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iconic-ponytail · 3 years

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there's always money in the banana stand

riverdale promptathon week 3: yellow + business

Even as the sun sets, even as the breeze blows, the hell furnace of July in Riverdale burns on. It’s triply as sweltering inside the tiny booth running three freezers, offloading heat to sustain the frozen merchandise inside. “How can it be so hot in there when we are supposed to be selling frozen bananas?” JB complains, at least twice a week.

She’s twelve. Complaint is her new first language. She complains about being left in Riverdale while Gladys went back to Toledo. She complains about living in a trailer park that usually does not have warm water. She complains about their father being imprisoned for covering up a gruesome murder. But most of all, she complains about working in the banana stand.

Child labor laws aside, Jughead can’t blame her for that one. He hates the damn banana stand, but it’s their best shot.

Gladys’ monthly check covers rent and utilities for the trailer. Everything else is on him, now. The idiot eighteen year old who decided to petition the court to be his sister’s legal guardian. Well, and his idiot mom who signed off on it. So he needs money, and the Jones family has never been particularly flush with cash, just trampled over by FP’s failed “business opportunities.”

Enter: the banana stand.

It’s not the fastest revenue stream, Jughead finds. But it’s got potential.

Initially, Dilton doesn’t let him sell during the Twilight Drive-In’s concession stand hours. Before or after the movie, sure, but no overlap. “I’m not worried about competition, Jones. It’s just too humiliating for me to watch you sweat through that horrible yellow polo you call ‘branding.’”

But when customers asked him more than twice a night when the banana stand would be open, Dilton caved.

It’s not like being open during the screening hours is a whole lot more preferable. He only just transferred from Southside to Riverdale High last spring; now he’s the rising senior who hands out phallic symbols from inside a giant phallic symbol. Not exactly a boon to his popularity.

Still, recently the money is enough to pay the internet bill and keep JB fed for dinner when she can’t go to the summer breakfast and lunch program at the local park district. It’s still not enough for him to eat particularly well, and the smell of hot dogs and slurp of his classmates’ slushies makes the heat feel like a minor inconvenience.

He eyes the tip jar, willing himself to wait on rampaging the concession stand until the beginning of the film roar dies down. It’s a double feature tonight, which means maybe he can score enough cash to cover those damn college application fees his counselor will start hounding him about week one of school.

Then he sees her—Betty Cooper. She’s laughing, watching Archie Andrews try to catch popcorn in his mouth, tossed by his paramour, Veronica Lodge. She pauses to sip from her slushie straw, her lips—which he’s watched argue against homophobic and racist comments in their advanced lit class, or pressed to the cheek of her other best friend, Kevin Keller. Which he’s imagined, doing slightly less savory things, though the mere thought of said imagining has his heart pounding wildly.

(Jughead’s been eating way too many fucking bananas. Someone needs to check his potassium levels.)

His absolutely pathetic gaze, once available three times a day in their shared classes where Jughead has still not managed to exert any confidence whatsoever regarding speech, eye contact, or general acknowledgement of Betty Cooper’s existence other than whatever drooling may or may not be happening, all of which he finds he has no control over… is all interrupted by the absolute polar opposite of Betty Cooper. Hiram Lodge zooms up to the banana stand on his segway, angling to a stop just before taking out the stand’s foundation.

“Still getting a hang of that, Mayor Lodge?”

Hiram grimaces. “Just checking that you’ve renewed your business permit, Jones.”

They do this once a week. It’s still the same permit.

“You know,” Hiram starts as Jughead rustles for the paperwork to make him go the fuck away, “I could find you an arrangement with a better banana supplier. For a discount. If you’re interested.”

Jughead rolls his eyes. “I’m not interested in your GMO, black market bananas, Hiram.”

Hiram gives him a pointed look. Jughead rolls his eyes even harder. “Mayor Lodge.” He proffers the papers, Hiram waves them away. “I’ll take one chocolate peanut butter dip. With peanuts.”

Jughead kisses his teeth. “That will be $3.50.”

Hiram’s whole face goes serpentine. “Not between business partners, Jones. Put it on my tab.”

Jughead grits his teeth, handing the finished banana so aggressively he hopes that the chocolate splatters and stains Hiram’s $500 tie. It is only slightly worth it to watch Hiram struggle with navigating the segway one-handed, frozen banana in the other.

He muffles a chuckle before realizing he’s used the dead end of the chopped peanut topping, and exits the stand to update the order board hanging on the outside. It’s mostly an excuse to feel a ten degree drop in temperature, a sweet relief he might be able to extend by grabbing a hot dog before the intermission rush.

He’s crossing off peanuts from the topping list and spinning around when he hears a shriek and a sudden, cold slosh across his chest. The yellow polo drips with artificial blue slushie, but Jughead swallows his fucking hell when he sees that the shriek, gaping stare of horror, and stumble in question all belong to his very own blonde kryptonite.

“Oh my god. Oh my GOD, jesus, shit, I’m so sorry!”

Jughead is frozen while Betty grabs about half his napkin dispenser and starts pawing at his shirt in a vain attempt to right the giant sticky blue mess all over his chest.

Finally, Jughead swallows the golf ball in his throat and chokes out. “Honestly, it’s fine. That stand is a sauna. I needed that.”

Betty stops, both her blotting and her stream of apologizing (which includes a fair bit of cursing, and he is a little revolted with himself by how much this turns him on).

“It’s going to get very sticky, soon. Maybe I should buy a bottle of cold water?”

Jughead can’t help himself. “Oh, impromptu yellow t-shirt contest?”

Betty grins.

I did that.

“Do you have any employees who could bring you another shirt?”

Jughead shakes his head. “Just my sister. She’s playing video games at home. There’s no earthly way she’ll bring me a spare.”

Betty cocks her head. “I had a feeling you were more than the silent back row kind of guy.”

The fact that Betty Cooper has, at any point, considered what kind of guy he is triggers full-on nervous blathering. “I’m usually very tired at school. I have this little sister—but I’m kind of um, her guardian. So I’m doing this stupid banana stand thing because it’s like one of the three assets to our entire family name I guess? Anyway, it’s hard to engage with Haggly’s basic discussion questions at eight in the morning when you spent the whole night dreaming about wholesale banana margins.”

He’s essentially vomiting words, but Betty is still smiling.

“Anyway, I should crawl back into my fruit-shaped purgatory and let you go back to your friends.”

She’s biting her lip, hedging. “Honestly, they’re probably using the alone time to make out in the car, and I’d rather let them get all their sexual tension out so that I don’t have to feel it radiating off of them for the whole second half of the double feature.”

Jughead laughs and tamps down the impulse to offer her a frozen banana, because he cannot possibly say something like that without making it sound sexual.

“What are frozen banana profit margins like, anyway?” Betty asks, either genuinely interested or legitimately flirting with him. Jughead finds both potentials baffling.

Jughead hesitates, then ducks inside the stand, pulling out his spiral bound notebook. “I’m still kind of figuring it out. All my records are in here.”

Betty sidles up to the stand, taking up the whole window. They’re both leaning over the scribbled line items on college ruled paper; he can smell her shampoo. She takes the notebook, scanning thoroughly.

“Do you have a pencil?”

He hands her one and observes her going to work, writing out some algebraic formula and calculating quickly in her head. There is a calculator within his reach, but he thinks handing it to her might come off as an insult. (Jughead wouldn’t know; he assumes Betty is in an advanced math class. Jughead is not.)

After a few minutes of watching her devoted focus, thinking about her hands touching his pencil, thinking about her hands wrapped around his hand, or his—

“I don’t know how to tell this to you, Jug.”

The shortening of his name stops his heart for a jolt, and his response is embarrassingly delayed. “What is it?”

Betty winces but smiles through it, a combination she’s surely learned to use when delivering bad news. It’s well earned, it really does soften the blow.

“There’s no money in the banana stand. At least, not with these margins.”

Jughead finds himself less than devastated by this news, mostly because it makes a hell of a lot of sense. The messenger doesn’t hurt, either.

“But,” she interrupts. “I don’t know if you’ve nailed down your course load for senior year. But I’m taking AP Econ? This could be, um, a good project. Like, if you want to take the class. Or even if you don’t. Not that you’re like a project or… whatever. I’m just saying we could figure it out. Make lemonade out of… bananas.”

Betty Cooper is extremely cute when she stammers.

Jughead doesn’t know what to do, so he gives her an easy out. “I can’t like, hire you, if that wasn’t obvious by the whole… deficit spending or whatever the whole negative circled number at the bottom of the page really means.”

She flushes. “No, that would be highway robbery. I just thought there might be an… opportunity. For um, us. I mean, for you and I. I mean—” she clears her throat, as if it’s closing up. “An academic opportunity. Or, in your case, professional. Well, a betterment of your livelihood. Okay, um, shit, just… I should go!”

She turns away, her face the deepest scarlet he’s ever seen.

“Betty, wait.”

She pivots back, eyes down at the ground.

“How about I buy you a new slushie and you come back into the booth. Tell me everything I’m doing wrong for the rest of the night.”

Betty looks up, biting the corner of her smile. “Sounds like a deal.”

They shake on it.

#this is unhinged but i had to ok #I HAD TO #riverdalepromptathon #riverdale fanfiction #bughead fanfiction #riverdalepromptathonweek3

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rikalovesrice · 3 years

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Brother

A ficlet inspired by this thread on Twitter, some “Douxie During Trollhunters” stuff I was working on a while back, and my love for Douxie and Jim being best bros UwU

@aaronwaltke and @biancasiercke if you guys ever wanna give this a read (Absolutely zero pressure! Just sharing💙)

Also a big thank you to my good friend @nikibogwater for proofreading for me! ^_^

Please enjoy!

~ ~ ~

Douxie still remembered the day a seven-year-old Jim Lake Jr. came through the door to Benoit’s, tugging his mom in after him by her hand. His big toothy smile when he exclaimed that it was his mom’s birthday and that he was paying for all of it, even the drinks.

“Are you now?” Douxie asked, handing the pair of them menus. They’d chosen a two-top right next to the windows, the backdrop of Arcadia under a soft orange sunset in full view.

“I helped mom clean,” Jim said. “Like a lot. So I have lots of money.” He crossed his arms, throwing his mom, Barbara Lake, a cheeky grin. His black hair was on the long side and messy, sticking up and flopping in various places including over one of his eyes, though it did virtually nothing to hide his pride and excitement.

“Can you believe he wanted to spend his whole allowance on me?” Barbara said.

“Uh yeah! You’re the best mom ever!” Jim leaned towards Douxie, feigning a whisper. “She’s the best mom ever.”

Douxie chuckled. “I’m sure. And it looks like she’s got a great son to match.” Jim beamed, though a hint of shyness bloomed on his face.

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” Barbara asked.

“Oh, quite alright. You can call me Douxie. I’ll be your server tonight.”

“Well thank you, Douxie.”

“Mom, can I get a milkshake?”

“Why are you asking me, little man? You’re the one paying.”

“Oh yeah.”

One shared entree of well done steak, a milkshake, and two free slices of cake (accompanied by Douxie’s acoustic guitar and a birthday song) later, Jim caught Douxie by the hem of his jacket after he’d set their receipt down.

“Wait, Mister Douxie I uh…” Jim dug deep into his pockets, rummaging with a look of determination.

Douxie smiled, kneeling down beside him. “What is it, little man?”

“Um, wait, wait I need to...Oh!” Jim smiled big as he pulled a single coin out of his pocket. He held it straight out to Douxie, his eyes seeming to sparkle. “This is for you! Mom said that you should always tip people.”

Jim placed the coin in the center of Douxie’s palm. It was a nickel, a small bit of rust darkening ol’ Tommy’s profile. Douxie glanced over at Barbara, who was gazing at her son with an expression nothing short of pure endearment, glowing with pride. Douxie closed his fingers over the nickel and held it to his chest.

“A fine tip, indeed,” he said with a soft smile. “Thank you very much, Jim.”

Jim beamed. Then he was springing out of his chair, giggling as he gave Douxie a hug. How long had it been since he’d been smothered by someone who wasn’t Archie? Maybe long enough, because Douxie’s brain stopped working at the gesture, as did his arms. It registered more with every second that passed, the feeling of Jim’s small arms wrapped around him and his head on Douxie’s shoulder. Even without seeing his face, Douxie somehow knew Jim was smiling into his jacket. Something welled up in his heart, warm and touched. Douxie hugged Jim back, one hand on his back and the other gently holding his head.

“You’re awesome Mister Douxie!” Jim said as he pulled back, his hands still on Douxie’s shoulders. “Mom was really happy.”

“Hey now, I’m not the one who bought her dinner tonight.” Douxie ruffled Jim’s hair.

“Alright, Jim, Mister Douxie has to go back to work,” Barbara said softly. Jim’s expression fell and he began to wring his hands.

“No worries.” Douxie gave Jim’s shoulder a squeeze, tilting his head to look Jim in the eyes. “Chin up, buddy. Next time you come in, I’ll still be here.”

Jim beamed. “Cool!”

“Go on, then.”

Jim hopped to his mother’s side, taking her hand. When he was distracted by one of Douxie’s co-workers wrestling with a malfunctioning blender, Barbara reached into her purse and pulled out a bill. She slipped it into Douxie’s hand, silently mouthing a thank you. Then the pair were off, stepping back out onto the streets of Arcadia under a pleasant evening.

Douxie unrolled the bill.

Twenty dollars.

His eyes shot to the window in disbelief, catching Jim giving him one last wave goodbye. A deep breath turned into soft chuckling. Douxie waved back.

See you, little buddy.

~ ~ ~

The morning Archie reported Kanjigar’s death, they’d booked it to the canal. The last thing they wanted was for the Amulet of Daylight to wind up in the museum or in some kid’s backpack. Douxie would pick it up and then head right back to Arcane Books. So a brisk ten minute walk later, they were peering down the deep slope of the canal and spotted what must have been the remains of the Trollhunter. A heap of broken stone, just out of reach of the shadow of the bridge. Douxie closed his eyes, taking a moment to honor the fallen Protector of Trolls and Man. Wondering if, somehow, Merlin was doing the same.

“Alright Arch, let’s go — “ Before they could take another step, what looked like a boy on a bicycle suddenly launched over the other side of the canal, suspended in the air before diving back down and landing on his wheels. The boy skid to a halt and turned to holler behind him, up from where he’d come.

“Jim?” Douxie whispered, recognizing that head of black hair and those skinny legs. “A bit late for school, isn’t he?” Then Douxie felt a pinch of panic seize him. He prayed the kid would stay away from that odd pile of rocks.

“Come on Tobes!” Jim hollered.

And not a second later…

James...Lake.

A deep, echoing voice rumbled out into the atmosphere, buzzing in Douxie’s ears. Shock and disbelief struck Douxie like a manticore’s tail. He and Archie shared a look. The panic spiked.

Douxie watched, his heart beginning to pound harder and harder, as Jim faced the stone rubble, slowly removing his helmet. Another familiar face, Toby Domzalski, came struggling down the canal, falling onto his face as Jim passed under the bridge and approached what was left of Kanjigar.

“Do you think he heard the voice?” Archie said.

“No...It can’t be…He’s not…” It couldn’t be. Jim wasn’t a troll. Jim wasn’t a troll. And yet —

James Lake.

The voice rang out again. Jim yelled and fell backwards in surprise.

“That pile of rocks knows my name!” Jim exclaimed, scrambling closer on his hands and knees. Douxie stared, mind still suspended in shock but gut starting to sink with dread as Jim dug around the rubble, eventually unearthing the Amulet of Daylight, its distinct soft blue glow ever hard to miss.

Everything in Douxie wanted him to somehow swipe it from Jim’s hands.

Because not him.

Not Jim.

But Douxie also knew better.

“What should we do, Douxie?” Archie asked. They ducked behind a tree when Toby started shouting for someone to reveal themselves. Made sense he would think it was a trick. Only magical beings or the chosen could hear the Amulet.

Only magical beings.... Or so Douxie had thought. Jim slipping the Amulet into his bag was a nail in the coffin.

“Well...we can’t take it now,” he said, eyes still trained on the boys. “The Amulet... seems to have made its choice….”

In the distance, the school bell of Arcadia Oaks rang out. Jim and Toby hurried back to their bikes, quickly mounting and taking off. When they were long gone, Douxie stepped out from behind the tree without a word, sliding down the canal and standing over the pile of stones. He stared off in the direction the boys had left, his mind reeling like nothing else, trying to comprehend what he’d seen and what it meant.

Why it had to be Jim.

Archie joined him, climbing up on and inspecting the rubble.

“I know...the Amulet doesn’t make mistakes,” Douxie said quietly. “But...a human Trollhunter? And he’s only a child…” His voice quivered, pangs of worry and dread striking his heart.

“It’s...certainly a first,” Archie said, leaning a paw on Douxie’s leg. “I’m not sure what to make of this myself.” There was a long beat of silence before Archie spoke again. “What do you want to do, Douxie?”

What could they do? Was there anything to be done now? That and there wasn’t anyone he could discuss this with, at least who would know more.

If only you were here, Master… Douxie thought, one hand balling into a fist. He stewed in his thoughts for a moment longer before scooping Archie up onto his shoulders and heading back up the slopes of the canal.

“Douxie?” Archie said.

“We’ll keep doing what we’ve always done,” Douxie said. “Watch...and protect.” He didn’t have any answers. But it was done. The new Trollhunter had been chosen.

Something stirred in Douxie’s chest, growing stronger as he remembered the smiling face of a seven-year-old boy who’d tipped him a nickel. Stronger still because Douxie knew. He knew what it was like to be so young and have so much, far too much, thrust upon him. Having his hand and the growth of his strength forced. The secrets that had to be kept, even from the ones he loved most, for their own safety. Pain he hadn’t known was coming.

The loss.

The loneliness.

The weight of the world.

When Douxie retired to his cot that night, he approached the small shine of silver on his nightstand. No, he didn’t have a clue what any of this meant. But what Douxie did know was that he’d be Jim’s greatest ally.

He picked up the nickel and held it tight, a promise burning deep within him.

I’ll protect you.

~ ~ ~

Author’s Notes :

So I imagine that Jim and his mother ended up not frequenting the diner as much since Barbara was always so swamped and Jim was learning how to cook more at home. So Jim eventually just forgot about his first meeting with Douxie. But Douxie of course still continued to look out for him as best as he could. And I believe this is why Douxie saw Jim as family, even though he seemed to have only known him for a short time. In reality, though, Douxie always loved the kid💙

God bless and thank you all so much for reading!💙

#rika tries to write #tales of arcadia #Big Bro Douxie #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #jim lake jr #barbara lake #toby domzalski #tales of arcadia headcanons #this was fun heehee #this is my favorite bromance ever i swear lol #is so precious how can you not love them #can't wait to see my boys again #21st OF JULY LET'S GOOOOO

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nikibogwater · 3 years

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What did you think of Nari's characterization in ROTT?

Disliked it, as with most of the other things in the movie.

The short version of it is this: In Wizards, Nari's primary character traits were empathy and compassion for others. In Rise of the Titans, her primary character traits seem to be just a general lack of awareness for what's happening around her, and a tendency to make light of very serious situations.

Now before I get into the long-form answer, I will preface by saying that the writers of RotT were at a severe disadvantage when writing for characters who were introduced in Wizards because Wizards was still in production at the time. So I understand why Nari ended up feeling like a completely different character in the movie, and I am not shaming anyone for it. But the fact of the matter is that I found her characterization in Wizards to be much more appealing, and if that characterization had carried over to Rise of the Titans, I think I would've had slightly warmer feelings towards the movie. But let's get down to brass tacks now, because I've actually been dying to talk about this. This is gonna be a loooooong boi, so I've put everything under the cut to avoid clogging people's queues (I'm just really passionate about this bean goddess, okay? 😅)

When Nari is introduced to us in Wizards, she is quietly watching the arrival of our heroes at the castle. She doesn't make herself known to them, but it is clear she is very interested in what's happening. She does not make any other appearance until the Arcane Order launches their assault on Camelot.

Nari's first spoken words are, "Merlin! This is all my fault!" and as one would expect after hearing this, she is very obviously distressed and feeling guilty for putting everyone in danger. Merlin tells her they need to escape to the past, and that he needs her help in order to do it. Nari's response is to begin charging her magic as she says "I will do what I can."

After our main characters are thrown back in time, we're introduced to Nari as she was in the past. Although she is allied with the Arcane Order in their war against humanity, it's clear that she displays the least amount of malice out of the three. In fact, it's revealed that Nari has always been rather fond of humans, and has even reached out to them in friendship a number of times. After resurrecting Morgana, Nari is the one who does most of the explaining and introductions, showing a bit of a playful/mischievous side as she pokes fun at Bellroc and Skrael. ("I told you she would, Skrael! So old, and they still haven't learned manners.")

