SUCH a loser!!! (I’m stealing this from my partner btw) one time he was just… walking around the apartment dressed as Spider-Man? And didn’t even acknowledge it? Like Tweek had a migraine and was bedridden and Craig fully just went up to him IN THE SPIDEY SUIT and handed him a jar of pickles “you should eat” Tweek was like “man WHAT are you doing dressed like that?!?” SMH he’s actually an icon

*TWEEK!!!!! Ok so Tweek (I’m projecting y’all know I love an artist character) he doesn’t own a single item of clothing that isn’t stained. And he mostly sticks to earth tones, a lot of green and brown, also let’s talk abt his skin. He has TERRIBLE skin! Cystic acne, he’s blotchy as shit, rosacea, got moles and freckles everywhere, acne on the left side of his chin from throwing up (when he’s in the drankin era) Kyle described him as scrunkly when they met lmfao like twerk is really just one of those little stray cats you see on the street. He’s honestly really cute tho

He’s LITTLE he’s Kenny’s height at 5’5 BUT!!! He’s literally so fuckin strong! Like out of him and crog? Tweek’s the jar opener. He has… actually kicked Stan’s ass at the gym (it was so unserious Stan was being angsty about a birthday and Ky was like “dude go spar Tweek or sum” and Stan has reservations bc he’s like a foot taller than Tweek and so much bigger and then Tweek kicked his ass!) smh they came home from the local planet fitness both smiling so hard and crog and ky were like TF?!?!? Like why are y’all beat up to hell

Tweek has very light blond hair, it’s technically curly but he pulls the hell out of it so it just kinda stands straight out, it literally feels like straw someone get this man some Fuckin conditioner

*Cartman! Ok I stand by him having heterochromia, he’s got one brown eye and one blue, totally thinks it makes him look “awesome and kewl” (it does lowkey) unfortunately he’s actually very attractive until he calls you a slur lmao. His features are literally perfect, he takes care of himself, skincare on point, LISTEN HE IS SO ABSURD about his cocktail of products it’s literally asinine

He’s around 5’9, and fat. Light brown hair that he keeps fairly short and ALWAYS immaculately styled. Like this guy cleans up NICE and u meet him for the first time and are thinking you’re meeting a very friendly lawyer type dude but then you shake his hand and he goes “what’s with the sword earrings, what? You just get off a dnd session?” Lmfao literally I cannot stress enough that he never grows out of being an asshole. He does MOSTLY stop with the truly offensive things though. Mostly. The Fuckwad Jar may have had something to do with it.

#bruhhhh #i am completely insane #out here once again w the #OrangeJuiceVerse #headcanons #this what the homies look like #south park #I am Kenny Kenny is me #also Marj kiss me rn #kenny mccormick #marjorine stotch #craig tucker #tweek tweak #eric cartman #these mfs

1 note · View note

petula-xx · 2 years

Photo

Against a backdrop of multiple crop failures this Summer my Purple King Climbing beans shone as standout stars and heavy producers.

The root system on these bean babies was impressive too!

#beans #purple king climbing bean #vegetables #gardening #gardeners on tumblr #home grown #grow it yourself #plants #root system #self sufficiency #organic food

6 notes · View notes

showrunnerihardlyknowher · 3 years

Text

Humans? Up MY Beanstalk? It's More Likely Than You Think!

AO3 Link

Danny's back on her bullshit and here to make everyone suffer with another WIP that's part of a fic trade with my beloved @hiddendreamer67 <3

Summary: I mean, Jack made it all sound so easy! Climb up the beanstalk a few times, steal enough riches to last himself ten life times, and live happily ever after as a heroic giant slayer with absolutely no repercussions.

Seriously, how hard can it be?

Aiden was no stranger to life events going from bad to worse at the drop of a hat, but more often than not he was able to go with the turbulent flow just enough to keep his head above water and out of any serious trouble. Such a feat was most evident in his adaptation to living within the labyrinth-like walls of the oversized castle he had foolishly sought refuge in weeks prior. Had it been weeks? Months, perhaps, or maybe only a handful of days. The passage of time was just as foreign to him as these massive surroundings, these massive people , and he didn’t have the gall to weasel his way towards an opening near the outside to gauge how high or low the sun was sitting in the strangely pink sky.

The irony was almost funny; where was that fool hearted bravery he had been swimming in when he first started his ascension up the winding stalk that sprouted who knows how many decades ago to reach its impressive height? He knew the stories of young boys trading cows for beans and getting far more than they bargained for. He knew it was down right suicidal to scale the plant in general given he hadn’t a lick of training when it came to climbing anything other than a ladder. The opportunity to live within a legend was too good to pass up, unfortunately. The flimsy promise of riches and adventure beyond his wildest dream outweighed the need to even consider how he was going to get back down from the towering growth when he was inevitably disappointed by the lack of golden eggs.

But he didn’t succumb to the thin air or fall to his death, and he wasn’t disappointed. If anything, he was given everything he envisioned. Almost everything. When he broke through the cloud line, he discovered the vine had tapered off in favor of clinging to a cliff side he was unaware even existed from below. Green tendrils served as almost a ladder to aid his climb up the mysterious rock formation until he was able to pull himself, huffing and panting and muscles tingling from overuse, over the edge to collapse on horizontal land. So the fabled kingdom of riches didn’t actually rest on the clouds, it seemed. A small let down, but hardly anything worth dampening the mood as Aiden took in his new world view.

He felt as if he had switched places with a weevil seeing how the small patch of grass he was in came up to his chest rather than swishing against his ankles. The euphoria of this great new discovery once again drowned out the more rational side of him, favoring exploration over potential survival. The logistics of returning home could be dealt with later, after he had slayed a giant and stolen only a penny of its wealth that would no doubt provide for him for the rest of his life. Naive. Gullible. Fool hearted.

Aiden had only trekked for a few hours before nearly getting swallowed up by a winged beast he likened to a bat, washing away over the edge of the cliff in a stream, and getting trampled by hulking soldiers doing their rounds. Each close call he survived by the skin of his teeth, luck and adrenaline driving him blindly to find a moment of safety. However, with each incident his bravery withered away into trepidation, especially the closer he came to the giants that roamed the lands. None of them had noticed him yet and part of him wondered if they would ever notice something as miniature as him scurrying around, but he wasn’t feeling bold enough to stay out in the open just for their reaction. No, once he had slipped into the fortress of metal and stone, out of sight from any predator's eyes, the will to venture back out had faded into near nothingness.

If he had it his way, he doubted he would ever again have the gung ho to leave the confines of his newfound sanctuary, not even for the bittersweet desire of returning home. He had made his bed in his haste to seek glory out of tall tales and now he must lie in it. Though his heart ached with anxiety and his hands ceased to tremble, his traitorous stomach refused to let him continue a life of solitude amongst the dusty beams. A weaker part of him couldn’t help but wonder if it would be worth it to live with the gnawing pain until it eventually overtook him. A fitting end, would it not, to starve to death like a rat in the walls? Alas, he was weak, but not weak enough to endure such aggressive cramping by the end of the second day, and so he mustered all the strength and courage he could just to snatch a few stale breadcrumbs long forgotten behind what he assumed was a cast iron stove.

Aiden truly was living up to his new rodent lifestyle, wasn’t he.

It was disgusting, but it was food, and though it made him ill the remainder of the night it had at least provided him with enough energy to go back out the next night in an effort to find something an inch more sustainable. By the end of the week, his newly discovered drive to live had him exploring every corner of the expansive kitchen during the wee hours of the night, when no giants hurried back and forth between the counters and the galley to serve platters of meals that could have fed his own village for months at a time. The rich smell of hot breads and meats made him dizzy, even more so now that he was getting accustomed to surviving off of dusty scraps he found on the floor. He needed to play it safe, he reminded himself as he watched one of the chef’s throw out an entire pan of fresh loaves because there’s too many chives in this! It’s too bitter for his tastes! , hardly resisting the urge to dive into the bins after the wasted food.

But...if they were so keen as to throw away an entire batch of fully prepared food over the fact that it was unsuitable for one person’s palette...surely there was no harm in taking what would be considered a nibble. Not when it was unwanted.

There it was again, that fool hearted bravery. If only Aiden had used it to find a way out of this unofficial prisoner rather than fuel his greed. He couldn’t be happy with the bare minimum he was given, could he? Always had to push the boundaries when he knew exactly where they lied, always run headfirst towards danger and then act surprised when it would bite him in the ass moments later. At least this time around he had the forethought to formulate some type of a plan, as flimsy as it was. Having become quite familiar with the inner structures of the fortress, he was able to determine the abode he was in was something along the lines of a castle. It was certainly sprawling enough, decorated with dark colors and glittering riches and constantly bustling with workers ranging from lowly servants to chittering socialites. Whether or not this was indeed a house for royalty he was unsure, having never been able to pinpoint which of the ambling lords or ladies might be the esteemed ruler of the lands. Assuming monarchies even existed this high, that is. Perhaps this was merely the norm of their society’s standards. It was unlikely, but it wasn’t as if he had many outside resources to compare this way of life to, not even in the way of his own village.

In theory, the heist should have been easy. In theory . All he had to do was wait until the dead of night for the bustling kitchen to fall silent as it normally did and he could slip out from the crevice closest to the scraps bin. Scaling in and out of the bin might prove trickier than he anticipated, but that remained a problem for future Aiden. The most important part of his newfound mission was being able to fill his stomach up with day-old bread and cold meats before they were discarded for good. If all went well, this could easily become a nightly routine of his, a way to feast like a king whilst living like a rat within the true royalty’s walls. He knew he was getting ahead of himself with that kind of fantasizing, perhaps that was even the beginning of his downfall, but he had so little to look forward to these days that he dared to get his hopes up for a semi-decent meal.

He hadn’t even made it halfway across the counter before he was spotted and subsequently captured.

But he had been so careful , he lamented to himself when the air was roughly knocked from his lungs after a massive hand slammed on top of him, pinning any squirms. True, he reflected as the stars cleared his vision, he never actually bothered to see if the kitchen remained vacant all night given that he was asleep...but he just assumed! Who in the world would be up during this hour!? Someone else sneaking a snack, maybe, just as he was. He could use that to his advantage, try and gain a few sympathy points by connecting with the giant on that level, convince them that all he needed was just a fraction of whatever they were probably getting for themselves and he would be on his way for good. A lie, of course, but the giant didn’t need to know that.

Once more, that short lived plan would never be put to use when Aiden felt himself being lifted in the air within a bone crushing grip, metal and leather digging into him in various places from the glove the giant wore. His eyes barely adjusted from the dizzying movements and dim kitchen before they were blown open at the sight, constricted breathing still entirely for a heartbeat. This was no ordinary giant, not like the ones he had grown accustomed to glancing at from the nooks and crannies. At first glance, however, it did fit the bill for the most part -- biped, guard’s armor, a human face -- but...did these giants typically have glowing purple eyes? He couldn’t recall for certain, yet the more he looked the more he found that appeared off. The outline of the guard’s figure seemed...fuzzy, like they were blurred rather than a solid defining line. His face, harsh and scrutinizing, was greyer than a corpse. He was otherworldly, and it was at that moment Aiden was painfully reminded he was in another world, one he didn’t belong in. One he knew he would be leaving quickly.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the guard rumbled, his voice grating more like static than a growl.

“N-no…” Aiden agreed. Anything to get on his good side. “I’ll go, I’ll l-leave!”

Though he had found his voice, he had yet to find the strength to attempt any kind of struggle, not that he thought he’d be able to budge the massive fingers in the slightest. However, if he showed just how eager he was to depart from this situation, maybe the giant would believe him and grant him that small mercy. Instead, he was given another rough squeeze that made his spine pop, the fist clenching him raising higher so that he was more at eye level with his captor.

“How did you get in here, human? ” The guard spat. Good news was that humans were a known creature, at least. Bad news was that humans, apparently, were not known for any pleasant reason.

Aiden panted, trying to suck in a much needed breath after all of his were forced out. “I-I don’t know…” He squealed in discomfort when the fingers tightened again, refusing to let up until he gave a more satisfactory answer. “Th-the walls! I came through the walls! ”

The guard snorted and slackened his grip to allow an inch of breathing room, “Of course you did. Little pest that you and your kind are.”

“Wh...what are you…?” A bold question, but since he was sure it was to be one of his last, Aiden saw no reason not to ask.

He wasn’t given an answer, the giant instead lowering him slightly to exit the kitchen and pace down the halls. The scenery whizzed by so fast that it made his head spin, catching a few looks at other giants that were loitering about. Just like the guard, they were similar to the ones he would see in the daytime but...different. The two guards they passed looked to be of the same race of whatever the one holding him was, a noblewoman in a shimmering capelet eyed him suspiciously and he could have sworn her ‘capelet’ flittered before settling back down her shoulders. How had he never seen any of these attributes in the day? Then again, he often viewed the giants in the fortress at a distance and never for very long, they could have all been magically endowed for all he knew. Or, another theory, the ones he was coming across now were merely nocturnal and their more...normal housemates were sound asleep as he typically was while these creatures did their rounds and had their fun.

The wonderment was short lived when the giant shoved his way through a heavy wooden door at the very end of a lesser used corridor. With each step down the spiraling stone staircase, Aiden felt his heart sink just a little lower. The long shadows casting against the walls from the torches mounted to them gave the dank atmosphere an even more sinister vibe, leaving too many unknown things able to hide in the darkness. Even the guard, who did not appear to be an overly friendly fellow to begin with, looked twice as menacing with how the shadows concealed the few human features he did have. Aiden swallowed thickly, unsure of where they were heading but already knowing it wasn’t good.

His hunch was confirmed when the guard entered another hall, one lined with cramped cells that were partially occupied. He tried not to look at them and their fates, not wanting to see what might be awaiting him as well. Likely not, though. He was far too small to shackle and imprison. A different punishment would have to be in store for him. Further down the hall, the dungeon changed its holding cells from ones with iron bars to ones with solid steel doors instead, obscuring whatever poor bastard was locked within. Was that considered a crueler punishment? Perhaps that was where the torturing took place, if such types of creatures indulged in those acts. He saw no reason why they wouldn’t and as a result could very easily imagine himself being thrown in there next.

Fortunately, or not, the guard instead opened another wooden door that was adjacent to several of the isolated cells, coming to stand before another giant sitting at a table. Aiden couldn’t tell what was on the desk or what this new giant was using these unknown things for, but from the jist of it he must have been busy.

“Sir,” the guard holding him said while raising him higher for the presumably important one to see better. “A human has been found within the perimeter.”

The guard, a captain if Aiden were to guess, frowned. “Any others?”

“None that I could sense in the immediate area.”

He sighed and waved his hand. “We’ll do a sweep before daybreak. Who knows the amount of damage it’s done...what it’s taken, what it’s told.” He fixed Aiden with an icy glare that made the poor human try to shrink in on himself.

He wished he could have found a way to defend himself, plead his case, but his voice was nowhere to be found now. All cowardliness and no self preservation.

“And how shall I dispose of this one, sir?” The guard asked and Aiden paled. Dispose!?

The one in charge shrugged a shoulder and resumed what he was doing previously, fiddling with tools and books and papers for one reason or another. “Put it on lunch duty. Give the lizard another rat to keep him busy.”

Aiden didn’t quite follow the logic of the order. Lunch duty didn’t sound half as bad as being disposed of. The ‘lizard’ was news to him, but regardless the guard nodded at his order and left the office back down the corridor of steel doors. He wasn’t sure if he should speak up and ask for clarification while he mulled over his rather lenient sentencing, doubtful the giant would even regard him. From the looks of disgust and distrust he had been given numerous times in the short span of time he had been discovered, he could gather that his presence was an unwelcome one, though why he was still unsure. Evidently, he was going to be put to work and he could most certainly live with that. Earn his keep, he reasoned. Give rats to lizards or something. Would these rats and lizards be the same kind as the ones back on his homeworld down below or would they be to scale with the giants? Another question he should probably speak aloud before he got in over his head.

Or, at least, he would have asked, had a wad of cloth not been jammed into mouth hard enough to make his jaw click uncomfortably. He gagged, trying to shove the offending material out with his tongue, but it was packed into his cheeks too tightly to budge. A different material, a thin rope, was quickly wound around his chest to pin his arms to his sides before wrapping further down to bind his ankles. It had happened in the flash, the guard giving him no warning or reasoning for the sudden confinement, but it wasn’t as if Aiden could offer up much protest now that it was all said and done. He was completely immobile, spun up like a fly in a spider’s web. The guard had done it with such efficiency that it must be something similar to a routine for him by now which did not bode well. In a last ditch effort to save his hide from whatever...this was, he looked up at his captor with wide, pleading eyes, begging for just a shred of sympathy or at the very least an explanation of what was about to happen.

All he was met with was the same cold, violet eyes as all the other giants he had come to pass. Equally cruel and indifferent. And it was then he understood, as he was being roughly shoved through a hand slot at the base of one of the sturdy metal cell doors, that he was not the one who was meant to be delivering the meals during “lunch duty”. He was the meal. He was the rat, which meant the lizard was…

Aiden wriggled as best he could manage in his position until he was able to roll onto his back and get a good look around the cell. It was massive to him, but compared to the size of the giants he could tell it was rather cramped. Dark and depressing, much like one would expect a lonely prison cell to be, with the scattering of tiny bones and grime along the stone walls. His breathing quickened as he tried to tell just what type of origin the gnawed remains had been, however it was too difficult to tell at this distance in such gloom lighting. Perhaps that was for the best, giving his brain a little boost of reassurance that maybe they weren’t all human bones, that this wasn’t a common fate most of his kind befell when they made the same foolish mistake of invading where they clearly did not belong.

