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ktheist · 4 years ago

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(why) we got married | m

synopsis. they say the 7th year of your marriage is always an uphill battle - but with the existence of your prenup coming to light thanks to taehyung’s lawyer slash family friend’s slip of tongue - first it reached your and his families, and then your family’s close friends and then your family’s close friends’ friends until - almost everyone is speculating on the grounds of you and taehyung’s marriage being anything but love.

you’re not sure if you’re even going to make past the second year mark in your marriage. but is the reason you got married really as important as why you choose to stay or leave?

muses. chairman!taehyung x stewardess!reader

alternative title. as you are.

inspired by. the 1 by taylor swift

genre. arranged marriage au with a pinch of drama and angst

words. 12.5k

warnings. explicit content

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. story time.

in your defense, neither you nor taehyung made an elaborated plan to deceive both his family and yours with the marriage which yes, had been founded upon a contract. but that’s not the point - the point is, your father and brother never sat down with taehyung and had a man-to-man talk. and his mother never sniffed out your reason for marrying her son being his abundance of wealth. but when all comes to light, thanks to taehyung’s lawyer slash family friend who made a slip of tongue - your parents and his were the ones most vindictive about who’s digging whose gold.

and to be completely frank, you were one article away from calling up your mother and telling her that you seduced taehyung into marrying you - just so she’d stop baring her fangs at mrs. kim. these days the headlines keep blowing up your mother and mrs. kim’s completely-by-chance meeting at a five star restaurant that erupted into manic yelling and pointing fingers.

“what did you say, you-” the audio bleeps for a split second before your mother in law’s voice comes back on, “-it was your daughter that seduced my son!”

“you crazy-” the audio bleeps again, “-you better watch your mouth or i’ll-”

the remaining seconds of the video are filled with bleeps that make it hard to even understand what either woman was saying. a wave of regret floods your chest as you scroll down the words strewn out into a juicy, tea-spilling commentary on your and taehyung’s past - the writer seems to pick up the minor little details that, in hindsight, leaves a big fat question mark out in the open.

when exactly did ___ ___ and kim taehyung start dating?

the answer was never.

the two times you and taehyung were photographed together was at a cafe near your office and the other, near his penthouse wherein you were discussing the terms of the contracts by yourselves. the one near taehyung’s penthouse being the final stage where you both signed it on your ipads. to the naked eye, you probably looked like you were on a date and being young professionals, it was only a given that both of you had some sort of electronic on you at all times - even during dates.

everyone just assumed you were together and with the assumption of being together, comes the conclusion that you were deeply, madly in love. was it the way the picture caught you two looking at each other with smiles on your faces? was it it’s sister picture that stilled you in a frame where you’re looking at your ipad and taehyung looking at you with the same - possibly remaining - smile from the moment the first picture was taken? that, you will never know.

but so it goes, you started going to socials together because taehyung needed some cleansing from his... charm-filled past. he used to go to those with different partners each week, and the previous woman that went with him always ended up refusing to talk about it or boasting about her ‘relationship’ with him. that was of course, after yoo now-kim jeongyeon got married three years ago. he used to attend those socials with her for the most part.

but someway, somehow, his public record was clean of any drama.

you would know, you’ve seen the man in action with your very eyes. on your 7th social event together, son chaeyoung had marched up to you and him like a ticking time bomb, red-faced and flaring nostrils and all. you were about ready to stand your ground when taehyung softly touched your hand that was around his arm and asked if you minded if he left for some fresh air.

of course you didn’t - respectfully, you couldn’t care less what taehyung does as long as it didn’t bring a negative light to you and him and the dynasties you both carried over your shoulders. everyone had their eyes wide open and ears perked for what was to come when taehyung walked chaeyoung out to the hallway. but nothing happened, and you were left to mingle on your own until he returned, looking devilishly handsome as always and strutted up to you with an air of refined sureness.

chaeyoung didn’t come back with him but everything remained quiet - not even a dramatic “stay away from my man!” at any point of your contract. you never asked how he did it - you thought it involved money, but over time, you realized it was just kim taehyung and all the things that made those women attracted to him. and just like a flame, he’d burned the moths’ wings until they couldn’t flutter over to him anymore after your wedding.

“uh, miss, we’re here,” the driver calls, meeting your eyes through the rear-view mirror.

it takes you a few moments to close the cover of your ipad and shove it into your handbag before pulling out bills that’s worth more than your car ride, “thanks, keep the change.”

and with that, you hop out of the cab, ready to put on a facade of grace and confidence. the staff who knows you greets you with a range of emotions, some with unhinged admiration from day one, others with curiosity on what’s truly hidden beneath those darken ray bans - without a doubt, aware of the drama going on between their boss’ mother and their boss’ wife’s mother.

either way, you make sure to return each smile and greeting like you always do. red lips sewn across your face like an ever smiling doll.

it’s only once you’ve entered the elevator and luckily left to your own devices, do you let your shoulder sag, the smile downturned into a frown all the way until a ding echoes into the small compartment and a red ‘8′ flashes on top of the doors.

you don’t fail to fix the secretaries a smile, relief flooding over you at how their warm - or was it profession-required - greeting hasn’t changed even after the rumors spreading about your inevitable divorce - of course, purported by you and taehyung’s mothers.

“son, if you don’t divorce that woman right away, i-i,” and here you see for yourself, the woman who called you ‘my daughter’ with the most loving voice, stuttering into a fit of rage, “i don’t think i can face my friends anymore - that bitch jihye has been slandering our family saying you used her daughter to get hold of the company!”

mina is about to knock on the door and announce your arrival when you hold a hand up before placing an index finger to your lips. she doesn’t need to be told twice when she nods once and steps back to leave you eavesdropping on your mother in law and husband.

“that’s fair,” there isn’t even a stuttered beat in his response.

“what-”

“that’s part of the reason we got married,” he goes on, “and ___ needs some help setting up her brother with some connection so it works out - and mom, please refer to ___ and mrs. jeon by their names, ___ is still my wife and mrs. jeon is the woman who raised her.”

“y-you-” mrs. kim stutters out in disbelief just when you decide to make your presence known, hand on the door, “you ungrateful child, oh my- oh my-!” you walk into the sight of the woman falling backwards with mr. ji the kims’ lawyer stretching his arms out to catch her, shouting “madam!” while taehyung launching himself across the room, “mom!”

mrs. kim ends up hospitalized.

“it was a case of stress and overworking that should go away with a good few days’ break,” chairman kim who also opts to assume his seat as part of the hospital’s doctor and a family friend of taehyung’s, fixes you with a reassuring smile.

the stethoscope and white robe gives off a more professional vibe than the sophisticated air you see him wear at family dinners.

“that’s a relief - it’s nothing life-threatening,” the smile you return doesn’t seem to sit right with him as his eyebrows knit together and a cloud seem to loom over his face.

“it’s really not in my place but,” he pauses, probably weighing out the pros and cons of offending you with what he’s about to say - but he doesn’t need to worry too much because after today, you probably won’t be seeing each other at dinners any time soon, “me and jeongyeon,” he means his wife and taehyung’s childhood friend, “are here for you if you need to talk - i know mrs. kim can be a little unreasonable at times, but give her some time. don’t give up on her.”

you nod once, murmuring a hollow ‘thanks for that, seokjin’ before watching the man strut down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps accompanying his leave. only when you’re left with the sound of your breathing, do you finally allow chairman kim’s words to sink into the deepest depth of your heart.

it’s not an easy task to keep your heart still and unbothered by your own mother in law’s words. even now, you can still hear her embellishing her headache, back ache, joint pains and every sort of non-fatal pains she has enough to get taehyung to stay by her bedside - so he doesn’t go home. doesn’t go back to the place where you two have built for yourselves.

and yet you can’t help but agree that - “if you’d divorced her just like i told you, i wouldn’t have fallen so ill!” she sighs, just as you’re about to slide the door open.

all of a sudden, the image of the delicate woman swaying and tumbling towards the ground flashes at the back of your head and you instantly recoil, as if the door was made from fire.

the fear of worsening mrs. kim’s health at the sight of you has you backing away, choosing to wait at the seat in the hallway instead. seconds stretch into minutes and minutes into hours until you feel your body being shaken.

your eyes which you never noticed fluttered close - snap open only to gaze at the face of an angel - a concerned one at that judging from the way his eyebrows knit together. and then you’re hearing the smooth baritone of his voice. you almost pulled out your phone from your purse to ask if you could have it recorded so you could listen to it as a lullaby.

that is, until you realize the angel’s disheveled wavy hair and eyes that look like they’re well on their way to falling asleep standing.

“taehyung,” the name slips out of your mouth with a surprised gasp as you note the pristine pastel background of the vip section, body jolting to sit up from your previously slumping position.

“have you been waiting all this time?” he takes a seat next to you - and only then do you notice the unkempt mess that he is.

the first few buttons of his shirt is undone whilst it hangs over his shoulders, untucked, tie hanging loose over his chest as he drapes his blazer over his arm. the sight is almost alien, especially coming from someone who can’t even stand a crease in his shirt.

“what time is it?” you wonder, reaching for your phone while he checks the rolex on his wrist - which proves to be faster than rummaging through your bag.

“seven-thirty - you’ve been waiting here for more than five hours,” and just your luck, right as the words hit the air, your stomach decides to remind you of the meal you’re about to miss if you stay here any longer.

the heat rushing to your cheeks a second later is immeasurably hot, “o-oh, okay.”

clearing your throat, you ask, “so how was mother? seokjin already told me but i wanted to hear it from you that she’s okay.”

“you know how mom is - keeps saying her head hurts from the fall even though mr. ji managed to catch her halfway,” in any other circumstances, you and him would have found humor in how your mother in law’s overembellished diagnosis to gain attention from you and taehyung - but this time, it’s only one of you she wants that from.

it doesn’t stop you from chuckling though, “it sounds just like her - maybe i should make some ginseng chicken soup to help her get better... or beef seaweed, you know, her...”

swallowing the lump in your throat is a feat - and unfortunately, you’ve failed terribly as taehyung gather you his arms.

only then, do you realize you’re sobbing like a child, emotions running wild as everything comes crashing in like a storm - his mother, your family, the whole fucking tabloids that’s being written and ready to be posted in the next few hours and the fact that the marriage may have been a fraud, but the bonds you made along the way had been more than just business. mrs. kim was a mother to you as much as yours is to taehyung. there may have not been any love between you two but you cherish his family like he cherishes yours.