During the Battle of Killahead, we see Nari watching the war from a distance, and it's clear from the expression on her face that she is not liking any of this. Though she does briefly aid her siblings when they join in the battle, she reveals afterwards that she can sense the pain and suffering they have inflicted on others--and she doesn't believe the Order's ambitions are worth that. She abandons the Order, presumably spending the next 900 years in hiding, before seeking Merlin's protection.

Once our heroes have returned to the present, Nari becomes a bit more involved in the plot. She expresses genuine sorrow over the destruction of Arcadia Oaks High ("Your beautiful school-home was crushed!") and is clearly distressed by Jim's agony as the shard in his chest begins to work its dark magic. ("Poor soul! Your corruption...I feel it worsening.") After Jim is taken by the Order, we can see her comforting Toby in the background. She continues to show great concern and empathy for the people around her, and is still eager to help wherever she can, though her magic doesn't seem to be combat-oriented. She is also shown to be somewhat timid, hiding behind Merlin or Claire during confrontations with the Order--she is very clearly terrified of her old allies, and seems to want to avoid direct contact with them. When Douxie is struck down by the Order and is falling to his death, it is Nari who runs to try to save him before anyone else--apparently, if someone is in need, Nari's first instinct is to rush to their aid.

So, from all of that, we can gather that Nari, as she was characterized in Wizards, is intelligent, curious, cautious, gentle, empathetic, and very aware of what's going on around her. She is also a little playful and wild, but never to the point of disregarding what's happening or how others are feeling.

In Rise of the Titans, Nari remains consistent with this characterization for all of...seven minutes.

Initially, Nari is still very much herself in this scene (though I wish we could've been told what exactly made her want to stop running and face the Order head-on. Again, in Wizards, it was abundantly clear that that was the one thing she did NOT want to do). When Douxie expresses his anxiety about the situation, she takes him by the hand, offers him a reassuring smile, and says, gently but firmly, "No. No more running, Douxie." Excellent interaction. 10/10. Five stars. That's also the only time in the movie where Nari displays any level of awareness regarding Douxie's (or anyone's) feelings/wellbeing.

The body-swap scene is when Nari's character just completely swings in the opposite direction, and she becomes near-unrecognizable as being the same character from Wizards. Douxie, being our favorite Self-Sacrificing Idiot, swaps bodies with her at the last possible second, causing the Order to take him instead. Nari, now stuck inside Douxie's body, seemingly doesn't think much of this development at all. In fact, her first response is to giggle playfully. UM, NARI. NARI, SWEETIE, YOUR BIG BROTHER IS IN THE CLUTCHES THE MOST EVIL BEINGS KNOWN TO MANKIND. LIKE, THEY LITERALLY KILLED HIM THE LAST TIME HE RESCUED YOU FROM THEM, WHY ARE YOU NOT MORE WORRIED ABOUT THIS?! Up until this point, Nari has never been shown to underestimate the Arcane Order--she seems all too aware of the kind of violence and destruction they are capable of, which explains why she was so terrified of them in Wizards. But in Rise of the Titans she seems to just....not really care anymore? The entire time she is in Douxie's body, she doesn't express the slightest amount of concern for him, or for anyone around her. She just keeps doing...cutesy forest gremlin things, like singing to her flower, batting at a light fixture, and antagonizing Archie (she's definitely not the only character who was severely lacking in empathy in this movie, but this is an essay about Nari, so I'm not going to bother touching on everyone else). This is a direct contradiction to her characterization in Wizards, where she was shown to care deeply for the people around her, and displayed genuine distress whenever they were in danger or suffering.

Nari also persists in being pointlessly cryptic for the entirety of the movie because....reasons. Before the Order breaks Douxie's body-swap spell, she tells Jim, "Trollhunter make ninth configuration--the Kronosphere will make right." Which, of course, doesn't help him in the slightest. And when they finally succeed in rescuing Nari, she doesn't elaborate or explain this at all. She just says it again. Listen, I can get behind Nari being Insanely Ancient, and maybe a little out of touch with modern trends, but I'm fairly certain that Wizards Nari at least knew how to communicate. She never showed any inclination towards being cryptic or mysterious on purpose, at least. We're never given any explanation for Nari's sudden lack of clarity, so I guess it was just there for plot reasons. Which makes it that much more infuriating.

Also I don't know why, but the little "Hehe!" Nari does when Douxie pulls her into a hug kind of grinds my gears, because Nari, love, this is a really serious moment, you were just snapped out of mind control and your siblings are currently rampaging across globe in giant magical mechs, why are you giggling like a four-year-old and not, idk, SOBBING IN A MIXTURE OF RELIEF AND HORROR BECAUSE YOU WERE ALMOST PART OF WHAT DESTROYS THE EARTH?! AS THAT WOULD BE A MORE APPROPRIATE RESPONSE TO WHAT JUST HAPPENED????!!!!! But that's just a stupid little nitpick.

Now this is not me saying that Nari's characterization in the movie is objectively bad. Actually, it's kind of fitting for the Tales of Arcadia brand of humor--Super ancient demigoddess who houses the power to completely destroy the earth is also kind of a clueless ditz and needs to be babysat like a toddler. If she had not been introduced in Wizards, I would've been fine with this. But, much like the rest of the movie, Nari's vastly different characterization felt a tiny bit like a betrayal, and it consistently bothered me in every single one of her scenes. It also kept me from feeling the full impact of her death--seriously, I didn't cry at all when she was killed. Which....yeah, I'm just as surprised as you are.

So anyways, if you've made it this far, thank you so much for the ask, Non! Normally I have a bit more self control than to just....essay-dump like this, but honestly I've been thinking about this for way too long, and I had to get it out of my system. 🥴 And to anyone who really liked Nari's characterization in RotT--that's totally valid! Again, I don't think it was a bad characterization. It was just very inconsistent with her character as she was introduced to us in Wizards. And I just happen to prefer Wizards Nari over RotT Nari. 🌿✨

#tales of arcadia #toa #rise of the titans #rott spoilers #toa nari #niki answers #long post

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daydream-believin · 3 years

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Never-Ending Roadtrip (Autumn in New York, pt 1)

Summary: (ch 1) (ch 10) Reader joins Douxie in the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he? - chapter 9) new york tourism and some relaxation for a stressed-out emo wizard

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol mention, implied nudity (just a bath)

Word Count: 3542

A/n: Go listen to ‘autumn in new york’ by ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong to set the mood for this chapter and the next lol. i do like lovecore i promise. also this was going to be it but ive split it up. enjoy

Douxie was very careful to take inventory. One head, two head, dragon head, his own head. All accounted for. Four heads, no more no less. Not even a pesky stowaway gnome. His family was together. Up in the air, on the ship, winding blowing through their hair. Douxie could see sky scrapers on the horizon.

The trolls had been cordial in their goodbyes, but made no effort in giving the impression that they wanted the wizard family to stay any longer than they had. In fact, it was discouraged if not outright. The trolls almost gave off an aura of relief when they faded from view of the settlement. But that was understandable. Douxie’s family had caused a bit of trouble during their stay.

Bagdwella was certain that Archie was a bad omen for her shop and would freak out whenever he tried to enter. Y/n had been a bit confused and tried to explain to her that black cats were in fact supposed to bring wealth, not financial ruin, but apparently Bagdwella had been thinking of an old trollish superstition about dragons instead. Y/n had no counter to that.

Nari had no real knowledge of how money worked, and was determined to make that Douxie’s problem. And the problem of all the trolls in the shops of the town. There was a bit of a problem with her “dining and dashing” in the pub, the one troll eatery in the still developing town. Poor thing had no idea food costs money. Someone had always been around to feed her. Douxie and Y/n almost couldn’t keep up with the demand of sweaty socks they had to produce in order to pay the annoyed barman. Turns out it was somewhat hard to make sweaty socks when you’re actually trying to. It was like their feet realized what was happening and couldn’t pass up an attempt to make their owner’s lives harder.

As much as dear Y/n prided herself on being tolerant, she and Dictatious were going round and round. It was easier to ignore the guy when she didn’t have to live in close quarters with him but that luxury was lost on this stay in Trollmarket. Y/n and Dic argued every time they were in close proximity. She couldn’t help it. The old troll had opinions, and those opinions were wrong. And don’t even get Y/n started on how sad and then angry he made Blinky feel with the whole dead, wait not dead just an evil traitor, wait now he’s okay somewhat, thing. And his personality was shit. Peace was never an option.

Needless to say the trolls were in fact happy to send off the wizards. Douxie was happy to no longer suddenly hear a clatter and then instantly get a headache knowing it was probably one of his problems. They had only been in Trollmarket a few days. Okay so a week, they had stayed there a week. It was only seven days. Eight actually. So to say, they hadn’t been there long enough to cause any real problems. And now they were headed to New York. New York New York.

Douxie was ready to get some quality romance in with his wife. Autumn in New York was perfect for that. The city streets glowed with life. A nice stroll down the sidewalks painted in golden light, arm in arm, carrying the warmth in their hearts and bodies with them, was just what they needed. There were lots of sights to see, and Y/n loved to see them. And it was heavily populated, which would make it safer. Safe was something greatly needed.

For some reason, ever since that one night in the forest, Doux had felt like watching his back. It was tiresome, always being on edge. Of course, he had been this whole trip. But recently it had been amplified. Douxie didn’t know if he was sensing the Order’s presence or if being wed had turned up his protective instincts up to an eleven, but it really would be fantastic to be in a safer environment. He was crossing his fingers New York was one.

Just outside of city limits, the boat was shrunken into a little toy and placed back inside of it’s bottle. The little bottle fit neatly in the backpack that Y/n was wearing. Everything fit neatly into the backpack that Y/n was wearing. It was charmed. Doux would rather it be in hers than his, just as a peace of mind. A quick getaway for her lest they ever be separated. He wasn’t too worried about himself. Nari clung to her side, so it would also be best to keep it with her in order to protect Nari. Yeah, that was totally the reason.

They hailed a cabbie and took it into the bustling city. Douxie had pulled a couple strings with his old buddies, and managed to get them an apartment to stay in. The owner wouldn’t be back for a few weeks, and was happy to have someone to house sit for her. Douxie was happy to have a roof over his family’s head he didn’t have to pay for. It was a win-win.

Y/n never stopped looking out the window the entire cab ride. Douxie thought her excitement was adorable. She had her arm stretched over Nari in the middle to be able to hold his hand. The veggie lady didn’t mind. She was also focused on the view out the windows, fascinated by the sheer number of cars and the heights of the tall buildings. Douxie could feel Y/n’s wedding ring as she squeezed his hand. It helped calm him.

This apartment was owned by a starlet. It was huge, for New York standards. It was really high up, which made Douxie a wee bit nervous. Eleventh floor. It was eccentrically decorated, with bright colors. There was a wall in the living space that was a floor-to-ceiling window, covered by pale pink curtains and strings of heart-shaped beads. The other walls had a wallpaper that was white with red rose motifs. The couch was bright cherry red, furry, and oddly shaped. The kitchen cabinets were painted hot pink, with frosted glass doors that bore a rose pattern. The refrigerator was also cherry red, with white and pink heart-shaped stickers stuck onto it. Everything was fucking red, white, or pink. It looked like Saint Valentine himself threw up. Douxie was afraid to see what the bedroom looked like.

Douxie checked the fridge. Yeah, it was empty, apart from the box of takeaway from who knows when and the three bottles of wine. To be expected, of a single young up-and-comer, one supposes. They would have to go get groceries. Archie was making biscuits on the fluffy surface of the couch. It was probably very soft, Douxie had yet to touch it himself. He was kind of afraid of it, to be honest. Nari seemed to also like it, and was spread out on the top, limbs hanging over the back of the couch. Y/n opened the curtains a bit and was staring out the window. Doux headed for the bedroom, to go see what they were working with.

The bedroom was not in any way tamer than the open living space, but at least it wasn’t as bad as Douxie was expecting with the ah, love theme this place had going. It could have been worse. It was fluffy, pink, and glittery, but at least it was rated PG. Apart from the heart-shaped bed, it looked like it could have been a dressing room. There was a vanity with lights ringing the mirror and one of those dressing screens in the corner with several feather boas hanging over it like some kind of cliché movie set. Douxie was setting his backpack down, as he sat on the side of the bed turned away from the door, when he heard someone go into the en suite. And then he heard various noises of,, happy surprise? Sounded like Y/n.

“DEWDROP! THERES A HEART-SHAPED TUB. A FUCKING HEART-SHAPED TUB. COME LOOK.”

Bleeding balroths. Douxie rolled his eyes as he stood up from the comfy feather mattress to go see what she was shouting at him about. The tiles that covered the bathroom were annoyingly pink. The air smelled like something he could only describe as pink. Sure enough, there was a heart-shaped tub like someone’s cheesy honeymoon suite, and his wife was already in it, despite it not having any water. She wore an all too familiar cheshire cat grin on her face. He had one word for this.

“No.”

“Whatever.” Y/n stuck her tongue out childishly. “You’ll change your mind tonight. You will join me in the incredibly fragrant heart-shaped bubble bath, Dewdrop. Mark my words.”

~ ~ ~ As a first stop on the itinerary, they decided on Central park. Some greenery for Nari. And for Y/n too. Trees were good for the soul and one should never spend too much time on concrete. Gave Archie something to scratch that was not the couch that they did not own. It was fine when he did it in Arcadia, their sofa was old and tattered anyways, but not here in the apartment they were housesitting.

Y/n claimed the walk through nature was necessary to restore the energy lost on the trip into the city. The walkways were paved, and Douxie had to really keep an eye on both Nari and Y/n, who should know better, from wandering off the path. Maybe he should get two baby leashes when they were to shop later. Occasionally they would pass by a café. Douxie was glad he was not working in one of those. This trip was a much-needed vacation, as stressful as it was.

A little ways in and they came across a pond, with a cute little bridge that the walkway went under. Douxie rubbed his hand over the stones as they walked through. It was worn, as many hands had also done so over the decades. This bridge, as old as the park itself, was still younger than him. And it had met so many more people than he could even fathom. Doux himself had met so many people over the years. He had been touched by many too, like this little bridge. And just like the people who touched this bridge, none of them quite knew the impact they would be leaving. What they were wearing down. He heard a happy squeal as Y/n and Nari made a sudden sprint ahead of him. Apparently, there were ducks in this pond.

The Met was just a few minutes’ walk from where they exited the park. Douxie was happy with the idea of a quiet art museum trip, that sounded peaceful and relaxing. He needed all the peaceful and relaxing he could get right now. Y/n was actually really excited about this one despite it being not that exciting of an activity. She was trying to psych up Nari. “It’ll be fun, we can pretend we’re a gang of art thieves and we’re doing recon for a heist.” The veggie lady had no idea what any of those words meant.

There were lots of paintings in the Met gallery. It contained multitudes. One painting, they passed as they walked down the corridors, Y/n stopped, transfixed, stared at the painting for a few minutes, and then carried on like nothing happened. She didn’t look particularly sad, or happy, just confused, like she was processing something. Douxie made a mental note to ask her about it later.

Next stop was a walk down Fifth Avenue. It’s not like they could afford to shop, but it was a must-do in NYC so they must-did. They walked holding hands with Nari in the middle like their child. She liked looking in all the window displays. Every so often she would stop to stare and they would tug her along. The trees lining the sidewalks presented their autumn colors. The oranges and golds gave the streets a cheery vibe.

They passed a few food trucks. The trucks were filling the air with various delicious aromas. Douxie’s stomach growled loudly. Y/n giggled and suggested they pick a truck for lunch. Douxie had his eye on a fish and chips truck. It didn’t make ‘em quite like you could get in London but it was trying. A for effort. Y/n thought it was fantastic. Douxie was just spoiled.

They made their way over to the Rockefeller Center, just around the corner. A short walk and Y/n had spotted a coffee shop. So now they were going to a coffee shop. Douxie couldn’t help it, she looked at him with such big eyes. What was he supposed to do, say no?

The coffee shop was warm, and much appreciated relief from the autumn chill that had taken over. And a nice warm drink was sorely needed. Y/n found a nice couch in the back of the shop. Douxie sunk in, deeper than he expected to be able to sink in, but it was an old couch sunk into by many people. It was cozy. The love of thousands made it the sofa the way that it was. Love had made it squishy, love had made it comfy. Speaking of love and squishy and comfy, Doux pulled his dear wife Y/n to his side in an embrace. Low-key cuddling on the coffee shop couch was the best part of Douxie’s day. Nice, relaxing, he needed this. He pressed a kiss to the top of Y/n’s hair.

The Top of the Rock is an observatory deck in Rockefeller Center. Very high up in the air, one can see a great view of the city skyline and get a peek at that famous empire state building. Archie didn’t really care about it, he could get aerial sights any time he wanted, so he took this time to take a nap. Y/n leaned close to the glass, amazed and getting slightly wooed by the city. Douxie slung his arm around her, and, under the guise of affection, pulled her a few steps back. She really was hell-bent on stopping his fragile heart. And then Nari just straight up put her hands, paws, on the glass and put her body weight on the window. Nope. Douxie made sure to ask her to step away from the glass nicely, lest he frighten her, but still tried to convey that what she was doing was something he saw as dangerous and it worried him. Doux was very happy when they were back on the ground.

Douxie liked people watching. So did Y/n. It was one of the things the used to do on weekends in Arcadia, strangely enough. It wasn’t weird. All those people, they all had lives of their own. They all had stories they were living, and it was interesting to glimpse just a small insignificant piece of it. Or sometimes even significant. It was always hard to tell as an outsider, whether or not an ordinary moment was really the turning point of someone’s life. NYC’s famous Times Square was perfect for people watching.

There was something odd about it. The square itself felt wrong. A hundred neon advertisements all at one time. Not an inch of surface didn’t bare the name of a brand. There was something profoundly sad about it. One might even go as far as say disgusting. And there were many, many signs and people. Douxie tried not to attempt to take it all in at once, lest he risk sensory overload. The sun had already set, the brightly lit signs were brighter than ever. There were so many people around them. There were some buskers, some even playing at the same time, so the music clashed. Perhaps there was too much life here. It was loud, and Doux liked loud, but he liked harmonious loud, like music and excitement, not the chaotic loud that surrounded him. He made sure he could see Nari, that she was close to them. Douxie squeezed Y/n’s hand. He thought maybe he should just pay attention to her, tune out everything else. The lights made a brilliant halo around her gorgeous face as she turned to him. The beautiful goddess he called his wife’s eyes searched his, and she noticed he was not so comfy.

“C’mon, let’s go get some dinner.”

They walked away from the square for a few minutes, putting some distance between them and it’s light, before coming across a pizza place for dinner. It was good. The classic, New York slice. And it was pizza. Y/n would admit, it wasn’t special. She actually liked the pizza from the local pizza place in Arcadia Oaks way better. Douxie and Archie agreed with her. But don’t tell any New Yorker’s that. The main thing is that they got a nice dinner, and it helped Douxie calm down. There were only a few other people in the restaurant. The booth they were in was off to the side, away from everything. Y/n stroked Douxie’s palm with her thumb. Archie sat in his lap and purred. He appreciated them.

They’d had a long day. It was best to get home. Once opening up the cherry red door the valentine’s day décor assaulted their eyes once again. This would be okay for the time being but Douxie had no idea how someone could dwell here full time. As he plopped down on the furry couch, he noticed for the first time the numerous little cherub figurines that littered every available surface. It might be interesting to meet this starlet one day. She seemed to have a cupid schtick going. She probably looked the part too.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, Y/n had made a sneaky beeline for the bathroom and that honeymoon suite style tub. Douxie rolled his eyes fondly and scoffed from his place on the sofa when he heard the water turn on. Of course. He supposed he could use some extra relaxing. But she’d feel like she won. Y/n was gonna make a big deal out of this, he could feel it.

Miss starlet had an unhealthy amount of soap bottles filling the storage space in the bathroom. A dragon hoard of fancy scented soaps. As fun as pouring some various vividly colored, strong and flowery goops into the tub and pretending it was a potion would be, and it would be, Y/n opted to find some more calming aromas for poor Doux. Lavender, lemongrass, and jasmine, were what she was on the hunt for. She managed to find both lavender and jasmine soaps, and a lavender candle. No lemongrass. But Y/n wouldn’t have held her breath on that one. It wasn’t exactly glamorous or glittery.

With the water hot, bubbles high, candles lit, Y/n had crafted a very romantic and relaxing evening. She stood back to admire her work for a moment before going to go get Douxie. He was laying across the couch, using his crossed arms as a pillow, with Archie snoozing on his chest, when she found him.

“Sorry Arch. Find a different pillow for the night?” The dragon-cat understood. That didn’t stop him from throwing a look at the two as he settled back down into the couch’s fluff.