Trying to avoid the glare of bones only worsened his situation tenfold when he turned his head and was met with what was, obviously, the lizard as previously mentioned. Well, partially a lizard? More human-looking than lizard just going off a quick glance which led Aiden to believe the nickname was meant to be a derogatory term for whatever species it was. It...he? Yeah, he was kneeling on the floor, not by choice, but rather due to the shackles that bound him at the wrist and was tethered to the floor with a pitifully short chain. The clothes he wore reminded him of something he might have caught a few nobles wear given the level of craftsmanship and hand woven designs. It was a shame they were soiled now in what he could only assume was sweat and dirt, how he hoped that was dirt. The prisoner picked his head up when he heard the food slot screech open and shut, waiting for any other sound before sighing at the responding silence.

The chain jingled as he shifted to reposition himself into something a little more comfortable, Aiden now catching sight of the black nails that blended into scales littering the back of his hand when he flexed his fingers. A tail briefly flicked into view before concealing itself behind him once again. As the human let his gaze trail further up his face, fully prepared to see another hateful glare burning a hole through his weak soul, he couldn’t help but notice another spattering of black scales along his cheekbones and down his neck, presumably up to his eyes as well, but...well, he couldn’t tell. Not when there was a tattered, red cloth tied around his head, effectively blinding the sense. He wondered if this was an ailment the giant already had or if this was another part of his punishment, curious if he even had any eyes still in their sockets beneath the shoddy wrappings. Whatever the case was, the “lizard” obviously couldn’t see him and Aiden was unable to alert him to his presence with the gag shoved down his throat, leaving them at an awkward stalemate.

A stalemate that lasted all of two seconds before the giant wrinkled his nose and frowned. “The hell kind of rodent is this…? ” he muttered to himself.

So much for not knowing he was there. With great effort, Aiden twisted his body until he was able to turn on his side, trying to push himself up into a sitting position. He froze when the giant started to move as well, pointed ears twitching in response to the light scuffling he was making against the floor to pinpoint his location. Despite one of his senses being dulled, it was evident his remaining ones were still working in perfect order, maybe even heightened to compensate for the lack of vision.

“Another live one,” he sighed, fingers flexing again, “Sorry about this little buddy. I don’t like live prey any more than you like being it, I’m sure, but, well…”

That was the only warning Aiden had before the giant lunged, teeth snapping an inch in front of his frozen body. From this close, he could see the needle-thin fangs previously hidden behind a grimace and instantly wanted to be far, far away from them. His only saving grace was the short lead the other had on his cuffs, preventing him from pushing off any closer and cutting him off just shy of his prize for the time being. He growled in annoyance at having missed the offered prey, pulling back to realign himself for a better pounce.

“Come on, just make this easy for the both of us,” the giant huffed.

Oh, absolutely not. No, no, no. No, this was not how Aiden wanted his adventure in the skies to end. Fuck the adventure, he wanted to go home and he wanted to do so alive and in one piece. Being ripped to shreds was not a fate he ever envisioned for himself. He wasn’t going to die like some...some rat!

The giant was inching closer, moving along the side as much as the chain would allow to get a better angle. It didn’t matter whether he ensnared the tiny between his claws or teeth or even batted its little corpse within reaching distance with his tail, so long as he was able to get a hold on its fresh flesh one way or another. Desperately, Aiden began to rock back and forth to shimmy his body across the floor, painstakingly putting centimeters of distance between them that the giant was able to make up in a single shuffle. When the chain pulled taunt again, the human rolled to the side and narrowly missed the clamp of teeth once more, hot breath blowing against his back and covering his body in goosebumps. Undeterred, however, the giant followed his scent that was so tantalizingly close and moved his body in unison with Aiden’s. With another bite, he was able to find purchase on the ropes that burned against his arms and sunk his fangs in what he supposed was meant to be an animal's tender flesh.

Aiden had tried to avoid the attack but simply could not scramble away quick enough, his only luck being that he was just far enough that the gnashing teeth only managed to puncture through the fibers of rope rather than his actual skin. He was lifted into the air when the giant pulled back, kicking and thrashing to the best of his ability against the hold. The humid air blowing on the back of his head made him nauseous now, only able to envision how the feeling would quickly be enveloping him entirely when he was thrown back and swallowed down the creature’s gullet. With one, final twist, Aiden prayed his limited strength would be enough to somehow dislodge himself from the giant’s maw and give him another chance at playing this unbalanced game of chase.

And then the rope snapped.

Having already been sawed and frayed in several places from the giant’s fangs, Aiden’s pull was all it needed to rip apart entirely, sending the human sprawling onto the cold ground. His vision clouded when his head smacked against the stone, ironically thankful for the wad of cloth in his mouth or he most certainly would have lost a few teeth. Without a doubt, he was going to have a nasty bruise coloring the majority of his right side in the near future, the ache still pulsing with every wheezing breath he tried to gain back. While the stars faded from his eyes, he watched distantly as the giant curiously grinded the material in his mouth before dropping it. He pursed his lips in confusion, expecting raw meat and the rush of blood rather than some scratchy coils of what almost tasted like hide.

“Gods, what even is this,” he cringed.

Me , Aiden wanted to cry out, it’s me, it’s a human!

The giant’s hang up with his unusual meal faded into resignation much sooner than Aiden would have liked. He was hardly to blame, though, if he had been given nothing but live pests to blindly hunt down without the use of his full mobility for an undetermined amount of time. They were in a similar boat, really. Creatures trapped in a home they had no business being in, trying to survive on what little scraps were thrown their way. The human sorely wished he hadn’t been relegated into the scraps category, but there was little he could do about that now. Knowing his prey had a pretty straight forward drop, he moved again with an open mouth to seal the foreign creature’s fate.

The sight of teeth rushing to greet him was exactly the adrenaline rush Aiden’s body needed to get moving again, much more successfully this time now that he had arms to push up with and legs to carry him a greater distance. As much as he would have loved to have sprinted to the other side of the cell, even find another crack to slip through if fate would feel the desire to be so kind to him today, he only managed to stumble a few feet out of the immediate danger zone before tripping over himself. His right leg screamed in agony from the second fall, a sign of something being sprained somewhere he was sure. He wanted to scream out loud as well had it not been for the gag. The gag he realized he could take out now. Unsure of how useful his last words would even be, the human ripped the wad of cloth out of his mouth in a frenzy while the giant prepped himself for another attack. If anything, at least Aiden could find catharsis in leaving some sort of statement about himself behind for someone to hear, even if it was just confirmation of his fool heartedness.

“Stop!” Aiden yelled, voice raw and itching his throat like it hadn’t been used in ages rather than half an hour. “Please, stop! G-get away! ”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting the giant to do as a result, but one thing was clear and it was that he most certainly wasn’t expecting his meal to say anything. He reeled back like he had been physically struck by those words, if his eyes were visible he was sure they would be as wide as serving platters. It was almost comical how he stumbled back, the menacing creature suddenly so fearful of a tiny vermin it was trying to consume moments prior, mouth agape as he tried to process what was going on without being able to actually see it.

“You...did you just, oh my gods,” he gasped. While he was glad he was being spared for the time being, the giant’s nervousness did little to quell the anxiety that had been brewing in Aiden’s heart since the moment he came upon this accursed land.

“Ple-please…” Aiden whimpered, suddenly drained physically and emotionally from the whole ordeal and settling to just drag himself any extra distance he could away from his unofficial death penalty. It was a pathetic display, but on the bright side, one he wouldn’t be mocked for. “Don’t h-hurt me…”

The giant shifted again, hesitant, closer , and Aiden braced himself for the final bite to end it all.

“You can talk!? ”

#g/t #fearplay #g/t writing #giant/tiny #macro/micro #gianttiny #my writing #hiddendreamer67 #MANDY MY BELOVED #also these are officially her OCs so don't ask me for ANYTHING about them #these are HER KIDS NOW i sign over my parental rights #well #i guess they're mine until I get chapter two out

129 notes · View notes

a-storm-of-roses · 2 years

Text

October Fics Day 24: Leaves

Pairing: Teyla Emmagen/Elizabeth Weir

Rating: G

Words: 914

Summary: New England isn't exactly the Grand Canyon, but it has its charms. Elizabeth shares a part of her childhood and Teyla enjoys a latte.

A/N: A day late and a dollar short!

Read on AO3 or below!

“Well, I’ll admit it seemed more spectacular in my memory,” Elizabeth winced.

It was a beautiful September morning, brisk and bright. The sun was shining in a clear sky, birds were singing and the view was… well, it was fine.

“It is lovely, Elizabeth. It reminds me of the trees near harvest on Diurne. Or Drif. Or Baros. Or-” Teyla teased, hiding a laugh behind her coffee cup.

“Yes, yes, I get it. Next time I’ll take you to see the Grand Canyon,” Elizabeth responded wryly, pinching Teyla’s side, laughing at her partner’s undignified squawk and the resulting cuff to her own head.

It felt surprisingly natural to see Teyla here, standing at the state park’s scenic overlook, not far from the trails Elizabeth’s family had visited every fall during her childhood. Beautiful as always, Earth suited Teyla. The light hiking pants, the long sleeved shirt, the deep purple fleece vest, even the disposable coffee cup - they all should have looked out of place on a woman used to leathers and natural fibers, hewn wood and carved stones.

But somehow, Teyla looked like she belonged in this world. Like she had stepped through the Stargate, from Pegasus straight into an LL Bean catalogue.

“So people truly travel here, just to see the leaves?” Teyla asked, in that polite, arch way that sometimes left Elizabeth feeling unrefined, uneducated, as if she hadn’t received two PhDs and command of a major, classified government base by the age of 30.

“A lot of people in the United States live in large cities, where access to nature might be limited, or even impossible. We believe it does the soul good to get out of those cities, reconnect with the natural world. And the colors can be brilliant, at the right time of year. I’m afraid I may have mistimed this trip.”

From the bluff, they looked out over the valley, a sweeping view of blue skies, and just about to turn trees. Elizabeth had envisioned a symphony of red and gold, a quiet moment of reverence shared with her partner, maybe a chai-spiced kiss.

Instead, the view was mostly green, a little gold, and some brown. The occasional, brilliant splash of red peeped through, a hint of what was to come, but it must have been an unusually late season for the leaves this year, or perhaps Elizabeth had remembered wrong.

She’d visited this park with her parents, more than once as a child. Her father would wake her, on a cool Saturday morning, sometime in October, bundle her up and into the car, pressing a hot chocolate into her sleepy hands. They’d drive out of the city, her mother fiddling with the radio, stopping when she came across some Carole King, or later Joni Mitchell. As the concrete pavement gave way to swathes of grass and water, as they followed the wending river further upstate, everything felt lighter, more alive.

Elizabeth remembered; her father telling jokes and laughing about meetings that earlier in the week had left him raging, her mother singing along lightly, pointing out the swooping birds of prey when they circled high above. Elizabeth’s own delight when she caught sight of a deer, leaping through the woods on the side of the road - fast, agile, gone in a second, before her mother could spot it, as though it was her own private secret.

When they’d finally pull into the park, the sun high in the sky, golden leaves raining down around them. The delicious stretch of her legs after hours in the car, running off down the trailhead, her sneakers padding down on a carpet of bright, decaying red leaves.

They would hike until they hit the waterfall, and Elizabeth would climb into the caves behind it, shout at her parents through the cold running water. Her mother still had a photo somewhere, she thought, Elizabeth standing triumphant on a high rock, bold and brave, having climbed partway up the falls - back then she never worried about tumbling down, imbued with the blind invulnerability of little children.

They’d eat lunch at the picnic tables, near the parking lot, packed sandwiches and bags of chips and small, cold cans of soda. The drive back was always quieter, more subdued, and Elizabeth would nap, forehead pressed against the cool window, only nodding awake when her father pulled into the local farmstands, her mother nipping out to buy fresh fruit, apple butter and preserves.

Elizabeth was pulled from her memory by Teyla’s chin propped up against her shoulder, her arms winding tight around her waist.

“It is lovely, Elizabeth. I am just happy that you finally have had the chance to share the wonders of your own world with me.”

“I’m not sure that leaf peeping is exactly a wonder of Earth,” Elizabeth laughed. “Although maybe a dirty chai latte is, if the sounds you were making earlier were any indication.”

Teyla laughed, pressed a sticky kiss to the corner of Elizabeth’s mouth, before heading towards the trailhead.

“Come on! I believe I was promised a beautiful waterfall?” Teyla smirked. Elizabeth strode forward, her hiking boots kicking up dried leaves as she moved to catch up.

Teyla stopped and looked back, smiling. Golden leaves drifted down all around her, the light catching in her hair, beaming down through the gaps in the trees.

The Grand Canyon could wait, Elizabeth decided, as she crunched down the trail, tangled her fingers with Teylas and tugged her into the woods.

#Leaf peeping in the northeast #A bit of Elizabeth backstory #And childhood feels #Who doesn't love a dirty chai #Teyla Emmagen/Elizabeth Weir #stargate #stargate atlantis

8 notes · View notes

chaseatinydream · 3 years

Text

pirate king (14) || atz

Sweat drips from your forehead as you swing the wooden practice cutlass on deck in the same repeated actions Jongho and Yunho have drilled into you.

Left parry, right jab. Overhead swing, side slash. Dodge. Repeat.

Practicing is numb, mindless work. Honestly, you really hate it sometimes, but right now you’re ever so grateful for it. You take the time to organise your mind, your thoughts.

What do you do now?

Jongho, Seonghwa and San now know of your identity as a woman, and what you have learnt ever since your awakening. San is going to tell Yeosang about what the fortune teller had told you yesterday, and you may finally get some answers.

But something lingers on the edges of your conscience.

The sea witch.

The one who Seonghwa warned bargains with the mythical, the bridge between the supernatural and the mortal. And from the looks on San and Seonghwa’s faces, she didn’t sound like a person you’d want to meet.

Underhand swipe, stab.

“I am unworthy of looking upon her face, the one who you have made a deal with, the sea witch!”

Sidestep, lunge.

A deal.

You hunch over on your knees, panting as you take a break for a moment. The sky is still a dark indigo, the stars splattered across the deep purple canvas fading ever so slowly in preparation for the sun to take over their role.

“-a being of immense power that lives on an island that only people in great desperation can find-”

What had you been so desperate for as to turn to the supernatural? What could possibly be worth making a deal with the sea witch?

What had you gained?

You grip your sword tight once more, hate for all the hardships and agony your past self has put you through welling up inside of you.

You had woken up with absolutely nothing. You were completely alone.

Jab, slash.

What exactly had you given up?

Duck, stab.

Why did the fortune teller ask who had made you?

Wetness falls down your cheeks, but you don’t know whether it’s sweat or tears. Something about the word terrifies you. Why made? Why not ‘gave birth’? The way the fortune teller had spoken of you as if you are a piece of craft, not a human…

Why did she call the sea witch your mistress?

You toss the sword to the ground, panting from the exertion and the wild thoughts running through your head.

Did you sacrifice your memories?

“Hey, stowaway!”

You jump at the cheerful greeting, desperately wiping tears from your eyes that you hadn’t known were there.

“Yunho-hyung.” You internally curse the way your voice sounds like you’ve just swallowed a bucket of tar as the tall battlemaster makes his way across to you, his footsteps echoing abnormally loudly on the empty deck.

His hands are tucked into his pockets and his cheeks are apple red from the cold night air. Still, his grin is just as bright as it always is, and he stops next to you.

“Why are you up so early, stowaway?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You mumble back, shivering slightly. The sweat on your skin has started to evaporate, leaving a chill on your arms and neck. Yunho studies the cutlass on the ground, your puffy, bloodshot eyes and the downcast look on your face.

You open your mouth to explain, to come up with some stupid excuse, but Yunho merely smiles.

“Have you been in the crow’s nest before?”

“What?” You’re caught by surprise by this question, not something you’d have expected to leave his mouth. The lookout merely continues smiling at you, waiting for an answer patiently. “Well, no.”

“That’s good.” Yunho grins at you charmingly. When you frown at him, a little confused, he explains. “That means I’m gonna be the first one to bring you up there.”

Gesturing for you to leave your sword where it is, he takes you by the wrist, long fingers encircling yours completely, leading you to the foremast. Yunho then places your hands against the coarse, thick ropes of the rigging, gently closing your fingers around them.

“Are you scared of heights?”

“Not really.” You reply honestly, but you are a little worried that you might fall like the clumsy fool that you are. You crane your head back, looking upwards.

The crow’s nest is pretty high up.

“Are you afraid of heights, Yunho-hyung?” You ask. The lookout laughs, clearly amused at your silly question and motions for you to climb.

“I am a lookout, you know. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to catch you if you fall.”

You stare at him nervously, placing a foot on the rigging. “But I had three pastries yesterday. And another chicken drumlet. And some of that pie Seonghwa-hyung baked before I left. And-”

Yunho waves your protests off cheerfully. “No worries, just trust me!”