“i’m sorry - for causing a- a scene - for causing mother to f-faint-” you weep and weep.

in your crying fit, you barely notice the way his arms tighten just the tiniest bit as he sways you left to right gently, one hand on the back of your head caressing your hair as he whispers something along the lines of “it’s not your fault” and “we’ll figure it out together.”

and so for the nth time in your one year of marriage, you’re banding together to capture mrs. kim’s heart again. the first time you visited her with taehyung, she narrowed her eyes at you and demanded taehyung explain as to why he didn’t come alone through the very same eyes next second.

when the man pretended not to notice and even placed a hand on your lower back just as your steps faltered in a ‘i’m with you’ kind of way, she opted to stare out the window while you unpack the broth you made onto the table. the portion you poured into the bowl you brought was getting colder by the minute as you spoke to her, “mother, i made beef seaweed soup, it’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

the only indication that she was listening was the way her eyes scanned the bowl of broth in front of her and proceeded to keep them on the window until you had to leave.

and so goes your second and third visits being received with shoulders made of ice a kind of silence that never fails to make your stomach churn with a sort of nervousness you should have felt when you meet your future husband’s parents for the first time. but the first time you met mrs. kim, your chest was filled with nothing short confidence and woo her you did along with taehyung’s relatives and closed friends. at the time, you didn’t think what you were doing - fooling everyone into believing that you’re marrying each other for love - would come biting you in the ass.

if karma existed then this probably you getting what you deserved.

on your fouth visit, you’d come alone because taehyung had an urgent meeting to attend. mrs. kim spared you a once over just like a rabbit who voluntarily and follishly hopped into the lion’s den.

“mother,” you offer her a smile, “how are you feeling?”

when silence is the only response you get, you quickly rummage through the paper bag you’d brought with you, “have you eaten? i made chicken soup-”

“don’t bother,” her voice cuts through the air like a blade. eyes as piercing as spears, “sit down, i know taehyung has an urgent meeting - it’s the only way to get him off my back.”

you’re not quite sure what she means but you have an inkling that the reason her hostility has yet to reach its pique is because taehyung has been giving her subtle looks to ‘mom, be nice to my wife’.

with a nod and a smile that seems to be glued to your face, you ask, “how was the bibimbap yesterday?”

though she didn’t cut you off, her response doesn’t exactly shed hope to your efforts being paid off when she dismissively says, “i gave it to mr. ji.”

the immediate ‘oh’ that tumbles out of your mouth is purely reflexive even though you know she’s never touched the meals you packed for her. but having her admit it is a different kind of heartbreak.

“i see,” is all you can say as you feel tears prick your waterline, a lump in your throat.

“this,” she places a folder of documents she seems to have ready by her bedside into your hands and without any explanation, sends you off with, “if you have any conscience at all, you’d sign these papers and stay out of our lives. even though i never read the contract but i’m sure a smart woman such as yourself would’ve thought to include the alimony as well - you understand what i’m saying right?”

you tried to say something - anything but at that point, the look in her eye already paints a picture of you clinging onto taehyung’s wealth. and yet you still tried, “m-mother, i-...”

but no words come out and as though her point had been proven, she’d huffed out a sigh and tuned you out like she always did on your previous visits.

so you walked down the hallway with shades covering your tear stained eyes and a skip to your step that oh-so-badly wishes to break into an unceremonious run to a place where nobody knows you. where nobody looks at you with rounded eyes for the briefest moment that easily translates to mrs. kim ___, wife of kadore’s chairman who married her husband for money.

but all you can afford to do is keep your head up until you reached the bathroom door, check each stall one by one to make sure no one’s inside before you finally set down the document and your handbag on the sink. the first sob hits the air as soon as you see the woman in the reflection’s reddening eyes and smudged makeup.

it takes you several breath-holding, eyes-shutting and a couple more sobs breaking through the cracks of your walls before you can finally pat some powder onto the patch of skin under your eyes and on your cheeks where most of the damage was done. by the time you’re back in the hallway with shades darker than the night sky, you find your feet melting and becoming one with the floor at the sight of a man with jet black hair standing at the reception.

and almost as though sensing the heat of your gaze through your ray bans, the man turns around to reveal a pair of doe brown eyes and the smile you’re so used to seeing now missing in action and replaced with a straight line.

“jungkook...”

“how’d you know i’d be here?” you start once you’ve both placed an order for your drinks at the counter.

“how long are you going to keep doing this?” instead of answering your question with a real answer, jungkook heaves out a sigh, eyebrows knitting together in vexation as he fixes you with one of those ‘i’m not telling mom and dad but this is our problem now’ kind of look.

“how ever long it takes,” is all you say, reverting your gaze to the smooth surface of the table.

“are those the divorce papers?” you refuse to look at him but you know he’s burning holes inside the beige colored folder sitting underneath your handbag on the seat between you and him.

“i don’t know,” you shrug, shoulders squared as you meet his eyes through your shades, “i haven’t opened it yet.”

but jungkook being jungkook, he takes that as a bare affirmation, choosing to interrogate you on a different topic, “have you seen what people have been saying about you?"

“i don’t really care about what people say,” is all you have to offer.

“you haven’t,” he nods in conclusion, “they’re saying you can’t have enough of your husband’s money... they’re saying you’re coming here everyday to grovel over his mother’s feet to let you stay married - that’s how i know you’d be here. and judging from the looks of it, they’re not too far off.”

it takes you a good solid minute to stomach the new found information. you haven’t been checking social media because of those same exact malicious comments but that was just the beginning of a downward spiral of your reputation - you never thought your efforts and hard work of burning your fingers on hot stoves and redoing dishes to get a perfect one would be met with an assumption of groveling over mrs. kim’s feet all for your husband’s money.

“god, i need a smoke,” jungkook huffs, receiving a look from the waiter that’s setting your drinks down. only after she’s gone does he present you with another set of questions. “was he the one that paid off dad’s debts? all of them? even the loan sharks?”

“that...” you nod once, failing to keep your head high as you twirl the straw of your frappe around but don’t even take a sip, “and the money i said i had saved up and lent you to start your company,” you quickly add,“- but taehyung doesn’t care about that - he wouldn’t accept it even if you wanted to pay him back twice the amount.”

“then why are you...” it’s the way his voice breaks at the end that makes you look up only to see a man whose eyes are a little sunken and cheeks a little hollow - almost as if he hasn’t been sleeping nor eating well because of his foolish sister, “why are you letting that woman trample all over you like this? wouldn’t it be easier to just get a divorce-”

“that woman is my mother in law, jungkook. at least, practice the same level of respect you’ve been preaching about,” you speak over him - it’s funny how taehyung once stood up against the same woman you’re standing up for, for you.

when all that follows is silence, you go on. this time, in a much demurred tone, “and it’s not about letting myself get trampled over... if mom found out you lied about something and she’s acting like mother does because she’s hurt, would you just go on with your life like nothing happened?”

it takes a moment for him to register what you said before taking on a much less hostile tone though still just as firm, “___, this is your life... i don’t know what kind of ‘happy family’ delusion you’ve been living in but i’m willing to bet all my money that it’s not taehyung that gave you those papers to sign and made you cry in the bathroom stall for thirty minutes-” he throws you look, “yeah, i saw you go into the washroom after coming out of her room. i was gonna call you but you looked like you had to take a huge dump so i waited but we know that’s not the case now.”

silence lapses between you for the umpteenth time before you stubbornly announce, “i could’ve been taking a dump - you don’t know.”

the sight of jungkook’s jaw dropping and hitting the ground is laughable, if not for the fact that he’s shaking his head five seconds later. vexed. irritated, “this is getting ridiculous - we’re going home. now.”

and he doesn’t mean the penthouse that you and taehyung shares.

shooting up, his hand grasps your wrist and he would have dragged you all the way to the car if you hadn’t protested.

“jungkook, no - i’m not going anywhere,” pulling your hand back, you stand a good one head shorter in front of your brother which doesn’t do much for your cause.

“___, if not for you then do it for mom and dad - they’re getting too old to be worrying about their one and only daughter’s marriage prospect,” he tries to coax, knowing full well your heart would wither like a flower at the mention of your parents worrisome nature - especially when your business is out in the open no matter how hard you try to hide it, “and you haven’t been answering their calls either.”

“i know, i just-” before you can even finish your sentence, a flash of garnet and bridal pink catches your eyes.

“____... jungkook, i didn’t think you’d be in korea. how are you?” taehyung’s warm baritone is laced with confusion as he stares at your brother and then at you for a sort of explanation but before you can even open your mouth, jungkook’s already has his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, “yeah, well someone’s gotta clean up the mess you started. ___’s coming back home with me - back to her real home.”

“i’m not - stop saying that and let me go,” you tug on your wrist only to wince at the pressure of his grasp, “jungkook, you’re hurting me!”

“hey, let my wife go,” taehyung takes a peaceful step forward, “we can talk ab-”

“oh no,” the laugh tumbling out of jungkook’s mouth drips with malice, “no, see, you lost your knight in shining armor privilege after you quite literally lied to our faces about how you’ll take care of my sister until ‘death do you apart’ when all it took was mommy dearest pretending to get sick while everyone labels my sister a gold-digging wh-”

you taking a step forward with a balled fist, is completely instinctive and you would say taehyung prancing towards the dark haired man with a fist that actually hits the mark, was also instinct-driven. except that he probably has better aim and his punches hurt more than yours ever would.

the first one, you admit was satisfying but when your brother ends up on the ground with your husband throwing blow after blow, you have no choice but to intervene.

“taehyung, stop!” the shriek that echoes against the walls almost burst your eardrums. you would have believed it to be mrs. kim if not for the fact that she’s nowhere in sight and you’re the one with your hands grasping onto your husband’s arms, trying to hold him back from sending blow after blow onto your brother’s half-conscious face.