Ignoring Archie, Y/n took Douxie by the hand as she led him back into the room she had set up. The air smelled very strongly of lavender. The pink of the tiles was muted in the dim light, which Douxie was thankful for. Then he noticed the giant fucking mountain of bubbles Y/n had turned the bath into. He supposed she wanted him to get in that. Somehow. They’d have to be careful not to accidentally choke on any bubbles.

Douxie let out a little groan as he slid into the bath. The hot water felt great on his tense muscles, he had to admit. He was feeling better, and more relaxed. He certainly wasn’t anywhere near as stressed as he was in time square anymore, but the tension of this strange combination vacation/flee-for-their-lives-trip was taking its toll on the master wizard. He wouldn’t put it past his hair to start greying soon. A wizard was only ever as old as they felt, after all. And boy, did Douxie’s bones feel old. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. No worries right now. He was safe, Nari was safe, Archie was safe, Y/n was safe. Y/n was right beside him, so extra safe too.

“So, how’s it going.” Y/n laughed at Douxie getting a little lost in the hot water sauce.

“Nuclear.” Douxie opened his eyes to take in his wife’s pretty face he just knew was smiling, he could hear it in her voice. Doux pulled Y/n into his embrace and against his chest. She rested her head on his shoulder. “Thanks. I- I guess I sort of maybe needed this.”

Y/n snickered. “Of course you did. Remember, I’ll always be here to take care of you.” She brought his hand up and kissed his knuckles. “Always, Mr. Casperan.”

“And that goes the same for you, I’ll always take care of you, Mrs. Casperan.”

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie casperan x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan imagine #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #tales of arcadia x reader #tales of arcadia imagine #my writing #nert

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ingek73 · 3 years

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Fairytales for fuckwits: Meghan, a children's book, and the school bully tactics of the British tabloids...

Piers Morgan's obsession with Meghan Markle continues, while Mike Graham appears worried there may be too many big words for him to understand.

Mic Wright

May 6

On May the 4th, there was a great disturbance in the force, as if thousands of tabloid reporters and talk radio pundits cried out at once: The Duchess of Sussex had announced she was writing a children’s book.

Since the earth-shattering news that Meghan has written a story about the relationship between father’s and their sons — apparently based on a poem she wrote for Prince Harry — the tabloid press and talk radio stations have gone into meltdown.

The Sun has managed to crank out seven hysterically-pitched stories on the announcement since it dropped — the book isn’t out until June 8th — with each more unhinged than the last:

MEG TO PAPER Meghan Markle writes children’s book inspired by Prince Harry and baby Archie about ‘bond between father and son’

MEG-A MOVE Meghan Markle’s first priority should be mending broken relationships with royals not writing kids’ book, expert claims

SOUNDS A BIT WOODEN ‘Schmaltzy’ Meghan Markle ‘on dodgy ground’ with kids’ book celebrating fathers ‘after own bust-up with dad’ says author

DOUBLE DUCH Meghan Markle accused of copying her kids’ book The Bench from another story – but author defends her

NOT WRITE Piers Morgan slams ‘hypocrite’ Meghan Markle for kids’ book on ‘father-son bond’ after ‘ruining Harry and Charles’ ties’

'RIDICULOUS' Meghan Markle using Duchess of Sussex as author name ‘laughable’ after she wanted to cut Royal ties, says royal expert

CUT PRICE Meghan Markle’s kids’ book has price slashed already at Amazon and Waterstones

You’ll notice that Piers Morgan — a man who has turned one drink with Meghan after which he claims she “ghosted him”, which took place in 2016, into a five year and counting obsession — gets his own story there. That’s The Sun filleting Morgan’s spittle-flecked Daily Mail column on the book for its own news piece.

Morgan, who trails his columns on Twitter like they are exciting new releases rather than the tabloid equivalent of a letter scrawled in faeces forced through your letterbox, dashed out his thoughts on The Bench with the indecent haste of a man running along while his trousers fall down.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @BreeNewsome

DEFUND & ABOLISH POLICE, REFUND OUR COMMUNITIES

@BreeNewsome

Piers Morgan’s obsession with Meghan Markle is genuinely disturbing. He’s really just using the guise of journalism to be a public stalker and harasser.

May 5th 2021

1,414 Retweets10,252 Likes”

Beneath a typically screaming Mail headline — How the hell can Meghan 'I hate royalty but call me Duchess' Markle preach about father-child relationships when she's disowned her own Dad, and wrecked her husband's relationship with his? — Morgan howled:

… she continues to cynically exploit her royal titles because she knows that's the only reason anyone is paying her vast sums of money to spew her uniquely unctuous brand of pious hectoring gibberish in Netflix documentaries, Spotify podcasts or children's books.

Of course, her equally cynical publishers don't give a damn about any of this shocking double standard.

Forget the fact that Meghan had a good degree of personal fame before she ever met Prince Harry, Piers Morgan accusing anyone else of being a cynical fame chaser is beyond parody. From his earliest days as a gossip hack, Morgan has muscled into pictures with the rich and famous, desperate to be someone.

When Meghan was willing to indulge him, he showered her with praise, but once she stopped taking his calls, he turned into the Tinder match from hell. That he has been married to his second wife, fellow controversialist columnist Celia Walden since 2010 seemingly did nothing to dampen his obsession.

Having repeatedly interviewed Meghan’s estranged father Thomas Markle — another man aggrieved because a woman would rather not spend time with him — Morgan sneers:

If she really cared about father-child relationships, she'd take a chauffeur-driven limousine on the hour-long trip to see her own father who's never even met either Harry or Archie.

It’s projection again: Piers Morgan’s ego is so egg-shell thin that after Meghan decided that one drink was more than enough, he’s spent 5 years seeking revenge and convinced that he’s been wronged, just like her ‘poor old dad’. That’s the ‘poor old dad’ that insists on talking about his daughter to journalists at every possible occasion.

At the end of an article that implies Harry and Meghan contributed to the death of Prince Philip — he died of natural causes — and rants on about “the woke”, Morgan ends with this:

But then as we've seen from her gruesomely self-interested behaviour during a pandemic that's caused so much devastation and pain to billions around the world, Meghan Markle doesn't really care about anyone but herself.

Remember, the Duchess of Sussex’s only ‘crime’ here is to write a children’s book which people will be free to buy or ignore with equal ease. But, as ever, Piers Morgan treats the news with all the proportionality of a US drone strike.

The real story here is about how Morgan — the bittiest of bit-part players in the narrative of Meghan and Harry’s lives — is so desperate to upgrade his place in the cast list that he will rant and rave to stay relevant. His departure from Good Morning Britain came after his last stream of invective about Meghan and he knows this schtick gets him the attention and money he craves.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @MariaLRoach

Maria Roach

@MariaLRoach

Meghan Markle inside the tiny space called Piers Morgan’s head. #duchessofsussex Tap Dance GIF by Miss America

May 5th 2021

122 Retweets1,619 Likes”

Aside from Morgan’s column, MailOnline has published 9 other news stories on or related to the book announcement. The most telling of them is one that links the Duchess of Sussex’s book to another one… by the Duchess of Cambridge.

Headlined Bookshelf battle royale! Kate Middleton shares a glimpse inside her Hold Still photobook just a day after Meghan Markle unveiled her own £12.99 children's story, the story unsurprisingly treats Kate with kid gloves while continuing to imply that Meghan is the kind of person who would make gloves out of kids if it suited her devilish schemes.

There’s no shade thrown at the Duchess of Cambridge for revealing further details of her book just hours after Meghan’s announcement. Instead, the story — lavishly illustrated with images from the book — gushes:

The Duchess of Cambridge has shared a glimpse of her photography book Hold Still ahead of its release on Friday…

… Kate, 39, a keen photographer, launched a campaign during the first lockdown last year to ask the public to submit images which captured the period.

It even includes a mention of an image of a BLM protestor saying:

Over the course of the project, the Duchess shared a number of her favourite images on the Kensington Royal Instagram page, including a Black Lives Matter protester holding a sign reading: 'Be on the right side of history.'

If Meghan had done the same she would have been decried for “supporting extremists”. Remember the contrasting way their mutual taste for avocado was covered?

15 Headlines Show How Differently The British Press Treat Meghan Markle Vs Kate Middleton | Bored Panda

Over at The Daily Telegraph, Spiked alumna Ella Whelan offered her thoughts on a book that isn’t released until next month under the headline Meghan Markle’s fun-free children’s book may put an entire generation off reading, which makes it sound like a grimoire full of dark magic rather than a gentle children’s book about kids and their dads.

Just as with the Mail’s story on Kate’s book, it’s worth imagining what Whelan would say if the Duchess of Cambridge had written The Bench. Look at the following section…

It reveals something of the political superficiality of Harry and Meghan’s activism that an “inclusive” book would use the military father as its promotional message. Perhaps it’s a cultural thing, but if my kids have to read about soldiers, I’d prefer Hans Christian Andersen’s tin version rather than the woke posturing of a former royal.

… and notice that because Meghan is the author including a father who is in the military is “political superficiality”. If Kate had written a story that featured an analogue for Prince William — who also spent time in uniform, though in less dangerous circumstances than his ‘spare’ brother — Whelan would likely deem it a ‘touching tribute to their love’.

Similarly, Sarah Ferguson — the ex-wife of Prince Andrew, top Yelp! reviewer for Jeffrey Epstein’s houses and noted avoider of FBI questioning — uses the title Duchess of York on her many execrable children’s books.

Now that Meghan is the tabloid’s new monster in the monarchy, Fergie’s antics are pointed to as a positive with her books flattered even as Meghan’s as-yet-unpublished book is panned.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @talkRADIO

talkRADIO

@talkRADIO

Meghan Markle is releasing a new children's book about father-son relationships.

Mike Graham: "It's so juvenile. This is somebody who acts like she's still in high school... it's not exactly Tennyson, is it?

@mrmarkdolan | @Iromg Image

May 5th 2021

36 Retweets221 Likes”

Over on talkRADIO, Mike Graham — a melting mass of expired meat — ranted about a children’s book, worried perhaps that it will contain too many long words. Speaking to his colleague, Mark Dolan — Dennis Pennis without the charm — Graham crowed:

It’s so juvenile. This is somebody who acts like she’s still in high school… I don’t have anything against her for any particular reason, other than she’s a bit too American, you know. She thinks everything is just great and cheesy. Rhyming the words ‘joy’ and ‘boy’. It’s not exactly Tennyson, is it?

Ah yes, that famous children’s author, Alfred, Lord Tennyson, known for such devastating rhymes as this one from The Lady of Shallot: “She left the web/ She left the loom/ She made three paces through the room.”

I’m not saying The Lady of Shalott is rubbish — though I do still hold a grudge against Tennyson after some very tedious teaching in high school — but that focusing on one rhyme in a poem is an easy trick if you want to say its shit. That Graham cannot see the irony in decrying writing a children’s book as “juvenile” is just one of the reasons he’s employed by a station with less than 1% reach.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @NadimJBaba

Nadim Baba

@NadimJBaba

Piers Morgan ranting about the one who got away in 5, 4, 3.......

Media Guardian @mediaguardian

Meghan wins copyright claim against Mail on Sunday over letter https://t.co/cJZTgDMvgz

May 5th 2021

1 Like”

There’ll be a new round of these columns, stories, and talk radio segments when the book is released, particularly as The Mail on Sunday just lost the second part of Meghan’s copyright claim against it.

There’s nothing that either Meghan or Harry could do that wouldn’t drive these rats in a sack rabid. If they did nothing, they’d be called lazy. When they make things, take jobs, or really say anything the very media that benefits hugely from stories about them scream that it’s a cry for attention. And yet Piers Morgan regularly pissing himself in public is “commentary”.

#meghan markle #prince harry #duchess of sussex #duke of sussex #piers morgan #brokenbottleboy #toxic tabloids #uk press

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years

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Step 6: Physical Affection

From 12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Hermione Granger

Physical Affection

As your romantic relationship strengthens, so will your physical connection. Keep in mind that there is no specific destination to work toward, and any expectations should only come about through careful and clear communication. If your goal is truly to charm her, assume you have your entire lives to explore your physical relationship. Do not rush it, so that you can enjoy the journey fully.

******

When Crookshanks was fed up with Ron's attention, he abruptly stood, stretched, and trotted across the bed toward Hermione. He curled up contentedly behind Hermione's knees before yawning wildly and drifting off to sleep. With his hand now free, Ron brought 12 Fail-Safe Ways To Charm Witches back to his lap, and shuffled the next chapter, Physical Affection.

At the very beginning, the thought of advancing their physical relationship caused Ron significant anxiety. Having been friends for seven years before becoming romantically involved, he couldn't imagine going back to a normal friendship after seeing each other naked. Although Lavender had never seen him completely starkers, the progressions in that relationship never made him nervous, because there was no pre-existing friendship to risk. With Hermione, he found that the stakes were much higher- if he screwed up, there was a lot more to lose.

Nowadays, the nervousness of their first few experiences together seemed so far away.. Ron didn't think twice about stripping down for a shower, or simply to change clothes, and seeing her eyes linger on him no longer made him feel self-conscious. He knew she felt the same way when she thoughtlessly tugged her own clothes off after a long day at work, her bra usually being the first thing she ditched as she transitioned to more comfortable attire.

He no longer worried about pressuring her. At this point they had explored so much new territory together, that they learned how to clearly and confidently tell each other no. All it took was a playful swat to his hand and he would retreat instantly. He knew she'd never take offense if he groaned and pushed her gently away when she kissed him more fervently than was typical for an innocent greeting. Maybe he was already late for work, or he was too tired after Quidditch practice, or he didn't even have a reason, and that was ok too.

In other instances, all it took was a sultry look and raise of her eyebrow, and he would waste no time undoing the buttons of her blouse right there on the living room sofa. There was no time to be bashful when they hastily undressed each other in the powder room at a work party. Time was limited to a quick reprieve from the awkward small talk and polite compliments on food that couldn't quite satisfy his appetite like Hermione. Sometimes there'd be no reason to remove any clothing in her office between meetings, leaving little opportunity for self-consciousness. On those occasions, he'd lock her door, cast a muffliato charm, and hoist her up to her desk, before dipping his head underneath her skirt, running his tongue along her thigh, and tugging at her knickers with his teeth.

Their physical relationship had become so intuitive, and it was difficult to remember the awkwardness of their teenage selves. He had to remind himself that they didn't always know each other's bodies so well. There was a lot of trial and error at the beginning, and understanding what to do with his hands, how to move his fingers, and where to put his mouth required her guidance and feedback. He had to teach her just as much about his own preferences, and it took time, effort, and observation to master their crafts.

******

They remained in Australia for a few more weeks, spending their days together while the Grangers were at work. During that time, they continued to explore the city, eating at new restaurants, visiting new museums, and even riding that wooden roller coaster at Luna Park. There was a particularly memorable day at the beach, when they spent hours attempting to surf, before they had to cut the day short because their sun potion wasn't quite strong enough to protect Ron from the strong Australian rays.

With the stress of reversing the memory charm off their shoulders, their time in Australia started to feel more like a holiday, and not just in the city, but in their hotel room as well. Ron was pleased to discover how quickly things progressed between them when Hermione had nothing but time and her characteristic curiosity, but no looming exams or tasks ahead to occupy herself. The irony of the most unremarkable place housing some of his most memorable experiences was not lost on Ron, but he couldn't help but appreciate that the drab window-coverings and the peeling wallpaper only accentuated her uniqueness.

That hotel room was where she removed his shirt for the first time since he was splinched. Unlike during their second kiss, she didn't ignore his state of undress, but relished in it, landing a trail of kisses down his neck and chest. That hotel room was where he nervously slipped his hand under her shirt for the first time, inching against her bra in question until she nodded her permission. Even though it broke their kiss, he couldn't help but beam when he slid it further, because her breast fit so perfectly into the palm of his hand, and he'd never known the luxury of custom-made before. It was also where they finally had that very awkward, but very necessary conversation about what they had and hadn't done with other people. They spent some time on opposite ends of the bed, arms crossed stiffy, as Ron underwent an interrogation involving what Lavender had seen, touched, and experienced with him, but they spent even more time wrapped up in eachothers arms, wearing only half of their clothing, because it turned out there were still many more firsts to be had.

Not all of their free time was spent alone together. They committed their evenings to the Grangers so Hermione could reconnect fully with her family before the pair went back to England. Hermione was at first upset to learn that her parents had no intentions of coming back with them. They really loved their new home in Melbourne, things were going very well at their new dental practice, and transporting Herman overseas would be a nightmare.

They were outside in their yard when the conversation first came up. Hugo had assigned Ron to 'Burger Duty' while he mixed up cocktails for everyone, leaving Ron to pretend he knew how a grill worked. With his wand stashed inconspicuously up his sleeve, he made a point to thank his mother for the cooking spells she forced on him growing up. He was also thankful for the cooler weather that allowed him to comfortably wear long, wand-obscuring sleeves.

"It's quite cold," he said. "I always thought Australia would be warmer."

"Well," said Jean, who was busy playing fetch with Herman. "Since we're in the southern hemisphere, it's winter now. That's why it would probably make more sense for you both to visit us over the Christmas holidays, and we can come see you in the summer."

Ron was thrilled by the implication of her use of "we", but Hermione was caught up in another detail of her answer.

"Wait…," she started, sounding hurt. "You're not coming back to England?"

As the pair began to argue, Ron was quickly redirected by Hugo, who handed him a drink. "Burgers are looking great Ron!" he said brightly. "Let's leave them for a bit and head inside, I have something I want to show you."

"Er, sounds good," said Ron as he closed the lid to the grill and followed Mr. Granger into the house.

"Do you like the drink?" Hugo asked casually.

Ron hastily took a sip of the creamy drink before answering. "Yeah, it's good. What is it?"

Hugo laughed. "Well right now it's an Alexander without the gin." They were in the kitchen now, and Hugo reached into one of the cabinets to pull out a mid sized green-tinted bottle. "Archie Rose. A truly superb Australian Gin." He motioned for Ron to hand over his glass, so he could complete his cocktail.

"Thank you, sir," said Ron, as he took another sip, which was decidedly stronger than his first.

"Hugo's fine," said Mr. Granger. "Sir's my dad."

Ron nodded. "Thank you, Hugo. It's a good drink." Ron followed Hugo's lead, and sat down at the barstool at the kitchen counter.

"I just wanted to give them some more space to hash it out," Hugo explained. "I figured that she wouldn't react well to the news that we're staying here."

"Yeah," said Ron. "I think she assumed you'd come back. Can't blame you, though. It's beautiful here."

"Well then, I hope you visit often," said Hugo, grinning at Ron.

Ron nodded again. "I'm sure we will."

It was then that Hugo's eyes narrowed slightly, but that could have been Ron's imagination. "So, you two are pretty serious then?"

Ron had been expecting this to come up, but the abruptness took him by surprise. "Well, um," he started, taking a sip of his cocktail to buy some time, but Hugo's eyes were still on him, expecting an answer. "We technically just got together at the beginning of the summer."

"Hmm," said Hugo. "And you're already serious enough to travel across the world with her?"

"Erm.. well, we've been friends for ages," Ron started, but paused when he saw that Hugo was smiling at him.

"I don't mean to make you sweat," he said. "I'm glad you've been there for her."

Ron felt relieved at Hugo's geniality, but wondered if it might be misguided. "Oh, well, of course. I care a lot about her."

"I can tell," he said with another sip. "I could tell a while ago, actually. Fourth year. Yule Ball, was it?"

Ron laughed. "She told you about that?"

"Well, she tells Jean everything. And Jean tells me."

"Gotcha," said Ron.

"And then there was sixth year," said Hugo. "I guess I should be thanking you for that one, since it meant she spent Christmas with us."

Ron felt a pang of guilt, and knew his face was turning beet-red. "I was kind of an arse that year," he said. He winced upon hearing his language, and hoped Hugo Granger didn't hate swearing as much as his daughter did.

Fortunately, he laughed. "I was an arse when I was sixteen too." He shrugged. "Seems like both of you have grown up since then."

Ron nodded. "We have."

Hugo took a deep breath, exhaled audibly, and paused before his next question. "Are you being safe?"

"Excuse me?" said Ron. His face was definitely ripening like a tomato now.

Hugo chuckled. "Are you using protection?"

"Um, well, no, we aren't-"

"Well, that concerns me," interrupted Hugo.

"We aren't having sex." Ron interjected a little more firmly.

"Ahh. You aren't having sex," said Hugo, with another casual sip of his drink. "Yet."

"Sorry?" Ron felt as though his stomach had tied itself up in knots, not unlike the sensation he became so accustomed to before a Quidditch game.