Just trust me.

Turning back to the rigging, you suck in a breath and begin to climb. You’ve never worked around the rigging and masts like you’ve seen Yunho and Wooyoung do so often, instead staying closer to the deck like San and Seonghwa. The two are in the rigging so often, spending more time among the ropes than on deck, laughing and chatting away.

For a moment, you feel like you’re intruding on their space.

The climb upwards is a little tricky as the rope twists and flexes beneath you, but you’re determined to make it all the way to the top by yourself. Straining with the effort, you finally drag yourself feebly over the lip of the crow’s nest and flop into it, sweat dripping from you every orifice.

“That was a good first try!” Yunho cheers as his mop of brown hair appears at the railing merely seconds after you’ve crawled in. You stare at him in disbelief from below.

“I thought you said you were going to catch me if I fell!”

Yunho cocks his head at you curiously as he perches on the railing precariously, an inch or so from a bad fall back to the main deck. “I was! I only started climbing after you reached the top.”

Your jaw smashes into the ground.

Yunho gives you an easy grin, patting your head in encouragement. Really, what is with all your crew members liking to pat you on the head? You’re about to ask him why when he looks away from you, admiring the horizon with a smile.

“So, why the long face?”

At his question, you jerk a little in shock. He seems to be a lot more observational than you have given him credit for.

“I am the lookout, after all.”

You gulp.

“And yes, you said that out loud.”

“Sorry!” You squeak, but Yunho doesn’t take any offence at your words. Instead, he merely grins at you with a cheeky, boyish smile.

“How about you tell me why you had such a long face as apology, then?”

You puff out your cheeks. You feel like Yunho has just tricked you into coming up here to make you spill the beans about all of your deepest, darkest secrets, but of course you can’t tell him that you’re worried about what the fortune teller has told you. As much as you trust the members of the ship, you don’t know how they’d react if you blurted to all of them that you could hear the sea monster’s voice and that you were starting to get afraid of what the fortune teller had woven as your future.

So you try to keep things as vague as possible.

“Nothing much.” You attempt to play it off light, fiddling with the crystal at the end of your necklace as you close your eyes and lean back against the mast, trying to appear as calm as possible. “I was just thinking about my memories, you know. If I had a mother.” A dry laugh leaves your mouth as you think about the possibility of the sea witch being your mother. “Maybe I could have had parents waiting for me wherever my home is. Siblings, even.”

Yunho is silent for a while. Then he suddenly speaks up.

“Do you know what these are?” He points to the two silver rings braided into his hair. They’ve always just been there, from the very first day you’d met him down at the harbor of Raguza, so you’ve simply assumed that it is some kind of habit of his. Honestly, you haven’t given it much thought, so you shake your head.

“These are rings of victory.” Yunho says, his voice suddenly soft as he fingers the silver bands. You stare at them a little more closely. “I got one for my first victory... And the second one for my hundredth.”

There’s something delicate in the air, invisible but completely tangible. You don’t dare to raise your voice over a whisper.

“What victories?”

“Victories in the arena.” Yunho says the word ‘arena’ with so much bitterness, sadness, anguish that for a moment, you can almost feel his raw emotions washing over you like a tidal wave. “Before I joined the crew of the Treasure… I was a gladiator.”

You’re stunned into silence for a moment.

Yunho has always been so happy, so cheerful, so happy-go-lucky, a literal ray of sunshine. You can’t believe that he could have endured such torment and pain in the past.

“I see.” Is all that leaves your mouth, but there’s so much more you want to say.

“I had a brother. His name was Gunho.” Yunho looks lost in the past, fixated on a dream, far, far away. “He was nicer, kinder, gentler. Always the better one of the two of us.”

You want to argue with that, but he continues before you can say anything.

“We were both sold into slavery by our parents. All we had was each other. I remember the first time he stepped into the arena, he was so scared to the point he kept shaking in his boots. I volunteered to go in his place. That’s how I got this.”

You watch with bated breath as Yunho pulls the collar of his shirt down to reveal a long, ugly scar at his shoulder, dangerously close to where his jugular is, as San has taught you. If the blade had been a couple of inches to the left, Yunho wouldn’t be here with you right now.

And that scares you, for some reason you don’t want think about.

You don’t know what to say. Why is Yunho sharing with you all this, something so close to his heart?

“I did everything I could to keep him safe. It was silly, now that I think about it. He was always a better fighter than me.” Yunho muses to himself in silent mirth, shaking his head as he shrugs the shirt back over his shoulder. “But I was the older brother. I was supposed to take care of him.”

You don’t like where the sound of this is going.

“But he’s gone now.” Yunho’s smile is brittle, as if it might break if you so much as touch it. His voice is nothing above a wavering whisper. “Dead and gone. And I wasn’t even by his side when it happened.”

“Why?” You find yourself asking, even before you can run it by your mind. “What happened?”

Yunho closes his eyes for a moment, clearly fighting to keep his emotions at bay as they play out across his face. Then he speaks, his throat tight.

“A patron admired me for my skill and bought my freedom, but not my brother’s.” Yunho’s words are soft, but clear as water and you hang on to every word. “I joined the Treasure to earn enough to buy my brother’s freedom… but by the time I returned to my hometown, Gunho was dead.”

His voice cracks ever so slightly even though the smile never leaves his face.

“Did you know? My brother died from the same illness as Jongho’s mother did.” Yunho adds on quietly, lost in thought. A heavy, crushing feeling sinks like a stone in your chest and you feel something prick at the corner of your eyes. You blink the feeling away in surprise.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, and you feel Yunho’s pain as if it’s your own. If you ever had family, like he had, and you’d lost them… The feeling is familiar to you, as if you’ve felt it before.

But something is different.

No… you didn’t lose him…

You left him behind.

Something bubbles in the back of your mind and your eyes fly wide with horror, you jerk upright to stare at Yunho. You try desperately to chase the thought, but when you shut your eyes, all you see is the same thing you always do.

White beach, the waves washing over your legs as you sit in the sand. Rain touching your face, storms at your feet.

Then nothing.

“Anyway, what I intended for you to hear is that there’s always a dawn, even to the darkest nights.” Yunho says quietly, his words gentle. “Even though I thought I’d lost it all when I found out about my brother’s death, I realised I gained a new family. You might have lost your memories, but at least you have us with you. You’re our family. You are someone to us.”

You are someone to us.

His hand closes around yours. You turn to look at him, eyes wet with emotion. He doesn’t face you, instead pointing at the horizon.

“Look.”

The sun is beginning to rise.

The pair of you sit in comfortable silence as the sun slowly emerges from behind the sea. The darkness of the sky flees as the rosy light chases it away, streaks of pink and orange painting the sky.

You don’t know how long you sit there till someone calls for you from below.

“Yunho-ah! Stowaway!” To your surprise, it’s Yeosang, but there’s something off about him. From up on the crow’s nest, you can see him fidgeting nervously hopping from foot to foot as he looks up at the two of you. He looks like he’s literally brimming with happiness.

“What is it, Yeosang-ah?” Yunho shouts back, your hand falling from his.

There’s a massive grin on the navigator’s face, even as he tries to fight it back.

“Captain wants to see us!”

147 notes · View notes

smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Rhythm Stick

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: It all happened so fast. She wasn’t usually a girl for one night stands, and she certainly didn’t go out with the intention to get laid, but she just couldn’t ignore the stranger across the bar.

Warnings: Smut, crack (crut? smack? I dunno), dirty talk

WC: 1073

A/N: The idea to it was born out of a conversation which I stumbled into on the @spnfanficpond discord server. I think @superfanficnatural @impala-1979 @impalaimagining were involved.

Thanks so @emoryhemsworth and @deanwanddamons for giving it a look over :)

It all happened so fast. She wasn’t usually a girl for one night stands, and she certainly didn’t go out with the intention to get laid, but she just couldn’t ignore the stranger across the bar.

“He’s delicious,” Her friend whispered into her ear, “Wouldn’t mind riding his trouser snake, bet it’s big, too.”

She scoffed at her friend who just winked at her before she went off to find someone for herself.

And now they’re standing in the darkened alley behind the bar, his lips on hers. His hands roam across her body while he kisses her hot and rough, his tongue slippery wet against her own. He hikes up her leg, his hand on her thigh and she hooks it behind him. In this position, she could feel his pleasure pump through the thin fabric of his pants. Her friend wasn’t lying. He’s really big.

The stranger nibbles down her throat, sucking and marking her, teeth scraping along her skin and she throws her head back further, moans out in pleasure. Her hands fists in the short of his hair, nails digging into his scalp, “Oh, god,”

He chuckles against her throat, “It’s Dean.”

“Dean,” She calls out, and he thrust against her crotch, his knobgoblin gives her the right friction. But it’s not enough. She wants more.

“I have a car,” He whispers.

He doesn’t even have to finish his sentence, she knows where this is going and hell yes, she wants it, fucking needs it, so she says, “Yes, please.”

With a last bruising kiss and a thrust of his huge Jurassic pork, Dean lets go of her, takes her hand and walks her to his car.

Dean opens the door and she climbs into the backseat while he spanks her ass. He gets in after her, manhandles her on top of him and she likes that, likes that he’s so rough with her.

Her knees rest on either side of his thigh on the seat, his hand on her ass as he helps her grind on his Pee-Wee. She kisses at his jaw, works her way down his throat, and slides down his body until she sits wedged between the front seat and him. Looking up at him she smiles, sees him looking at her with hungry eyes. She lowers her face then, licks over his bush whacker through his jeans and he groans, his hands fists in her hair.

Her fingers work on his belt buckle, tiny fingers pulling down his zipper. She hears a hiss when she pulls his pants down far enough to reveal his woody womb pecker, he’s not wearing underwear. He clearly went out with a to do list and she’s not entirely mad about it that she’s on it.

Dean’s huge tuna torpedo hits her in her face when she lowers his pants far enough and he helps her by lifting his ass a little.

She wraps her hand around the shaft of his meat scepter, her tongue darts out to lick at the tip. It’s already leaking, too, the taste of him strong on her tongue. Dean groans above her. And she smirks, feels proud that she can make him lose himself a little. She wraps her mouth around the tip of his creamy hunter, sucks in before she takes him further.

“Fuck,” He growls above her, “Your mouth feels so fucking good around my leather stretcher, baby.”

His praise goes right to her throbbing clit and she opens her mouth wider, takes his tonsil tickler deeper, so deep that it makes her gag and Dean growls louder above her, moaning out profanities.

“So good, baby, taking my atomic turtle so fucking deep,” He whispers and reaches out with both his hands, cradles her head with it, “Can I fuck your face, baby? Will you let me, huh? I wanna fuck my king dong into you, your mouth is so fucking perfect for it.”

She nods at him with teary eyes and Dean smiles brightly down at her.

“Keep your mouth open baby,” He coons, and starts to thrust his hips up, his rumpleforeskin hitting the back of her throat with every push.

He’s rough with her too, and she’s gagging around his Herman von Longschlongstein.

“Jesus, so good. Yeah, choke on my fucking tan banana, baby.”

She does, chokes and gags and coughs, and it’s messy, but also so fucking hot.

After a while Dean pulls her up and pulls her back onto his lap, his mouth seals around hers as he sucks his own taste from it. He parts and pants hard, “Fuck, I wanna feel your pussy around my bone ranger,”

His fingers find the crotch of her string, pulls it aside and Dean threads his fingers through her slick. She’s plenty wet from sucking him, there’s no question that she won’t be able to accommodate his yogurt slinger.

“Ride me,” He whispers as he probes the tip of his clam hammer against her pussy.

Slowly she sits down on his heat-seeking moisture missile, and moans out loudly when he bottoms out. Dean melts his mouth to hers when she starts to bounce on his Frank n’ Beans.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good around my womb raider,” He watches her bounce, his hands go underneath her shirt to knead at her tits, “You like that, huh? You like this blue veined aristocrat, baby?”

“Y-yeah,” She manages to say and Dean abandons her tits. One hand goes between her legs to rub at her clit while the other one grabs around her thighs to help keep her in place, “Dean, I—,”

“Come, baby, come on my mutton dagger,” Dean is panting, fucks up into her faster, he’s probably close, too, “I wanna feel you come all over my long dong silver.”

She comes loudly and wild, shaking all around him, her walls squeezing at his lap rocket, and Dean squeezes his eyes shut, comes with a low growl and pulls her close to him, kisses her hard and heavy.

“Fuck,” Dean groans when he comes down from his high, “You’re something else,”

She pecks his lips, his nose, his hips still grinding down on him lazily. His one-eyed trouser trout is hard again, or maybe it never really got soft, “I fucking love your purple helmet warrior of love, Dean.”

“Yeah?” He grins.

“Yeah.”

“Then fasten your seatbelt, you’re going on another ride on my gospel pipe, baby.”

#rhythm stick #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester smut #dean winchester crack #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

218 notes · View notes

shreddedparchment · 5 years

Text

Pseudo Princess Pt.08

On a Pedestal

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 6,019

Warnings: mentions of sex, language, angst

A/N: I know I just released one last night but here’s another one. I will wait before posting another chapter at least a day in between so that I can respond to all of your lovely comments. I read each and every one of them and I appreciate them so much! Enjoy and let me know what you think! xoxo

His Majesty comes to you again that night. And the next. And the next.

For two weeks, every night, his Majesty climbs into your bed. He’s grown softer in that time and his touches are kinder. He throws in a caress every now and then but the act is over quickly and though the discomfort is all gone now, you feel nothing more than his now familiar stretch, the heat as he releases within you, and then he’s up and gone before you’ve caught your breath.

It doesn’t even hurt that he leaves you. It’s routine.

You feel no rejection anymore. You sleep.

Finally, at least you can sleep.

In fact, you oversleep. You sleep for almost twelve hours every day and Nat grows increasingly worried.

“How are you feeling?” She’s wrapping you up in your thin white robe which clings and turns sheer as the residual water from your bath left on your skin is soaked up.

“I’m fine.” You follow after her, looking over her shoulder as she rummages through your wardrobe.

She moves dress after dress aside before she stops on an orange and white number with florals stitched into the voile skirt. The waistline is broken by golden ribbon with orange tails of the same material as the bodice that hang to the right side of your waist. Golden vines have been embroidered up and down along the long white sleeves to match those mirrored on the bodice.

When she turns, she bumps into you with a small ‘oof’.

“Your Majesty,” She laughs as you take a step back.

“Sorry.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” She checks again, holding the dress over her arm.

“Yes.” You smile at her, a real smile. You feel better. “That’s a pretty one.”

“It should be, you’re meeting with Steve today.” She explains and your heart suddenly clenches.

“What?” Your hands are clammy, your heart is pounding. Your lungs are suddenly struggling.

Why are you so anxious?

“His Majesty has asked me to get you ready. He will give you a proper tour of the castle and then he will discuss with you your duties as Queen. You’ll be with him all day.” She smiles as if this is a good thing.

And yes, okay, you’re a little excited you get to spend some much-needed one-on-one time with him. Maybe he’ll finally open up to you? It is depressing only seeing him when he comes to lay with you.

You’re not exactly sure what to do now that you’ll have to try and connect with him again though.

“What do I say to him?” You ask her, nervously dropping your robe as she moves to you with your underdress.

“What do you-?” Nat stops, hands spread between the dress as she stares at you with confusion.

You hold your hands out to her and she snaps out of her thought to slip your hands in the sleeves and then lead the underdress over your head.

She’s thinking very fast as she dresses you and doesn’t answer your question.

Once your outfit is complete and she’s got you sitting in front of your vanity to brush and do your hair—she puts an orange ribbon through it and then braids your hair around it—she watches your face as she works.

“Hasn’t Steve been coming to you at night?” She asks.

“Yes.” You reach out to pull over a small box which you open to find several rings inside. Some of them are simple gold and silver bands. Others have gems.

Your eyes are drawn to two thin bands; both are silver. One is a weave of two thinner bands that loop around each other like lattice work, the other is a very thin silver band with a small perfectly round blue gem.

You slip one onto your forefinger, the other onto your middle.

They feel weird.

“Then why don’t you know what to talk to him about?” She asks, looking as if she already knows the answer.

“What do you mean?” You nearly chuckle.

“Well, don’t you talk when he comes to see you?”

“No.” You finally meet her emerald eyes in her reflection. “He comes in, wakes me up sometimes when I’ve fallen asleep, he sleeps with me, sometimes he’ll lay beside me for a bit, but then he gets up and leaves. He’s never in here for more than an hour. At most.”

You take off the rings and put them back.

“So, he’s not even trying.” Nat says, not a question.

“I suppose he’s doing his best.” You tell her. “I didn’t marry him because I thought that he’d fall in love with me.”

You turn your eyes back to the box and open it again to look at the jewelry inside. You reach up to fidget with your necklace, tracing the star with your finger.

“I’d…I’d hoped that maybe he might have come to like me, but I didn’t know just how much he was still in love with Margaret.” You shrug, meeting Nat’s eyes again which stare at you with a sorrowful sympathy. “I have a good life, Nat. Before I came here, I worried about whether I would go to bed hungry or whether Martin Argus would come to my cottage to try and steal my virtue again. I was unprotected and alone and poor and…now I’m the Queen of a prosperous kingdom. I have jewelry that I’ll never wear and dresses that cost more than I could have earned in six months with my stitching.