“taehyung, don’t stop,” you frown, taking a seat next to him while swiping the ice bag off his lap before gently pressing it to his darkened jawline, “seokjin said to keep the ice on the bruise for at least an hour.”

“ahhh - ow - ow-!” the man whines, eyes screwed shut as his grits his teeth together but doesn’t recoil from your touch.

“maybe you should’ve thought twice about throwing a punch at a trained boxer,” you shake your head, lips curling into an inevitable smile.

after taehyung’s had a round of punches in, jungkook managed to flip them over so that he’s the one pinning the elder man down. the events that unfolded after that were the least bit pretty. the nurses and doctors attending nearby patients rushed to the two struggling men and then there’s you, shifting the shouting to your brother to “god damn it, jungkook! stop being a dick!”

it took five men - doctors and just-arrived guards alike - to pry your brother off your husband who still tried to get a punch in and was held back by seokjin who finally arrived at the scenes with half a mind to knock the both of them out as he calmly orders for jungkook to be dragged into one of those empty rooms akin to the one mrs. kim is staying at.

because taehyung was the one who started the fight, seokjin decided that an ice pack would do for the taller man whilst he treats jungkook and orders the other doctors to go back to their post.

picking up the mixture of garnet and bridal pink roses, he stares at their wilted petals for the longest moment, face painted with dejection. they must have been specifically ordered for mrs. kim-

“these are for you,” your train of thoughts halts in its track at taehyung’s words. his hand levitating midair as though unsure of whether to hand the bouquet to you or toss them away, “or were,” then he captures your gaze and you don’t think you can ever find your way out of the maze he’s able to hold you captive in with just his eyes, “you deserve fresh flowers specifically plucked from its stalk - you deserve a whole garden, actually-”

“taehyung,” your free hand covers his as if to say, “they’re lovely, thank you.” placing the ice pack down, you cup both hands around the flowers, bringing them to your nose, “and they smell wonderful - i love pink roses.”

“i know,” the tiniest smile peeks from his lips, “you told me that.”

“i did?” you blink, surprised.

“at our wedding reception, you got a little tipsy and started sobbing because the roses were blush pink and not bridal pink,” the sound of his chuckles drums in your ears like hymns just like it did a year ago.

back when you were decked in an elegant off shoulder white gown after changing out of your wedding dress. you’d stood in the sidelines while your families and friends danced to their hearts’ content to the sound of the music. white champagne in your hand, the background beginning to turn fuzzy and your thoughts began to get louder.

it didn’t help that the object of your frustrations was smack dab covering every inch of the vicinity from the gargantuan rose covered backdrop, to the tiny vases in every single table.

the sob hits the air like the first raindrop. you had to clasp your hand to your mouth as if you were about to cough to hide your mouth stretching into your crying mouth - you don’t know how to explain it but your lips tend to morph into an unshapely sight whenever you cry and covering it when you feel the waterworks coming has always been second nature. as for the tears - they were concealable because the lights were dim enough.

but then there was someone next to you - he just popped up out of nowhere really and because you were standing in the darkest corner, you couldn’t pick out any defining features besides his height but you didn’t have much time to ponder on that as his question fills your eardrums, “so, how does saying goodbye to the bachelorette life feels like?”

“it’s terrible,” you’d wept some more and he shifted on his feet slightly, as though noticing the tear in your voice but luckily for him, he didn’t even have to ask because you were spilling your innermost thoughts out loud, “they- they gave me blush pink and garnet roses- i want bridal pink and garnet roses.”

“oh,” distinctively rang in your ears among the sound of instruments and joyful laughter.

then comes another input, “i didn’t know they messed up your request,” and you didn’t know why he’d sounded like he was about to murder someone.

“yeah and,” you sniffle, “- and i didn’t wanna say anything because- because i don’t wanna be that bratty bride who picks on every little detail.”

that morning, you woke up to a box full of roses and they were the lightest shade of pink. taehyung was already awake and offered to ring up breakfast for the both of you after he’d bid you a good morning and a “something came in for you.”

the gifts were prearranged to be sent to the penthouse instead of your suite but then again, there were chocolates and champagne bottles that made past the hotel doors because of its edible nature - the roses too... their fleeting livelihood seemed like you’d enjoy them better in your hotel room than a week later after you’d come back from your honeymoon.

the card didn’t even leave initials but had ‘roses for a rose’ playfully written in cursive black ink. your heart blooms a garden but your head is what makes you search for your newly wed husband, only to see him looking at you with a tender smile - one that you thought manifested because of your own involuntary smile when you’d read the note.

“i don’t think these are for us,” you could feel the frown setting into your features, causing taehyung’s own brows to furrow.

“i think these are for... me,” and so you told a tale of a woman with ambitions rather than stars in her eyes, who felt a compulsion to at least tell the truth to her husband and the stranger whom she met at her wedding. of course, omitting the teary eyed part and the blush and bridal pink roses part.

taehyung had easily chuckled while the staff set down plates of delicacies on the round meant-for-two-people-on-a-honeymoon table, saying, “he has fine taste - they’re from halls & tara,” after the staff left.

it didn’t occur to you that the h&t initials on the top right corner of the card stood for the most well known florist in seoul until he’d pointed it out, which could only mean he’d been suspicious enough to take longer than a glance at the flowers.

“do you mind if i keep them? at least, until they’re not as fresh anymore.” you quickly added the last part.

“you can keep them in a vase and have them live longer... why? are they not the shade of pink you wanted?” he blinked once, hand halting midair as he was about to take a mouthful of pancakes.

“well- no, they’re perfect actually - i love them,” you almost stutter in your haste to explain while trying to be casual about how devastated you would be if- “it’s just that... i really didn’t know him or who he was- but he obviously knew me because it’s hard not to know the lady of the day- i’m not breaching any terms-”

it’s the way the trickles of laughter filling the otherwise silent room that got you to clamp your mouth shut. the way kim taehyung looked so ethereal and majestic in the pristine black and white setting of the room.

“i don’t mind,” he’d clarified a moment later, eyes twinkling with the remnants of laughter, “i understand why he’d want to desperately send you these if only to see you smile softly like you did - you look beautiful when you smile, by the way.”

the compliment had caught you off guard and your heart might or might not have somersaulted but if there’s anything seven years of becoming a stewardess has taught you, it was to always prepare an adequate response to every situation - and at that time, kim taehyung was infamous for his quick wits and reputation with the ladies. of course, words sweet as honey would come easy for him.

“thank you,” and so were the words of gratitude on your part as you schooled a smile and dug into the pancakes your husband made.

but sitting on the black leather couch, holding onto a similar colored bouquet, you can’t help but blurt out, “that was you? i was bawling my eyes out because of some mismanagement to my husband who didn’t even recognize?” something between a disbelieving scoff and an irony-induced laugh escapes your mouth, “why didn’t you tell me?”

taehyung’s shoulder line shakes as he shrugs, hand going up to scratch the back of his head as he drops his gaze, as if searching for the answer only to look back up into your eyes with a, “i didn’t think you’d be as happy if you knew it was me,” his gaze falters, like a bud of fear blooming behind his irises,

“why wouldn’t i be?” you blink once, not quite understanding where he’s coming from.

that is, until a small smile slips onto his lips and it’s heartbreaking to witness and even more devastating to know you’re in no place to let your arms gather him into a hug like you wish. to kiss his forehead until his worries disappear.

he twines his fingers with yours, thumbing the diamond on your fourth finger, “i’m sorry that i took away your choice to marry for love - that’s a bit corny isn’t it?” he scrunches his nose and you can’t help but giggle, “it’s not just some short term contract since we both agreed divorce is never in the equation,” neither of you believe in tainting the sanctity of marriage - no matter what cause it was founded upon - with separation, “but god, the things you’re going through right now - i promise i’ll make things right.”

taehyung’s eyes tend to appear in different shades along with his emotions - though you know it’s most probably the lighting. dark brown is for when he’s scrutinizing the hollow smiles and empty compliments he gets at functions. but sometimes you find yourself catching hazel.

like right now, as they capture yours and look at you as if you’re the only one he sees.

“taehyung...” you thought you knew what you wanted to say when you said his name but as you get lost in the midnight dessert of his eyes, you’re not sure if you can even muster so much as a squeak without falling apart.

and that’s when a knock reverberates into the air like thunder, forcing you to jolt away from the man until no part of you is touching any part of him.

“hey,” a somber voice greets as jungkook leans against the doorframe, “so they fixed me up and the chairman wants me gone in,” he looks down at his wrist, “two minutes and fifty-three seconds.”

blinking away the remnants of the emotions away, you stand up, giving the man a once over. his button up is marred with a trickle of deep red a few inches over his chest, hair matted and face sporting different stages of bruising. the bleeding’s stopped for the most part.

“you’ve definitely seen better days,” you announce, walking around the couch to get to where the man is rolling his eyes at.

“sorry for calling you the w-word,” that’s definitely wasn’t what you were expecting which prompts the belated, almost suspicion induced,“...okay.”

“i did that because i needed to confirm something,” he goes on, eyes flitting over your shoulder where you know your husband is staring right back, burning holes inside your brother’s head before he looks back at you, taking a full 180 in attiude, “and don’t worry about mom and dad - i’ll take care of them.”

it takes you a moment to digest his proclamation, all the whilst hyperly aware of the hand that makes its way on your lower back as a familiar dior scent fills your senses, “so you’re not gonna drag me home?” as though disbelieving the words that came out of your mouth, you add, “that’s all it takes? a few punches to the face?”

the twitch of his eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by you. nor does the deep breath he forces himself to take at the blatant insult and insinuation of your future boxing lessons to which he warns, “don’t get any crazy ideas,” then he turns to the man next to you, “i let you hit me - let’s get that out of the way first.”

and before either you or taehyung manage to get a word in, jungkook hand comes flying to your forehead, a loud sound of skin smacking against skin echoing throughout the room as you tumble backwards with an audible “ow- hey!”, barely noticing the much larger hand that’s covering yours. inspecting the patch of skin where jungkook just flicked.

without even an apology for the uncalled for assault, he nods at something over your head, probably taehyung, “you take care of my sister, you hear me? cause there won’t be a second time.”

and then he’s gone like the wind - you would have tracked down that wind and give him a taste of his own medicine like you did when you were children. you’d jump on his back and attempt to bite a chunk of his head if your nannies didn’t pull you apart - but right now, you couldn’t escape taehyung’s hand on your waist even if you wanted to.