"Look, Ron. I like you. And I'm not stupid," he set down his glass and turned to look at Ron. "I'm not going to pretend that you're not thinking about having sex with my daughter. And I'm definitely not going to sit here and tell you not to, because I know that would be pointless."

Ron's gaze fell uncontrollably down to his near-empty glass, suddenly wishing that there was more alcohol in it. This unexpected conversation with Hermione's dad was starting to feel like an exam he hadn't prepared for.

"I just need to make sure two things happen when you do." He paused, and Ron realized he was waiting until he had his eye contact again. So reluctantly, Ron sat up straight, and turned to face him. Hugo nodded approvingly before continuing. "Promise me two things. One, you'll undoubtedly get consent. And two, you'll use protection. Both of those things, every single time."

Ron nodded. "Of course."

"I'm assuming you have sufficient knowledge regarding contraception? With five older brothers and all."

Ron nodded again, now faced with the unfortunate memory of his dad walking him through the use of contraceptive spells.

"Are there magical methods?"

"Er, yeah." Ron looked up at Hugo, who simply motioned for him to continue. "Um, there's a potion, and two types of spells. Female and male. They work alone but are more effective when done together."

"How long do they last?"

"Twenty-four hours," answered Ron, thankful that he had enough knowledge to answer confidently, as it seemed to reassure Hermione's dad.

"And you're confident you can perform them correctly?"

"Yeah,' said Ron. "I mean, I've never had an opportunity to test them, if that's what you're getting at. But they're not difficult, and you can perform another spell to check that it worked."

Hugo laughed. "I wasn't getting at that, but I appreciate your honesty. I trust you, Ron."

Ron exhaled the remaining air that he didn't realize he was holding, and Hugo poured a shot of gin into both of their empty glasses.

"That's right, take a breath. You did good," said Hugo, and Ron was encouraged to see the more relaxed Hugo reanimate. "I'll never forget when Jean's dad questioned me like that. I hate to say it, but you handled it much better than I did. How about a shot?"

"Please," said Ron, as Hugo laughed. Together, they tipped back their drinks.

When they recovered, Hugo playfully clapped Ron on the back. "I like you. Wouldn't have given you my most expensive gin if I didn't," he said, before standing up and turning toward the back door. "I think they're done with their tough conversation too. Let's have those burgers."

Ron sighed in relief, before he stood up and followed Hugo out the door.

The rest of the evening progressed with no mention of Ron and Hugo's conversation. Hermione seemed to accept that her parents were staying in Australia. They discussed travel plans, the state of their old dental practice, and what to do with their former house. They also engaged in lighter conversation concerning Herman's obedience classes, Jean's new book club, and Hugo's disastrous first attempt at parasailing.

After dinner with the Grangers, Hermione and Ron disapparated back to their hotel. Once in their bedroom, he didn't waste any time before he grabbed her hand and circled her around to face him. He slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her. Thankful to be alone again, he let his hands wander further down her back, until they reached her bum.

She broke the grin with a smile. "At least buy me dinner first," she said playfully.

"Don't have to, your parents already did," he said before guiding her back to the bed, until they collapsed into a tangle of limbs on the mattress. They kept their lips together, letting their hands wander, until Ron slipped his hands up her shirt to unclasp her bra. It took him a few tries, a few weeks ago he might have been embarrassed by her chuckle, but this time he was reassured because it meant that she was comfortable with him. She sat up to help him slide the straps off her arms before pulling her bra out from underneath her shirt.

Ron smiled. "Thank you," he muttered before his hands found her body again like a magnet. It wasn't long before he willingly let her pull off his shirt, and she tossed it on the floor to accompany her bra. He smiled at her before tugging at the hem of her top. "Can I?" he asked.

"Yes of course," she whispered between kisses, and he slowly pulled her shirt up and over her head.

They'd been here before, just a few times, but Ron felt his breath catch in his throat like it was the first. "Come here," he told her as she pressed her lips back to his and he rolled onto his back so that she was on top of him. He let his hands slide to her breasts and her mouth opened to allow him entry. A moan had barely escaped him when she slid off of him to lay at his side, and pulled back.

"What if we showered together?" she asked unexpectedly.

Ron paused, surprised by her offer. It made him slightly anxious, as she'd never seen him without his trousers before. But he knew by the rosy tint of her cheeks that she must have felt the same way. "I'd like that," he said as his voice cracked nervously.

"Ok." She smiled and kissed him deeply, before slipping off of the bed, and making her way toward the bathroom.

Fuck, thought Ron. His heart was pounding as he laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wondered if she was as nervous as he was. When he heard the shower faucet running, he thought it best not to leave her waiting, just in case she was.

She was already in the shower when he entered the bathroom, her clothing in a pile on the floor. He took a deep breath, as he undid the buttons of his trousers, letting them fall to his ankles. Then he slid out of his pants, before catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He was still scrawny and lanky, now sporting a few extra freckles and a peeling sunburn. But she'd seen all that before, and it wasn't what he was nervous about. He turned away from the mirror, so he wouldn't risk talking himself out of what he did next.

It wasn't the most effective shower that Ron had ever taken, nor was it very relaxing or calming. It was, however, one of the most nerve wracking showers of his life, and not because he thought there was a death eater on the other end of the shower curtain waiting to strike. It was because his breath caught in his throat when he stepped in beside her, and he saw all of her for the first time. He had been expecting the rush of self-consciousness he felt when her eyes moved slowly down his body, studying the parts of him that she had only imagined, but it still made his heart rate spike. He didn't think about what it would be like to kiss her when he didn't have any pants on to keep himself contained, and he definitely wasn't prepared for the first time she touched him without trousers to be accidental, brought on by the confined space they were in.

He hadn't thought this far ahead, and was paralyzed by the fact that he didn't know what to do. He had assumed that instinct would take over, but it didn't, so he simply pulled her close and kissed her, doing his best to pretend they weren't naked, and ignore that he was pressing against her in a way that begged for her attention. Then he reminded himself that it was Hermione here and he'd always been able to ask her anything, so that shouldn't be different just because they were starkers in a shower.

"Can I touch you?" he asked her nervously, while holding her to his chest, staring intently at the shower wall behind her.

He felt her nod against his shoulder.

He couldn't blame the color that crept up his neck and to his ears on the heat of the shower. He had her permission, but there was still one problem. "Can you… show me how?" he nearly whispered.

After a brief moment of hesitation, he felt her nod against him again.

He held his breath as she took his hand and guided it down her body, toward the opening of her legs, and he swore internally when he felt her for the first time. He observed her movements and studied the rhythm of his hand, trying to memorize any patterns because he could be a good student when he wanted to be.

Eventually, she removed her hand from his so she could grip the shower head instead, and he continued to mimic her patterns. He discovered that he could rely on the rise and fall of her chest, the erratic pattern of her breath, and the deepening rose color of her cheeks for feedback. So he kept observing her signals as he touched her, greatly enjoying this new, nonverbal form of communication.

He figured he was doing something right when she gripped the shower head more tightly, bit her lip, and threaded her free hand's fingers into his hair. He watched her chest rise and fall under the steady stream of water, her breath increasing in both pace and volume, building tension until she had to release. Her legs buckled underneath her and he held her against him as she audibly came undone, and the sound of shower head could no longer drown her out. New favorite subject, he thought. She'd always been a fantastic teacher after all.

She recovered and regained the support of her legs, and he reluctantly removed his arm from around her back. Her vulnerability in the moment had all but dissipated his own nervousness, so when she asked him what he wanted, he didn't at all feel weird about taking her hand, and showing her how he liked to be touched. It might have been the extra steam of the shower obscuring her view, or the fact that she had already unraveled in front of him, but he was no longer self conscious when he let go of her hand and got lost in the moment. It wasn't long until he was relying on his own hand to support him against the shower wall and he buried his head into her neck to muffle a string of profanity he would have filtered had he been able to elicit any control over his words.

Fantastic teacher she might be, it turns out she had always been an even better student.

#ROMIONE #romione smut #hp fanfic #hpromione #hp ficlet #ronweasley #ron x hermione #ron and hermione #Hermione Granger #romione fanfic #hp smut

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elizabeethan · 4 years

Text

Ladies Night

And the feelings right! this song was stuck in my head and thus was born a night of postpartum normalcy for our dear Emma. takes place in the It’s About Bloody Time universe (and no, this is not one of the one shots I actually plan on writing.) This is... pure crack.

Also on Ao3

Rated M

~2200 words

When Mary Margaret Blanchard insists on a Storybrooke Ladies Night, one complies, lest one desires to be berated for the remainder of the calendar year.

“Oh yes, it’s ladies night, and the feeling’s right!”

“Ruby, stop.”

“Oh, what a night!”

“Please, Ruby. Please stop.”

“What, you're not a fan of Kool & The Gang?”

“Not particularly.”

“Get down on it, c’mon get down on it,” she says, closing her eyes and soulfully swaying her shoulders from side to side while she snaps her fingers.

“That’s not even the same song!” Emma groans as Ruby reaches into her center console for what she knows must be the AUX cord. “If you play Kool & The Gang right now…”

“Oh yes it’s ladies night!”

She wants so badly to stop the car, open Ruby’s door, and shove her out into the road. She wants to slam her own head against the steering wheel and maybe she won’t be able to hear any disco. She wants to go home and spend the evening with her baby, who’s just starting to babble adorably incoherent nonsense. But when Mary Margaret Blanchard insists on a Storybrooke Ladies Night, one complies, lest one desires to be berated for the remainder of the calendar year.

Mary Margaret got the idea to celebrate National Best Friend Day with her girlfriends and hasn’t let it go since. The sad thing is, National Best Friend Day was three months ago, but something got in the way.

(Emma had a baby the day before.)

She’s neurotically decorated her loft in pink and purple hearts, baked all kinds of weird heart shaped desserts, and insisted that each guest wears purple to match. Emma Swan does not own purple.

“You’ll have fun, darling. You should go,” Killian had told her, and what the hell does he know? Just because they’ve been together for a year and have a child together, that means he knows her?

She’s feeling a bit belligerent today.

But could she truly be blamed? Her sweet baby is home with her sweet baby daddy, and she’s been dragged out to ladies night with her mother and all of her mother’s friends.

Okay, fine. They're her friends, too. But her baby is so, so cute. Come on.

“Come on, Emma, this can’t be that bad for you. Tell me you're at least a little excited to see your friends. You’ve been holed up in your house since Corrine was born!”

“That was only three months ago! I’m on maternity leave!”

“You need a drink!”

“I’m breastfeeding.”

Ruby shrugs. “What’s it called? Pump and dump?”

She groans, rolling her eyes before focusing back on the road. “I’m your designated driver, and I don’t want a drunk infant.”

“Well, Killian is her father. Doesn’t he have, like, 200 barrels of rum on his ship?”

“I only saw a few.”

“You were in the storage place? What’s it called? Stowage?”

Emma blushes, because there was only one reason that she ever found herself among Killian’s rum barrels, and she was not about to share that story during ladies night.

Once they mercifully arrive at the loft, Emma and Ruby make their way up and are immediately bombarded with hugs from her mother. “Hi sweetie,” she says, planting a kiss on Emma’s cheek, and oh god, is she drunk?

“Hi mom…” Emma says timidly.

“Sangria? It’s made with fresh peaches and strawberries. Also, wine.”

She laughs tautly and thinks hard. Killian did his research, of course. They have a stock of breast milk in the freezer, and she can pump and dump, as Ruby so helpfully suggested. Killian even insisted that she should relax tonight and to not worry about him and Corrine, to just have fun. It took her a while to accept that having a drink or two tonight does not make her a bad mom. She even talked it over with Archie yesterday.

So, she nods, takes a clear plastic cup, and fills it with the fruity concoction.

And damn, it’s good. And it goes down easy.

It’s been over a year since she’s had a sip of alcohol in her, and it shows. One drink in and she’s feeling a warm buzz over her skin and a smile toying at her lips that she can’t seem to get rid of.

“Let’s see them, then,” Regina says with an air of irritation in her voice.

“See what?” Ashley asks.

“The pictures. We all know Emma is dying to show us all pictures of the baby.”

“Hey, Ashley has a baby, too,” Emma argues in an attempt to defend herself,

“Yes, but you still have that sickening new-mother glow. I know you have at least a hundred new photos since I dropped Henry off on Tuesday.”

She’s right, dammit.

Emma whips out her phone and shows off countless images of little Corrine. She’s gained close to eight pounds since birth, and she’s a chunky little girl. Her hair still hasn’t come in, either, so she’s cursed with a fuzzy bald head. Emma is convinced that she’ll be a blonde, but for now, she’s a cue ball. Her favorite feature of her daughter’s, though, is her ocean blue eyes.

“I miss her,” Mary Margaret says sadly, and Emma nods.

“Me too. Look at these cheeks!”

“She’s so chunky. And look at Hook holding her!” Tinkerbell cries, reaching for the phone and giving Emma a sweet smile once she’s zoomed in. “This is so cute. You have to frame this.”

“I did.”

The evening goes on with games and lots more sangria, but Emma takes it easy after her second glass. At this rate, Ruby might end up being her designated driver.

After a few too many rounds of Cards Against Humanity, the game started to become too raunchy. When they first started, the answers were relatively tame, but when Ruby put down a card about a man on the brink of… something that made everyone in the room start hollering and blushing and nudging each other’s shoulders, it was clear where the night was headed.

“Let’s play Never Have I Ever.” Emma would have never assumed Ashley would be the one to suggest it, but here they are.

“Yay!” Ruby agrees, clapping enthusiastically. “Everyone, raise three fingers!” Emma catches Regina’s eye roll and Mary Margaret’s nervous hesitation before they all put three fingers into the air. “Who wants to go first?” Silence. “Alright, me! Never have I ever… been a parent.”

Emma rolls her eyes now. “Ruby, come on! You’re knocking out, like, everyone here!”

“Right, everyone but me and Tink. That’s the point of the game, Emma.”

“Alright,” Regina says brazenly. “Never have I ever changed into a different species.”

“Ooh, Regina, that’s fierce!” Mary Margaret says drunkenly as Ruby puts down a finger, now matching almost everyone else in the room, and then she asks, “Does Tink count?”

“Yes.”

“What!?”

“Emma’s next.”

“Never have I ever… um… shit. Um…”

“Yes, you have!” Ashley shouts with a giggle, and Emma blushes as the room bursts into laughter.

“Stop! Never have I ever… um… punched my true love in the face with a rock?”

Mary Margaret scoffs. “What? A compass doesn’t count?” she asks sarcastically.

“Huh?”

“Hook. During your sword fight in the Enchanted Forest. You punched him in the face with the compass, remember?”

“Why would you… Hook isn’t…”

Everyone stares at her. “Yes, he is, come on,” Tink says.

“Yeah, seriously. He’s due to propose soon.”

“What?!”

“Isn’t it almost a year now? How are you celebrating your anniversary?”

Emma’s tipsy self isn’t as emotionally mature as sober Emma. So, she bites her lips, widens her eyes, and changes the subject to something easier to talk about.

“Never have I ever been to a ball.”

Four fingers go down. Five sets of eyes roll dramatically.

“Never have I ever had sex while pregnant,” Ruby says, and seriously? How can she ask this many questions? It’s not even her turn.

“Never have I ever had sex with a pirate,” Tink says, and not only is that surprising because Emma thought for sure that they had a history, but also because, apparently, Emma is now under personal attack.

“Oh, come on! You really haven’t?”

“Are you asking if I’ve had sex with your lover and the father of your newborn child? Because I’m not sure I’d answer you if I had.”

“I wouldn’t answer,” Ashley pipes up.

“I wouldn’t either, but I would do him.”

“Ruby!”

“Look at him!”

“I do, quite frequently!”

“How frequently?”

“I have one,” Mary Margaret interrupts, practically drilling a hole into Emma’s head with how hard she’s smirking at her. “Never have I ever had sex in my mother’s home.”

Emma’s jaw drops. “Mom!”

“I just wanted to know! It’s my house, and your sex life seems to be… very healthy.”

“What the hell makes you say that?!”

“Well, you weren’t as quiet as you thought you were every time you were sneaking out.” While she started speaking slowly, her pace picks up. “Honestly, it’s a miracle it took you as long as it did to get pregnant with how often you and Killian were—”

“Ooooh!” Ruby howls.

“No! Of course I haven’t had sex here!” Emma does note, however, that both Ruby and Regina put their fingers down at that question, so Ruby is out. Thank god.

“Never have I ever done it on a rum barrel,” Ruby says, as if she didn’t just lose the damn game.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Well, I’m out,” Mary Margaret says.

~~~~

“Fun time, love?” Killian asks into the darkness of the living room when Emma starts to slink onto the couch, much later than she anticipated. She’s already too-loudly busted into the bedroom room before even acknowledging Killian, checking to make sure Corrine was sleeping, brushing a finger gently over her fat cheek but stopping herself from picking her up.

“Mhmm,” she hums happily, flopping towards him and resting her head on his lap. “I played games. And I drank sangria.”

He laughs lightly, rubbing a hand, his left hand, up and down her arm once she lies down. He bends and kisses her forehead before saying, “I’m glad. You needed a night out.”

“I dumped.”

“…hmm?”

“I pumped. And then I dumped. When I went to check on her.”

“Ah,” he chortles. “Very good, darling,” he says as he squeezes her shoulder and laughs. “Who drove you home?”

“Ruby, the damn scoundrel. She wouldn’t stop trying to get me out!”

“Of the car?!”

“No, of the game. She kept saying stuff that she knows I’ve done, like had sex with a pirate, or had sex while pregnant, or had sex on a barrel of rum.”

She thinks that if he had been drinking, he would have done a spit take. That would’ve been funny. She would’ve made him clean the couch. “How does she know about the rum barrel, pray tell?”

She shrugs, looking up at him and smirking. “I’ll never tell.”

“You told someone,” he says pointedly and laughs, planting a soft kiss to her nose. “Did you have water, Swan?”

She nods against his lap, sighing. “I thought I was gonna have sex tonight, but I think I’m too tired.”

“Who were you planning on having sex with?”

Emma gasps, sitting up quickly and straddling his lap, placing both hands on either side of Killian’s shoulders. “You!” she says a bit too loud, and he winces softly before grinning and leaning up to kiss her again.

“I was only teasing, my love. I know you meant that.”

“Am I your true love?” she asks, and someone should tape her mouth shut now, right?

He stills, looking her in the eye and wrapping both arms around her waist. “What makes you ask that?”

“I said, ‘never have I ever punched my true love in the face,’ but mom said that one wasn’t true.”

He laughs at her again, and she’s glad that she could serve as such reliable entertainment for him this evening. “I’d almost forgotten about that, you know.”

“I know you threw that fight.”

He smiles, nodding at her as she rests her head against his neck. “Aye, I did. But it was only because I was smitten with the fiery blonde lass who trapped me at the top of a beanstalk.” She giggles and nuzzles her nose against his skin because Emma Swan is disgustingly in love, and you heard it here first. “I don’t know if I’m your true love, Emma, the only ways of finding out that I know of are rather sordid, but I do know that I truly love you.”

Dammit, she thinks. When has Emma Swan ever swooned before? The sangria certainly plays a role, right? “I truly love you, too, you big fuzzy idiot.”

“Did you just call me fuzzy?”

“Yeah,” she nods, reaching around him to pinch his ass with great effort. “Your big fuzzy butt.”

He laughs too loudly for a baby to be sleeping in the next room, and rolls her over onto her back, pinning her arms above her head and rubbing his chin against her neck. “Fuzzy butt? I’ll show you fuzzy.”

“No!” she squeals, laughing as he starts to nibble at her neck, and if she said that she was too tired for sex on ladies night, she must’ve been lying.

~~~~

Tagging: (also here is my anxiety driven reminder to let me know if you want to be removed or added from my tag list)

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @emelizabeth88 @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @shireness-says @gingerchangeling @itsfabianadocarmo

#Captain Swan #captain swan fanfic #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan ff #once upon a time #once upon a time fanfiction #once upon a time fanfic #once upon a time ff #ladies night

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prismarts · 3 years

Text

Birthday Surprise (Camelot Era)

Plot: Douxie and Archie plan a surprise for Illy’s birthday after discovering an unfortunate event that happened on her 18th birthday, a year ago.

Notes: Douxie X OC, fluff fluff fluff,.... also I had to rewrite this whole thing when my laptop just crashed soooo enjoy!

It was a regular day in Camelot,

Douxie had just spent his first few months in the castle as Merlin’s apprentice, he had been learning spells but mostly, had been doing chores for his master...much to the apprentice’s frustration. Even so, he was determined and willing to do as much as he could to learn.

He was asleep at the moment, he got a day off from Merlin’s chores and is choosing to spend the day with some well deserved naps. What he didn’t know was that his familiar was approaching another apprentice.