“I’m not alone anymore. I have you and Peter and Bucky and…even his Majesty. I have a husband and hopefully soon I’ll have a baby. I’ll have my own family. I had nothing, Nat. Now I have everything.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“This is the garden. There are flowers of various types but we’re missing quite a few from the Southern countryside. Most of the ones we do have were grown by hired gardeners but that little plot just beyond the fountain is off limits.” His Majesty points across the cobbled path, over the teal waters of a limestone fountain, across the Snapdragons in varying shades of pinks, yellows, and purples, to a pavilion made of dark stones, deep oaks, with a sturdy slate roof.

Inside the pavilion is a bench with pale yellow cushions and a small table. Large blood red gerbera daisies surround the base and sit in a large vase to the left of the stairs that lead up into the cozy space.

You don’t have to ask why that spot is off limits.

With an ache in your chest you move around the fountain, staring at the gazebo you’ll never sit in until you’ve put it out of sight as you wander further into the maze of beautiful foliage in his Majesty’s massive garden.

It’s very structured. Most flowers kept together in various displays. It’s pretty but it lacks charm. There’s no real theme. Just flowers planted in a very orderly fashion.

His Majesty follows behind you. You walk until you reach a peach stone wall then turn to move down along a row of violets. The smells in the garden are sweet and rich. They saturate your hair and clothes and the breeze that flows in over the walls of the garden feels good.

“You won’t ask me why that pavilion is off limits?” His Majesty suddenly asks.

He’s speaking a bit more quietly. Intimately. There’s no one around but you and him so his easy volume feels personal. Peter stayed by the arched gateway to give you two some time alone. Nat and Bucky have no doubt snuck off for a bit of time alone themselves. You lost both of them about an hour ago when his Majesty took you through the enormous library on the second floor.

“In fact, you’ve been very quiet throughout the entire tour.” He observes.

“I have nothing to say.” You tell him. “And I don’t have to ask you why that place is off limits. I know, without you needing to say.”

You’re a little miffed and maybe you’re not as good at hiding it as you hoped.

“Margaret always spoke her mind.” He says, unknowingly driving a small nail through your chest.

You have only yourself to blame. You’d gotten enamored with him before you married him and only more so since. Even after he’s hurt you several times, you can’t find it in yourself to care less although you’ve gotten better at not showing the hurt.

“Tell me why you’re so quiet.” He asks, it’s not an order.

You turn to look at him and the sight of him nearly kills you. He’s heavenly in his primary blue tunic, white stitching highlights the fine fabric. His black undershirt and trousers draw focus to the pleasing way he fills it all out. His hair is still long and full, flowing yellow strands in the afternoon breeze.

And those eyes. So focused, so blue.

If you didn’t know better, you’d say that he can see right through you, but you know it’s the other way around.

What is he expecting you to say? That you’re disappointed? That you hate his castle? He’s made sure to point out the flaws of the architecture when he can, and he pointed out to you the lack of foreign language books in his library. He complained about the small size of his throne room and the room where balls and parties are to be held is too narrow.

The balcony where the musicians are to sit and play is too high up to truly enjoy the music, and the kitchens have a surprising amount of mold in its storage and the cooks seem to only cook the same things over and over.

He’s tried to get you to complain about something since the moment he began to lead you around and you know that he’s looking for fault in you. Something has to be wrong with you, he’s sure of it.

So, you give him what he wants.

“I haven’t said much because I don’t understand how someone with so much can find room to complain.” You stop and turn to face at him, meeting his eyes with all the courage you can muster. “You say that your stores in the kitchen have too much mold? There were four other closets above ground that most of that food could be moved to. A simple fix if you really wanted to remedy the problem.

“You said there isn’t enough variety in the dishes your cooks serve but I ate stale bread and cold beans for most of my life when I was in that school for my emotional problems so I don’t really see how you can complain about roasted chicken, pies, and cakes.”

“You said that your castle is crumbling on the first floor but the school I went to had a large hole in its roof. It was always too cold in the winter and too wet in the spring. I caught several colds and still have a little trouble breathing when it gets too humid.” This isn’t a complete lie. You did get sick often at home and you do still have trouble breathing but the condition didn’t develop in this fictional school that your father is supposed to have sent you to.

“Personally, I have never seen so many pretty flowers and if there is one flaw that I see it’s that you keep them all separated. For this garden to be truly beautiful you need only mix them in together. Then your garden will look like the Gods have blessed you with a small bit of heaven. It already smells wonderful here. How you can want more…?

“And if it’s a fault that you’re looking for in me, I can’t read. That’s why I didn’t say anything when we were in the library. You wish you had more books in foreign languages, but I can’t even read one in my own tongue. I can’t write. I received no lessons in history or arithmetic at my school.

“Your life of privilege…it’s a blessing, your Majesty. One that is not bestowed upon many. That’s why I’ve bee-”

“Tony sent you to a school where they didn’t teach you to read or write?” His Majesty interrupts, moving a step closer to you as his brow furrows with his frown.

His takeaway from the little speech you just gave surprises you and you open your mouth to respond but can’t find what to say.

“How often did you get sick?” He asks, stepping closer.

You blink, frazzled, heart pounding. “I…Enough that I struggle to breathe at times. It’s not uncommon. Most of those that I went to school with developed the same symptoms.”

“Does Tony know that you struggle to breathe?” He wonders, reaching out this time to place his hand around your arm showing a surprising amount of concern.

It’s throwing you and you can’t seem to think straight.

What is he doing? What is he saying? Why is he touching you?

“Wha-? I um…No.” You finally say. “He doesn’t. Didn’t. I was only back with him for a week before I came here to be with you, he had hardly any time to reacquaint himself with me.”

This is making Tony sound worse than what he really is. This isn’t right.

“But I hid it from him.” You add, hoping to remove some of the taint. “Every time he visited and when he came for me, I tried my best to present him with the daughter he deserved and not the one he was given. It’s not his fault that I was born broken.”

Steve frowns, sliding his hand down to your elbow before he releases it. “You’re not broken.”

He moves around you, rounding the corner and giving you a moment to catch your breath.

“Are you coming?” He asks, and you quickly follow.

He waits until you’re beside him and this time he walks with you.

“You’re right about my privilege.” He nods. “Sometimes I forget how good I have it here. Things are stressful. Being King and having responsibility over so many people isn’t easy. The stress of that can dim the brightness of what makes this life good. I didn’t mean to make you feel as if I were looking for a flaw. I just wanted to-”

“Yes, you did.” You cut him off, looking straight ahead as he turns to watch you. “I know that you don’t want me. I know that if you could trade my life for Margaret’s you would, and I think trying to find something very wrong with me helps you feel better about all of this. About having to marry me.

“I don’t want to replace your dead wife, your Majesty. I would never presume to think that I could. But I will do my duty. I will give you an heir and then I will step out of your way. I know that’s what you would prefer.”

He stays silent.

He doesn’t deny it.

He thinks as you walk, moving deeper into the garden until the only sounds you can hear are the shift of the wind, the twittering of birds, and the soft buzz of bees somewhere in a tree nearby. The soft hiss of both your feet as you step along the sparse cobbled path is mesmerizing in its repetitive nature.

“How did she die?” You ask him, fearful of upsetting him but you’ve been dying to know.

“Nat hasn’t told you?” He asks, surprisingly calm about it as he stops just as the two of you reach a small area, closed off with a stone bench nestled beside a pond where small fish nip at the surface as tiny flies land for a drink.

“I didn’t want to hear it from Nat.” You explain, moving to sit on the bench. You’ve been walking all day, up and down stairs without much of a break.

His Majesty watches you and when you’re seated, he moves to sit beside you, shoulders slumped as he stares at the pond and the purple, wine, and yellow irises that surround it.

“I don’t want to learn about you from someone else.” You continue.

He’s quiet for a while and the two of you sit in silence. You don’t interrupt whatever train of thought he’s on and he finally sighs.

“She fell off her horse.” He says, shaking his head. “It was nothing, at first. A swollen ankle. A small bump on the head. But she’d cut herself on a rock when she fell, and we didn’t see it right away. She didn’t feel it for a few days. By the time her fever set in, we were already too late.

“The infection spread. It did its damage and it took her from me.” His Majesty bites his lip, miles away from you back in the past. His eyes darken.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper, afraid to disturb his grief.

“It’s a stupid reason to die.” He mutters darkly.

Then, as if he hadn’t been talking about her death, he moves on.

“You’ll start your duties tomorrow. You’ll visit the poor for an hour every day. Maggie used to pick a single day and visit for longer. She was very kind to those less fortunate. Maggie used to host the ladies at court for a while every day as well, and once a week she threw a small dinner for the ladies and their husbands.”

He looks at you, up and down as if assessing you.

“We probably shouldn’t do that until you can at least read.” He spits, maybe more aggressively than he means to.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, ashamed at your lack of education.

“Why are you apologizing?” He asks, upset. “You didn’t do it to yourself. Tony’s the one that should have made sure you were receiving a proper education. He throws you off to that school and then acts like you’re not even a part of his family for so many years then throws you at me so that you’re my problem…Maggie wouldn’t apologize for her circumstances. Stop apologizing.”

You shrink as his tirade lengthens and you look away, fearful that he might see the way his anger affects you.

“Maggie used to be up at dawn. I expect you to do the same. You’ll get lessons in the morning and in the afternoon, you’ll make your visits. On Fridays we receive the people to address their concerns. I expect you to be at my side every Friday. No exceptions.” He orders and then rises.

You make to get up, but he turns to look at you, is that contempt? It’s something. Not good. You’re not sure what.

“Stay out of that pavilion.” He warns. “And never bring up Maggie again.”

He leaves you sitting there, shaking and wondering why you’d had to open your mouth and ask about Margaret. Next time, you’ll just ask Nat.

You do as you’re told.

Your days all start to look the same.

You wake up, bathe, dress, eat breakfast, go to your lessons for four hours, have lunch, then you leave the castle to visit the poor. And that’s where you stay until Nat has to pry you away.

At first, you’re scared to get involved. You don’t remember any nobility in your father’s kingdom coming to visit but you were slightly better off than these people. You help them cook and you help them clean up the small homes they live in.

You aren’t a doctor and you can’t help in that sense but you can at least help make their living spaces cleaner.

Most of them remind you of your own little cottage only theirs seems to be falling apart at the seams.

When you realize how little money it costs to help make their homes a bit better—new roofs, patched floors, new lumber to reinforce walls and ceilings—you give up your own allowance to help get it done.

Fridays—since it’s the day of your shortest visit—are the day you dedicate to bringing them as much food as you can.

His Majesty had already started the practice of giving away food that isn’t eaten to the poor, but you take it a step further and set up locations around the castle city for donations of foods about to expire.

Many people donate when words gets out that the new Queen has started this new program.

With the influx of food, the poor are able to eat more regularly. It lightens your heart and you feel more at ease when you lay your head on your pillow at night.

Despite being able to see him more often during the day while you go to your lessons and then help him on Fridays with his people, it’s at this time that you spend the most time with his Majesty.

At night, he comes to you, when you’re on the brink of sleep after a tiring day.

For a while after your tour, his Majesty had only come in and done his deed, then left. Sometimes he would sit with you, ask about your day, but say very little himself.

Tonight, he sits at the end of your bed but doesn’t look at you.

You sit up, startled by his hesitance. By now he’d be on top of you, getting this part of his and your duties over with.

“My king?” You probe, staring at the taut lines of his back.

“Why are you staying so late in the villages?” He sounds tired, like he’s had a long day too.

Is he going to be mad at you for staying late?

“They need so much.” You explain. “I’ve been helping them with their mending. The children need clothes. The women also lack proper garb. Their houses were falling apart and the cost to help them is so little-”

“Is that what you’ve been using your allowance for? That money is so that you can get what you need.” His Majesty counters.

“I don’t need anything.” You laugh a little, just a small chuckle. “I have more dresses than I’ve ever had in my-”

Shit…wait…no. You were a princess. You are rich. You’ve had lots of dresses. Or so he thinks…

“-than I’ve ever had need to wear.” You quickly recover and hope he doesn’t realize your slip.

What would he do if he found out you were common? Just as poor as the people you help every day? Margaret was of noble birth. She deserved to be Queen.

“I have no need for anything else.” You assure him.

“Take some time off. You need to take care of yourself too.” He orders. “I saw you in the city yesterday. What were you doing?”

You scoot closer to him, pushing your sheets away as you slide to sit slightly behind him and to his right.

Excited, you can’t help but lean around to look at his face better. “I saw that you have the food we don’t eat here in the castle delivered to the poor and I thought…I’ve started a donation program with the churches and business in the city. People bring the food that they do not need or that is about to expire, and I have a few soldiers distribute it to the poor. The food will only last a day or two by the time they receive it but for some of them, it’s all they have.”

“Whose idea was that?” He looks over his shoulder at you, his exhaustion evident in his storm blue eyes.

“Mine.” Your brief excitement fades. He’s so tired. He looks so damn tired. “Have you not been sleeping?”

He ignores your question. “I’ll see what funds we have free so that those that help you get a small payout for their assistance.”

You hadn’t even thought of that. Of course, the good people letting you take donations at their places should get something in return.

“Thank you. You don’t mind my using a few of your soldiers to help me?” You almost whisper, heart soaring, butterflies in your stomach making your body hum.

“No. I don’t mind. They’re you’re soldiers too.”

This is the first time he’s included you in ownership of anything in the castle or kingdom. You feel like you could fly.

“I’m sorry that I snapped at you in the garden.” He says, remorse tainting his usually luscious deep tone.

You shake your head. “It’s alright. I shouldn’t have asked about Margaret.”

“I don’t know that I have the energy for you tonight.” He admits, sighing lightly and a startling thought occurs to you.

Does he consider it a chore? To sleep with you?

You don’t exactly find it fun either. It’s never felt like those girls back home said it would. Good? It just…you’re not even sure what to compare it to. Nothing you’ve ever felt before. Invasive a bit but you’re not unwilling.

Your heart however is full of disappointment that the few moments you get to have him all to yourself is nothing more than a task to be checked off his schedule.

“I’m at your leisure, your Majesty.” You can’t help the way you curl in on yourself again, feeling once more unwanted and out of place.

He scoffs a small laugh, there’s humor in it. “You make it sound like all I need you for is-”

He stops as he meets your eyes. His smile fades. There’s surprise in his eyes and you’re not sure what it means.

He swallows hard, blinking rapidly as he turns towards your fire and his fingers flex into a fist.

“Why aren’t you pregnant yet?” He suddenly asks, and you’re so startled by the question that you don’t know how to answer.

That tiny seedling of doubt and fear that has been growing in the depths of your soul for the six months that you and the king have been married…why haven’t you gotten pregnant yet? Every night for six months…something should have stuck. Is there something wrong with you?

Will he leave you if you can’t give him an heir? You’ll have to go back to father a failure. Will he then turn you out too? Everything depends on you holding up your end of the bargain.

“I don’t know. I’m-”

“Maggie was pregnant when she died. And we were only married three months.” His Majesty says, and although you know he doesn’t speak the words to hurt you…you feel like a failure. Once again, you don’t rise to the level at which Margaret was at. And, wait, she’d been pregnant when she passed?

So, his Majesty hadn’t lost one love of his life, but two?

“I’m trying.” You tell him, suddenly yearning to comfort him.

“If she could do it in less than three months, why can’t you? I only have six months left.” He tells you wiping way your compassion as fear takes its place once again.

What does he want you to do? What can you do? You’ve done what you should. You’ve been here for him. You’ve made no protest and you’ve made sure his seed is kept within you.

“Until you’re with child, you’re to stay here in the castle and keep yourself well. I’ll send for a doctor in the morning.” He gets up and moves to your door

“Yes, your Majesty.” You sigh, slide back into bed, and settle in for the night.

Strangely enough, you don’t hear your door close for a while. Almost as if his Majesty hadn’t left right away. What reason would he have to linger?

Your sleep is restless.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re depressed.” Nat says, Peter walking a few feet behind the two of you.

“I’m not.” You argue.

“She is.” Peter says.

“Hey!” You turn to look at him, throw him the book you’d brought down with you which he dodges easily then smiles as he turns and moves to pick it up.

You’re much better at reading now but you’re very slow. You try to keep a book with you at all times for practice.

“What’s wrong? Is it because Steve told you to stay in the castle?” Nat knows you too well.

“And because I’m still not pregnant.” You sigh. “The doctor said I was fine. So…why?”

“Maybe you’re both trying too hard? He’s got all the stress of the Kingdom on his shoulders, not to mention-”

Peter clears his throat.

“I’m not stupid, kid.” Nat tells him, frowning at him.

They exchange a significant look and you suddenly feel out of the loop.

“What, Nat?” You probe.

“And you’re not exactly stress free either. Since the moment you married Steve you’ve been on edge.”

That’s not what she was going to say. You narrow your eyes at her suspiciously. They’re keeping something from you. All of them.

This isn’t the first time something has seemed off. Sometimes you’ll catch Steve, Bucky, Sam, Nat, and Peter huddled together in the throne room or the library and when they see you they rush off in different directions.

What are they hiding?

“Maybe taking a break from trying is what’s best for both of you?” She nods.