“let me see,” he instructs, gently coaxing your hand to unclasp the patch of skin on your forehead so he could softly blow on it.

you stay like that, standing at the doorway with your bodies too close and taehyung refusing to unhand you until your cheeks are replaced with a different kind of heat than the anger you felt for your god forsaken brother.

“god he’s an ass - you should’ve messed up his face more,” you huff, and you don’t know why - maybe it’s the way you stomp your foot, maybe it’s the way your cheeks tend to puff when you’re feeling vindictive or maybe it’s a mystery locked in taehyung’s head that you’ll never know but his chuckles sound like hymns in your ears.

and you thought that was the end of the electrified sensation on your skin where his touch lingers until you feel a pair of the softest lips on your forehead, right where the flick was supposed to throb. a grinning taehyung looking back at you as if asking, “my nanny used to do this to me when i bump my knee against a furniture...” a flash of worry blooms in his eyes for the briefest moment before he voices his concerns, “hope the magic still works.

the sight is heartwarming. endearing even. and you can’t help smile, cheeks hot, “it does - it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

and just as you thought he’s about to release you from the torment of having your heart skip multiple beats at a time and step back, he presses another peck on your forehead. a smile gracing his features, “another one for good measure.”

it’s a surprise your legs are still holding you up with how jelly-like they’ve become.

“th-thank you.”

mrs. kim discharged herself a week after the fight but not without standing in front of the hospital with her frilly fur coat and gucci handbag while she looks at the camera and consequently straight into the screen, “i have yet received a publicly apology for what jeon jungkook did to mine by the jeons. my taehyung couldn’t even kill a fly, let alone start a fist fight-” she shivers uncontrollably as though overcome with chills, “such a barbaric, uncivilized act can only come from-”

“you’re watching that?” a smooth baritone fills the room as a figure struts in beige slacks and oversized creme sweater, “again?”

he sits on the edge the backrest of the couch, looking down at you with an expression that makes your stomach churn. with butterflies or guilt for breaking your promise to stop checking out these articles, you don’t know.

“sorry,” you mumble, placing the ipad down a few inches from your feet as you bring your legs up against your chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, “worrying about how the press twists mother’s words comes from the plentiful of time i have on my hands after being sacked, i guess.”

it’s been a week since you’ve received your new schedule. to which you received a call right after to head to the headquarters in the heart of seoul only to be told that-

“___, you gotta understand, this whole fiasco going on with your family... it’s giving the airline a bad rep,” mr. bang leaned back against his recliner, his eyes hiding behind the beam of his glasses, “people are leaving bad reviews on the website that has absolutely nothing to do with our services but has everything to do with you and your husband.”

he meant the growing dissatisfaction upon the revelation of the artificiality of you and taehyung’s marriage.

nobody’s caught jungkook and taehyung in a video but there’d been witnesses and ‘sources’ affirming the two getting into a fistfight at the hospital. and so another record has been made in your long list of family drama.

“sir, please,” you could feel your eyebrows joining together from the sheer frustration and reality anchoring into the pit of your stomach, “i’ve been working for korean air -for seven years now- check my reconds,” hope blooms in your chest as you suggest the idea to your superior, “i’ve never been late, never had a customer complain about me, never made any mistakes prior to this-”

“it doesn’t matter what you did before this, ___,” he cut you off, voice heavy with emphasis.

but you weren’t backing out that easy, “please, it’s not fair to lay me off for something i have zero control in.”

at your wording, the man physically flinched, almost as though struck by a spear before he shook his head, denying your claims.

“you’re not fired,” he corrected, “you’re on paid leave... until everything calms down.”

it took everything in you not to let the frown slip onto your face. first it’s paid leave and then it a one month notice before they officially sack you - you’ve seen how this played out one too many times.

so you smiled, “with all due respect, mr. bang, how long is ‘until everything calms down’?”

the man’s shoulder line jolted as he shrugged, lower lip jutted out in a nonchalant nature, “that depends on how you choose to solve it, ___... i assume you are working on a solution, yes?”

it was a trick question. if you answered the affirmative, it’d be admitting what mrs. kim and almost everyone have been demanding - a divorce. if you answered no, then you’re as good as jobless.

“my husband and i are working on it,” was all you say.

when taehyung found out later that night - he was livid. he was a phone call away from calling up mr. ji to sue the airline for discrimination. it took you stealing his phone away and running around the penthouse until you made him promise that he’d listen to you first.

he did, and you’d wanted to wait it out and see because, “there isn’t any damage to build our ground on anyway because i’m not fired yet.”

“well, dinner’s ready ” taehyung’s soft as silk voice tears you apart from your memroies, hand levitating midair until you take it, hoisting yourself up.

taehyung pushes himself off the couch, walking on the other side with your hand in his. it’s comical but endearing all at once and you giggle at how neither of you are willing to let the other go even though you’ll have to once you reach the four-people dining table.

“thank you,” you say as you lower yourself on the seat while he pushes the chair in for you.

home cooked meals have become a norm for the both of you ever since that day taehyung punched jungkook in the face. at first, you insisted that you should be the one cooking since he was injured but he stayed with you in the kitchen and you talked about your day and reminisced about your childhood and how you similarly had nannies that forbade you from coming into the kitchen.

then there was the peck on the top of your forehead he started doing a few days ago after you were sat and before he went around the table to get to his seat that’s across from you.

“did you go shopping today?” he asks in between cutting up the steak which he stole a whole plate from you into mini slices.

“yeah, with hwasa,” you nod - the woman had been all too delighted to see you after mismatched schedules and ghostly texts because of life and work getting in the way.

“the friend from high school?” taehyung surprises you yet again as he places your plate back in front of you, this time with the pieces all cut into edible bites. you’ve never mentioned hwasa to him - but it’s not a lie that she’s your closest friend from high school who got accepted into the same training programme as you at the beginning of your career.

“thank you-” you shoot him a smile before picking up the fork and knife, “and yeah, that’s her. we haven’t seen each other for months so we kind of went a little crazy with the dresses.”

he doesn’t look up when he speaks his next words which is why you have a trouble digesting them as you involuntarily blurt out a, “sorry- what?”

“the dresses you bought,” he reiterates, an amused smile on his lips - possibly because of your almost-choked state, “- can i see them?”

“oh,” clear your throat once, sipping down the red wine before chuckling nervously, “hwasa bought dresses - didn’t.”

taehyung hums, head tilting to the side as though trying to capture your avoidant gaze, “then put on whatever you bought that i saw lying on your bed - the door was open when i passed your room.”

at that moment, to say your heart quite literally crash against the floor, would be an understatement. it takes you a minute to gather yourself, another to force out a laugh as you attempt to brush the thought of taehyung seeing the black and red laces from savage x fenty hwasa adamantly insited you get after a story time on why you decided to get married to how something has definitely shifted between you and taehyung.

but no amount of gushing and squealing about made up scenarios brewing from hwasa’s little head could prepare you for what’s happening right at this moment.

“oh those?” a chuckle, “those are aren’t even worth showing.”

and just as you thought he’ll let the matter go like he would when you dismissively mention something that he inquired about, taehyung takes a full 180, eyes clouded with a sort of emotion you don’t dare delve into, “that’s for me to decide,” he takes a sip of the wine, pushing his chair back as he stands up, “i’m done,” with that, he places his plate down where geom, your mixed breen papillion and silky terrier shouts out an appreciative woof at the pleasant surprise.

patting the canine briefly, he turns to you, those clouded eyes seeping into your soul, “put them on - i’ll be waiting in my room.”

his footsteps echo against the walls as he ascends the stairs and disappears into the hallway where his room lies across from yours. it is a whole solid minute later, once you hear the door of his room click shut, that you make a beeline for the couch where your phone lies lonely.

dialing up the only person you know you can hold accountable for, you quite literally scream at the ‘hell-’ with a “hwasa, he wants me to put the lingerie on and show him!”

while your voice drips with dread, the other woman, choosing to be willfully oblivious, screams into your ears, “oh my god - oh my god. then what are you doing calling me?! go put them on!”

and that’s how you end up holding in a breath while deliberately repeating hwasa’s not so helpful pep talk of ‘you’re the hottest’ and ‘kim taehyung will be wrapped around your fingers by the end of the night!’

“but it’s been over a year - i’m not sure if i even know how to moan!” you’d protested while pull the strap of the garter around your thigh.

that was half an hour ago.

now, you’re debating on whether to knock like you would have before you started cuddling into the other while watching tv. but before that, you’d never did anything together unless it was family dinners and gatherings.

so you opt for pushing down the handle. the sharp ‘click’ being the only announcement of your entrance. taehyung’s walls are a deep shade of maroon almost black with the lights on its lowest setting. the sound of music playing in the background barely registers in your mind as you focus your attention to the figure that’s pushing himself up from his laying down position.

you resist the temptation to run and hide under the comfort your covers - an opposed response compared to your confident stride, placing one foot after the other until you stand a good two feet away from the bed and taehyung.

“what do you think?” the smile brandished over your face is nothing like your racing heart whlist you do a little twirl- but then again, you’ve always been such an actress.

“if the world were made of diamonds, i’d choose the rose before me... because you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever laid eyes on,” you wonder how he doesn’t even blink as those words pour out of his mouth, hand finding its way in the dip of your waist. staring. admiring.