Illy, a fellow apprentice and student to Morgana that he had met and befriended during his time in the castle.

Archie approached and sat down next to the girl as he noticed the lost and melancholy look on her face.

“Is something wrong, Illyria?..”

Illy turned to the familiar as she gave him a small smile, but it looked forced as she glanced away for a second, “Today is just.... a hard day for me, Archie.....shouldn’t you be with Douxie?...”

“For all we know, he’s still fast asleep..” Archie commented which made the apprentice laugh a little, the cat dragon turned back to look at the girl. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s wrong with today that’s gotten you so down?...”

The apprentice turned her head and stared at the ground, “....it’s...my birthday...”, she mumbled with a bothered look in her eyes.

Archie raised an eyebrow in confusion as he started to purr a little to cheer Illy up, he was still a cat currently.

“Did something happen?.... I don’t know much about human customs....but I believe a birthday is a celebration..”

“Well....your mother won’t usually send you to be executed by King Arthur for being magic....on your birthday..”

“....excuse me?...”

“....my mother sent me to be executed for being magic....on my eighteenth birthday...a year ago... she thought it would be easier....to get rid of me, so I wouldn’t cause problems for the family....but Morgana convinced Master Merlin to take me in....and well, you know the rest...”

“On your birthday of all days?.....” Archie sounded...shocked and concerned.

Illy began fidgeting with her long brown hair, her turquoise eyes avoiding eye contact with the familiar as she stared at the ground.

She never really thought about what happened and she tried not to really care about it. She was able to meet Douxie and Archie after all, a friend who understood and encouraged her love of magic and a familiar who felt like an older brother to her.

Then there was Morgana, the mother figure she wanted....even if they were a bit distant the past few days...

“I just....stop celebrating it now...” The girl admitted quietly..

Archie was about to say something, about how she should be able to celebrate, but the apprentice had stood up and petted the familiar’s head gently.

“Thank you for letting me talk about it, Archie.....but I should be heading to lessons now..” Illy gave the cat dragon a small smile that seemed a little forced, seemingly to keep the familiar from getting concerned before leaving.

But, Archie was concerned, more than the girl realize as he thought to himself and changed into his dragon form. He flew up to the tower and barged into Douxie’s chambers.

Slamming the doors so suddenly that the noise made the poor boy jolt awake and fall onto the stone floor on his back.

“OOWWwwwWWW FUzzBucKetS!!!”

“Good, you’re awake.”

“Because you startled me awake, Arch!” Douxie called out in an annoyed tone as he groaned when he stood up, “Why are you flying?.. you could have just pushed the door open and walked in?!” He sounded grouchy and confused, possibly from being woken up the way he was on the one day he gets to take naps.

“Yes, I could have but I do need your help.” The familiar said as he turned into his cat form and sat atop a stack of books.

“it better be important, Arch, I’ve been trying to catch up on some sleep here.” Yeah, he was a grouchy apprentice at the moment.

“it’s Illyria’s birthday...”

Douxie’s face softened a bit, “Oh...is it?....I never knew..”, but he soon looked confused again as he turned to his familiar with his arms crossed. “But, what does this have to do with you slamming into the room?”

Douxie was confused until Archie explained what Illy had told him....

Now he was downright fuming.

“Bleeding balroths. What kind of family does that!?!” The wizard’s tone was angered and had a tone of frustration as his crossed arms looked more tense. He and Illy were good friends, perhaps he wasn’t as close to her as he is with Archie...but he was still protective of her and he still cares.

“Apparently hers, I’m worried Douxie....she seemed to be trying really hard to hide how much this bothers her. She deserves a nice time for her birthday..” The familiar sounded worried as he could tell how upset Illy had been.

Douxie thought to himself, his hand on his chin before a grin appeared on his face, “You’re right, Arch and I think I know just how we can help with that.”

It took almost the entire day, but Douxie and Archie were able to get everything set up and were now ready to surprise their friend and fellow apprentice.

Thankfully, Douxie found her studying in Merlin’s tower. As he walked into the study with a fond smile, he cheekily made the book levitate out of her hands.

“Douxie?..” Illy looked up as her book was enchanted with the familiar sky blue magic and she looked at the taller apprentice.

“Greetings, love..” He grinned at her.

“Can I have my book back please?..”

The apprentice smiled as he made the book float higher, “Hmm, maybe. If you follow me, I’ve got something to show you!”

“And this isn’t a joke?.... Are you trying to trick me, Casperan?..”

Illy asked as she had a smirk on her face and raised an eyebrow.

“Now, why would i want to trick the birthday girl?” Douxie asked with a smile as he gently helped a surprise and flustered Illy up, he then gently made the book fall into her hands again.

“H..how did you-”

“Uh, nuh uh! That doesn’t matter now, what matters is you following me to your surprise!”

The apprentice gave her a grin as he walked behind her and held her arms before levitating a soft cloth up and blindfolding her.

“Uh....this...doesn’t feel safe..”

Douxie had been leading her outside of Merlin’s study and they were walking fine but Illy is now feeling scared as they walked down the stairs.

Her cheeks were slightly red, knowing how close Douxie was behind her...she could feel how warm he was.

“I got you, love. Don’t worry.”

“With your track record, Douxie...I kind of am..”

Douxie rolled his eyes and let out a laugh, “Cheeky today, aren’t you?” He grinned mischievously, “Well then, since you’re worried about walking..”

Illy soon let out a small squeal as she felt Douxie’s arm go behind her back and lift her up as his other arm rested under her legs.

Oh fuzzbuckets, Oh Merlin, he was carrying her...

The shorter apprentice felt her face heat up and turn red as she squeaked a little out of pure flustered feelings, “D...Douxie!!?”

But he wasn’t listening and ended up carrying her the rest of the way, it felt...nice..he was quite warm and comforting.

Illy soon felt the wind blow in her long brunette hair as she wondered where Douxie had carried her off to. She felt him put her down and helped her stand.

“Alright, we’re here!”

The apprentice said excitedly behind her as she felt him untie her blindfold to reveal where they were.

Illy saw that they were in a beautiful grassy green clearing behind the castle, it was filled with flowers of various colours and scents and in front of them from afar was an enchanting willow tree.

Under the tree, a picnic blanket was laid down on the grassy ground with what looked to be a picnic basket on it and Archie who had been resting under said tree.

“D...Douxie...I...d...did you....do...i..is this for me?...”

Her voice was quiet as she sounded surprised and emotional, she let out a shaky breath as it hitched slightly. She was trying hard not to cry but already felt tears forming.

“Well, it’s your birthday, isn’t it love?...”

Douxie smiled fondly at her as he gently took her small hand and held it. He lead her towards the picnic setup before offering her a spot under the shady tree, “After you, m’lady..”

The birthday girl couldn’t help but giggle softly as she sat down, looking around at the beautiful scenery while Douxie sat down next to her.

“It’s beautiful here...”

“I know....it reminded me of you....”

Douxie hadn’t realized how much he made the apprentice next to her blush with that comment as he levitated a small pie towards her and into her hands. He wasn’t able to sneak much into the basket, just a few small meat pies and some pastries.

He was also able to get some fish for Archie as he levitated it towards his familiar who ate alongside them.

He was quite hungry himself as he wasted no time stuffing the small pies into his mouth. Though, Illy seemed a bit slow as she took a few bites of the pie, it was delicious but she was a bit lost in thought.

“Douxie..”

“Hmm?..” The apprentice next to her hummed in question as his mouth was stuffed with pies, Illy smiled and blushed, it was an adorable sight..

“Why...are you doing this?...you didn’t have to....”

Illy asked quietly, she looked at the grass as she was a bit confused, flattered but still.

They were good friends but she never would have expected Douxie to go above and beyond for her birthday this way.... at most she expected a simple happy birthday from him. But this was so much more..

Douxie rubbed the back of his neck and pursed his lips, “Arch....told me about what happened on your birthday....a year ago...about what you told him... and Illy, I’m...really sorry for what happened but...Arch and I planned this because you deserve it....to celebrate your birthday even if it is with just a simple picnic..”

“We both believe that, you’ve been through a lot a year ago..” Archie added as both wizard and familiar smiled at the girl.

“It’s...perfect....the best birthday I’ve ever had...”

“Yeah?..”

Illy nodded as she went back to eating with Archie...

As for Douxie, he would have eaten more if he hadn’t been smiling like a goofball.

Though after a while, he remembered they had two more things for their friend, “Oh! fuzzbuckets, I almost forgot..” Douxie nodded at Archie as if to signal him for something before looking into the basket.

“Douxie, you and Archie have done so much already....what else could you possibly-”

As she said that, Archie had jumped onto her shoulders and placed a woven flower crown on her head with a smile as Douxie used his magic to levitate a small cake.

It was a bit messily decorated, but still looked adorable and delicious, it had a few candles on it, not nineteen candles exactly but it was the though that counts.

“Douxie..” Archie said, possibly just now realizing the messy decoration on the cake.

“I know, Arch. I realize I’m not the best at decorating, but a birthday girl needs a cake.” The apprentice said back with a slight glare but it made Illy laugh as she teared up... she was genuinely touched.

Archie rolled his eyes and soon breathed out a bit of fire that Douxie was able to control and safely land them onto the candles with his magic, making the flames a sky blue..

Something about the two of them using their fire and magic to light the candles felt special to Illy. She couldn’t help but felt her breath hitch a little as she fought a sniffle with a giggle.

“Happy Birthday, Illy.” Douxie was the first to say before Archie wished her a happy birthday as well.

“D..Douxie..Archie...I..”

“Uh uh, make a wish, love....you can thank us after making your wish..” Douxie smiled as he held the cake up to his friend and watched as she wiped her tears away from her freckled cheeks and excitedly closed her eyes, quietly making a wish before blowing out the candles.

Illy opened her tear filled turquoise eyes as she took the cake and put it down for a second, she immediately hugged the apprentice and his familiar closely, tearing up shakily but she was the happiest wizard in the world.

“T..thank you s...so much...b..both of you...”

“Of course, love...”

“Your welcome, Illyria..”

The three soon pulled away from the hug as Douxie levitated a knife and cut up slices of the cake, putting them on two plates he ‘borrowed’ from the kitchens.

As the three sat to eat cake, Douxie looked over at the apprentice next to him, “So...what did you wish for, birthday girl? A prince charming, perhaps?” He asked jokingly as he earned a cute laugh from Illy.

He smiled at the sound of her laugh as he was soon elbowed by her.

“You wish, Casperan... and I’m not even supposed to tell you, then it won’t come ture..” Illy said with a grin.

“Aww, fuzzbuckets, you tease and after everything I did.” He joked as the two apprentices shared a laugh before enjoying the cake together..

But, Illy did wish for something...

She wished she could spend every day with Douxie and Archie by her side..

#toa #toa wizards #tales of arcadia #wizards tales of arcadia #toa camelot #douxilly #douxie x oc #toa archie #toa douxie #douxie #douxie casperan #hisirdoux #hisirdoux casperan #tales of arcadia oc

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soyforramen · 4 years

Note

Betty Cooper + Teen Witch please!

Anon, this has taken me an embarrassingly long time, but here we are:

Betty Cooper bit her lip as the figures in the house across from her leaned towards each other, their flirting as clear as any neon sign. This wasn’t how she was supposed to spend her sixteenth birthday. She was supposed to be the one in that room, laughing and flirting with Archie, all the while waiting for him to kiss her. Instead, she was sitting alone in her dark room and wistfully thinking about the boy who didn’t want her.

Polly had warned her that love spells didn’t work, but Betty made sure she hadn’t used a love spell. She’d used a persuasion charm and a dream potion, both meant to make Archie see what they could be, if only he’d give it a chance. Except, instead of noticing Betty, his lifelong best friend, the one who’d been there for him through his thick head and her thin patience, Archie had fallen for Veronica Lodge, the rich socialite who’s every move was infused with sophistication and seduction.

With a groan Betty threw herself back onto her bed. She picked up a pillow and covered her head to scream in frustration. Frustration that she hadn’t proved she was a real witch like Polly and their mother; frustration that she’d failed at becoming the one thing she’d always wanted, Archie’s girlfriend, before her birthday; and worst of all, frustration that she didn’t even know if she wanted to him anymore.

A knock came from the window and Betty ignored it. Probably just another one of Polly’s suitors, clamoring for her attention despite her heart already belonging to another. Pretty, perfect Polly. The all-American girl next door. Perfect grades, perfect hair, and perfect spell work. Though Betty still adored her older sister, it was annoying how easily things came to Polly and Chic. Both slipped gracefully into the realm of popularity, neither breaking a sweat in their pursuit of adulthood. Chic was the captain of the football team and the editor of The Blue & Gold when he was a sophomore on top of his laundry list of extracurriculars. And Polly had naturally become the co-head of the J.V. Cheer squad, organized a coat drive for the homeless, chaired the dance committee, and successfully protested for adoption of organic, cruelty free lunches by the time her freshman finals had come around.

All Betty had managed during her two years at Riverdale High was maintain the moniker ‘Queen of the Nerds’ for pacing Dilton Doiley in rank and get politely rejected for all extracurriculars except for the school paper (and even then she’d only been allowed in as a legacy recruit). Her turn in shop had ended just as quickly when the older boys found out she could clean a carburetor and fix a flat quicker than any of them cared to try. Heck, even the marching band, always ravenous for new blood, kicked her out after she’d staged a one-woman protest over the sexist and archaic twirler uniforms were. (Upon further reflection, brought upon by a long weekend detention for interrupting the Homecoming performance, Betty realized her expulsion from the wind section might have more to do with her protestations about the choice of music for that year. Classic Horror Reimagined might have been all well and good for NYSFBC competitions, but she hadn’t been able to find it in herself to not speak up about the music choices from The Reflecting and Cardamom’s Baby, both directed by, and paying royalties to, truly awful directors. It seemed Riverdale’s band director was not ready for a more enlightened view of women in film and thus Betty had been regulated to spending the rest of the semester in study hall.)

The knock came again and Betty rolled over. Let Polly’s beaus wait. It was as if they cared about Betty’s birthday, so why should she care about their heartache?

“Betts,” came a muffled voice. “Let me in, will you? I’m about to fall off this ladder.”

At the sound of her name, she sat up and peered out the window. The top of Jughead’s grey beanie, a sight for sore eyes at all times, but especially now, stared back at her. Betty rushed to the window and opened it. Jughead shoved a greasy Pop’s bag and cup towards her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as he pulled himself through the window.

He shrugged and turned on the table lamp by her bed. The soft, warm glow cast long shadows through the room, its reflection against the window blocking Archie and Veronica from her view. Jughead jerked his head towards the Andrews’ house and sat down on the window seat.

“Archie had plans tonight, and you’d mentioned your parents had a thing. So.” Jughead gestured towards the bag in her hands. “I probably should have brought a slice of pie or cake or something.”

Her heart fluttered into her throat and if it weren’t for the melted milkshake in her hand, Betty would have thrown her arms around him. And, maybe, if she thought a little less and acted a little more, she might have even tried to kiss him. He shifted in the seat and stared around the room as if it were the first time he’d been there. A ridiculous thought considering how many times he’d climbed through her window since they were old enough to know what a ladder was. Despite his familiarity with the room, Betty felt a surprising, sudden urge to hide all her stuffed animals and childhood trinkets under the bed.

Instead, she cleared her throat.

“This is perfect, Jug. But what about you? Won’t you be hungry?”

He grinned, that sheepish, boyish charm of his that lit up his sleepy face. Her heart thumped painfully at the sight of it. Not for the first time, Betty wondered why she’d never noticed just how nice of a smile he had?

“I ate mine on the way over. And I might have stolen a few onion rings.”

“There’s that famous Jones’ appetite,” Betty laughed.

She sat down on the floor and pulled the paper container of onion rings out. When he didn’t move from the window, Betty patted the carpet next to her in invitation. Jughead stood slowly, his movements jerky and uncertain. Whether he was wary of her, or of the chance that Archie might see them together, was unknown. But when she pick up the milkshake, now nothing more than thick strawberry milk, his eyes flicked to her lips then ran away to stare at the pastel pink wallpaper.

“How’s the witchcraft going? Turn anybody into frogs lately?”

Betty shrugged and picked at an onion ring. Jughead had been the only one she’d told about her heritage. Despite his inherent skepticism, he was the only one she felt she could trust.

“Slowly. Mom wants me to memorize the basics first, but Polly’s been showing me a few things.”

Ever the skeptic in need of tangible proof, Jughead raised an eye in challenge. Betty shot him a grin and pulled the burger out of the bag. While she unwrapped it her lips moved wordlessly, the strange form of the spell coming to the front of her mind. As they watched, steam rose from the burger as it slowly heated. Jughead let out a low whistle and clapped. Glib as it might have been, his approval was enough to draw a grin.

“Finally, useful voodoo.”

Betty rolled her eyes and let out a huff. She knew he was pushing her buttons, a childish attempt to draw her attention, but it had become a sort of game between them.

“Vodun is a religion, Juggie, and not at all like -“

She paused as a loud whistling cut through the air. With a puff of air, the burger exploded, sending pieces of rye bread and vegetables all through the room.

“More practice, maybe?” Jughead said softly.

Betty worried at her lips, her mind racing to figure out what had gone so wrong. She’d brought the words to her mind, and focused on shifting her power into them, and then…. did she close off the spell? Or did she get so distracted by -

Her mind stalled as Jughead reached towards her. Gently, he pulled something out of her hair and popped it into his mouth. A few seconds too late, Betty realized it was a tomato.

“What?” he said at her wince. “Can’t waste good food. What about your other project? The one that doesn’t involve exploding burgers?”

Betty groaned and leaned back to lay down on the (thankfully still clean) carpet. “You mean The Archie Project.”

Jughead nodded. He moved a few pieces of bread out of the way, tossing those into the bag, and lay down next to her.

“I’d name it Operation Ginger Theft, or Lonely Hearts Prevail. The Archie Project sounds like some lame make-over reality show Kevin and Veronica are always going on about.”

Betty snorted at the image of a swarm of stylists descending upon Riverdale, intent on cleaning up the jocks. “Or maybe Archie’s the one who gives you a make over.”

Jughead faked a shudder and she giggled. “Armed with Hamburgercrombie & Fritch, way too much hair gel, and a daily bath in Old Sugar? Hard pass.”

“You’re willing to give up the chance of a life time to let him and his talented team of bros -“

“Reggie and Moose?” he asked.

“Naturally. And they come fully equipped to dudify -“

“Dudify?”

“Well, what else would you call it?”

Jughead thought about it while he stared at a piece of cheese on the ceiling. Betty stared at him, transfixed on just how clear his skin seemed. The realization that she’d never been this close to him, that he’d probably never let anyone come this close to him who wasn’t related to him, was grounding. Skin like that had to be a miracle considering how much junk food he ate. Not a single blemish to be seen. Pity, too, that his eyelashes were that long and thick. They covered up just how blue eyes were when he had them half-closed all the time. No wonder Ethel spent middle school writing sonnets about -

“Masculinize? Toxify? Fraternize?” he asked, his drawl drawing her out of her trancelike observations.

“Maybe,” she said softly.

He turned towards her and his eyes met hers. The stare between them went on far too long to be a look between friends. Especially when his eyes flicked down to her lips and she couldn’t help but draw the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip. Jughead cleared his throat, his eyes darting back to the ceiling.

“I should have brought a cake.”

Betty sighed heavily at the reminder. “At least you remembered it was today.”

Jughead pushed himself up on his elbow, confusion littered across his face. “What do you mean?”

Not wanting to fall back into that particular pit of self-pity, she shrugged. “Forget about it. And as for The Archie Project -“

“Coming soon on RBC,” he deadpanned. Despite the humor, Betty knew him well enough to note the tension in his jaw.

“I think I’m giving up on him.”

Jughead’s eyes went wide and he stared at her.

“Why?”

“It turns out Archie wasn’t really who I wanted.”

Betty chewed the inside of her mouth. His half-lidded eyes were normally hard to read, but his sudden interest held intriguing lines of mystery. She waited, as she always had, on Jughead. He’d always been last to everything; the last to class, the last to wake, the last to notice when the winds of romance were changing. Only this time, Betty hoped that for the first time, she’d been the last.

He swallowed, hard enough to be heard in the dark, quiet room.

“Then who -“

Betty raised up on her arm and leaned forward slowly as if not to spook him. She met his eyes and, finding the same heat that she felt, met his lips with her own.

#bughead #prompt request #ok now you can send me correct cryptid facts

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misha-moose-dean-burger-lover · 4 years

Text

Open When You Need Me

NOTES: 5.8k words. Not a happy ending. This is for ANGSTY-ANGSTWEEK. So, proceed only if you’re prepared. Warnings: Major Character Death, Suicidal Thoughts, Loss.