“But it’s the only time I spend with him, except for Fridays in the throne room. And even then, he doesn’t look at me or speak to me. That time belongs to his people. If he would just…” You give up, defeated.

Stopping where you are, you turn to stare at Margaret’s pavilion and hate her just a little bit.

You shouldn’t. It’s wrong of you to hate her but you do. For a few moments, right now, you hate her for being here first. For winning his love so easily when you seem to struggle even for a shred of kindness.

He will never love you, but you still can’t give up. Something must make you this stupid. You should know by now that the King holds no regard for you whatsoever.

You’re a means to an end for him. His Queen in name alone. You are not the love of his life. You are to give him his heir and then you’re expected to slink into the background where he’ll never have to deal with you again.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Where is she?”

“She’s in her room.” Bucky informs him. “Not happy about it, but she’s safe. Natasha’s helping her pick something out for dinner.”

“Mm.” Steve nods.

“Is it wise to host this dinner tonight? All of those people? All of them watching the two of you. Most of them know you don’t love her, but they’ll be expecting to see a united front.” Bucky explains. “Can you give them that? Can you pretend for a night?”

“Am I wrong to ask her to stay in the castle?” Steve wonders, ignoring Bucky completely or maybe he just didn’t hear him?

“I don’t think so. But I think you’re wrong to order her to. You didn’t ask her, Steve. You and I both know that you told her to do it and gave her no room to argue.” Bucky shakes his head and Steve watches him with annoyance. “She’ll do anything you ask her to.”

Steve knows and hates that. He hates that you’re so compliant. He wants you to tell him no. To fight and argue with him. He feels like you’re not being yourself. As if he broke you that first night and since then you’ve cowered and given way to every one of his wishes and whims.

“Will you take a break? From sleeping with her?” Bucky wonders, keeping his voice quiet as he and Steve pace through the garden, the fading light of sunset burning with a soft orange glow as it paints the sky a pink blush.

“How can I? It’s been six months and she still isn’t pregnant. I need to get this done before the year is out.” Steve sighs, frustrated.

“You’re letting all of these outside issues affect both of you. Why can’t you just stop thinking about what you should or shouldn’t be doing and just…I don’t now…get to know her? Just be there for her. She’s already there for you. Would it kill you to focus on her for a change?”

“I am focusing on her.” Steve argues, and he really is but no one can see inside his head.

“Says the man in head-to-toe black. You didn’t even tell her what today was, did you?”

Steve hates it when Bucky knows him this well.

“It’s none of her business.”

“Horseshit.” Bucky spits. “There’s paying your respects, Steve and then there’s wallowing. You’ve been wallowing for three years now. When are you going to let yourself be happy?”

Steve stops, staring at the pavilion with it’s red daisies swaying in the evening breeze.

“She’d want you to be happy. If she could see you and the way you’ve been—what would she say?” Bucky asks, waiting as Steve stares at the place he’d first asked his first wife to marry him.

That had been the beginning of his life. Steve had chosen his Queen and they’d begun down a road that he would have braved fearlessly with her at his side. He’d been so ridiculously happy that he hadn’t anticipated a time when things would not be right.

Then she was taken from him and he was stuck in this world without her.

He thinks back to last night, your eyes cast down at your bed as the disappointment radiates off your womanly form.

“I’m at your leisure, your Majesty.” You’d said, as if you exist only for his amusement. To be used and discarded.

Steve couldn’t believe the look in your eyes, the clarity of your emotions on display by body language alone.

He’s made you feel small and unwanted. Which is ridiculous.

It’s not that he doesn’t want you. More and more you’re on his mind.

You’re in his thoughts when he wakes, but then Margaret is there, and he feels guilty.

You’re the best part of his day, when he gets to go see you in passing in the library while you’re busy with your studies or those moments he’s with you in front of his people.

As desperately as he’d tried to find something wrong with you, he’d failed. He does want you, but something happens between the moment that he walks into your room to make love to you and the act itself.

Something stops him from letting go and he can feel it in you, the stiffness with which you hold your body as he takes you, that you aren’t there with him.

Is that because of that first time? When he’d hurt you? Are you afraid of him?

Fuck.

You’re so smart despite the lack of education you received at that school Tony had sent you to. You’re compassionate and so damn kind. You’ve done more for the people of his kingdom than anyone else ever did. Your empathy is unparalleled, and he knows that you’re too good for him.

“Steve?” Bucky checks, as Steve hasn’t said anything for several minutes.

Steve sighs, knowing exactly what Maggie would have told him.

“She’d tell me to hold onto what I have. She’d tell me to see what I’d lose if I don’t start to appreciate Y/N for what she’s worth.”

He shakes his head.

“What?”

“I’ve never made her smile. Not once.” Steve admits.

“Margaret?” Bucky asks, confused.

He can remember Maggie laughing and smiling with Steve all the time.

“No. Not Maggie. Y/N.” As he turns to walk towards the gate, he reaches for a pale pink peony and gently cuts it from its stem. These flowers smell like you. They remind him of you, every time he sees them. “Do you think this will make her smile?”

He looks at his friend and as Bucky follows, he smiles at Steve, tilting his head to the right as he stares at the flower.

“I don’t know. But it’s a good place to start.”

Steve thinks so too.

1K notes · View notes

desiraypark · 4 years

Text

“We’re a mess.”

Characters: King T’Challa x Black Female Reader Content: N*FW | “Secret” lovers/sometime lovers; immediate smut; assumed cheating (but not). You run a non-profit food pantry in your local area. King T’Challa and Princess Shuri reached out to you to partner in their outreach organizations in the states. Since then, T’Challa has filled a little more than just your food pantries, if you know what I mean...

“Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, our special guest, the King of Wakanda, His Royal Highness, T’Challa Udaku.” The banquet hall broke out in applause as T’Challa stepped to the podium, dressed in a dark purple suit. Few gold accessories sparkled under the room’s lighting--a watch, a ring, and some sort of chain around his neck. He tilted his head in reverence to the adulation and scanned the crowd. His eyes stopped on you. You smirked, folded your arms and crossed your legs.

T’Challa cleared his throat and began a speech about his upbringing, life in Wakanda, and called for unity across the diaspora--assuring the room that Wakanda would right its wrongs.

When the program ended, a jazz band began to play. After checking off their meal options on place cards, people either rushed to the dance floor, rushed to the program’s speakers, or sat and waited for their food. You were among the latter group. You and Camilla--your partner at the 34th Street Food Pantry--remained at the table.

“You know you want to go talk to him,” Camilla said. You rolled your eyes. “Just because I want to, doesn’t mean I should,” you said. “Hmph. I’m surprised you’re even admitting that you want to.” Just as a server dropped your plate of salmon, green beans, and rice in front of you, Camilla began to loudly clear her throat. You looked at her and felt a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N?” he said. You turned to face him - the tall, beautiful man with doe eyes and a crooked smile. His hair was longer than the last time you’d seen him - coily and thick under the banquet hall’s soft lighting. “Good evening, T’Challa.” “I’m happy to see you here,” he said. He was so full of it. This dinner was hosted annually in your city. The same venue and everything. And the venue just so happened to be about fifteen minutes for your home. You, co-founder of the 34th Street Food Pantry, had no excuse to not show up to these yearly celebrations.

“Hmm,” you hummed. You took a sip of your ginger ale. “I never miss an opportunity to network.”

You glanced at the business cards in front of you, just to make sure they were still there. “Where’s Shuri?”

“She’s at home doing some very important research. But she sends her love.” T’Challa walked to Camilla and kissed her on the cheek. “How are you, Camilla?” “I’ve been well, T’Challa. You look good.” “As do you,” he said. “As do both of you.”

You grabbed a flake of your salmon and stuck it in your mouth to chew...and conceal the smile that was trying to form on your face. “Y/N, I hope we can speak in private at some point tonight.” “For what?” you asked with your mouth full. You quickly grabbed your flute and washed the remnants of food down. T’Challa smirked, shook his head, and rubbed your shoulder. “I’ll see you later, Y/N.” He walked away, and Camilla smiled into her flute of ginger ale. “He’s gonna wear your ass out tonight, girl,” she said through clenched teeth. “No, the fuck he’s not...” you said, rolling your eyes. ******************** Bangbangbangbangbangbangbangbangbang “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, fuck yes, fuck yes!” you screeched in harmony with your headboard banging against the wall. You were gripping your sheets as T’Challa's hips snapped against your ass--length drilling deep into you.

“Bast, I missed you,” he groaned.

“I’m missed you, too!” Your breath had escaped you. T’Challa slowed down and worked long, deep strokes into you--hands traveling from your hips, to your waist, and back to your hips. “Let me see that beautiful face.” He pulled out and you turned over on your back, and opened your knees. T’Challa knelt between them and slipped right back inside--stretching you open as if he wasn’t just in you a few seconds ago. He peppered your neck with kisses, then sucked at the flesh. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in and refusing to let go.

“God, you feel so good...” you moaned. “Mmm...” he hummed. “Does your little lawyer boyfriend make you feel this good?” “No, baby...” He began to rotate his hips, gyrating over and into you. Your eyes rolled back and your toes curled. “Does he move like this and hit all your spots?” “No, he doesn’t...he doesn’t...” you whimpered. T’Challa hummed in approval and took your left nipple into his mouth. He stilled his waist and drove into you slow and as deep as your soaked pussy would allow. Then, he started to pick up the pace. Soft moans turned to loud, rhythmic yelps as he buried himself into you, digging and digging until he found the right angle, the right spot, and the right pace... “Just like that, just like that!” you cried. “Don’t stop...don’t stop...don’t fuckin’ stop!” He kept his pace and wrapped his arms over your head. T’Challa was the only man who’d made you come just from penetration. He just knew what to do and where to go, and always took you there. And even after you reached your peak, he didn’t stop.

Heat settled in your belly and you felt the “snap”. You cried to the ceiling as the pressure built, then released--and T’Challa stroked you through the entire thing. You settled into your euphoric resolution and cheered him on. “Are you gonna come for me, T?” you asked. He buried his face in your shoulder and moaned. “Come for me, baby,” you mumbled. You clenched down on his dick and he groaned. “That’s right, baby...come for me...let that shit go...” T’Challa’s body stiffened and he pushed deep inside of you. He was wearing a condom, but you could feel the heat in your core. Part of you ached to actually feel his cum splatter against your walls. When he reached the end of his orgasm, he let out a loud gasp and collapsed on top of you. You ran your fingertips up and down his back and kissed his shoulder. Then, he rolled over on his side. Both of you were tangled in your sheets and catching your breath. Eventually, T’Challa got up and went into your bathroom. He returned with the condom removed from his softened dick, and climb back in bed with you. You were staring up at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to make him for breakfast. “How is your little boyfriend?” he asked, popping the mental image of eggs frying in a skillet out of your brain. “Can you stop calling him little?” you asked with a chuckle. “We broke up. It’s been a month.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” he said. His apology sounded genuine. But you said nothing more. You continued staring at the ceiling, watching phantom images appear and disappear--for your brain and your vision were still recalibrating. “How’s Nakia?” you asked. T’Challa trapped a chuckle in his chest. “We broke up. Three months.” “We’re a fucking mess,” you said, shaking your head. You saw T’Challa’s pecs rise, and heard a burst of air leave his nostrils.

“But we can’t stay away from each other,” he said.

“Can’t stay away from each other...but can’t be around each other for more than ten minutes...” T’Challa looked at his watch. “Two hours...” “It was not that long,” you said, rolling your eyes. He laughed. “See, that’s why we can’t be around each other. You and your feisty little commentary.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know you like it,” you said, smiling. You turned over on your side. Then, you felt the mattress shift--body heat eased upon your skin. T’Challa wrapped his arms around you, and kissed your shoulder blade.

#t'challa x black female reader #t'challa x female reader #t'challa smut

109 notes · View notes

sagesparrow394 · 4 years

Text

Fairytale AU

Link to the OG post I made about this AU

In the kingdom of Sandersia, a husband and wife were blessed with the greatest gift they could ask for: they were going to have a baby.

The wife, Eliza, developed pregnancy cravings, specifically for a magical flower that their neighbour grew. Her husband, Harold, had no choice but to break into their neighbors yard to get it.

The first time, he got away with it. The second, he was not so lucky.

He got caught by their neighbour, a powerful sorcerer known only as Deceit.

Deceit struck a deal: he would let Harold take the flowers if they gave him their child.

Months later, Harold and Eliza’s child was born: a son they called Logan. However, they didn’t have him long, giving him to Deceit.

As the years went by, the two parents fell into a depression over their lost child. Not even being blessed with a second son helped them.

Roman didn’t know his father, who died not long after he was born.

The boy was bright, adventurous, and didn’t understand why his mother was so harsh on him.

His mother never told him he had a lost brother, thinking it better he just live in ignorance.

During the situation between Deceit and Eliza and Harold, another child was born in another family.

Virgil was born into a well off family with parents who loved him.

However, unfortunately, his mother died when he was young, and his father remarried to a new woman, who was a horrible woman.

His father then died. Virgil was forced by his stepmother and step brothers to be their servent.

It all starts to change when he’s 18, and an announcement goes out, saying that King Thomas is hosting a three day long festival so his son, Remus, could find a suitor. All men in the kingdom are invited.

Virgil sees it as his chance to escape, and starts fixing up his dad’s old suit.

Though it isn’t a day of fortune for everyone.

Roman is told by his mother that they have no choice but to sell their cow to get more money.

Roman is devastated. Their cow had always been his trusty steed whenever he’d had imaginary adventures.

He grumpily leaves with the cow to head to the next town and sell it.

However, he very soon bumps into his best friend Patton, who’s wearing the same red cape with a hood he always does.

Patton explains his grandma’s sick, so for the next few days he’ll be taking her food.

Since her cottage is in the forest, he walks with Roman for a while. Soon, however, they have to split up.

Patton’s journey is rather uneventful. Though he does get the feeling he’s being watched…

Roman, on the other hand, starts having fun living one last fantasy adventure with his cow.

He ends up getting lost, and wanders around until he finds a clearing.

In the clearing is a tall tower with only a single window. As he watches, a thick black rope suddenly falls from the window.

Only it’s not a rope, it’s hair.

A man, Deceit, climbs down the hair, and calls goodbye to whoever is in the tower.

Deceit sees Roman, freezing and having an internal freak out. He goes up to the boy, commanding he leave and not say a word of what he saw.

Roman sees his chance to get out of walking all the way to the next town and says he will if Deceit buys his cow.

Deceit sighs, digging in his pockets, and hands Roman five beans, claiming them to be magic.

Roman is spellbound, accepting the deal and running home.

Eliza doesn’t believe him, thinking he got scammed, and chucks them out the window and grounds Roman.

Later that evening, Virgil finishes getting his dads suit fixed and gets it on just in time for the ball.

However, his stepbrothers, jealous, tear the destroy the suit, and head to the ball without him.

Just as Virgil starts wallowing in his own tears, someone appears, comforting him: his fairy godfather.

Emile introduces himself, and reassures Virgil hope is not all lost.

The next thing Virgil knows, he has a carriage made from a pumpkin, a beautiful purple dress, and black glass slippers. And Emile puts a glamour on him so his brothers and mother won’t recognise him.

Emile warns him it will wear off at midnight, so he must leave by then. Every night of the festival, Emile will come back to gift him again.

Virgil nods, before climbing in the carriage, and he’s taken away to the ball.

There, he meets Prince Remus. The two dance all night, until the clock strikes twelve, and he flees…

Remus chases him, but Virgil’s too fast, and Virgil gets away.

The next morning, Patton is once again heading to his grandmother’s house to bring her food. However, Roman suddenly runs up to him before he leaves the village.

“PATTON YESTERDAY I SOLD MY COW TO A WIZARD DUDE WHO GAVE ME MAGIC BEANS BUT MY MOM THOUGHT IT WAS A SCAM AND THREW THEM AWAY AND THEY GREW INTO A MASSIVE BEANSTALK AND I CLIMBED IT THIS MORNING AND MET GIANTS AND STOLE A GOOSE THAT LAYS GOLDEN EGGS! NOW ME AND MOM ARE GONNA BE RICH! YOU AND I ARE HEADING BACK TO THE TOWER I SAW THE WIZARD DUDE BY AND GONNA SEE WHAT OTHER AWESOME THINGS HE HAS!!!!”

Patton is equally excited, and agrees to meet him at the tower after delivering his grandmother her food.

However, Patton’s journey doesn’t go to plan when he runs into a wolf.

The wolf convinces Patton to stop and gather some flowers for his granny, before it goes on to Patton’s grandmother’s house.

The wolf proceeds to eat Patton’s granny whole. It dresses in Granny’s clothes, disguising itself for when Patton arrives.

When Patton arrives, the wolf plays the role of grandmother long enough until Patton gets too close, before swallowing him whole too.

Later, at night, Virgil is fleeing from the festival yet again.

He runs through the forest, his carriage having turned back into a pumpkin, and so leaving him to go on foot.

Eventually, he finds a cottage in the forest, and goes inside to hide.

However, once inside, he hears muffled cries for help from the bedroom. He tentatively opens the door to see the sleeping wolf with a bloated stomach, screams crying for help coming from inside it.

Virgil’s fight or flight reflex kicks in. He gets a knife from the kitchen and pierces the wolf’s stomach. He slits it’s stomach open, killing it and allowing the old woman and young boy inside to clamber out.