“always the charmer,” you want to curse yourself for the unoriginal come back yet taehyung doesn’t seem to notice as he lets you push him to the bed whilst his eyes undress what little piece of clothing you have on as you crawl on top of him.

your toes curl at the sound of taehyung’s excruciatingly slow exhalation - almost as though he intends for it to caress your ears and seep into your pores before settling into the pit of your core.

the sharp charm of dior fills your senses as you place kisses on his neck, tucking his flesh between your teeth ever so gently, not expecting the delectable surprise that slips out of his mouth.

who would have thought kim taehyung was a moaner?

the giggle that trickles out of your mouth is blamelessly involuntary but catches his attention nonetheless, “what?”

“oh, nothing,” you nibble on his earlobe before whispering into his ears, “just thinking of how cute you’ll look moaning for me.”

and you’ve easily add to the long list of things you won’t forgive yourself in the morning. yet you still caress his growing size through his pants, giggling when the delicious sound hits the air for the second time.

“take it out,” he whimpers after one too many teases, “please.”

“only because you said please,” the way his chin tilts to follow your lips after you pecked them doesn’t go unnoticed by you but you clasp your hand against his chest, pinning him down with a shake of your head “uh-uh, you get up when i tell you to.”

the excruciating ‘fuck’ that leaves his lips is what truly lights up the flame in the pit of your stomach. you watch as his hand goes up to run through his hair in a sexually frustrated nature but doesn’t attempt to push himself up after that.

it only takes a few pumps for the clear fluid of precum to trickle over your hand, letting you smear all over his hardened dick and causing it to glisten underneath the luminescence of the room.

sparks shoot through your core and strike your heart into an erratic rhythm when you lower yourself over him, holding the slit of the black lace undergarment apart until he’s hitting every delicious inch inside of you.

you’ve barely even started to move when you break out into a cry, falling into his arms like a puppet whose strings got cut off. the arms around you are gentle as they hold you against him until you’ve come down from your high.

by the time you push yourself up, your knees are still trembling yet you nod when he cups your cheeks and forces you to look into those concern filled eyes, “are you good?”

“i’m fine,” the sniffle is probably the last thing you need to convince him, “i lost myself for a moment.”

this time, it’s his turn to chuckle, lips curling into a smirk, “it’s completely understandable to admit that you couldn’t hold out for more than a minute because i stretched you out so good.”

you want to protest - want to gain back the control you lost when he hit that sweet spot not even, yes, as he says, a minute into taking him in. but one single thrust right against that same exact spot and you’re whimpering in utter submission and devotion.

“that’s what i thought,” that damned smirk is the last thing you see before you succumb to his every wishes and command until you find yourself with a strong arm banded over your stomach, another arm reaching for a pillow and puffing it up before you feel yourself being gently lowered face flushed into it - the smallest gesture of tenderness that you didn’t expect to witness when you decided to tease him in the beginning.

the yelp when taehyung’s hands slip under the strap of the garter, doesn’t even manage to form fully when a moan replaces it as he yanks the garter and consequently, your ass against him, forcing you to swallow his entire length in one stroke.

“god, you’re so big,” if you were a little sober and a whole lot more conscious, you would have added that into the list of things you said that you would cringe at in the morning.

but you’re already one orgasm down in the foreseeable long list of orgasms that kim taehyung promises you as he sinks into you, moaning out your name like a holy mantra.

“i know you love it,” he agrees oh so innocently for someone who’s about to thrust into you like a godless being.

five strokes in and you’re cursing and screaming out in pleasure, hands gripping onto the duvet for dear life as you feel you convulse into a state of toe-curling euphoria. the way taehyung stops moving and trails down butterfly kisses down your back until the tensed muscles in your lower abdomen simmers down into pleasured twitches, doesn’t go by you.

“you can move now,” another sniffle, but this one has completely and irrevocably succumbed to your rawest desires.

it’s the soft chuckle and the one last peck on your left shoulder blade that has your heart stuttering. ungodly opposite to the way he moves his hips as he thrusts into you without so much as a warning - your last two orgasms were just preambles. ones out of the many that night that has you writhing and moaning in pleasure. some of which were incited by sides of you, you didn’t know existed.

the last thing you recall is taehyung gathering you in his arms like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you even in his sleep now that he’s had a taste. it’s endearing and daunting all at once. because for the first time since your marriage, you’re afraid of losing him.

a few days after that, you’re tying away on your macbook when taehyung comes home looking less like the man you knew. his hair, disheveled from having run his hand through them more than his hair gel allows. his eyes, carrying a sort of weight that latches onto him like parasites - or maybe that’s just the papparazzo that you noticed have been following you around. their numbers have decreased considerably after the rumor of taehyung hiring a team of lawyers which was no rumor at all.

it was the morning after you woke up with tingly legs barely able to function like it should and muscles sore but a sort of fullness in your chest when you noticed the man whose arms are wraped around you like a protective cocoon as he faintly snored away.

then came the muted sound of your phone from the other side of the hallway where your room door beckons you into its domain. it wasn’t as obnoxiously loud since it was at least twenty feet away and you would have ignored it and gone back to bed if not for the short interval signaling the person calling had finally reached the mailbox or hung up on their own. that was, before they hit call for the second time.

slipping out of taehyung’s arms, you trudged to your room with half a mind to give whoever this caller is a piece of your mind - god’s sake, the flashy red digits on your alarm clock stares at you at 5:23 in the morning.

“this better be good, hwasa or i swear-” before you can even finish the woman is already screaming into your ear like she’s being chased by an axe murderer.

“oh my god, oh my god - have you seen the news?!” except no woman chased by a murderer would sound this exhilarated, she went on before you could even get a “no one in their right mind would be checking the news at ass crack-” out.

“oh shoot, it’s still 5 something in korea, isn’t it?” she gasped - if you weren’t on paid leave, you’d be in hong kong, probably sharing rooms and getting tipsy in some club there, “but anyway, kadore’s chairman is suing insight, pullbbang and other websites for slander!” she shrieked.

"what?” you could feel the muscles on your face pulling into a contorted confusion but

after hanging up and telling hwasa you were going to look into the matter some more, you’d come up with multiple articles stating a similar fact as your overly enthusiastic best friend did. still in denial, you’d confronted your husband about it- he was still sleeping soundly when you strutted in and shook him up to which he confessed, eyes droopy and face puffy. the sight was so foreign to you because you were used to seeing him fresh and suited up but you’d found yourself making a little space in your heart for barely-just-woken-up-taehyung to reside in.

first came anger - you didn’t ask for him to do this, “what would everyone think if i went to you crying about a little bit of criticism for something i did do?” then came confusion because what exactly did you do that was so horrendously heineous to warrant these websites to write such malicious statements about you?

taehyung had seen every flash of emotions that pooled in your eyes and tugged on your fingers - you weren’t sure if he’d meant it but it successfully pulled you from drowning in your own thoughts, “i told you i’d make things right - these people won’t be able to say another word about you unless it’s the truth- that you’re a hardworking, amazing woman who deserves everything she has and yes,” he fixed you the most tender, sleepy smile “that includes the money i make - what’s the point of working if i can’t even provide my wife with the best?”

taehyung tosses the beige tuxedo onto the handrest of the couch adjacent to where you’re sitting with one leg up in nothing but a loose fitted sweater that hangs off your left shoulder. the half empty wine glass lies untouched on the coffee table since you’d put it down.

with a thump, he sinks himself into the leather material of the couch, hands cupping his face, as though if he rubs it hard enough, the deadset frown would go away.

before you know it, you’re padding over to the couch he’s on, hands finding their ways onto his shoulders, massaging the noticeable tension in his muscles until a grateful sigh slips out of his mouth, hand guiding your own to his lips where he presses a kiss on your knuckles.

only when you go around to take the spot next to him, hand smoothing out his hair, do you finally say, “is it the board again?”

mina has been keeping you updated on the turbulence that was caused by your fraudulent marriage being exposed. the chairman seat became taehyung by default when he got married as per his father’s will. but the board members have been vocal about abrogating his rights to succeeding kadore.

“there’s talk about votes demoting me to director,” he’s never sound so fragile - in taehyung’s long list of fluctuating interest from women and men to art and sculptures and to yatches and sports cars, kadore is probably the only thing he’s ever taken seriously.

you would know - seeing him decked in armani with soft wavy hair contrasting his strong features, weren’t your only reason for accepting his proposal of marriage. it had more to do with the way he spoke about the company. in a dimly lit room just like now, with a wine glass in his hand and the cityscape underneath that gave an illusion of stilled fireflies scattered all across the city, taehyung had spoken of his unforgivable regrets. the deals he’d let pass by. the merges he’d settled with instead of aiming higher. the brands he didn’t reach out to.

those regrets birthed fears and those fears were what made him even entertain the notion of a beneficial marriage.

or as the board likes to call it, an atrociously wickedly schemed marriage.

“they won’t have a ground to depose you to a director’s position if they can’t provide a solid reason,” you say and he blinks, clueless, hopeless.

it’s almost as if you’re facing a whole different man.

“what do you mean?”

“i’m talking about us doing what we do best,” you fix him a smile - one that probably needs a little convincing and grounding but a smile nonetheless, “we show them that the kims aren’t to be messed with,” you pause, letting the silence settle into brimming suspense before finally saying, “it’s been awhile since we’ve made a public appearance together, hasn’t it? how does lunch sound like?”

and so goes your multiple appearances in the most top notch restaurant together. the lack of chauffeur wasn’t intentional but helpful nonetheless to prove that the chairman was hopeless and irrevocably mad for his wife that he’d drive all the way to wherever she was to pick her up and then drive them to the designated restaurant instead of the convenience of meeting at said restaurant from wherever you both were prior to that.

then there was the hand holding, hip grabbing and not going a minute without smiling and giggling about what the other said. to outsiders, it would have looked as if things hadn’t been all that different - except you’d finally came out of your 1 billion doller cave after the whole ‘fiasco’ with your families. but it was the little hand kisses and forehead pecks in between taehyung making mini runs to get to your side to open your car door.

and the ‘how was your day’s and which are followed by a ‘you’re still deadset on working, huh?’s each time you told him about your in-the-work resume since you’re ‘at the risk of getting a notice of resignation any time soon’.

“what if you started your own business? i could buy a whole building in nonhyeon-dong that you could make as your headquarters?” he offers in between twirling the pasta around his fork after you insisted that- “my job is the only thing that i’ve got going on for me to prove that i’m not a gold-digger that everyone thinks i am.”