On September 15th, Dean Winchester buys a stack of Open-When cards from Archies.

They’re blank, but lined.

He knows Cas isn’t the biggest fan of his birthday, because it brings back sullen memories of a past he’s left behind - but he can’t just do nothing for his best friend’s birthday.

Ergo, he’ll just gift Cas those letters, and keep it mellow.

Come September 18, Cas wakes up to Dean holding a cake in his hands, giant grin lighting up his face.

Before Cas can even put on a shirt, Dean’s fixed a wobbly conical birthday hat on his head, struggling with the string until he just gives up and perches the hat indignantly on Cas’s unruly bedhair, and it stays.

“Happy birthday!” He beams, handing him the gift.

Cas smiles, not wholly because he feels the need to match Dean’s enthusiasm, but also a little bit for he can’t help it - as Dean waits expectantly for him to unwrap the now-thoughtfully-filled-in Open When cards.

“Oh!” Cas exclaims, when he understands what it is. “Thank you.” He adds, distractedly, starting to look through, without reading the contents.

There are three categories, and each has five cards. On top of the first, the ‘Open When You’re Sad’ bunch, is a handwritten birthday wish in pink. Cas flips to the second without opening the cards in the first, carefully, and that’s ‘Open When You’re Tired’. The last one says, ‘Open When You’re Lonely’. And there’s a red heart in the corner, which Cas stares at, with his cheeks warm, as Dean starts to speak.

“Y’know,” He mumbles, insecure. “I wanted to get you a gift which you don’t crumble in pressure, opening. No scope for awful, old memories with this one.”

Cas purses his lips.

Dean goes on. “So, there. You don’t even have to open these right now.”

“Thank you.” Cas repeats, feeling an overpowering rush of happy settle heavy in his chest. His eyes fall on the title, once again. “I really don’t.”

And then he scoots over on the bed so that Dean can sit down, and the first thing Dean does once they’re back in a huggable height range, is slide his arm around Cas, and squeeze.

“Of course you don’t. Happy birthday.” He repeats, as well.

They do eventually get on to cutting the cake, and later, while Cas tries to paint Dean with the blue icing, the latter briefs Cas about their minimalistic, yet also everything-Cas-like itinerary.

It’s a good day.

On November 6th, a truckdriver drives through the outskirts of Lawrence, Kansas. As his shabby radio plays Green Day, hooked to the local station, he curses at himself for spending all of the previous night in a bar. He knows he can’t afford to take a break either; delivery is due on the 8th.

When he hits the black Chevrolet Impala, emerging from an intersecting road into his lane, sidelights blaring exactly as they ought to - he swears out loud and immediately slams his foot on the brakes.

But it’s too late.

Within the very second of contact, the smaller vehicle had suffered damage beyond repair. Stuck in that moment of dread, it takes him a second to realize what just happened.

For a moment, he considers getting down to examine the wreck. Maybe someone was still -

No, that was ridiculous. The car was completely battered. If the crash had smashed the sturdy metal skeleton of the Chevy so horrifyingly, the driver must be in Heaven already.

He puts his head on the wheel. Muttering a prayer under his breath, he silently decides to keep driving.

After all, it’s an adequately busy road. Someone would get to the site sooner or later. There was no need for immediately medical services, either - or he tells himself, that he would’ve made an anonymous call. He has a family. He can’t risk the chance of being put away for this. And court always costs too much, as it is.

He drives on.

On November 6th, a few hours later, Cas receives a call from the General Hospital of Lawrence.

A serious voice informs him, punctuated by formal apologies and grave pauses, that Dean Winchester had been killed in an accident.

And in the next breath, he’s asked to confirm if he knew the man, since Castiel Novak’s listed as one of his emergency contacts, and the other, a Sam Winchester, is only in highschool, and cannot possibly be summoned for the purpose of identifying the body.

Cas cannot utter a sound for a few beats, but when his voice returns, it does so all at once; all that comes out is a strangled sob, which is supposed to be, “No!”

On November 8th, Castiel agrees to spend the night in Charlie’s apartment, after Dean’s funeral.

Ellen absolutely insists upon it.

All the way to her place, Charlie tries to talk to him. She’s gentle about it, but she needs Castiel to say something back; for she lost a friend, as much as he did.

Except, in a sway of feelings threatening to drown him, Castiel knows that she didn’t.

Nobody lost Dean as much as he did.

Because nobody had had him, as much as he did. Even before, they’d spend their days entwined with the other’s. And ever since Dean asked him out - September 20th - it had been even better. Dean had been everywhere, and Cas had loved it.

Castiel was the one who woke up next to him, and he was the person Dean first smiled at in the morning. Castiel was who kissed Dean at night, and hugged him in his sleep. Castiel was who shared an apartment with Dean, and had been doing it since the last three years. Castiel was his best friend, and his boyfriend, and -

Castiel was who’d lost him the most.

Tears start to prick his eyes, without a word said out loud - goddammit, he’s always so close to tears now.

Charlie notices. She’d been avoiding mentioning Dean - though ironically, he was the reason they knew each other. But now, it’s like she wants to address it. She looks the kind of crushed Cas feels.

“Cas? Are you okay?”

Cas doesn’t even bother to nod, as the tears start to fall.

During the funeral, he’d sat in the first row, next to Sam, who’d cried entirely through Bobby’s, and then Ellen’s eulogy. He’d even cried after, red-faced like Dean used to get, while shaking Castiel’s hand before he had to leave. Before Ellen packed him off to Charlie’s, worried about him spending the night all alone at his and Dean’s place. For the first time since it happened.

Castiel didn’t cry at the funeral. He was afraid he wouldn’t know how to stop. But now he does, and he still doesn’t know how to stop, but he can’t care anymore.

“Cas,” Charlie pleads. “I know it hurts, and I know you miss him, but we’ve got to -”

“Charlie, stop.” Castiel lets out, cutting her off. He knows it hurts, too. He knows he misses him, too. But he cannot hear her say the same things again.

He knows she cares, and he knows she’s doing it because she thinks it might help, but he doesn’t want to hear how they’ve got to be strong. About how they’ve got to hold up, because he can’t, he really fucking can’t.

“The car?” She asks, her voice trembling as well.

Castiel changes his mind. “Yes. Please, stop the car.” She does it, pulling over to the side, and turning her face to look at Castiel with red, teary eyes. Castiel knows she knows what he’s going to do.

“Cas, don’t go there.”

“I have to.” Castiel draws in a breath, and it somehow makes his chest feel more constricted. Like the air’s demanding space it doesn’t have anymore, for the heart has taken up all of it. “I - there’s some things I need to get, and I need to do this right now, Charlie, I have to go.”

He unclicks the lock open, and gets out of the car. But then he leans in, and looks back at her. “I’ll be at your flat by night.”

“Promise me you will.” Charlie bites her lip, and a tear rolls down her cheek. It’s awful to see his friends in pain. Everything’s awful, now. All of it.

“I promise.” Castiel swears. “Please drive safe.” He says, and those words make him lose the last bit of restrain he had over his emotions, and as he straightens from the waist to stop looking through the car window, his tears fall freely.

Drive safe.

“It was an accident.” The police officer had admitted. “Clearly a truck. We’re looking at camera footage from a mile ahead. I’m sorry, sir. It wasn’t his fault.”

Dean had been driving safe, too.

Castiel inhales, painfully.

Cheeks hot and neck hotter, his sleeves constantly dabbing at his eyes, and trying not to think, he takes off in the direction of their apartment.

He knows how it must look, a fully grown man running on the footpath, unable to stop crying, but he does not even think about it. He thinks about getting home. Castiel seeks refuge in all the shortcuts Dean’s ever taught him. He was so good at navigating, in even the newest parts of town. And at remembering directions. And roads. Driving safe -

Castiel forces himself to stop thinking, at once. He just allows his legs to take him, mostly functioning on muscle memory.

It’s not very far away.

Within minutes, he’s standing in front of their apartment building, and he’s buzzing himself in, but the elevator’s on the third floor - it’s useless to wait, so he sprints up the stairs to their fourth floor apartment.

When he’s panting in front of their door, somehow he remembers he has the keys in his pocket, and somehow his hands do the twisting in the lock, and some-fucking-how, Castiel is back inside this apartment and -

He has no idea what he’s been expecting, but Dean’s not here.

If anything, his absence strikes Castiel even harder here. There’s a lack of Dean in every nook. When Castiel locks the door behind him, there’s a lack of Dean by his side, maybe crowding him against the door with a teasing wink, and when Castiel turns, there’s no Dean on the couch, sprawled out, yet in the middle, so that whichever side Cas picks, they’re at least brushing knees.

When Castiel looks around, getting desperate, there’s no Dean in the kitchen, and no Dean in the hallway. There’s none of his bright smiles, or his awful jokes, or his ridiculous lines, or his full-body laughs.

There’s absolutely nothing of him at all. But yet, it’s all him.

Everything here’s his.

The couch, he’d bought, before Castiel moved in. The other furniture, they’d shopped for, together. The walls which they’d painted over summer, had Dean’s taste in color all over them. The curtains, if he listened hard enough, would probably complain about the millions of times Dean walked into them distractedly, and made the dreamcatchers jingle. Castiel can even bet there’s still leftovers in the fridge which Dean had saved.

And Castiel? Well, he’s Dean’s too, isn’t he?

Dean used to call Cas, his everything, sometimes.

Castiel lets out a sound of anguish, stranded in the middle of their apartment like he’s being held hostage by the memories, and gripping onto a chair to keep himself on his feet.

How is it fair that there can be so much of Dean around, but he can just be gone forever?

“Forever.” Cas repeats, the word pinning him down to that frame of time, but also making him want to fall to his knees and sob for the rest of his life. “Forever.” He says again, weaker, and it hurts even more. It pierces every inch of him with an icicle of despair, and it wrings his insides, and he doesn’t know what to do, and he can’t move.

He’s unbearably sad, and it nags at every fibre of his being like nothing ever has, and he’s tired, he’s tired of it all - he’s tired of missing Dean, and he’s tired of crying, and he’s tired of hurting, because it’s overpowering and it’s never going to subside - and of course he’s lonely; he knows he has friends and he knows he maybe even has a family, if he were willing to go back home - but truth is, he’s got nobody left in the world, for Dean is gone and -

Castiel suddenly remembers why he was here.

The letters.

He abandons his knuckle-white grip on the dining table chair, and rushes to their bedroom. Castiel doesn’t look at the bed - because he will never be able to get Dean out of his mind if he looks, and he doesn’t look at the photograph of them on his bedside table - though it takes a huge piece of his restrain to not do so.

He just pulls open the bottom drawer, and shuffles through things like flashlights and emergency coffee, until he’s found the Open When letters.

He picks up all three categories - because of course he needs all of them right now, and he gets up shakily, clutching all three bundles to his shirt and spends a moment to think of where he should do this.

(He can’t just settle on the bed, or the couch, or anywhere else they used to spend time together, because that’d be more harm than not.)

So, he decides to do it in their balcony.

Dean wasn’t a fan of that place.

“The air, dude.” Dean crossed his arms. “It’s so fucking chilly. And the floor’s freezing, all times of the year.”

He didn’t like being cold.

Castiel does not need to think about Dean wearing his coat right now. Or holding him under the blanket, and kissing the top of his head.

He convinces himself he cannot be thinking about any of it.

Castiel rushes out to the balcony, and the wind blows wintry, but it doesn’t matter, and he just sinks to the floor.

The three bundles are still clasped to his chest - he’s really counting on these, they’re his last option, and they have to help somehow, don’t they - so he leans back against the door, crosses his legs, and picks up the first bundle.

Open When You’re Sad

He flips to the first card. The handwriting is small, and fills every line of the 5x3 card.

Mostly, when Dean wrote notes to put up on the fridge as reminders, it was all uppercase. But this was a tidy sentence-case - distinctly Dean’s, as it were. It’s black ink, and the background is a faded peach, and Cas hangs onto every word.

“I guess you’re sad right now, Cas, and that’s no good. So here’s how I say you should deal with it. Often when we’re sad, we forget how many reasons we have not to be. How bout you think about something that makes you smile, something that gets you fuzzy, something that feels like pie?”

That’s all the space there is on the card, and Cas takes a moment to curse at the thick embossed floral boundaries, which take up so much of the space where Cas could have had words from Dean instead.

He rereads the card, for it feels surreal to have Dean with him for a moment again, but then he lets out a staggering breath. This isn’t working.

There’s no reason for him not to be sad, right now. None at all.

Dean was who made him smile, Dean was who got him fuzzy, and Dean was who felt like pie. This doesn’t help, it just makes Cas miss him even more. And it’s not like he needs that. He cannot get Dean out of his head for a single second, and -

He desperately flips to the next card.

“I hope you’re not just flipping through all of these at once. Okay, I’m going to assume that you’re not. And that implies that you’re sad again, so here’s what I suggest you think about: the happiest days of your life. I know you’re ridiculously indecisive, hence, the plural. Go back to those days in your head, Cas. Leave the sad behind. (Hey, am I in it?)”

The last question - now, although a rhetoric - makes Cas want to scream.

Had there been any doubt of it, in Dean’s mind? Of course, Dean was in it. Who else could it even be?

Cas may have been indecisive before, but he was sure now. His happiest days were all the ones with Dean at his side. All of them. From the birthdays to Christmas, and from being sick to panicky about a deadline.

Dean wasn’t just a part of his happiest days. It was all him.

And the irony is that he cannot do what Dean says, and think about those days, because that’ll break him down again, and he’ll end up crying all over these letters and ruining them.

Which he’s not going to let himself do. He’s saving these, forever.

He breathes in through his mouth, and swallows - maybe that way, he’ll not feel like he’s being choked, an inch closer to his life with each passing moment. And he tries not to pay attention to how this card doesn’t help either. Not at all.

Still hopeful, he flips to the next.

“Cas, remember the thing we did last time about your happiest days? Well, I want you to realize, this time, that the next one is never far away. There’s even hope for tomorrow, to make it onto that list. All of this shall pass. There’s always going to be hope. Ps. it’s probably because you’re not right in front of me, that I’m spouting Dr Phil lines. Well, I can’t throw away this card, but if you flip to the next, I’ll forgive you.”

This won’t ever pass.

There’s no hope now, and there’ll be none tomorrow, and with each day, Cas will have a little less of Dean with him, and that will make it worse, not better. With each day, the sound of Dean’s voice will grow fainter in his ears, and that hurts to even think about.

Cas doesn’t think he could ever bear losing Dean’s voice. He loves it.

He’s going to lose it.

He’s going to lose everything.

No, he’s already lost everything. It’s just going to be taken away from him, soon.

Cas bites his lower lip hard enough that it stings. Stings so hard, that he’s pulled out of his reverie.

Dean, this time, gave him permission to move onto the next card. So he does.

“Hey, again. This time, I want you to remember how much all of us love you, okay? And people who’re loved by this many people aren’t sad, buddy. You’re brilliant, and you care, and I know your heart. It’s so kind, Cas. You’re a great listener, and have a really nice smile, and you’re tall and hilarious and all kinds of awesome. You’ve got good taste for a nerd. And you’re loved by us all for exactly who you are. (Wow, I did a lot better in this card.)”

Cas sighs, pulling his knees to his chest and dropping his head on his knees.

How is he ever supposed to even begin to stop thinking about Dean? Dean, who says these things; Dean, who always knows just how to make everything okay -

Except for now.

Except for fucking now, when Cas needs it more than anything else.

Of course, this doesn’t make him feel better. He’s trying to let the words help, he swears he’s trying, but these are all the things Dean has written, and will never say again. In fact, he doesn’t care what Dean says, as long as he does. But he won’t.

Cas shakes his head to stop himself from drifting away into the cruelest thoughts. He wants to read ahead, he’s still holding out for something that’ll help, he just has to keep reading -

Nobody will ever understand him like Dean did. Nobody can be anything like what Dean was to him.

And he can never be, to anybody, what he was to Dean.

He can’t stop himself. He can’t stop a thing. That’s just his life, now. Trying to stop thinking about Dean, and failing each time. Forever.

Cas flips to the last card of this bunch, and starts reading, clenching his jaw.

“You once told me I make you happy, so here goes nothing. You want to know when I knew we were going to be friends forever? I want to tell you, but I’m really not sure. I remember it being a few weeks of ‘snarky, neat, supersmart roommate’ but suddenly, I’d plunged into this thing, where we were best friends, and I could not imagine my life without you. I know this isn’t the kinda stuff one writes on these cards, but please don’t be sad, Cas? You’re the kinda guy who should get to be happy forever.”

“Then come back.” Cas whispers to the page, and the tears are back. His vision clouds, and he tilts his head back against the wall. “Come back to me, Dean, and I promise I won’t be sad anymore.”

The pages rustle in the wind, as if they want Cas to keep flipping through them.

“Any other time,” Cas says to himself, talking aloud to keep himself from crying. His voice shakes. “Any other reason I got to be sad, and these cards would’ve worked.”

But not this time, he doesn’t say. He still has hope. He has to have hope.

He’s finished the Open When You’re Sad bunch. The next was Tired.

Cas was tired. He was tired of this moment, this day, this entire week. And he was tired of desperately hoping these cards would make him feel better, while it just seemed like they broke his heart into more pieces. Each fragment perhaps seeps into the letters. Nothing’s working.

But he doesn’t care.

It’s better to be sad with Dean’s letters, than to be so, all alone. So he flips to the next section.

Open When You’re Tired

He cannot give up hope.

“Cas, you’ve been an overworked, overachieving idiot for so long now, you know I don’t mind it, but if you’re opening this card right now, it HAS to mean you need a break. I need you to get up. Get yourself a bowl of cereal or something. Go outside to the balcony, maybe. Look up at the sky, and the birds flying around aimlessly, and tell yourself that if they can do that all of their life, then you have earned yourself a fucking break.”

That’s very different from what Cas just read in the previous card, so he rereads it, hearing Dean’s voice clearer in this one, because that’s usually how Dean speaks.

He doesn’t know if it’s better or worse.

Birds don’t fly around aimlessly, but Cas knows Dean knew that - it’s just poetic licence.

He also realizes that Dean had thought that Cas would come to this bunch when he was drained from studying. From writing papers, and learning for exams, and not when he was trying to get himself to stop crying over the death of his best friend.

He doesn’t blame Dean.

Three days ago, Cas would have thought the same thing.

Tired just means something else, now.

Cas flips to the next card. And then the next. They’re all similar to this one. Reminds Cas of the existence of parks. Suggests channels for animal videos on Youtube. Describes how to best take a nap.

Cas tries to smile, even if it’s sad.

He feels oddly deprived of more meaningful words. He’d just assumed that there’d be more things about their friendship - their relationship, about Dean, and not just about midterms and finals.

He only wishes that that were the reason he was nestled on the floor with all these letters.

Cas stretches his legs out again. The floor’s so cold, he can feel it through his slacks.

Funeral slacks.

Cas hardly notices it.

He flips on. The fifth card’s a different take on ‘tired’. Still not what he’d been looking for, but again, he treasures every word he gets.

“This World’s an awful place to be, and I wonder if you’re tired of it being horrible. There’s racists and bigots, and evil billionaires and anti-feminists, and I know it can be too much sometimes. But the thing is, change will happen. Starting with good people like you, Cas, and activists, and dreamers, things will turn out fine. So let’s try to hang in there, and hang in there with hope.”

Dean was so good with words.

His sentences make Cas want to nod, and agree, and applaud - but also shout at the top of his lungs, the harsher questions. Where’s Dean now? How does he expect Cas to hang in there, without him? How is Cas supposed to live in this world, already terrible, now made infinitely more so, by the loss of his best friend?

But Cas doesn’t utter a word.

Everything hurts.

He’s finished flipping through this second bunch too, and decides he’s no closer to feeling less sad and tired. In fact, this bunch wasn’t even particularly satisfying, because now he was getting closer to the end, but Dean’s words were just as casual, and inconsequential as -

As anyone would expect them to be.

Cas braves his heart, and resolves to not give into greed right now. He resolves to not seek out the intense emotionality which fiction had made him believe he would receive.

He gets to have Dean around for a little longer. That’s what should count.

He picks up the last bunch, and lets out a huff of a laugh, mocking his own predicament. He’s never been more lonely. Not even when he rode a bus across America, landing up here, freshly after cutting ties off with his own family. For, you see, there had been hope then.

Now? He was not just lonely, he was hopeless.

The wind blows with an almost eerie whisper, and Castiel decides to not give himself time to think.

The more he thinks, the more unbearable the pain became - so he will just read through all the cards; the last five cards Dean had written for him to read when he got lonely, and he resolves to not waste time thinking about how each of those was awfully ironic in some way now, because if he does, he’ll not be able to stop - and then he’ll not be able to move, and he’ll probably end up unconscious on the floor.