Patton and Granny thank Virgil graciously, and wish they could do something to repay him.

Virgil can say they can - he doesn’t know the way back to the villiage from here.

Patton offers to take him since he needs to head that way anyway, but adds that he needs to meet a friend somewhere first.

And so, Patton heads off with Virgil to the tower.

Roman had been waiting there most of the day. He’d watched as Deciet arrived and called up “Logan, let down your hair!”, which causes the thick black hair from before to fall.

Roman hopes Patton arrives in time so they can catch Deceit before he leaves, but he does not. Deceit climbs down and leaves.

Soon after, Patton and Virgil finally arrive.

“Patton, where were you?! … And who’s this?”

“Sorry, I got eaten by a wolf! This is Virgil, he saved me!!”

“Hi…”

“… Okay… Anyway, the dude came and went, you missed him. But, I think I know something else we can do…”

Roman runs up to the tower and calls, lowering his voice to sound old, “Logan! Let down your hair!”

The thick hair falls, and Roman grabs on and starts to climb, whispering to Patton and Virgil to follow.

Patton doesn’t hesitate, but Virgil comes a bit more nervously. As he grabs on, there’s a groan from above.

“F-Father, have you brought me something? You’re, uh, a lot heavier than usual…”

“… Yes. It’s a surprise!” Roman calls back.

They all continue to climb until they reach the window, and all clamber in.

As they did so, there’s a scream.

They look up to find a person Virgil’s age, with very very very long black hair and sapphire eyes, wearing a blue dress, and brandishing a frying pan at them.

“Who are you people?! What are you doing here?!”

Roman stands, grinning. “Hi! Your, uh, dad, I guess, gave me some magic beans a few days ago. I wanted to talk to him to see what other magic things he has.”

“So you are here for me! You want my hair, don’t you?!”

“Why would we want your hair…?”

Before the guy can respond, Virgil cuts over. “Look, we don’t want to cause any trouble. We’re sorry for breaking and entering, we’ll leave and get out of your hair.”

“Pun!”

“Not the time. Now, you two kiddos, lets. Go.”

“No!” The guy cries. “You’re not leaving. You’re not supposed to know I’m here, Father says no one can… I’m not letting you go until I can trust you not to tell anyone I’m here.”

Virgil mutters in annoyance, while Roman strikes up a deal: they won’t tell a soul IF this guy tells them what’s the deal with his hair and why he lives alone in a tower.

So, the guy reluctantly explains. His name’s Logan, and he lives in the tower because his hair has a magical healing property, and his Father says people would try to steal him away to take advantage of it if he weren’t hidden.

Apparently, the property was the side affect of a magical flower his birth mother, who Deciet said died in childbirth, had a craving for when she was pregnant.

Roman can hardly believe it. He’s never left the tower EVER?! That will not stand! So, invites Logan to join him and Patton up the beanstalk a second time on adventure!

This then leads to Roman having to explain to Logan and Virgil what the beanstalk is and where it came from.

Logan refuses. He can’t leave the tower, and definitely not for something so life threatening! If this giant collected golden geese, and harps that played themselves, it would definitely want to keep Logan for his hair.

Then Patton speaks up. “Hey, Virgil, you said you were at the King’s festival tonight, right? You should take Logan with you tomorrow!”

“I really shouldn’t leave, Father will be mad at me-“

“But it’ll be fun! I heard there’s dancing, singing, and you get to wear a pretty outfit! Right, Virgil?”

And so, Virgil finds himself promising to return the next day to pick Logan up to take him to the festival with him.

The next evening, Virgil rides in his carriage, only Emile with him this time, and not to the castle, but to Logan’s tower.

Logan hesitates before he slides down his hair, leaving his tower for the first time ever. It’s safe to say, he’s giddy with excitement and nerves.

Emile does his magic, giving Logan a beautiful blue dress, and tying his hair in a plait with blue flowers in it.

He warns them both that is will wear off at midnight before sending them on their way.

At the castle, Prince Remus had been excitedly anticipating the arrival of the mysterious man he had danced with the previous nights. Maybe tonight, he’d actually get them to talk… At least get them to tell him their name…

However, when Virgil arrives, he is not whose Remus’ focus is on. Remus is transfixed on the beautiful stranger with Virgil.

And Logan is looking right back at him.

“Virgil… who is that?”

“That? That’s Prince Remus. He and I have been dancing together these past few nights. So, uh… I’m gonna go dance with him. You can mill around I guess and ask some guys to da-“

He’s interrupted by Remus, who has come over. Remus takes Logan’s hand and kisses it. “Prince Remus, at your service. You are…?”

“Logan.”

“Logan, such a beautiful name. Would you care to dance?”

“I…I’d love to!”

And so, Virgil has to watch the man he thought was his sweep Logan off his feet.

Remus, however, is happy to have found someone who will actually be open with him, unlike Virgil who barely said a word. Remus listens as Logan explains his past - growing up alone in a tower, protected by his father. He listens as Logan rambles about his passions: reading, astronomy, whatever.

However, eventually the strike of midnight comes.

Logan, not wanting to just run off and leave Remus with questions (unlike Virgil), explains a false story that he needs to leave to get home before his father comes to check on him, so Deceit doesn’t know he went out.

Remus promises he will find Logan’s tower and come to see him again.

Then, Logan and Virgil flee the castle. However, as they run, one of Virgil’s glass slippers falls of on the stairs.

Remus smiles when he sees it: Virgil knows where Logan’s tower is. If he uses the slipper to find Virgil, Virgil can lead him to the tower.

The next morning, Roman and Patton meet up, deciding to go steal the magical harp from the giants. They climb up the beanstalk together.

Meanwhile, Remus and his guards start the search for Virgil, every young man in the villiage trying the slipper on for size.

When Virgil hears, he’s ecstatic. Remus is looking for him? Does that mean… he’s chosen him over Logan?

After his stepbrothers fail to get the slipper on, it’s Virgil’s turn, and Remus’ eyes light up upon seeing the slipper fits.

Virgil expects to be pulled into a kiss or hug or something, but instead Remus proclaims. “You will take me to tower in the forest to find Logan!”

Virgil shakes his head. No… this isn’t fair. This was supposed to be his fairytale! He was supposed to have the prince and get a new life away from his horrible step-family! Heck, he danced with Remus for two nights, not only one like Logan! So Remus knows him better-

No, Remus says. Remus knows Logan better, because Virgil told him nothing about himself over those two nights. However, Logan didn’t hide anything! (Well, except the fact his hair’s magic)

Remus knew nothing about Virgil to be attracted to bar his appearance. But Remus loved Logan’s passion, intelligence, kindess, and more as well as his looks.

So once again, Remus orders Virgil to take him to the tower.

Virgil agrees, but makes it clear he’s not happy about it.

However, as they saddle up and get ready to go, a sudden crash, causing what feels like an earthquake, suddenly shakes the ground.

Remus figures he should probably find out what that was and fix it before he chases love.

He follows the direction the crash came from, and arrives Eliza and Roman’s house. There lies the chopped down remains of a giant beanstalk, along with the body of a giant left dead on the ground.

Roman and Patton run over to Virgil upon seeing him, excitedly telling him the story of how they barely escaped with their lives, and successfully killed the giant by chopping down the beanstalk.

Meanwhile, Eliza, feeling way in over her head, is very relieved to see Remus. She bows to him and kindly asks for assistance, wanting the stalk and giant body cleared from her garden, but unable to do it herself.

Remus sends the guards with him to go help her, explaining he would help himself, except he was heading off on a quest to find the man he loves, who’s trapped in a tower.

“A man in a tower?” Patton speaks up. “You mean Logan? You love Logan?! Aww, that’s so sweet!”

“Logan.” The name gets Eliza’s attention.

Remus is surprised, and asks Patton how he knows who Logan is. Roman explains the two were with Virgil when he first met Logan.

Remus decides Patton and Roman will come along, sceptical whether Virgil will lead him the right way, since he still seems salty over Remus choosing Logan.

Eliza insists on coming too, needing to find out if Logan is who she thinks he is.

They ride off into the forest, and eventually arrive at the tower. Roman tells Remus to call up “let down your hair!”

Remus does so, and Logan appears, looking out the window, smiling brightly upon seeing the prince. He lets down his hair, and Remus goes climbing up.

Roman, however, notices his mother starting to cry, and asks her what’s wrong.

However, she doesn’t get a chance to answer, as suddenly there’s a yell. “What are you all doing here?!”

Deceit is stood on the edge of the clearing, glaring at the group. His eyes narrow at Roman. “I told you to never come back and not tell anyone of this place!” Then he sees Eliza. “Oh… I see. He’s your boy is he, Eliza? Let me guess, you sent him to find Logan so you could get him back, hm?”

Eliza shakes her head. “No, Roman had no part in this… It was a coincidence that he found Logan. But it’s safe to say, now I’ve found him, I want him back.”

Deciet lets out a dry laugh. “Oh so now you want him? Only took you, what, 18 years?”

“Excuse me?”

“You gave him up so you could eat a flower, Eliza. You obviously didn’t care about him enough if you could give him up for pregnancy cravings.”

“I wouldn’t have had to give him up if you hadn’t set the ridiculous trade!”

“A trade you accepted. And one I almost went back on. I almost gave Logan back.”

“Then why didn’t you? Do you have no humanity?!”

“I do. In fact, I didn’t give him back because I have too much humanity.” Deceit turns to the tower, and calls up. “Logan!”

Logan runs to the window, eyes widening upon seeing Deceit. “Father! I can explain! Please don’t be mad…”

“I’m not mad, Logan. Can you come down please?”

“… Down? As in out of the tower? You’re letting me?”

“Yes. I am.”

Logan lets Remus down first. Deceit raises an eyebrow as the prince slips down.

“Why is the prince of the kingdom in my son’s tower?”

“Uhhhh…”

“You can explain later. I guess you’re helpful for my demonstration anyway.”

Before Remus can react, Deceit grabs his arm, pulls out a knife, and cuts Remus’ hand. When Logan slips down, Deceit tells him to heal Remus’ hand.

Logan goes up to Remus and wraps his hair around the prince’s hand. He asks “please don’t freak out”, before starting to sing a special song. “Flower gleam and glow…”

As he sings, his hair starts to glow blue. When he finishes the song, his hair stops glowing, and he pulls it away from Remus’ hand, revealing it to be healed.

Deceit continues to Eliza. “Those flowers had the same healing properties. And they were a gift to me from my husband, Romulus, before he passed. When I found some taken away, the bush ruined, I was heartbroken. I had promised to keep the flowers safe, and tend to them to keep my husband’s memory alive. And when your husband came back to steal even more, I lost my cool. You took something important to me, and I only saw it right I take something important to you as revenge. When I finally had Logan, I realised that I was perhaps going too far. But… then I sang that song. The one Romulus taught me. And I saw Logan’s hair glowing. He’d gained the healing property of the flowers. He was now the last thing I had left of the man I loved. My motive changed. No longer did I keep him for vengeance. I had to protect him, like I promised Romulus I would. I… guess I may have gone a bit overboard, but… I began to truly view Logan as my own. I loved him as my own son. Like the one Romulus and I never got to have. I couldn’t lose him too.”

Eliza blinks. “I… I had no idea. I didn’t realise those flowers were so important to you…”

“Wait, I’m confused. What’s going on?” Logan asks.

“So am I,” Roman adds. Patton, Virgil and Remus all nod in agreement.

Deceit sighs, turning to Logan. “I’m… not your real father, Logan. I’ve raised you since you were young, but… I took you from Eliza here.”

Roman’s eyes widen. “LOGAN’S MY BROTHER?!”

Eliza sighs. “You didn’t take him. You’re right. I gave him up. Which is why you’re wrong about not being his father. You basically adopted him. You did all the parenting. Meanwhile… I failed with my second son. I let Roman wander off into the woods on his own, and climb up beanstalks and face giants. I’m under-protective and irresponsible.”

“But I’m overprotective,” Deceit replies. “I kept Logan in a tower for 18 years. Sure, it seems like he got out recently…” He sends a look to Remus. “But I shouldn’t have done that. It was wrong.”

“Well… then I guess we need to learn from each other. We balance out.” Eliza pauses, thinking. “Look. We’ve both lost our husbands. How about we work together to raise our kids from here on out?”

Deceit raises an eyebrow. “You know I’m gay, right? Not bi or pan.”

Eliza rolls her eyes. “Not get together. Just, work together to raise the kids.”

Deceit smiles. “That… that would be nice.”

Eliza smiles back. “In that case, lets head home. I guess I need to make up a couple new rooms. Good thing we can afford to expand the house a bit now.” She ruffles Roman’s hair.

Deceit turns to Logan. “On the way, can you explain to me how you came to know the prince?”

“Oh! That’s all thanks to Virgil!” Logan turns to see Virgil walking away from the group. “Virgil? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. You go enjoy your happy endings or whatever. If I don’t get back home soon, I’ll probably be locked in my room for a week with no food, sooo… I’m heading off.”

“You’ll be what…?”

“It’s fine, I deserve it. I wanted the prince because I’m a selfish butthole who wanted a new and better life, not caring if we actually loved each other or not. I tried to keep him from you. See ya. I hope you all live happily ever after.”

He tries to continue walking, but a strand of hair is suddenly thrown around his wrist and he’s pulled back.

Logan shakes his head. “If your current life’s bad, I’m not letting you live it. You don’t deserve it, no matter how much you think you do. You’re my best friend.”

“We’ve… known each other for two days.”

“You’re still my best friend. Roman and Patton are close seconds, but they’re younger than me, and I need my best friend to be closer to my age. But that’s not the point! The point is, come with us? Or at least take my tower since I don’t need it anymore?”

“You really want me to come with you?”

“Of course! I never would have left if it weren’t for you. I wouldn’t have met Remus. I need to thank you for that.” Logan turns to Deceit and Eliza. “Can he stay with us? Please?”

The two parents share a glance. “I don’t see why not.” “What’s one more son added to the mix?”

Two years later...

Deceit and Eliza are in tears. Happy tears, though. As is King Thomas.

For it is Logan and Remus’ wedding day.

Patton is the flower boy, Roman is the ring bearer. Virgil is Logan’s best man.

As the grooms have their first dance, Virgil happily watches, until he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Sorry you didn’t get the happily ever after you wanted, buddy,” Emile says.

“Yeah. It wasn’t the happily ever after I wanted.” Virgil looks between the two people who he now considered his parents, the two kids who he sees as his younger siblings, and the newly-wed couple dancing in the middle of the ballroom. “But it was the happily ever after I needed.”

57 notes · View notes

loveafterthefact · 4 years

Text

Love After the Fact Chapter 11:

Galra have toe beans. Also, sometimes, Keith just needs a break.

First Previous Next

Keith's begrudging to admit it, but life at the Castle of Lions really isn't that bad. It's more dull than anything else. A bit lonely, too. Lance is constantly busy trying to clean up the mess he's caused by neglecting his work the past few decaphoebs, and Pidge is busy spying on people and updating security so Keith can access places like the dining room without help. Keith lacks the experience and skills to really assist with much, though Adam, Lance, and the kings make an effort to teach him. He wishes he had more to offer, wishes he had something to do.

Against the wishes of his spouse and Adam, Keith sets to exploring the castle alone. He's discovered Pidge's lab, where he's taken to watching them work from a corner of their workshop. The Olkari doesn't speak much while working, but Keith doesn't mind, happy to simply enjoy their proximity. He's also discovered the training deck, where he strips down to just his leggings and fights bot and trains. But more than anything, he finds himself in the gardens, following the walls, reaching the gate going first left, then right. The guards won't let him leave. They tell him to "kindly return to the castle, where you are safe."

Where everyone else is safe from him.

He finds himself exploring the grounds in more detail. Altean plants are quite different from those on Daibazaal. They come in a wider variety of colors. They also tend to not have thorns, and lack carnivorous tendencies. It's quite fascinating. He’s in a new corner, listening to some flowers hum every time the wind blows. A tiny, furred creature with many legs crawls out of one flower’s throat, chittering angrily at him for getting too close. Keith leans forward, ears perked, twitching with curiosity as he holds out a leaf for the creature. It sniffs his fingers cautiously, takes the leaf, scurries back into the flower's deep throat. A moment later, the creature returns, six little babies on its back, chirping curiously. Keith smiles. So many different things on Altea make pretty sounds. It makes it harder to tell what might kill him.

He tickles the mother creature under its chin. It's friendly, seemingly harmless. That means nothing, of course, but as the creature explores the naked pads of his hands, Keith thinks he might have befriended it. After a few minutes, the mother scurries off, likely to find more food for her young. A good mother.

A gust of wind blows back a curtain of pink vines, and an irregularity in the wall catches his eye: a gap in the white stone. Without a second thought, Keith slips through, and breathes. His lungs fill with air from Outside The Wall. Outside the castle. Turning to his right, he sees the white city that sprawls in front of the palace. To his left, a vast rolling landscape, purple mountains in the distance. In front of him is a forest of trees. Keith’s ears twitch, fluttering with stimulation, with sounds not distorted by walls. The trunks are all green and purple, the leaves all blue and red, singing in the breeze.