“i was thinking more like travelling from place to place like...” you shoot him a ‘you know’ smile before adding, “a cabin crew.”

“one of korean air’s biggest shareholders are letting go of her stock because her color pencil business isn’t doing so well these days,” he nods, deeply contemplative, “they’re gonna be sacking a few employees if they don’t get buyers by the next two months,” he surmises with a concluding nod to which you end up laughing and almost choking on your food.

picking up the water on your right, you quickly gulp it down before clarifying as to why you found his statement so funny that you’d risk your esophagus in the process, “no, tae,” that nickname is also one of the little things that just happens - you don’t miss the tuck in the corners of his lips when it slips off your tongue, “it’s sweet of you to want to buy me a share of the airline i’m working for but that’s the thing, it’s your money,” you reach out for his hand, smiling when he meets yours halfway.

a warm pressure engulfs your hand as he squeezes briefly, “and i told you, what’s mine is yours.”

“likewise,” you fix him a grateful smile, “but i like flying. i like being a cabin crew - on top of holding onto my job to prove people wrong, of course.”

the longest pause hovers over you like a grey clouds with taehyung’s beautiful but contemplating eyes holding you captive. as though trying to take you out part by part, trying to figure you out.

“then, what would you like me to do?” the question catches you off guard, like being hit by a wild baseball even though you’re walking right next to a baseball field, “you’ve always been so good at taking care of yourself - when you broke down in front of me... at the hospital... i didn’t know what to do-” his lips quiver just the slightest bit, almost as though holding back invisible tears, “tell me what to do. because it feels like everything i do isn’t the slightest bit helpful. ”

all of a sudden, the sands of time seem to have stopped, levitating midair within the dip of the hourglass. it’s daunting but heartbreaking at the same time - the sight of raw fear and uncertainty that’s pooling within taehyung’d eyes like unmoving river - you never knew your attempts to hold up your values reflects as a declaration of nonessential to taehyung’s own attempts to reach out to you.

“i don’t need you - to fight my battles, to solve my problems for me - though i’m immensely grateful that you did,” you say after what feels like an eternity, “but i want you so... stay as you are, supporting me like you’re doing now.”

“i don’t know if that counts as support - i’m not doing anything,” he counters, eyes downcasted until you reach out your other hand to cover his that’s already holding your left hand.

“you are - you never invalidated my feelings of wanting to work, you encouraged me to do bigger things and that means you believe in me - maybe i will take up that offer in the future but right now, i want to keep doing what i always have been,” you fix him a smile, “and i want to do it with you by my side.”

the tiniest of smile that slips onto his face tells you that his heart is still in a state of unrest. unconvinced. but he’s trying as he nods, “if that’s what you want,” and you thought that’s the end of it. until the foreshadowing “but,” that comes a second later, “i’m not gonna stop worrying and trying to fix things - we’re married, your problems are my problems too.”

the chuckle escapes your mouth signifies the good natured jest of your next words as you summon your hands back, already missing the warmth of his much larger ones around you, “well we weren’t exactly on that term until just recently.”

a shadow casts itself over taehyung’s handsome face as he picks up his fork, “that’s something i’ll regret for the rest of my life - not getting to know you beyond the contract sooner.”

“everyone makes mistakes,” you shrug before taking a peek at his expression as you mention a certain free spirited woman, “besides, you were too caught up with jeongyeon on our first year of marriage.”

she had been one of the few people who’d managed to bring out a side of taehyung you never knew existed.

boyish. bratty. someone who actually bicker and whines about the littlest things and everything that was on the opposite spectrum the crisp, suit-wearing, slicked back hair, charming man you married. sometimes, when you go out to dinners or the little moments when you find yourselves alone while attending functions, you see glimpses of that playful, boyish side of him. the human side of him.

over time, you realize that that’s also part of what makes taehyung... well, taehyung. it’s just only recently that you start seeing more than glimpses of these sides behind closed doors.

the way his eyes widen is enough for you to know that you’ve hit the nail right on its head. if the incomprehensible stuttering isn’t, “that... i was... we didn’t-”

“i know,” you fix him a jesting smile, “you may be a certified charmer for the most part but you’re not a homewrecker, tae.”

lunch goes on with you talking about how your father and brother are thrilled to have you and taehyung over for your monthly dinner. to which the man was partly confused and partly shivered in his seat at the thought of sitting down at a table with two of your favorite men in the world no doubt shooting him daggers while you’re not watching - or pretend that you don’t notice.

“i can’t avoid father forever,” he laments, finally giving into his fate as you walk out the restaurant, “and i have a lot of owning up to do to your family.”

“as do i,” you hum in agreement once before murmuring a ‘thank you’ as he holds the car door open after tipping the valet.

it’s only five minutes into the ride, once the car rolls to a stop at a red light does he turn to you, “you know, you don’t have to... with mom, reconciliation is a two way thing and she...” you notice the way his grip tightens around the wheel, eyes darkening as he breathes in, grounding himself “- she even made you file for divorce.”

the papers she’d given you that day still lied in your drawer, hidden away from taehyung’s pyromaniac hands. you’d caught him almost setting them on fire when you he found it lying on the counter after he’d returned home. all because spent a good chunk of the afternoon staring at it before leaving it to take a hot bath, not realizing taehyung would be home any time soon. ever since then, he hadn’t been on speaking terms with mrs. kim. turned down offers for dinners and luncheons, as he had directly told her in front of you through a phone call, “...not until you apologize to ___ first.”

“tae, mother was hurt by our lies and i understand why, i can’t promise i’ll be as accepting if i found out the daughter-in-law i cherished so much didn’t marry my son for love like i thought they did,” you lightly pat his hand that’s on the gear but instead he captures your fingers between his and guide them to his lips as he traps you within those beautiful eyes.

“you’re too kind for your own good, you know that?” there they are again, hazel underneath the light. but clouded with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint.

but before you can even muster a word, his eyes are already focused on the road as the car propels itself forward. but he doesn’t let go of your hand. he keeps it twined with his between yours and the gear. almost as if he didn’t want to be apart from you if he could help it. and neither could did you as you rub tiny motions into the back of his hand.

in your defense, you’ve stolen a precious gem from her that no money or gold could ever replace. and no matter how much you cherish the bond that formed after hours spent on shopping, tea times and mother-daughter (in-law) vacations, you’re not kind enough to unwrap him from your little fingers.

a smile curls on your lips as you guide taehyung’s hand to yours, placing a kiss on his knuckles and watching as his own lips tuck at the corners.

you’ll just have to make it up to mother some other way.

note. if you enjoy this then please leave a comment either below or in my inbox! and check out the other members’ installments to the series filed under ‘verse’ on top!

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antebunny · 4 years ago

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Parent Trap AU 5

It’s a Parent Trap AU, plus on-the-run hacker!wwx and celebrity!lwj. Full series here.

At first, Lan Wangji finds writing songs to be extremely challenging.

He’s all but quit his job, and his son is gone. He’s alone in the house he once shared with his family, while his brother tries to keep quiet about pitying him and supporting him, and his uncle demands to know why he has no interest in searching for his son. He’s the one that files the kidnapping report, in the end. Not that it does much; they’re already searching for Wei Ying, since he escaped from prison.

All Lan Wangji really does, during this time, is cry by his piano, and sing.

The melodies come naturally to him. He’s been writing melodies for years, and these songs are no different. He has a thousand things to say, so some are angry, so fast he thinks he might tear his fingers on the guitar strings, some are soft with only piano accompaniment. All too soon he has dozens of recordings of phrases that can be put together into full-length songs. The only one he doesn’t record is the one he wrote for guqin, years ago.

But the lyrics, the lyrics he struggles with for ages. Not Lan Wangji finds himself at a loss for what to say. He doesn’t speak much, it’s true, but when he does he always finds precisely what he wants to say. Rather, Lan Wangji finds he has too much to say.

One Friday afternoon, he sits down on his couch and plays the same ten-minute ballad on his guitar, trying again and again to find a way to shorten it without feeling like he’s ripping a part of his already shattered heart out of his chest. While suppressing the urge to write more verses. He knows he can’t leave them all in; it’s too repetitive. He wants these songs to be good, though he doesn’t really plan on marketing them. A large part of him thinks it’ll always be like this. Just him and his instruments, alone in the living room, mourning over a love long lost, making himself cry over his own lyrics.

Still, Lan Wangji is a perfectionist at heart. He has to do something about the ten-minute ballad. It’s longer than two songs put together.

What if I made them two separate songs?

The thought comes to Lan Wangji suddenly, and he sets down his guitar to pick up the notebook containing the lyrics. This could work. He becomes convinced of this the longer he looks at the lyrics. He’ll never run out of things to say about Wei Ying, but if he separated each of those things into one song–that could work.

He chooses a different melody, edits the lyrics to fit it, picks out a theme, an aspect of Wei Ying to sing about, and suddenly he has a whole discography, and not a single published song.

Lan Wangji goes to his brother.

“Are you sure about this?” Lan Xichen asks, his brows pulled together in a small, worried dip.

“Mn.”

They stare at each other without speaking, because Lan Xichen knows that every concern he might think of, Lan Wangji has already over thought.

“Even if he hears them?”

Lan Wangji will never be famous enough that Wei Ying, wherever in the world he might be, will hear his songs. But if he does, then all the better. “Mn.”

Lan Xichen sighs. “I just don’t want to see you hurt anymore.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t think that’s possible. “Hm.”

Lan Xichen sighs again. “Okay,” he says. “If that’s what you want. I’m sure A-Yao knows someone. I’ll ask.”

It’s a while before he finds someone who’ll actually produce his music, but he’s happy with the person he ends up with. Luo Qingyang emails him back almost immediately after she listens to his demo.

I need you down here yesterday, she says. This is getting produced right now.

His first song, When We Were Young, is released as a single less than a year after the scandal that took Wei Ying from his life, under the stage name “Hanguang-jun.” He’s not sure it fits, but he wants to.

And suddenly, it looks like Lan Wangji might actually be that famous.