It’s getting really cold.

The tears haven’t stopped the entire time, though he isn’t sniffling. They just keep on rolling down his face, like there’s a button which was pushed so hard that it can’t come back to normal. Ever.

He wonders for a fleeting second if he’ll ever stop feeling this lonely, in every way he’s ever felt anything, as he starts reading.

“Cas, you know you’re one of the bravest people I know, right? You left your family because you wanted to follow your passions, and I respect you so much for standing up for yourself. But I know that makes you feel all alone sometimes, so I just want to remind you that you have a family here too. Ellen and Jo? They love you like one of their own. Bobby let you ride his frigging motorcycle, dude. Charlie, Kevin, all of them, they can’t stop gushing about you. May feel like it, but you’re never really alone. You’re my family.”

That was a long block of text, and Dean seemed to have squeezed in the last bits in tiny scrawl, and it makes Cas’s heart smash against his ribs. He knows how much that line meant to Dean. So it means a lot to him too.

He flips to the next.

“Just like a few moments of silence doesn’t mean you’re all alone, sometimes it feels like there’s nobody around you, but all they’re doing is waiting outside the door. Don’t be nervous to reach out. We’re all here for you, but you have a fucking stellar poker face, so it’s hard to tell you’re lonely unless you come out and tell me, so please don’t keep it bottled up. What am I here for?”

The ‘we’ had eventually become an ‘I’.

Cas wets his lips. That isn’t entirely true, because while Cas likes to think he’s good at hiding his actual feelings, it’s never really worked with Dean. Dean could always see right through him.

Probably why he’s never had to open these cards before when Dean was always right there.

He wishes Dean was right here.

There’s no falling stars in the sky. So his tears oblige.

“I’m lonely, Dean.” Cas whispers, and for the very first time, a teardrop actually falls on the paper.

He recoils, tries to rub it off, and breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that the rest of the cards are fine. This one just got a little smudged. He’s going to have to pay more attention.

He reads on.

“There’s this song, Cas. Simple man, by Lynyrd Skynyrd. I like to listen to it, when I’m lonely. Maybe because it’s one of the only songs I can play. I hope it’ll make you feel better. And, uh, I told Sammy I was doing this thing where I write you these cards for your birthday? And he suggested I suggest Coffins. By Bohnes. (Huh, just noticed the name thing. That’s cool)”

Cas has heard the song before. But it’s never quite struck him so hard.

‘When the man in black, comes to cash his check;

And you’re holding on to your final breath.

When you walk out the door, know that I will too.

I hope they build coffins for two.’

Fuck, he misses Dean so much.

He misses holding him, and he misses cupping his face and he misses kissing his lips, and he misses every bit of Dean he’s ever gotten to have, and is never going to, again. Cas needs him. He cannot imagine not having him here, forever.

Cas doesn’t know why he does it, but he reads on. He has to finish this.

“You really deserve to be so, so happy, Cas. I have said that before, but obviously you wouldn’t just have read it, so I get to say it again. You’re one of the best people I know, and you’re my best friend, and thank you for being a part of my life. I know it feels like you’re alone right now, Cas, but you’re always going to have me. I promise I’ll be there.”

“You won’t.” Cas shakes, starting to cry all over again.

He really won’t.

“I’ll text you, and I’ll call you, and I’ll wait for you right here, but you’re not coming back, Dean.“ Cas grits out. "Why aren’t you coming back?” His voice breaks with the last words.

All he can do is turn the page and start to read the last words he’s ever going to have, from Dean.

“Cas, if you really made it all the way to the last card of this bunch, you’re probably going to need more than words. Go (come?) into my room, okay? You need a Dean Winchester hug, buddy. I’m pretty much I’m the only thing that can make this right ;) Love ya.”

In the words of the love of his life, Sonuvabitch.

That hurt the most. He agrees, of course he agrees, Dean’s the only one who can make it better. And that’s the thing.

He can’t.

That was the last letter.

“No, no, no -” Cas begins to repeat in a frenzy, his eyes widening in horror as he got up to his feet. He tries flipping to the next page, but it’s over. That’s the last thing Dean ever said to him. It was his last suggestion. “No, no -”

His last words had been love you. They’d actually, unironically, been the words Cas most needed.

And also, the worst possible way to say goodbye.

Cas had started to walk, as he panicked. His breaths come out in ragged sobs, as he stares up at the sky.

Come find me, Dean could just have said.

“I love you.” Cas cries, and he actually cries too. “You can’t be gone, Dean. Please don’t be gone, I -” He keeps on shouting at the skies, until his throat closes up, and he stops, the cold metal railing of the balcony now against his hip. He freezes. The only thing between him and falling, is this railing.

Oh, it’s so fucking cold.

“I need you, please!” Cas begs, but he knows it’s of no use at all. Dean Winchester is gone. He’s dead. “I need you, Dean. I need you to come back and make this better like you just said you would.” His entire body shakes with his violent sobs.

He grips onto the railing tighter. And leans ahead, raising his eyes to the clouds, tipping his head back. “How can I live without you, Dean? How will I even get up in the mornings - you’re it for me, Dean, please -”

His voice breaks again, and he starts to cough.

“I,” He chokes out, as if for the last time ever saying it as though Dean is before him. “I love you.” And how his ears ache to hear it back, and how his skin tingles with the fading memory of Dean being near. “I love you so much.” He breathes out, screwing his eyes shut, and simply falling silent.

He’s run out of words. And he waits until he runs out of tears.

It’s dark, when Cas finally leaves the railing. When he stumbles back, his feet are unsure of where to go, but his breathing is finally even. Though even his eyes are tired. But he can’t think anymore. He’s numb.

He’d stopped feeling, almost an hour ago, but the tears hadn’t stopped.

So he’d just stood there, unmoving, thinking endlessly about how close he’d been to jumping. How tempted he was to do it. He wasn’t even scared - in that moment, he had nothing to live for. The only reason he didn’t, was because he was struck with the intensity of the guilt he’d leave her with.

On November 8th, Castiel would’ve killed himself, if he’d not promised Charlie that he’d be back.

He gets to her flat in another hour, and when he knocks, it’s like she knows. She just says, "I’m so sorry, Cas,” and wraps her arms around him tight, pulling him close to her warmth. It’s almost like she’s sorry Cas isn’t with Dean right now.

Cas hugs her back, trying to comfort her. After all, he won’t be away from Dean too long.

#ANGSTY-ANGSTWEEK #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #death #MCD #TW: death #dean winchester angst #castiel angst #charlie bradbury #sam winchester angst #supernatural fanfiction #spn angst #long post #destiel angst #destiel college au #open when #tw: suidice #spn college au

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thecasperanfamily · 3 years

Note

Casperan Christmas traditions?

Bless you, Non, I was hoping to do this post soon, and now I have an excuse!

Aaron said in a Discord Q&A that Douxie is a huge fan of the Christmas season (you can check out this post to see the whole answer).This works out well, because @dreamsarelikedragonflies (who is responsible for most of the Zoe characterization in this AU) tells me that Zoe is a little bit of a scrooge about the whole thing. So every year, on the morning of December 1st, Douxie prances around the house in a Santa hat, throwing greenery everywhere, blasting Carol of the Bells at max volume on his ancient stereo set from the 90s, and just being Insufferably Jolly in general. Zoe lets him do his thing because it clearly makes him happy, but she’s grumbling the whole time. Nari, fascinated by human customs as she is, is completely on board with all of this, and usually helps him put up the tree (8 ft tall with dozens of unique ornaments and multi-colored lights). Archie is Banished from the living room until everything is set up because otherwise he keeps trying to climb the tree and knock all the ornaments off (Douxie has to bind everything in place with a spell once it’s all ready). Smol Lin is very enthused about all of this, and once he’s old enough, he’s just as much a part of the activities as Nari. Unfortunately he does end up outgrowing some of his fondness for the season, and these days when Douxie pulls out the decorations, Lin usually hides under his headphones until the storm has passed.

Douxie likes to take extra time during the Christmas season to do a little charity work. The Casperans aren’t exactly wealthy, but he and Zoe both try to have some money scraped together in time to send to orphanages and such for the holidays. Douxie takes his guitar down to the local retirement home and plays old-timey carols for the residents there, while Nari prepares bouquets of poinsettias to brighten up the old folks’ home. Lin’s usually a little more sneaky about his own charity work--anonymous donations of dog treats to the local shelter and such.

Christmas Day is usually spent with the Lakes--Uncle Jim and Aunt Claire, their six kids, Barbara and Strickler and whoever they happen to be fostering at the time, plus the wide array of friends/extended family/magical creatures that inevitably end up spending the holidays with the Trollhunter and his family. It is Absolute Chaos™ and Douxie wouldn’t have it any other way. Zoe usually has a headache by the end of it, but she’s glad Lin gets to know the experience of having such a big, wild family. Plus the Lakes usually have mistletoe hanging somewhere--it’s always fun to catch Douxie under it. 💕 Nari inevitably ends up hiding in a houseplant (Douxie checks on her frequently--she says she’s perfectly happy, no need to worry). Archie has to spend the whole time perched on someone’s shoulder or else he will be stepped on/tripped over. He turns into a reindeer at some point and gives the little ones rides. Lin will never admit it, but the Christmases of his childhood are some of his most treasured memories.

Thanks again for the ask, Non! 🌲✨

#tales of arcadia #toa #douxie as a father au #the casperan family #douxie #toa zoe #toa archie #nari #lin casperan #niki answers #christmas

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tabloidtoc · 3 years

Text

OK, May 10

You can buy a brand new copy of this issue without the mailing label for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Inside Kim Kardashian's Wild New Single Life

Page 1: Big Pic -- Jenna Dewan enjoyed a stroll around her L.A. neighborhood with 13-month-old son Callum, whom she shares with fiance Steve Kazee, in a stroller

Page 2: Contents

Page 3: Contents

Page 4: The world watched as Prince Harry came face-to-face with the royal family for the first time in over a year to say farewell to his late grandfather Prince Philip, and now that he's back home in Montecito, California, with pregnant wife Meghan Markle and their 23-month old son Archie, Harry's been reflecting on the emotional reunion and preparing for what lies ahead in the coming months -- although the trip inevitably had its share of awkward moments, he's generally happy with how it went, and things had been especially frosty between Harry and The Firm following his televised tell-all, but the main thing is they broke the ice, and he's finally communicating properly with his family again -- in fact, Harry is said to have enjoyed low-key meetings with several relatives before heading back home to the States, including his grandmother Queen Elizabeth and cousin Princess Eugenie, although he did not have a one-on-one chat with his estranged father Prince Charles and it was more of a civilized catch-up than an intense sit-down because it wasn't an appropriate time to delve into recent tensions; however, Harry did take the opportunity to reassure everyone it wasn't his intention to upset them and that he loves them all very much and they, in turn, echoed their affection for him and they mutually agreed to keep moving forward positively and constructively and there's a still a lot of unfinished business, many are hopeful that all will be resolved when Harry returns to the U.K. for a memorial honoring his late mother Princess Diana on July 1 and this could be Harry's last chance to sit down with his family and properly repair things and Harry and Prince William have both agreed to meet before the event and have a frank discussion about how they can do their best to fix the damage that's been done and air their grievances in a calm and pragmatic manner

Page 6: Next spring, Johnny Depp and his ex Amber Heard will head back to court in the latest installment of their ongoing legal drama, but this time, Johnny, who filed a $50 million defamation lawsuit against Amber following a 2018 op-ed where she detailed her experience as an alleged abuse victim, is determined to clear his name one and for all -- Johnny and his team have new and explosive testimony from two of the responding officers, plus new body cam footage, that they believe will finally turn things around in their favor and they're convinced it will show that Amber made up claims about their alleged May 2016 brawl in an attempt to ruin him and the video shows a neat apartment with nothing out of place, nothing broken or anything to suggest a knockdown fight had just occurred -- Johnny's always maintained his innocence and now he's confident this evidence will prove it and Johnny's also working on a tell-all that he intends to release as soon as he's declared innocent and the tome will vividly detail what happened on that night in 2016 and throughout their year-long marriage and Johnny feels Amber never really loved him and his friends warned him not to marry her, but he didn't listen, and he's paid a dear price for it

Page 7: A fateful chapter from Ashton Kutcher's past could be coming back to haunt him as he's being urged to take part in the upcoming documentary on his late ex Brittany Murphy and it's stressing him out to no end and so far, he wants nothing to do with it -- the documentary is going to look for clues as to why it all ended like this for Brittany, and producers want Ashton to tell his side of the story and the thinking is he may have little choice but to participate because he had a front row seat to Brittany's life, and her fans want him to shed light on what really happened

* Alec Baldwin and wife Hilaria Baldwin knew that having six kids would be a challenge, but they're realizing it's even harder to find nannies who are up to the task of tending to their brood because Alec and Hilaria have some pretty high expectations for the kind of people they want to employ and what the job entails and it's been a logistical nightmare hiring and scheduling a rotating team of caretakers -- in addition to children Carmen, 7, Rafael, 5, Leonardo, 4, and Romeo, 2, the parents welcomed baby Eduardo in September and their sixth child, Lucia, via surrogate in March -- long hours and multitasking are a must given the meal prep, diaper changes and homeschooling, plus the nannies have to know how to deal with a cranky set of kids without losing their cool and Hilaria's every bit the mother hen, so she won't settle for anything less than perfection

* Harry Hamlin and Lisa Rinna have had it with the romance between their daughter Amelia Hamlin and Scott Disick -- Amelia recently raised eyebrows when she was spotted with bruised lips, which often occurs after lip filler injections, and Harry and Lisa drew a line in the sand and they're concerned that Scott is convincing her to mess with her appearance, especially since she's talking about boob and butt surgery to keep his eyes off other girls and ever since the couple hooked up last October, Harry and Lisa have been sitting back and hoping that Amelia would come to her senses, but it's clear she's in way too deep now, and that they need to make their feelings known, but the worry is that Amelia will be pregnant before she knows it, so Harry and Lisa are ready to take the bull by the horns before Scott ruins their daughter's life

Page 8: It's been nearly four years since Matt Lauer was fired from Today amid a sexual assault scandal, and he's still being snubbed by his old Hamptons crowd -- Matt, who retreated to his waterfront estate in the celeb enclave after a colleague accused him of assaulting her at the 2014 Olympics, has done everything he can to regain his place in the community, but he's remained persona non grata despite his best efforts; he'll turn up to fancy events and be super friendly with everyone but most people just turn their noses at him -- the disgraced ex-anchor, who hooked up with public relations exec Shamin Abas after his 2019 divorce, has been talking to friends about marrying her in a big Hamptons wedding, but it's hard to imagine there'd be much of a turnout and people have had ample time to put out the welcome mat, but it seems like they've shut their doors on Matt for good

* Former Playboy Bunny Kendra Wilkinson has gone from living the high life to pounding the pavement to earn a paycheck, and she's missing the glam old days -- Kendra, who enjoyed a pampered existence as Hugh Hefner's girlfriend and Girls Next Door star, has had to bring home the bacon in the wake of her 2018 divorce from Hank Baskett to help provide for their two children, Hank, 11, and Alijah, 6, and being a single mom is a lot harder than she thought it would be and she currently resides in a humble Calabasas rental and recently snagged a job as a realtor and was hired by Kyle Richards' husband Mauricio Umansky and she's working long hours and weekends, and she looks pretty burnt out and Kendra tries not to complain and is sucking it up as best she can, but she can't help but think about the times when she didn't have to worry about bills and rent and could sleep in as long as she wanted

* He was once Hollywood's biggest bon vivant, but Jack Nicholson has become a total hermit, and friends are concerned that he's harder to get a hold of than ever and Jack's shut himself away in his hilltop home on Mulholland Drive, and everyone is worried about his state of mind -- the actor, who was last seen in public looking disheveled at a January 2020 Lakers game, says he just wants to spend his retirement in peace and quiet, but his loved ones wish he'd make himself a little more accessible -- Jack's admitted that he yearns for one last romance, but how can that happen when he's hiding at home? Jack turned 84 in April, and it's as if he's resigned to spending the rest of his life alone and it's so sad, but it seems there's nothing anyone can do for him

Page 10: Red Hot on the Red Carpet -- stars wow in sexy shoulder-baring dresses -- Ella Balinska, Renee Zellweger, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley

Page 11: Adrienne Warren, Martha Hunt

Page 12: Who Wore It Better? Rainey Qualley vs. Celine Dion in Chanel, Melissa Wood-Tepperberg vs. Idina Menzel in Alice + Olivia

Page 13: Ellie Goulding vs. Charli XCX in Andreas Kronthaler for Vivienne Westwood

Page 14: News in Photos -- Gavin Rossdale took his beloved dog Chewy with him to tennis practice in the park in L.A.

Page 15: Jeff Goldblum stopped at celeb hotspot Craig's for dinner with wife Emilie Livingston and their kids Charlie and River in West Hollywood, newly single Real Housewives of Orange County star Braunwyn Windham-Burke hit the beach in Miami, Natasha Lyonne continued filming her series Russian Doll in NYC

Page 16: Amber Rose enjoyed lunch with her son Sebastian whom she shares with Wiz Khalifa in L.A.

Page 17: Anchor Robin Roberts filled viewers in on current events during Good Morning America in NYC, Kristen Taekman got all gussied up at her home in NYC, Howie Mandel showed up to the America's Got Talent set in surfing gear in Pasadena

Page 19: Bling Empire's Cherie Chan and fiance Jessey Lee grabbed a bite with their daughter Jadore, pro wrestler Ariane Andrew (a.k.a. Cameron) fueled up with a healthy sip

Page 20: Wells Adams stocked up on some essentials at the grocery store in L.A., Rachel Brosnahan protected herself with an umbrella while filming The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel in NYC

Page 21: Jon Hamm and his new rescue dog Splash get some fresh air in L.A., Whitney Port in a beige sweater dress and matching boots while recording her podcast in NYC

Page 22: Selling Sunset's Christine Quinn brightened things up in designer duds while walking her dogs in L.A., Monique Green attended the drive-in premiere of her new series Big Shot in L.A.