Keith slips off his shoes and stiff outer vest, discarding the long, shimmering red cloak, and stripping down to the close-fitting tunic and leggings. He feels better this way, more comfortable, more capable of moving. Or fighting.

He keeps his knife strapped to his belt, sheathed at his back, hidden by an extra layer of opaque fabric hanging needlessly from his shoulders. He and the seamsmaster had managed, with Lance mediating, to come to an understanding. They were currently experimenting with materials and blends to find something more suitable to his lifestyle.

With his shoes off, Keith’s able to feel the subtle texture differences between the red, green, and purple mosses covering the forest floor. The smooth, almost glossy bark of the trees as he scales their trunks and leaps between the branches. The ones with the long strings of blue leaves chime in the breeze, a song that carries over hilltops and through valleys.

Keith likes this part, climbing to the top of one of the tall, straight, purple-barked trees. The purple bark is rougher than the green. The red leaves don’t chime, but they are soft, delicate. Gentle, if that makes sense. The bare pads of Keith’s fingers and toes enjoy sensations that aren’t the coarse stone, sand, and grit that covers much of the Daibazaani landscape.

At the top of the tree, Keith breaks the canopy, his tail swaying to keep him balanced. He finds an avian landscape. A forest of purple and blue leaves with green moss fields spotted with magenta flowers. The landscape here is different, and beautiful, but not breathtaking.

Instead, it’s breathgiving. It’s peaceful. A breeze ruffles his fur, blowing through the leaves, the spiced smells of blooming and growing things. Keith wonders if it might smell ‘sweet.’ He’ll have to ask Adam. Or maybe Lance, if the Crown Prince isn’t too busy.

A twinge of guilt hits Keith’s stomach. He’s skipped court again, leaving his spouse alone to deal with the courtiers’ nonsense and the commonwealth’s struggles.

Keith’s lips curl. The courtiers. He hates them. They consider minor inconveniences worthy of Lance’s time. The Kings are trying to piece together the fragments of two kingdoms while stitching together a frayed alliance and meanwhile Lance is handling such things as slow traffic and too much sun coming in through this one particular public window.

Lance says it’s a necessary evil. He will handle the daily absurdities while his fathers handle the important things. He’s happy to do it, he says. And he probably is. But Keith suspects Lance would be happier to feel useful, as opposed to just feeling used.

Keith knows the feeling. He's a child bride, after all. A commodity bought, sold, and paid for. His biggest responsibility is to serve as a breeder for Lance. Lance's displeasure in Keith's assigned role is somewhat gratifying. In fact, Lance has advocated for his involvement and inclusion more than anyone. He makes Keith feel like he has potential, and like he has something to prove. He wants to do well, wants to learn how to be a leader.

Beneath the expanse of treetops and blue sky, Keith recognizes that if he he wants to fill the shoes he's been made to wear, he has to take initiative. He can't let Lance carry him through everything.

Finding his courage, Keith climbs down from the tree, redresses, and wanders back through the forest, into the garden, through one of the castle’s back doors, and into the throne room. Lance is still sitting there, even after the half-varga it took Keith to get there. He’s been here for hours.

True to form, Lance hears him come in even as Adam announces his arrival. Lance beams, holding out a hand for Keith to take. Keith hides behind his hair as he joins his spouse, lacing their fingers together. He manages a tiny smile, keeping his head low. Adam has coached him on acting shy and demure. It makes him endearing, non-threatening. A role for him to play. “Apologies for my tardiness, my love. I was exploring the grounds and quite lost track of time.”

“That’s fine, beloved.” Lance is still smiling as he kisses the back of Keith’s hand. “I’m delighted to have you at all. Please, join us. We were just discussing the color of the glass windows in the grocer at the corner of Fligelt and Herborda.”

Keith sighs. He should have known.

#LoveAftertheFact #LAtF #klance #galtean au #galra keith #altean lance #adashi #altean adam #galra shiro #voltron legendary defender #vld

13 notes · View notes

solaneceae · 5 years

Note

Yo what’s up my broski, just poppin in to ask a quick question. Who are your top three favorite egos and what is your favorite headcanon for each of them?

oooooh man, thanks so much for the asky boi :D

Robbie (that one’s a given lmao)

the day he appeard in the Septic household, he just popped into existence in the middle of the living room. chaos ensued

jackie was screaming and climbing up the curtains, schneep started yelling at marv accusing him of necromancy while the poor kitty man just stood completely stunned into silence

jameson dropped his cup of tea as anti glitched in the room shouting like why are you clowns screaming about i was taking a nap shut the fuck up!

so poor robbie, who’d only existed for a few seconds only to find himself in the middle of a screaming match, got really confused and scared

he backed away into a corner and started crying

enters the Rad Dad tm

i heard a child in distress, that shit can’t stand let me see the child-

so he wasn’t impressed with the chaos unfolding and the sobbing purple bean in the corner. he’s been very protective of the boi ever since

doesn’t talk much; and when he does it’s short and slow

has bad body coordination, so manual tasks that demand precision are hard for him

doesn’t need to eat. noone knows how his body works and it drives schneep mad

has low energy levels, so he takes lots of naps. the other egos often find him curled up in random corners of the house, like a cat. chase has a whole album full of photos

not as naive as people tend to think, but he’s still pretty innocent

the only one who’s impressed by marv’s more “classic” magic tricks, so the cat boi loves to perform for him

used to be scared of anti, but he’s surprisingly good at reading people so thats fear quickly faded away. he’s the only person that can successfully calm the glitch down or cheer him up.

marv suspects he might have some mild empath powers going on because of that

senses are pretty dull and he doesn’t feel pain, so the others have to make sure he doesn’t get hurt since he won’t always notice it himself

gets along great with JJ, even if he isn’t good with sign language

horror movies scare him and he’ll get upset if he sees zombies in a film

since animals don’t register him as a living being nor a threat, they flock to him. if the egos leave him alone outside for like ten minutes, they’ll find him covered in butterflies, foxes playing and napping at his feet

the first time this happened jackie cried and said rob was like a real-life disney princess

Eric Derekson

oh boi, this poor child is a mess and a half

when he popped into the Iplier manor he could barely stitch a sentence together, he just kept apologizing over and over in a panic as the others just stared, still in their pajamas for the most part

the only one that knew what was up was dark, so he went and calmed the poor man down, told him that his father wasn’t there and would never hurt or talk him down again (since he isnt loved enough in the fandom to exist)

lets just say that wilford went sicko mode hearing that. that man won’t let shit like abuse fly under his watch, nu-uh no siree

so he basically took the babu under his wing and always made sure he felt included and valuable

prosthetic leg. used to be quite bare, but bing upgraded it so it could fuck up the knees of anyone who would harm his baby brother-

he’s almost as tall as host, which makes him the second tallest (6′2)

has the largest collection of dads out of all the egos. like srly between dark, wilford, chase and

likes to help out king with his squirrels, since he turns out to be very precise and delicate with his hands whenever he stops trembling or fidgeting

he has. the biggest crush on host. like full-blown blushing fanboy mode

only had a pet rock since his dad hated animals. when dark found him one day talking to a piece of mineral and realized why, he went ham

“will, i don’t care what you’re doing right now just get in the car” “what is it dear-” “shut up and get in the car we’re going to the animal shelter”

so now eric has a big emotional support doggo and two cats, one with a back leg missing

The Jims

there’s a total of 4 of them (AJ, WJ, CJ and RJ), but only RJ and CJ live in the manor, AJ and WJ are always busy working at the Jim News studio, so i’m only gonna write about the first two

the weird crabwalk RJ did in WKM? it’s a constant thing he does. that boi cannot walk like a normal human being. CJ does tho

CJ is mute, and the most down to earth of all the jims. he follows his twin in his shenanigans out of love, but he’s very aware of how crazy or nonsensical things are. he doesn’t mind though

they’re into occult stuff and can successfully summon demons. dark (grey jim) got tired of getting teleported out of his office after a week so he took away their basement privileges

the blair witch? oh, they found her alright. they never ran faster in their entire lives that night

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye egos #jse #robbie the zombie #eric derekson #the jims #jim twins #markiplier #markiplier egos

42 notes · View notes

petula-xx · 2 years

Photo

The Purple King climbing beans are not letting me down this year. Such a shame that they turn green when cooked.

#beans #Purple King climbing beans #vegetables #gardeners on tumblr #garden #grow it yourself #backyard vegetables #self sufficiency #organic food #plants

9 notes · View notes

caseydreamer · 4 years

Text

Unconditional: Jack and the Beanstalk

(More fairy tale retellings)

------

Jack was a bastard. His mother called him that often. He knew it was true but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. She also called him an idiot, and sometimes he believed it, though Jill often told him it wasn’t true. Jack didn’t know why Jill bothered spending time with him, sure she was his half-sister but she was legitimate. She was royal, the heir to the Land of the Sea, and he was just the idiot son of a drunk. He was sure she wasn’t supposed to be around him or even know of his existence. That didn’t stop her from bringing him and his mother muffins on a regular basis and sometimes pies or a loaf of fresh bread and some good cheese. But even with her help, they struggled. No matter how hard they worked there never seemed to be enough money, it always seemed to disappear.

------

“You useless, useless boy! What did you do with it?” She yelled at him. He flinched. Jack was already taller than his mother, a gangly teen, but she seemed to tower over him.

“We were out of flower, I just went to the market and bought more, I promise.”

“Right and then you spent the change on salted caramels,”

“I promise I didn’t. Not this time. Swear it.”

“Don’t lie to me, and don’t swear when you don’t mean it,” She said cuffing him across the back of the head before shuffling across the room to look in the pantry. There was a new sack of flower, like Jack had said. Jack sat down on a stool rubbing the back of his head and scowled.

“I didn’t lie,” He muttered under his breath.

“What was that?” She said turning around and crossing her arms.

“Nothing,” Jack said, still sulking.

“We’ll don’t just sit there, we still have to pay the king's tax. There’s nothing for it. Get up, go take the cow, take her to market, sell her for as much as you can get and give me the money. Don’t dawdle and don’t waste time with anyone on the road.” She instructed pulling him up from the stool and shooing him out of the house into the yard.

“But we need the cow, how will we-” Jack protested but was cut off.

“Don’t argue just do as I say for once.”

------

Jack led the cow down the road. She had more fat on her than Jack did. Sometimes Jill fussed that he was all bones. But it wasn’t like he could do much about that. The cow was one of the few constant sources of income they had. There was the acre field in which Jack did his best to plant and grow each year, but if they had a bad year the cow, the eggs and the small vegetable garden was all they had left, and those were supposed to be for eating themselves. There were always odd jobs and his mother often did the washing for the big houses but she wasn’t reliable with that anymore and Jack could never seem to bring in enough money on his own to keep them fed and a roof over their heads.

Jack stopped as he noticed someone walking towards them down the road. Travelers often came down this road, that wasn’t the strange bit, it was the way this person dressed. She was tall, elegant blond hair done up in an elaborate do, glittering stones shining in the sunlight, her dress all pink and layered flowing lace and silk. She stopped as she neared him. Jack caught himself gawking and quickly looked away but she didn’t move.

“You are Jack,” She said.

Jack started and stared at her taken aback, “How do you know that?”

“Jack is a very common name, though more importantly, you have a wish.”

Jack blinked and stared at her in confusion “What? Who are you?”

“I am the Fairy Godmother, some call me Maleficent.” She responded.

Jack scowled “But isn’t Maleficent a witch?”

“It depends on who you ask. The important thing is that you have a wish, and I can grant it.” She said coming closer.

“And what is this wish you seem to know so much about?” Jack asked, crossing his arms and looking up at her.

She pulled out a small purple drawstring bag, from exactly where, Jack couldn’t tell, and held it up. “This bag has six beans in it. You have two choices. If you eat them you will be able to turn anything you touch into gold, or if plant them you will be able to travel to a land of gold. Though a word of warning both magics will only last 24 hours.”

Jack squinted at it and let go of the cow’s lead. “And what do you want for them?”

The woman shrugged “That’s not important, whatever you have will do, the cow even.”

“Well, the cow is all I have so it will have to do,” Jack shrugged, glancing at the cow and then back at the woman.

“Wonderful, it is a deal then,” She smiled holding out her hand. Jack nodded and took her hand and shook. There was a white-hot flash. When Jack could see again the woman was gone and so was the cow and in his outstretched hand, he held the bag of beans.

He stared at the beans for a moment hardly believing what had just happened, then realization started to sink in. He had just lost the cow. Whether he believed the woman or not his mother never would and if he returned without money she was sure to be furious.

------

Jack dragged his feet on his way back, stopping several times, considering not even going home at all. But then the thatched roof of the house came into view as he breached the top of the hill. He stared at the house, his stomach filling with dread. Slowly he approached the house. His mother looked up at him as he entered, her face flushed and a bottle in one hand.

“Where’s the money?”

Jack locked eyes on the floor “I- it...I lost the cow.” He muttered.

“What?” His mother barked standing up and knocking over the stool. “You lost the cow? How can you lose a cow?”

“It was stolen,” he lied still not looking up.

“Speak up, stop mumbling and look at me when your speaking,”

Jack looked up for a split second he wasn’t scared anymore, he was angry. “It was stolen,” he spoke up.

“Don’t lie to me. This is what I get for raising a bastard. Ungrateful son of a-” Her face turned bright red her jaw tight “I should tan your hide, useless excuse for a son, just get out! Get out of my house!” She yelled. When Jack didn’t move she started to reach for a broom. Jack turned and ran out as fast as he could, around the back of the house and up the hill till he tripped on a stone and tumbled down the slope. He sat up slowly. He didn’t hear any pursuit. There was a stinging pain in his knee and palms, small beads of blood forming along lines of scraped skin. He breathed in sharply through his teeth and blinked tears from his eyes. Dusk was quickly setting in and the fields were quickly set in shadow. He got up. There was a shed near the plowed field where he could sleep for the night, by the next day his mother would have forgotten about everything.

------

Sunrise came. Jack climbed stiffly out of the shed. Rubbing the dust and sleep from his eyes he looked warily back at the house but stopped short as his eyes fell on a vast vertical structure intersecting the horizon. He blinked and looked again. It stood at the top of the hill and stretched up as far as he could see. Eyes going wide he started and hurriedly searched his pockets. “No, no, no, no I wasn’t ready,” He muttered, pulling out the drawstring bag and looking inside. Only three of the six beans remained.

He looked back up at the horizon then back at the house “Well, I guess this is what she meant by a portal to a land of gold,” he muttered as he approached the hill. He stopped at the base of the beanstalk. Placing a hand on the wall of the vine as thick around as a tree. It didn’t budge. He looked up. It really did go up as far as he could see “What did she expect of me? She want me to climb it or something?” He glanced back down at the house and then back up at the sky. “Land of gold though,” He mused “Better this than-” he cut himself off shaking his head then squared his shoulders and began climbing.

------

Everything burned, he desperately fought the urge to let go, and he didn’t dare look down. Then as if by magic there was solid ground. He rolled over and kissed the ground laughing from exhaustion and relief. Then he opened his eyes.

The ceiling was so far away that he didn’t even register it as a ceiling at first. The stones of the walls were monolithic. The end of the vine curled its way through a fat arch that Jack had just come through. A curving piece of wood bisected by a pillar as fat as he was around rose up next to him. His eyes followed it up and It took him a minute to recognize it. It was a rocking chair. He blinked, looking back at the arch and shuddered at the thought of the creature that had made it. Quickly turning away he climbed around the rocking chair into the rest of the room. A golden lyre leaned against the wall behind him. It stood almost his full height and even the strings glistened with gold. A rug covered the floor, edged in golden cord with massive gold tassels at the corners. There was a bed to his left, almost as tall as Jack, with a massive ball leaning against the bedpost. A gilded rocking horse stood against a wall, painted with blues purples and reds, a giant glittering golden canary cage at its feet. He followed a trail of blocks as big as bread boxes that lay in piles haphazardly around the room, but stopped short when he saw the girl sitting in the middle of the room. She looked about two but sitting down she was as tall as Jack was standing. She held a large rag doll and shook it laughing before making it walk across the floor. Then she saw Jack.

She stared at him for a moment curiously before letting out a shriek of laughter. “Little boy!” She said clapping her hands. Jack just stood there frozen. “Play with me,” She shrieked gleefully scooting closer.

Jack jumped and bolted across the room. She began crawling laughing “Tag, tag, tag, I’m a catch you!”

Jack ran across the room, the girl close behind him. Reaching the golden cage he slipped between the bars, for once grateful that he was so skinny. The girl came up to the cage and reached for him opening and closing her hand as she tried to fit it between the bars. She stopped trying to reach him and stared at him with big, bewildered, glossy eyes, tears bubbling up in the corners and her lip quivering. Her breathing hiccupped and then she began to wail.

Jack moved to the back of the cage. The original occupant of the cage, a goose, lifted its head up from under its wing to look at the crying child before going back to sleep. The goose was only slightly bigger than a normal goose and it’s feathers looked gilded. Jack made sure to give it it’s space.

The ground began to shake, heavy footfalls which he could feel deep in his chest. Jack could see the edge of a skirt come into view and the child was lifted up out of view, beyond the roof of the cage.

“Oh dear, what’s the matter, sweetheart,” The deep voice rumbled.

“The little boy won’t play with me.” The girl cried.

“Oh dear, what little boy?”

“The little little boy.”