Of course, it’s still years in the future, so Lan Wangji carries on like he’s not. His second single, At First Glance, does even better than When We Were Young, and his manager starts bothering him about a music video. Apparently it’s expected of him, but Lan Wangji rejects all of the ideas that the directors Luo Qingyang finds for him come up with. They end up renting a house for a week and filming there, then going to a studio with lights and a piano. Lan Wangji dresses up for that and plays his heart out, and that’s it, that’s the music video.

His third single, Under Moonlight, is somehow more popular than his previous two combined. He has fans now, or maybe it’s just that he’s only now realizing it. He’s not quite sure what to do with that. The video this time takes place on the very bridge the song talks about. He doesn’t do much, since he rejected the idea of hiring actors to play the “counterpart,” so he’s confused as to why it continues gaining views on YouTube. Apparently he looks young. He’s not sure if this is insulting or not, but the internet would probably be shocked to learn he has a five-year-old son.

Lan Sizhui is too young to listen to music by himself, so Lan Wangji hopes that somewhere, there’s a radio playing one of the new hit songs by Hanguang-jun, and a father-son duo walking past.

Luo Qingyang bullies him into exactly one interview before his first album is released. On it, he accidentally confirms that all the songs on the album are about one person, and panics after that, not wishing to reveal anything about Wei Ying or even Lan Wangji’s own name on camera.

Apparently the mystery helps? Lan Wangji understands fame less and less the closer he comes to it. He thought if he just wrote good songs, enough people would listen to him that Wei Ying would hear it. Wei Ying is spotted in Thailand, and Lan Wangji ends up naming his first album Oceans Apart.

It sells, and it sells, and still, Wei Ying and their son are nowhere to be found.

Wei Wuxian is lying on a roof the night of his wedding anniversary.

Purple, white, and red fireworks explode in the black sky above him. There’s some celebration going on in the city, and Wei Wuxian takes advantage of it to pretend it’s in celebration of his anniversary.

Not that there’s much to celebrate. He doesn’t think it’s typical to celebrate the anniversary of a marriage which no longer exists, but their marriage didn’t end in the typical way either.

And he still loves Lan Zhan. Loves him so much that the sight of rabbits brings him to tears. So much that he feels like a traitor whenever someone so much as smiles in his direction, so much that he can’t imagine himself flirting with someone. So much that he cries on the roof when the fireworks light up the sky.

“Papa?”

Wei Wuxian looks to the right, and there’s Wei Sizhui, who is sometimes the only thing keeping Wei Wuxian going on his darkest nights. He’s nestled up with Wei Wuxian’s arm around him, small face peering earnestly at him from the dark. “What?”

“Why are you crying?”

Wei Wuxian raises one hand instinctively to rub the tears away. He’d forgotten about that. He’s thrown himself fully into caring for his son, making sure that he has clothes and good food to eat, which is hard when they never stay in a place for long and Wei Wuxian is paranoid of anyone who stares at them too long. Sometimes he wonders if he’s really doing any good, keeping Wei Sizhui away from his other father and uncles and aunts, from a happy childhood with friends and a school. And every time, he blinks back to the moment he woke up in the prison having narrowly avoided being murdered, and knows that Wei Sizhui is still safer with him than he’d be if he was still there, within the Jins reach.

“Nothing,” Wei Wuxian says. “It’s nothing.”

Wei Sizhui frowns. “But Papa is sad,” he declares.

Wei Wuxian presses the back of his hand over his eyes. Fireworks crack so loudly it muffles his shaky inhale. Tears stream down his cheeks and around his ears. Red lights flash across his eyelids.

White lights flash through the stage, focusing on the solitary grand piano, and Lan Wangji, in his white suit, seated on the piano bench. A hush falls across the massive crowd. He adjusts his microphone slightly, and places his fingers gently atop the keys. The cameras zoom in on him.

And Lan Wangji sings.

“I’m just remembering,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “Someone I used to know.”

“Is it Dad?” Wei Sizhui asks timidly.

Wei Wuxian inhales shakily again, then wraps his arm back around his son. “Yeah,” he admits. “It’s your other father.”

He hasn’t looked back since he ran away. Countless times, he’s thought about Googling the Jiangs in an internet cafe, just to check on how they’re doing. They have social media profiles, so he could. He could. But even the slightest hint of connection could ruin what Wei Wuxian has managed to salvage. The Jiangs would fight for him. Would drag their names in the mud for him, and he can’t let them do that to themselves, so he cuts all ties and doesn’t look back.

Wei Wuxian hasn’t dared to search Lan Wangji since he ran away.

“Hello,” Lan Wangji sings, and the crowd cheers.“It’s me. I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet, to go over everything. They say that time’s supposed to heal you, but I ain’t done much healing.”

Before he knows it, there’s tears streaming down his face. They drip onto his nice white suit, but the music doesn’t pause.

Hello from the other side

“Will we ever see him again?” Wei Sizhui asks plaintively.

I must have called a thousand times

Wei Wuxian tries to shake his head, his shoulders pressed against the dusty brick roof. “I don’t know, baby,” he says.

To tell you I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done

“But why not?” Wei Sizhui pushes. It’s far from the first time he’s asked, but each day it gets harder and harder to answer.

Hello from the outside

“Because he’s very, very far away,” Wei Wuxian replies this time, and tries not to think of Lan Zhan as he last saw him, sleeping peacefully in their bed the night Wei Wuxian broke in and took Wei Sizhui with him. “Oceans away.”

At least I can say that I tried

Eventually, the fireworks stop, and Wei Sizhui falls asleep, head resting in the crook of Wei Wuxian’s arm. Wei Wuxian raises one hand to the midnight sky, pretends he can reach through the vast expanse to wherever his family is. “Happy anniversary, Lan Zhan,” he whispers. “I miss you.”

To tell you I’m sorry for breaking your heart

Eventually, the song ends, and the cheers deafen the stadium. The lights go out long after Lan Wangji has gotten up from his seat and stepped away from the microphone. The tears on his face are invisible until the cameras focus in on him walking.

“Happy anniversary, Wei Ying,” he whispers, before he picks up the microphone to thank the crowd. “I love you.”

#antebunny's ficlets #parent trap au #i will not pretend to write a song that's Famous™#i'll just steal Adele's which has 2.8B views on youtube #:)#mdzs #the untamed

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out-of-this-dimension · 3 years ago

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Hypothetically Rewriting Assault’s Story + Some General Assault Opinions

There’s a game my husband and I like to play when we watch a movie, play a game, or read a book that has a story that we don’t really enjoy or we enjoy certain parts of but not others. We look at things we’d keep and things we’d change and we build a story from there-- sort of like an AU but we don’t really go into the writing part, we just stick to theorizing and mapping a general story.

I decided to play that game with Star Fox. Not because I think Star Fox has a bad story but because sometimes I think the stories could have been handled better. Note: for the rewrite game, I only really look at story, even for video games, I don’t really look at gameplay mechanics, but I do understand those have a lot to do with story potential so I do take it in as a factor... I just don’t bother to “rewrite” the mechanics, if that makes any sense at all. Some of my list today will include boss encounters but I wouldn’t necessarily say those are mechanic-related... more like “event-related”.

I’ve mused a bit in the past about rewriting Adventures and Command and I do have plans to do a mock up of an Adventures remake eventually. However, today I was thinking about how I would go about handling an Assault re-write in particular. Much like Command and Adventures, I don’t have any beef with the core story but I do think there’s a few things that could’ve been better about Assault’s storyline-- like they had good ideas rolling but they didn’t quite refine them.

Under the cut because SUPER long.

My basic feelings on Assault are pretty positive. I think the game is generally just fun and I like that it feels like the natural progression from SF64. I liked getting to see planets we haven’t seen since the N64 era in better graphics and I liked seeing Star Wolf return. I also just thought the aparoids were neat enemies.

Generally speaking, though, when it comes to Assault, I think it suffers from the thing it tries to push the most-- the story. I think a lot of people get caught up in thinking the story is better than it is because it’s the first game since SF64 that really follows the same Star Fox vibe without retelling the Lylat Wars. Don’t get me wrong, the overall plot is great but the execution and pacing are... wonky. Certain characterizations also take a hit in some regards but no one really talks about that when Command exists. That’s something we’ll talk about later on with this post.

That being said, Assault really does have a lot good going for it. An absolute banger of a soundtrack, some great dialogue, a neat story synopsis, the introduction of cool characters like Panther and Beltino (who existed but was always off-screen), and just good levels.

So, here’s what I would add, I suppose, if I were to somehow have the ability to rewrite Assault. Originally I had this in paragraph form, but I’ve made it into more of a list under topic segments with main points bolded for your viewing pleasure. Some of these points might be considered nitpicky and while I do understand that yes, this is a game about space animals, I do hold the developers in high enough regard to make a game with a continuity that makes sense.

The Story Changes

- Reduce Pigma’s storyline in Assault. This is the biggest one for me because a bulk of the plotline feels like a giant chase to just get at Pigma and it feels like it derails from the actual plot with the aparoids. We only go to Sargasso because of Pigma. We only go to Fichina and then back to Meteo again, because of Pigma. That’s 3 levels in a 10 level game devoted to just tracking down Pigma and chasing him. While it makes the build up to fighting Pigma kind of nice, I personally feel like the plot could be reduced to 2 levels. If Assault overall was a longer game, I could see them making it 3 levels. Overall, though, in its current state, I feel like the side plot overstays its welcome and the aparoids promptly get shoved to the side in favor of “Oh no, we gotta get to Pigma!” And I get the main motive here is to show how the aparoids affect people and because of the build up, it does a good job at showing how utterly terrifying the aparoids are. But it’s still too long given the length of Assault’s story. The only alternative to this is make Assault longer, which... honestly, it should be.

- Revise the scene with Tricky. I’m obviously not well-versed in dinosaur biology but I’m pretty sure dinos didn’t grow that fast from what studying I HAVE done. And why is he suddenly king now? Did his parents die? He seems not affected by this at all? Like it’s a funny scene with him, Fox, and Krystal, but it’s odd if you really look at it. Give us, as players, more context because I’m still not even sure what happened to make Tricky suddenly the leader and... big. As a note, you’re gonna hear me gripe a lot about the Sauria level in this post.