Page 23: Irina Shayk and her daughter Lea De Seine walked hand in hand around NYC, friendly exes Sara Gilbert and Linda Perry take a stroll in L.A., Law and Order: SVU stars Mariska Hargitay and Ice-T snapped a photo together in between takes

Page 26: Inside My Home -- Sam and Aaron Taylor-Johnson's designer digs

Page 28: Home Town stars Ben and Erin Napier recently announced they're getting ready to welcome their second child, a girl, and the famously private pair, who chose to keep the news a secret to avoid any extra unwanted attention or stress, could not be more excited -- this baby is a miracle because Erin was told years ago that pregnancy would be unlikely due to a past health issue and when their first daughter Helen arrived, they were overjoyed, and they never imagined they'd be blessed with a second -- with Erin's due date just around the corner, she and Ben are busy prepping Helen to become a big sis and they have no doubt she'll be wonderful because she's very warm and empathetic toward others and she loves to hug so the baby will be extremely loved -- after the newborn's arrival, the busy HGTV stars will take some much-needed time off and they're a team, and Ben plans to be there to support Erin and make sure she gets her needed rest, but they both love what they do, so it won't be long before they're back in front of the cameras -- while baby No. 3 chatter has already begun, the college sweethearts aren't getting ahead of themselves and Ben and Erin always dreamed of having a big family, and if they can, there will be more children, but if it doesn't happen, then they will be quite content as a foursome

Page 29: Kacey Musgraves is head over heels for her new boyfriend Gerald Onuoha, but friends are worried that she may be rushing the romance -- Kacey, who hooked up with the Nashville-based doctor after calling it quits on her three-year marriage to Ruston Kelly in July, tends to jump into things with her heart and this relationship falls into that category and Kacey, who was spotted snuggling up to her physician beau while out and about in L.A., is on cloud nine with this guy, but when she has to hit the road again it's not like he can pull up stakes and follow her -- she's not thinking straight about the future, and her friends are bracing for trouble once reality sinks in and Kacey would be wise to slow things down and not get ahead of herself

* George Clooney turned the big 6-0 on May 6, and his wife Amal Clooney is being a bit of a birthday buzzkill -- George wants a big, booze-soaked sky's-the-limit bash in an exotic locale like Mexico or Italy with his old drinking buddies like Rande Gerber, but Amal is pushing for a quiet family celebration at home with their children Alexander and Ella, and it's led to a few arguments -- George figures it's his chance to finally let off steam and that it's his choice on how to mark the milestone occasion and he wants Amal and the other wives to come and join in on the fun, but watching George get wasted certainly isn't her idea of a good time and she sees nothing wrong with a dinner at home

Page 30: Harrison Ford is finally set to start filming the new Indiana Jones movie this summer, and his wife Calista Flockhart will be keeping a close eye to make sure he stays safe on the set -- Harrison has been training hard to get in shape and is feeling great, but at his age, you can understand why Calista is concerned and protective Calista plans to accompany Harrison as he shoots the fifth Indiana Jones installment in London and other locales and he's still capable of doing his own stunts, and a lot of it is thanks to Calista, who made sure he stayed fit with weight training and proper nutrition, but Harrison's going to have the best people in the business looking out for him so he doesn't get hurt again, otherwise Calista wouldn't have given him the green light

* It's barely been three months since Kourtney Kardashian and Travis Barker went public with their hot and heavy romance, and they're already talking about getting engaged and pregnant, not necessarily in that order and Kourtney fully believes this isn't just a honeymoon phase, but that Travis is the man she's going to share her dreams with -- as for Travis, he's been telling everyone he's hit the jackpot with Kourtney and Travis, who has two kids of his own, has already started shopping for rings and he's planning an ultra-romantic proposal because he's big on grand gestures and he's still looking for the perfect ring, but that doesn't mean the baby-making has to wait until it's on her finger

* Love Bites -- Zac Efron and Vanessa Valladares split, Brooks Laich and CrossFit athlete Katrin Davidsdottir dating, Tan France and husband Rob are having a baby this summer

Page 32: Cover Story -- Kim Kardashian single and loving it -- ready to mingle, an unattached Kim is having fun exploring her dating options -- she did all she could with Kanye West and now she needs to steer a new course for herself -- she's been relishing her single status and feels like she can finally breathe again -- Kim may be living it up, but her four children remain her primary focus -- the eligible bachelors who've caught Kim's eye: Drake, Rege-Jean Page, Brad Pitt, Lewis Hamilton

Page 35: Jennifer Aniston's on such good terms with her old flames she still talks to ex-husbands Brad Pitt and Justin Theroux regularly and has even stayed in touch with her former beau John Mayer -- Jen and Brad have a lot of complicated history, but she's glad they reconnected and are friends again and she thinks the world of Brad, and they support each other -- Justin recently revealed he and Jen text and FaceTime, and the divorced duo will always share a special bond -- although she and John split in 2009, Jen and the musician still hang out from time to time and they flirt here and there and when John's in town, Jen's down to meet him -- but friends are urging the star to finally and firmly move on from her exes and they think she needs a fresh start, and Jen's been on a few dates with someone who isn't famous and Jen's not looking to get married again, but she'd like to have a partner to share her life with and this guy could be the one, she's just got to give the relationship a fair chance, without any distractions

* Weeks after announcing she'd called it quits with Alex Rodriguez, Jennifer Lopez is feeling sad and disappointed and she didn't want to believe the rumors about Alex's wandering eye, but the Madison LeCroy thing was the last straw -- it's not the first time Jennifer's been fooled by a bad boy as cheating rumors plagued her romances with Sean "Diddy" Combs and Casper Smart and she's wiser now -- Jennifer's saving grace is she's got a jam-packed schedule so it won't leave too much time to be broken-hearted and she's a busy mom of two with a million projects up in the air so don't expect her to be dwelling on the past for too long

Page 36: Young and In Love -- Why wait? These stars were in their early 20s, or teens, when they tied the knot -- Olivia Wilde married an Italian prince when she was 19, Hailey Baldwin married Justin Bieber when she was 21

Page 37: Demi Moore married rocker Freddy Moore at 17, Uma Thurman married Gary Oldman when she was 20, Cher married Sonny Bono at 18, Macaulay Culkin married actress Rachel Miner when he was 18

Page 38: Jessica Simpson married Nick Lachey at age 22, Kate Hudson married rocker Chris Robinson when she was 21, Drew Barrymore married when she was 19 for only 19 days

Page 39: Janet Jackson married R&B singer James DeBarge when she was 18, Kim Kardashian eloped with a music producer when she was 19, Solange Knowles married and a baby at 18, LeAnn Rimes married a backup dancer at 19

Page 40: Interview -- Anya Taylor-Joy thrilled to pieces -- The Queen's Gambit star is still processing her phenomenal success

Page 42: Role Models -- like mother, like daughter -- these stars are inspiring their kids to stay healthy and fit -- Brooke Burke, Gisele Bundchen

Page 43: Cindy Crawford and Kaia Gerber, Christie Brinkley and Sailor Brinkley-Cook, Goldie Hawn and Kate Hudson, Jessica Alba

Page 46: Style Week -- Saweetie has a new sunglasses collaboration with Quay

Page 48: What's Hot Right Now -- stand out with a statement piece from the 8 Other Reasons x Draya Michele capsule collection

Page 49: Make Me Blush -- follow spring 2021's hottest beauty trend and create a flush with a pop of peach, pastel pink or terracotta -- Mindy Kaling

Page 50: Mother's Day Gift Guide -- Molly Sims

Page 54: Entertainment

Page 55: Reality Check -- your small screen guilty pleasures are back and here are all the details -- Bar Rescue, The Real Housewives of New York City, Teen Mom 2, Million Dollar Listing New York

Page 58: Buzz -- The ACM Awards in Nashville -- Carrie Underwood and CeCe Winans, Keith Urban and fellow emcee Mickey Guyton, Kenny Chesney and Kelsea Ballerini

Page 59: Blake Shelton, Chris Young and Kane Brown, Miranda Lambert and Elle King, Jimmie Allen and Brad Paisley, Maren Morris and husband Ryan Hurd

Page 60: Sound Bites -- Jessica Alba on not being afraid to complain, Justin Theroux on dating, Jodie Turner-Smith on her and Joshua Jackson being perfect partners, Rob McElhenney on expectations of men in Hollywood

Page 61: Chrissy Teigen on her break from Twitter, Courteney Cox showing off her extremely organized kitchen on Instagram, Lance Bass on the basic thing in his past he'd like to move on from, Amanda Seyfried on confiding to the Mank costume designer about her pregnancy, John Stamos on getting together with wife Caitlin, Eiza Gonzalez on developing body confidence

Page 62: Horoscope -- Taurus Henry Cavill turned 38 on May 5

Page 64: By the Numbers -- Rege-Jean Page

3 notes · View notes

daydream-believin · 3 years

Text

The Never Ending Roadtrip (tie the knot)

summary: (part 1) / (part 8) fem!reader joins Douxie on his quest for Nari’s safety, he’ll need company wont he? PART 7) two weddings in one day for our lovely wizard couple.

warning: swearing, maybe? prolly tho, alcohol, the us government

word count: 3149

a/n: the target audience here is def me. ahahjdd i hurt myself writing this, bon appetit

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Y/n let her eyes wander through the strange place. She supposed this was a pawn shop of sorts, but not one a mortal would patron. Or even know about. She wasn’t entirely sure how she got there herself. This was technically a basement. Grungy, yet somehow fancy? There was sand on the floor, and a giant floor to ceiling glass pane that made up an entire wall, letting patrons know they were in the bottom of the river Cohansey. Which would be beautiful, had this not been New Jersey. The water was murky, trash floating by with the occasional fish. Big, slimy green fish that looked like they could swallow an old lady’s chihuahua. Or maybe a toddler. There were shelves and shelves of either the shittiest junk you ever saw or things that looked like they belonged in an Egyptian tomb. Best not to touch anything. Y/n couldn’t clearly remember the entrance to this place, or entering, but that must have been a part of the concealment magic in place.

Douxie wasn’t kidding when he said they’d sign the papers tomorrow. He found himself acting fast, in case she changed her mind. She wouldn’t, of course. But just in case. While it would seem rushed to any outsiders, it didn’t feel so to him. Might as well have taken an eternity. A millennium. He had known her for years, was her best friend for years, he knew everything about her. She knew everything about him. It became much more apparent when suddenly she had the skill to do nothing but look at him and know something was amiss. Despite his best poker face he’d developed over the centuries, capable of fooling even the most observant of company. Not her. He had hoped she felt as strongly towards him as he her. He still had his insecurities and doubts, even if these rings could prove it.

He paid no mind to the big slimy green fish that flashed their large teeth to patrons. Douxie dug through the box of loose rings, looking for something specific, surely. Different enchantments, different curses, different styles, he needed to find the perfect pair. The sound of metal clattering was starting to become grating to the other patrons of the pawn shop. It was way too early for such clanging. Sure, it was afternoon, but still. Douxie had already found one for him, he just needed to dig around a little bit longer to find one for Y/n. He had already found several that could work, a bronze one shaped like tree branches around an emerald stone, a dainty silver braided band to bind, and an amethyst solitaire with calming qualities. None of these were right. Perhaps settling wouldn- Eureka, there it was. A nice gold band, the mate to the silver toned one for him, engraved with the matching runes, protection for them as they were together.

Douxie happily purchased the rings from the man behind the glass counter, to the relief of the other patrons. He found Y/n locked in a staring contest with one of those toothy fish. He pulled her away, assuring her that Fish don’t have eyelids, Love. Strange, she could have sworn that one did. He opened his palm, showing her the rings. She squealed, to the annoyance of the other patrons. They needed to get out of her before someone kicked them out.

They didn’t have to spend anything on dress/tux rentals, all thanks to Hisirdoux brand magic clothes. Y/n did manage to squeeze Archie into a little bowtie, much to the dragon-cat’s dismay. Y/n made sure to get a snapshot of it for archie_the_emo_kitty. Unlike Archibald, Nari was more than willing to boast formal wear. With all those wedding dresses she’d looked at with Y/n in mind, she begged Douxie to give her a little poufy green dress. Doux snuck in some smoky quartz as beading. Just a little extra protection never hurts. She was a very happy forest child, and spent a lot of time spinning around and around, fascinated by how the fabric flounced. She was very eager to do her part once Y/n explained to her what a flower girl was. Nari was going to be the best girl of flowers. Flowers grew from her hair.

The bowtie wrestled around Archie’s little neck matched the one around Douxie’s. Archie was technically the best man, of course. Some might think having a cat as your best man a bit sad, but there was no truer friend than Archie. And while Archie made them believe he was disgruntled at his state, this was only to preserve his pride. He would do anything if to make his brother, his familiar, smile. Even wearing a stupid blue bowtie and standing next to him during some sort of ceremony. Archie had to admit, he was surprised. Well, not surprised about them marrying, just that it was happening so soon. He knew his wizard’s heart could get ahead of him sometimes, so what was really surprising was learning that miss L/n proposed it. Perhaps those two were more alike than he knew.

Douxie looked really good in his suit, Y/n thought. Of course, anyone looks good in one, but Douxie looked extra good. Very handsome. It wasn’t a tuxedo, but he still opted for black with a little blue embroidery, and of course the blue bowtie. Very classic Douxie. Y/n wouldn’t have it any other way. He tried slicking back his hair but Y/n stopped him. No need to hide that perfect fringe, thank you. She braided a few of the strands down the side of it but not enough to obstruct it. There, that was good enough. Different but still the classic Douxie look. He laughed as she fussed with it. Some wildflowers he and Y/n picked earlier that morning were pinned to his lapel.

Y/n held a bunch of the same wildflowers in her hands. Not exactly a bouquet, but enough. She and Doux had woven some of them into crowns for each other to wear, respectively, for the day. It was a trollish tradition she thought was adorable. Picking the flowers together, weaving them into headpieces for the other to wear, a sort of unity thing. How beautiful.

Y/n actually made her own dress without Douxie’s help, as seeing the bride in her dress before the wedding was bad luck, after all. Douxie had taught her the spell, and she had been practicing an awful lot. It wasn’t perfect, but it did turn out to be exactly what she wanted. Y/n ran her hands down her sides, Not too frilly, not too sexy. Soft, sweet and romantic. And her. It looked like her. She hoped Doux would like it. He did.

She left her hair down. Douxie had made a comment once, way back when, that he thought it looked beautiful loose. She hadn’t meant for him to see it then. Douxie liking it was hard for fathom, considering her aunt had drilled into her head that loose hair was for loose minds, silly people not to be taken seriously. One’s hair should only be down when bathing or changing, especially not around others. In a way, leaving her hair loose like this was an expression of intimacy.

While they went to sign the papers officially in the eyes of the US government, the real wedding was out in the forest, with the trolls. Still, they figured they should tie their legal identities together, it’s not like a troll can actually officiate. Despite their legal identities being temporary and they would definitely have to forge new documents in half a century, they needed this for taxes and all that jazz. Y/n was going to make Douxie combine their bank accounts eventually. An efficient end to their ‘no, let me pay’ fights. But now wasn’t the time for finances. This was about love. And despite this not being the real wedding, Y/n still felt giddy.

The air in the courthouse smelled like dust and tobacco, and it felt like vague memories of confusion and bureaucracy. Strange memories, yet somehow nostalgic. At first the employees weren’t going to let Archie into the building, but once Douxie picked him up and showed him off, explaining that he was the best man, they couldn’t help but let him and his little bowtie in. That’s the thing about being cute, you often get away with murder.

Standing in front of the judge was daunting, even though Douxie knew he did nothing wrong. This time. He was just here to sign that marriage license. What a wonderful piece of paper, covered in calligraphy, stating that he legally belonged to Y/n and Y/n legally belonged to him. Such a fragile thing, in his hands. He would preserve it. Save it for centuries. The witness was a stranger, but that didn’t matter. Archie was the real witness, but alas cats have no power in court. Y/n blushed under Douxie’s gaze as they signed their names to the document. She looked ethereal in that dress, with the flowers in her hair. Even thought they were in a stuffy courtroom with people paying for traffic tickets, she was a goddess, standing here next to him, signing her soul to him. He would return the gesture with his whole chest. And he did.

They slipped the rings onto each other’s fingers, and it was done. Douxie looked back into Y/n’s eyes. His wife’s eyes. His heart may have stopped with that thought. His wife’s eyes.

Y/n was vibrating with energy as they left the courthouse. It was infectious, and soon Douxie was bouncing on his toes too. They couldn’t help but keep smiling. This was just the beginning. Time for the ceremony. Well, at least neither of them had to worry about cold feet. Y/n squeezed Douxie’s hand three times as they set off for the forest. He returned the gesture, kissing the top of her head for good measure.

Once they arrived at the shaded area the trolls had gathered in, Y/n sucked in a breath. It was just, so lovely. They were sitting in a circle, the center being where the wedding couple were to stand. Wildflowers decorated the ground. Nari had made sure they were arranged nicely. While Y/n didn’t know all of these trolls, she was delighted that most of her old pals were here. A few weren’t, but only because they hadn’t made it through the eternal night a few months ago. Surely their spirits were here. The atmosphere felt too much like love and support for them to not be. One of the trolls was strumming a lute of some sort. There was a baby troll who looked like they must have been carried here while they were napping and was now bewildered as to what was going on. Douxie may not know many of the trolls himself, but their presence felt right. And it made Y/n happy. A perfectly good reason for anything nowadays.

Y/n hooked her arm through Douxie’s as he led her to the center of the circle. The gentle lute music played as they kneeled, ready to begin. The music stopped and the officiant started. The officiant was an older troll, who could’ve rivaled Vendel in terms of ancientness. Neither Douxie nor Y/n payed him much attention, locked in each other’s gazes as he read off the sacred trollish wedding texts. A breeze blew through, blowing their hair, and a strand stayed in Y/n’s eyes even after it stopped. Douxie gently brushed it away, and was so caught up in the tender action he almost missed the officiant ask him to join his hand with Y/n’s.

“We are gathered here to witness the binding of two souls. Do you, Hisirdoux Casperan, and you, Y/n L/n, come here of your own free will, to be bound to each other in life and love for the rest of eternity?”

“Aye” Douxie and Y/n offered in unison.

“Then it shall be done.” The officiant tied the handfasting ribbon around their joined hands. A golden light shone through the ribbon, a little bit of magic.

Douxie placed his free hand under Y/n’s jaw. “You are the blood of my blood and the bone of my bone. I give you my body, and I give you my spirit. May you always drink from my cup. May I always be by your side through life and though that which comes after.” I will protect you always My Love.

Y/n was somehow able to catch her breath long enough to repeat the words back to him. “You are the blood of my blood and the bone of my bone. I give you my body, and I give you my spirit. May you always drink from my cup. May I always be by your side through life and though that which comes after.” You’ll never be lonely again Dewdrop.

“May the union now be sealed” Douxie and Y/n took this as a ‘you may now kiss the bride’ as trolls don’t kiss. Y/n was pretty sure trolls touched foreheads instead, as she’d seen Blinky and Arrgh do that often. She did as such to Douxie before kissing him. It slightly confused him, but he still recognized the affection.

There was no one there but them. Douxie deepened the kiss, melting into his beloved, his wife. Y/n matched it with fervor, but pulled away just as fast, almost making him whine. He opened his eyes, getting ready to pout, but was knocked back into remembering where he was. Oh, yeah, there actually were other people. His bad.

As the sun went down and the reception started, many trolls said many things and yet Douxie had no idea what was being said. He found it very hard to focus on anything that was not Y/n in this moment. A celebration was being had, yet the only important thing was the hand clasped in his and the cool feeling of metal he would soon get used to. He couldn’t wait to get used to it, as if it were nothing but a part of his skin. He could vaguely make out what song the lute troll was currently playing, one that reminded him of his younger years, and boy, did he feel young next to Y/n.

He led her into a dance, as this was a song perfect for dancing, of course. Y/n laughed. She hadn’t expected their first dance to start so soon. The light of the setting sun cast an orange glow as they flitted around joyously. At the end of the song, Douxie lifted Y/n and spun her around. A few nearby trolls, already drunk on bright green grog, raised their mugs and gave a cheer. A toast, one supposes. Y/n giggled at how quickly Douxie put her down after that, face flushed.

The red, orange, and yellow leaves of the trees around them seemed to be amplified by the sunset. It was one of the most beautiful things Y/n had seen, and perfect ambience for the best day of her life. The sound of the lute songs, birds chirping, and trolls chattering was the sound track. She’d play it on repeat if she could. She could feel Douxie’s shoulder brushing hers, and smell the comforting scent of cloves that clung to him. With every peck she could taste the red wine on his lips.

Now that the sun had gone down, magic candles were lit throughout, lighting the festivities. The trolls took this as the signal to bring out the food and start the feast. And feast they did. Nari was very interested in their food, and while Y/n wasn’t very positive she should let the veggie lady eat half of whatever this stuff was, Y/n didn’t care to police her this day. Nari can suffer the consequences of her curiosity for once. Y/n was too busy being wrapped up in Doux.

There was a very tall cake, resting on a flat rock. Must be one of Jim’s recipes he taught them while he was with them. Or it was a traditional troll recipe. No matter, wizard digestive systems are pretty strong and stranger things had been eaten. It was decorated beautifully, with the wildflowers and florets of what was either icing or plaster. Either way it would be delicious, whether it be made with flour and spices or gypsum and cat blood. Whatever it was, it smelled heavenly as Y/n smashed it into Douxie’s pretty face.

He should have been expecting that. He had hoped she’d be sweet and gently feed him but he supposed the temptation was too great for his mischievous bride. A cheshire cat grin replaced his adoring expression as he grabbed a glob himself and smeared it across her features in retaliation. Y/n burst out laughing, grabbing him by the collar to kiss him and get them even more messy. Douxie’s lips tasted sweet, so it must be one of Jim’s icing recipes. Archie was glad he over by the rock and not next to them, in the splatter zone.

The dancing lasted all night. The candles, the full moon, and the stars cast a romantic glow to the celebration. The full moon was the perfect moon, a blessing for their big day. Douxie was very thankful for lute troll, this is exactly what he pictured his wedding sounding like when he was a boy. He twirled Y/n around effortlessly and endlessly, he wasn’t sure he’d ever tire of this. Her soft hands in his, he absolutely knew he’d never tire of. The trolls taught them a few of their traditional dances too, Y/n seemed to really have fun with those. At one point, Y/n danced with Nari, a cheerful little ditty, and Douxie thought it was the new most adorable thing he’s ever seen. It was cuteness overload, he may have to go sit down for a bit and let his heart catch up with him. However, It wasn’t long before Y/n pulled him back onto the dance floor once again.

After the feast was devoured, conversation lulled, and the music faded, the trolls packed up and headed back to trollmarket. The light of the candles was getting dim. Still, Douxie and Y/n stayed, swaying in each other’s arms. The music may have left, but they didn’t need it. They hummed to each other as Douxie leaned over to Y/n’s ear, to sing her a song he had written for her, not too long ago. She could feel his breath on the shell of her ear as he whispered the words meant just for her. Y/n let her eyes slip closed as this man, her husband, sang his heart to her in this private moment. She wished she had a poem prepared for him. Sure, she’d written plenty, but none of the words seemed quite strong enough anymore.

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