“Well, I’m sure he didn’t mean it, would you like me to read to you instead?”

“Yes! Yes, book, read the one about eggs and steak.”

Jack watched the edge of the Giant woman's skirts move across the room and sit in the rocking chair. Jack let out a sigh of relief and sat down among the hay that littered the ground of the cage. He looked at the goose as the drone of the story carried on in the background frequently interrupted by the joyous shrieks of the child. The goose wholeheartedly ignored him and he was glad for that. He had a feeling that if it didn’t want to share it’s cage he would have been promptly driven out to face the giants.

He looked across the room at the mousehole that he had entered by. What had he gotten himself into?

------

Five minutes turned into ten and then twenty. Finally, the Giants got up and left the room. Jack let out a sigh of relief, and stood up, moving to the edge of the cage to look back at the rest of the room.

He looked at all the gold then scowled. “The witch tricked me.” He looked back at the goose “Maybe if I... Maleficent I have a wish!” He demanded to thin air. He jumped as there was a popping sound and Maleficent, in her pink tool, was standing over him.

“What do you want?” She asked, looking down on him.

Jack straightened himself and looked up at her “You said these beans would make me rich, but how do you expect me to carry any of this down the beanstalk, I barely made it up here without carrying anything, I would never survive a downward climb,”

Maleficent raised her brows “That isn’t my problem. I granted your wish, what you do with it is your problem.”

“Well I summoned you so it’s now your problem,” Jack snapped.

Maleficent’s eyes went hard and she lifted her chin as her lips twisted in a scowl. “You want another wish?”

Jack looked away faltering, “I- I can’t carry any of the gold down. I need some way to take it with me when I return home.”

Maleficent snapped her fingers and a satchel fell at Jack’s feet, “You can fit whatever you need into that.” She said.

“And payment?” Jack asked slowly as he bent down to pick up the satchel.

“I’ll take the goose,” She said quickly spinning on her heel. The goose looked up at her startled as she picked it up, it started to flap and tried to peck at her but she promptly clapped her hand around it’s beak. “Goodbye,” She said promptly and with a flash both her and the goose was gone. Where the goose had been sitting was a golden egg.

Jack blinked looking from where Maleficent had been to the egg, then let out a deep breath. He looked down at the satchel and peered inside it. It looked rather normal. He shrugged taking the egg and carefully placing it in the satchel. It was bigger than a normal egg about as big as his hand and as heavy as solid gold. Slinging the satchel over his shoulders he squeezed his way between the bars and bolted across the room to the mouse hole. He was going to get out of there.

------

The sun was setting as Jill walked down the path, a covered basket of fresh muffins hooked over her arm. As she breached the hill she noticed something bisecting the horizon. She squinted over the thatch roof of the house at the strange green pillar rising up behind it like twisted green vines with giant leaves. She walked around the house and began climbing the hill that the thing was planted on. Looking up she started when she noticed something clinging to the vines, making its way down. It was Jack. her eyes went wide and she sped up her pace, using her hands to help her scramble up the hill. She was about to cry out to him when there was a shaking and the vines themselves seemed to move. Jack clung desperately to them but seemed to be getting closer at a rapid pace as the vines shrunk till they no longer were able to support his weight and he came crashing down knocking into jill and they both went tumbling down the slope.

#unconditional #Fairytale Retelling #short story #original content #original story #writing #creative writing #fantasy #jack and the beanstalk

4 notes · View notes

primrooks · 5 years

Text

Wands of a Feather: An Elena of Avalor/Sofia the First Crossover

Mateo attends the second Conjurer's Conference on Turtlejade Isle, and encounters a different side of magic that he's never had to face in Avalor. What was to be a fun and educational weekend turns into a social obstacle course, and things only get more complicated when he runs into Cedric, the Enchancian Royal Sorcerer who also isn't keen about Mateo's appearance. *Just to start off, this takes place a month after "Realm of the Jaquins" and a month and a half after "Forever Royal!" AO3 link here! Chapter 1: Turtlejade Isle The late morning sun was still lazily climbing upwards when the passenger liner drifted close to the docks at Turtlejade Isle, along the western coastline of the archipelago resort. From the bow of the ship Mateo could see the resort town built into the lovely summer-green hillside, leading up to a stately-looking villa of blue and white brick. He had read that it was once a summer castle to some past Zumarian queen, long used as a tourist trap before Zumaria granted permission for it to host the second annual Conjurers’ Conference. His chest swelled in excitement, especially as the first mate and other crew members of El Loto called for passengers to gather their belongings and wait with their tickets ready. It had been a week since anyone on the ship had stepped onto dry land, and sea legs or no, Mateo couldn’t wait to get a running start. Solid ground meant the first meal in a week that wasn’t bacon, beans and briny rice. Even though his mother and Elena had insisted he leverage his position as Royal Wizard for a more luxurious ride, Mateo didn’t feel the need to sink his money into extra amenities. Besides, he wanted more of his spending to go into new books, journals, potion ingredients, souvenirs.. and potentially an extra suitcase. The conference wasn’t a vacation, not really; it was a chance for him to meet other mages and study magic from foreign lands, something he’d dreamt about for so long in all those years of secret studying. Merlin was said to be a returning guest this year, and Mateo would drift to sleep in his cabin while running through all the questions he’d ask the legendary wizard. Even now, he could barely hold down his smile when he stepped back onto the deck after retrieving his luggage, looking hungrily at the new horizons that hillside estate promised. “Hold.”

Mateo had barely stepped off the gangplank with his boarding group when a man in a black-and-white soldier’s uniform signaled him to stop. “Is something the matter?” Mateo asked, impatience straining his voice. The guard simply directed him to a customs office, as others in similar uniforms were doing to the other passengers. Mateo’s brow unfurrowed instantly. “Oh, oh, yes! Thank you!” He nodded at the guard before rushing off to the office lobby, where thankfully a new line opened up just as he stepped in. The tall, bespectacled arrivals clerk asked for Mateo’s travel papers, which included a signed visa and verification of his title under Elena’s name and royal seal. The clerk shuffled through his papers, shooting occasional glances at Mateo before stamping them and handing them back. “Conference attendees must head to the designated checkpoint in town; red and purple tent by the Rosegrove Inn,” she said drily. Not wanting to hold up the new line, Mateo muttered thanks before sidestepping around tourists to reach what looked like the town’s central plaza. He asked a middle-aged flower seller for directions and hurried up along a northern street branching out of the market square. Next to a green-roofed inn was the telltale tent, big enough to hold three at a time, and stationed in the middle of a horseshoe-shaped cul-de-sac. Circling the perimeter in front of the tent was a sizable queue of mages in hats and robes of all cuts and sizes, the sight of which gave him pause. There had to be at least 20 people ahead of him, and- “Gyurrrurggh…” According to his stomach, lunch was suddenly a priority. Mateo bit down a groan and rifled through his satchel after taking his place in line. The only edible thing he had in hand was half a biscuit saved about three dinners ago, and before he pulled that out he’d mistaken it for a paperweight. He replaced it in defeat, and his eyes (and nose) happened upon the various food stalls set up around the tent. Before he could distract himself further, an impatient voice from the head of the line shouted, “Next! Come along, let’s keep the line moving!” Another man in soldier’s garb and a sorceress with grey-streaked brown hair were directing the conference attendees, checking their papers before leading them into the tent, where two other wizards stood waiting for whoever was next. The tent flaps closed before Mateo could see just what they were doing inside. This felt rather extraneous; if the rest of the visiting attendees had crossed through the arrivals office, all they really should have to do was make sure their registration was valid. Why the secrecy and extra muscle? “Whoops, watch your head, sonny!” A sudden gust of wind ruffled his hair, and Mateo looked up to where the draft (and the voice) had come from. Perched atop a flying broom was an older woman in Enchancian witch’s garb, a tacky patchwork dress topped with an equally colorful pointed hat. A shrill whistle pierced from the front of the line, and everyone turned to see the brunette sorceress blowing a thin silver whistle hanging from her neck. “No flying below roof-level!” she cried. Unfazed, the witch coyly drifted down like a feather upon a light breeze, smirking even as a guardsman approached her with a stoic warning. “They really do fly on brooms,” Mateo uttered to himself in awe. Suddenly, quiet giggles rippled around him, sending a sharp chill up his neck. When he glanced up, everyone in line was pointedly looking elsewhere, though a few of them were daintily covering their mouths with their hands. The chill blossomed into heat under his cheeks, and he planted his sight to the ground, praying that the line would move faster already. It didn’t help that his stomach was still complaining with all its squelching, and the mix of spicy, sweet and savory aromas from all of the bakeries and vendors around the inn was almost mocking, with the hawkers calling all passerby to sample foods that Mateo had never heard of but sounded exquisite. The line ahead was moving at a snail’s pace, and the more his stomach growled, the longer the seconds dragged on. He tapped the sorcerer ahead of him on the shoulder, and at the briefest of head-turns pleaded, “Pardon me, but could you watch over my things? It’ll be just a minute, thanks!” He didn’t even stay for the other man to respond as he set down his suitcase and dashed to find the food stall with the shortest line. The area around the inn was fairly crowded, with onlookers gawking at either storefronts or the eclectic gathering of wizards, but their attention seemed evenly split amongst the street vendors. Mateo found one that was selling corn grilled to a crispy brown and gold, gleaming with a buttery glaze. He figured it would hold him until lunch, maybe at an inn or a local restaurant. He ought to treat himself for his first solo journey overseas. Cheap as the ear was, it tasted as good as it looked, warming Mateo’s belly like frost over fire. He took another bite as he left the stall, wondering lazily if the line had moved. His suitcase was there, until it wasn’t. Mateo blinked, but it wasn’t a trick of the light. There just.. wasn’t a bag where there should have been. And there absolutely should have been, if he wanted to have something to wear for the next three days. He frantically scoped through the line and the rest of the street, trying to spot anyone holding a brown leather suitcase or hiding it in their person. People’s faces blurred as his eyes scanned their hands like a starved hawk. That bag’s too big- That one.. no, the bag didn’t have a blue ribbon- No- No- NO- -WAIT. He’d nearly missed him: blending seamlessly into the crowd was a blonde man in a navy cloak, stepping up to the front porch of the Rosegrove Inn. His face was as neutral as could be, holding a suitcase inscribed with a sloth emblem as if it was his own. Without a second to spare, Mateo replaced his snack with his tamborita with ingrained precision. He was ready to clap his drum wand, the right spell ready at his tongue- “Retracia!” A beam of sparkling purple energy shot the thief from Mateo’s left, and the man stood frozen at the inn door, dazed as if he’d hit his head. The spell had taken Mateo by surprise as well, and he watched with mouth slightly agape as the thief started to take steps backwards. He walked in a perfect recreation of him sneaking over to the Rosegrove, only in reverse. When he approached the spot where Mateo had stood in line, the man gently placed the suitcase down, and only then did his dazed look wear off. “What the-?” Mateo wondered out loud, running up with his tamborita still in hand. A guardsman had already beaten him to the spot, dragging the thief away after exchanging some words with the sorcerer that Mateo had asked to watch his stuff. He must’ve been the one who shot the retracing spell, and only now did Mateo get a good look at his face. This other sorcerer looked to be at least twenty years older than himself, maybe older judging by his greyed bangs, the frown lines drawn from his long, beak-like nose and the bags under his eyes. And beneath his billowing, bell-sleeved aubergine robes, Mateo could tell that he was rather gangly as well. With the precision required for that kind of spell to work, he wondered if this man might be a high-ranking practitioner. Maybe he was in service to a duke or a king? “Ah, there you are,” the sorcerer spoke with a slightly reedy voice. “Your luggage, safe and sound,” he added with a theatrical wave of his gloved hand. Mateo gave a small smile, relieved that the man didn’t look too inconvenienced. “Thank you so much.” He bent down to make sure nothing was out of place. Thankfully, all of his clothes, toiletries and books were accounted for. “Hm. Is that your wand?” Mateo looked up to see the sorcerer peering curiously down at his tamborita. “Y-yes.” He cleared his throat and stood to his full height. “It’s a drum wand traditionally used by the wizards in Avalor, called a tamborita,” Mateo explained, showing off just a little by twirling the tamborita in his hand. The man’s eyebrows shot up. “A wizard from Avalor? Why, I haven’t heard such a thing in decades,” the man remarked. “Well, you happen to be looking at the first Royal Wizard of Avalor in over forty years. Mateo de Alva, court wizard in service to Her Highness Crown Princess Elena of Avalor,” said Mateo with a waist-low bow. He could hardly tamper the giddiness fluttering in his stomach. He’d been practicing his formal introduction for days in front of the mirror in his cabin, and here he was, an ocean away from Avalor but representing his home and title with the grace of a true professional. The sorcerer stood wide-eyed and speechless. Wow, Mateo didn’t think his introduction would be that good. “Mateo? As in, the Mateo who helped Princess Sofia free Princess Elena from the Amulet?” he asked in disbelief. “Uh, well, yes,” Mateo answered. “But... But you’re so young! I mean, beg your pardon, the princess did tell me that you were the last Royal Wizard’s grandson, but I didn’t think that you’d still be a teenager!” The man was looking at him like he was a two-headed jaquin, and Mateo could feel the other mages in line looking over at their direction. He could feel heat creeping up his spine again. He cleared his throat once more, and recalled the way Elena would stand and address nobles at her court. He couldn’t be flustered, especially when he was alone and out in the open like this. “So you know Princess Sofia? And the Amulet?” Mateo added in a lower voice. “I make it my business to know about what magical items go through the halls of the palace, for I am Cedric the Sensational, - also referred to as Cedric the Great - Royal Sorcerer to His Majesty King Roland II of Enchancia,” the man declared with great aplomb. The Enchancian royal sorcerer? Well, now it made more sense how Sofia would know him, but why did Cedric’s name still ring such a concerning bell? “Er, well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Cedric. And thank you again for stopping that thief,” said Mateo. Cedric smiled proudly, oblivious to Mateo’s hesitant tone. “Not at all, my boy. You entrusted me to look after your place in line, after all.” “Speakin’ of which, would you two kindly move along now?! You’ve been holdin’ us up fer almost a minute!” shouted a red-cheeked sorceress behind Mateo, and both he and Cedric realized to their chagrin that a four-foot long gap had grown between Cedric and the end of the line. “Sorry, very sorry!” shouted Cedric. He was next to enter the tent, which turned out to be a luggage checkpoint, where one wizard magically combed through bags for any suspicious items or contraband. When it was Mateo’s turn in the tent, the second wizard waved his wand over his body, checking for any invisible charms. With one last flick of the wrist, he imprinted an instantly-fading oval stamp on Mateo’s left hand. “That’s just to show that you passed check-in,” the wizard droned. “It looks faded, but it’ll stay on for the rest of your visit here.” Mateo was swiftly directed to his own lodgings, a villa called the High Tide that came highly recommended from Naomi. It was only about a fifteen-minute walk from the conference site, reasonably priced, and featured one gorgeous view of the beach. The furnishings in his room were simple enough, with blue and yellow cushions to give the space some color, and a small bulb-shaped paraffin lamp at the reading desk stuck out as the room’s most charming feature, at least to a night owl like Mateo. I should get started on some letters after lunch, he thought. First was obviously to his mother, then Elena, and then Olivia. He recalled how excited his apprentice was when he told her that he’d be attending the Conjurer’s Conference this year, how she couldn’t believe he’d get to spend a whole weekend surrounded by nothing but magic. She was a bit upset that this meant no magic lessons for about two weeks, but he promised that he’d make it up to her. They could go over new tomes that Mateo found at the conference, see what made certain magical items tick, maybe test out a magic broom for themselves. Olivia’s unbridled joy at that suggestion was simply infectious, and it suddenly struck him how a week had already passed since he’d last seen her. Mateo stood by the window looking out to the beach, the sea a glittering, serene surface under the noon sun. This was the same view he left back in Avalor, where so much could’ve happened while he was traveling. Elena had promised him that she’d protect the kingdom and would send for him the moment he was needed, but that she wanted him to have fun and explore his passion for magic. He’d told her that he would, but he couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t worry. Even after almost getting his suitcase swiped from under his nose, Mateo was more worried about what he’d left behind than himself. As soon as the thought struck him, he peered out the window again, the radiant vista pulling him from the dark clouds his head had stumbled into. He stretched his arms, realizing how eager his legs felt to be walking on cobblestones and grass rather than wood planks. Now was as good a time as any to report back to his family and friends, to tell them how excited he was, rather than mull over it in a corner. Besides, his weekend was only going to get busier from now on, and he’d spent the better part of his boat ride carefully plotting out his itinerary. He planned to arrive at the conference tomorrow morning around 9 AM, attend a few showcases before lunch, and spend the rest of the day exploring stalls and bargain carts. More than likely, he was the only Avaloran mage in attendance (he doubted that any malvagos would’ve cleared the checkpoints), so there might be more like that Cedric guy who’d inquire about his origins and techniques. Mateo felt ready. He knew he was ready. He was there to make his country, his family and his princess proud.

#wands of a feather #elena of avalor #sofia the first #fanfic #disney fanfic #mateo de alva #cedric the sorcerer #cedric the sensational #eoa #stf #rooks writes #my writing #finally formatting this for tumblr after postponing to do so for weeks ><

7 notes · View notes