- The Star Wolf + Peppy sacrifice is a low effort way to raise tension/stakes and then cop out. Oldest trick in the book, imo, is to act like you’re going to kill off important characters only for them to be alive miraculously. And let’s face it, as an audience we all know they aren’t going to kill those characters because it’s Nintendo and those characters are too beloved. I would’ve forgiven them for only doing this with Peppy or Star Wolf, but when you tack them both together and throw in the fact they make it seem like you’re going to have to kill General Pepper too... yeah, it’s just a bit much of the same trope over and over again. I wanted to put a note in here about how I’m fine with the Great Fox being “sacrificed” but overall, it needed to return to the series because of it’s icon status, but I think that’s more of a gripe at Command instead of Assault.

- Keep Pigma alive. This will conflict with a point I have later on about the game consistently having characters cheat death for easy drama points but with Pigma, I would’ve kept him fully alive... but maybe with some physical damage from the aparoids. I understand he’s semi-alive in Command and tbh I don’t know where I stand on that. Why keep Pigma alive, you might ask? I feel like his character has a lot more potential than being “just the greedy guy”. Like he’s got good potential future villain material for future games and... if I’m honest? I just don’t see Nintendo wanting to keep Pigma dead so why even bother killing him off? They couldn’t even commit to him being dead in Command anyways so it seems very moot.

- Bring Bill and Katt back. Assault is acts a bit like a big reunion of all of our SF64 favorites but our two favorite side characters are suspiciously missing. Wouldn’t Bill be out on the front lines fighting against Andrew in the beginning? Or maybe back in Katina? And wouldn’t Katt inevitably show up in the midst of the invasion, maybe to pointedly check in on Falco?

- Bring Andrew back for the final fight. I think Andrew being defeated early into the game is fine overall but I think bringing him back in for a reunion final fight against the aparoids would serve to really solidify that it’s really everyone vs the invading aparoid force. It would show that not only is Star Wolf willing to put aside their differences but so is basically everyone in the Lylat System in the name of survival. Imagine the Venomians and Cornerians working together against an aparoid fleet, giving Star Fox and Star Wolf time to attack the queen? I just think it’d be neat and it’d open up the potential for some fun banter mid-mission. I do understand that quite a few people consider Andrew canonically dead after Assault but personally, I feel that his defeat left his fate questionable (I’m a staunch believer that unless there’s a body, they’re probably alive, especially for Nintendo games because, again, they never like to kill people off) so him returning in Command never really bothered me.

- In general, reconsider some of the character portrayals. Unfortunately, when a series has a different studio for each game, character portrayals will inevitably have inconsistencies. While I give Namco a lot of credit for putting in oodles and oodles of detail into the game (particularly the levels), I think they failed in their portrayal of Fox, at the least, and Wolf is a considerable offender as well. While it’s obvious that Fox in Adventures was effectively modeled off of Sabre even in terms of personality, Rareware was at least able to justify Fox’s newfound jaded attitude with the passing of many years and a distinct lack of steady income, resulting in the team being in disarray. Assault’s Fox is a stark contrast to his cynical interpretation with seemingly no explanation other than maybe “Oh, I have more money and a gf, maybe I should behave myself”. As if the sudden change in personality wasn’t random, Fox also just seems very blah, like a blank slate stereotypical shooter game protagonist dude with little to no emotion. Wolf is less obvious but gets slated into a mentor-like role midway through the game and ends up in a respectful rivalry with Fox... which there’s nothing inherently wrong with that except for it happening abruptly (and, I mean, Peppy is right there). But I take less issue with this and more of an issue with the fact that there’s an entire level establishing that Wolf now runs a crime den with effectively what seems to be an army and no one bats an eye at this. He doesn’t even call on them to help with the aparoids. Did they all die when the aparoids attacked Meteo? Are they safe somewhere else? Where do they go? How was Sargasso able to operate without the CDF being on their doorstep with warrants for arrests?

- Don’t kill all the dinosaurs. A bit of a dramatic statement but the ending screen that showed all the damage to Sauria really bothered me. While I understand that the dinosaurs had less of a chance against the aparoids than a more technology-focused society like Corneria, I was a bit disappointed that the decision was made to just state that a lot of tribes had been wiped out. I know this could easily be retconned in a future game and I feel like it should be. “But why, Amalia? Why are you disappointed by that?” 1) It’s a little too grimdark for my tastes. 2) The fact it all happened off-screen felt very hand-wavy. And 3) It brings into question the entire point of Adventures. Why did we bother to save this planet if it was going to be reduced to rubble and ash 1 year later? Where were the Krazoa in all of this? Why did they not make an appearance at all to try to stop the invasion with their alleged powers? It just raises too many weird questions and I feel like Namco didn’t think it through too much. Which I mean, sure. Family, kiddo game. I’m not asking for bigbrain plot and lore but I’m squinting at this bit because it does feel very contrary to the lore from the previous game.

- Make the aparoids more relevant. As nice as it is to have a random bad guy from another galaxy, I feel like there was more that could be done with the aparoids in terms of their origins. Tiny things, mind you, not huge revelations. Off the top of my head, they could have been tied into Krystal’s backstory to help alleviate some of the complaints that she was too random to be added to the series’ main cast. Alternatively, they could have been a product of Andross or even a weapon prototype from Corneria that fled the lab (I actually thought the game was leaning in that direction for a bit then just Nothing Happened). I get that the vagueness of their origins leaves room for people to speculate and speculation is nice but... when you leave too many things unknown, it starts to feel less like giving fans room to interpret and more like just doing random things for the sake of it. I think a lore tidbit here or there would work wonders for the aparoids instead of leaving them as just borg/zerg clones.

Level-Based Changes

- Add either Aparoid RedEye or Aparoid General Scales as a boss to Sauria. Given that this level mysteriously lacks a boss, which is just weird compared to the other levels, I think that they had the opportunity to add something cool to go along with the cinematic feel they were going for with Assault. Assault’s cutscenes do play in a movie-like fashion and it’s clear they’re trying to make the game as epic as possible. It’s a shame they had so much fodder for a great boss here but they failed to go through with it. Alternatively: Add a Krazoa-Aparoid fusion. Why? Because Star Fox is about cool epic sci-fi and that would be cool epic sci-fi incarnate.

- Add a boss to the Aparoid Homeworld Level, aka the penultimate level. Another one I felt was personally weird that there was no “final defense system” to challenge the team. Would be cool to do an aerial battle over the aparoid planet with some giant flying aparoid.

- Be kinder to Sauria. The level had some good homages but overall was incredibly small and incredibly short. It felt like a bone tossed to Adventures fans but was not entirely true to the setting built by Rareware. I’m... not even sure where the Sauria level is supposed to take place? I presume it’s Walled City but it doesn’t really have the same color scheme or aesthetic? Also where is my revised Adventures music? Why do all the other levels get it but Sauria doesn’t?

- Put some of those funky items from the multiplayer into the main campaign. I don’t know why some of these things, items especially, were omitted unless it was purely due to time constraints. I remember having missile launchers and jetpacks in the multiplayer and was a bit sad that they were not in the main campaign. Retuning the levels and adding those in would be a nice breath of fresh air for the more tedious on-foot missions.

- More levels. Self-explanatory. Still sad we didn’t get the Zoness or Titania levels in the single-player mode.

I think all of the above changes would improve the game, though I recognize all of this is being said 16 years later after lots of time to contemplate Assault’s weaker points. I’m not entirely certain how long Star Fox Assault took to develop but given that there’s obviously quite a bit scrapped from the game (an entire arcade mode was scrapped as well), I’m going to assume that the studio felt pressured to shove the game out the door and into the hands of customers. It’s a shame, really, because I think a little bit longer in the oven would have done a lot of good. Still, the product we got was good in its own right and a game that many people look back on fondly. I haven’t gotten to replay it in years but I hope to quite soon.

You might wonder why I bothered typing this all out and I guess my point was this-- Assault was great but it wasn’t perfect, and while a lot of other games fall under a crushing amount of scrutiny, Assault seems to dodge it. And don’t get me wrong-- I adore Assault. But given that not many takes exist out there about rewriting it, I decided to give it a shot. For variety’s sake.

I do want to a mock up of a revised Assault story, which I think I will get to work on after completing this while all my ideas are still fresh in mind. So stay tuned for that sometime in the near future. I will also be doing my Adventures mock up at some point but probably not for a little bit as I do wanna focus some of my free time on actual fic-writing.

Anyways, if you stuck around this long, thank you for reading! Have any changes you’d like to see to Assault if you could time machine your way back to the early 2000s? Feel free to post in the comments, I’d love to read your ideas!

#star fox assault #starfox assault #super long #queue'd

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puckandperry · 4 years ago

Text

if you send for me

anderperry

synopsis: au in which welton academy isn’t a boarding school, and neil goes to todd’s house to throw pebbles at his bedroom window, and todd realises when it's his turn to throw the pebbles— before it’s too late.

warnings: slight sentiments of sadness. nothing too extreme!

w/c: 5.8k

a/n: hello all! this is my first time writing for these two, and the dps world in general, but i’ve done my best to capture the characters, and so i hope it’s worked. enjoy <3

⭒

The windows are dark, they always are.

Todd’s parents have always been strict about that sort of thing— lights out after a certain hour, no going out on school nights, curfew and all that.

Neil’s parents have always been like that too, but he’s learned to slip out of doors unnoticed, silent upon socked feet as he steals through the dark, only stepping on floorboards that don’t creak. Neil is a shadow, Neil is a thief. But the prize is far more precious than silver or gold.

⭒

When the first pebble hits the window, Todd’s still asleep, and he doesn’t notice.

The sound of the second pebble against the glass is conveniently part of his dream, and fades into the abyss of sleep, a drop of water in an ocean.

The third is when he wakes properly, and he thinks that maybe footsteps are approaching his bedside. He shifts disconcertedly, sleep still trailing in the wake of his consciousness, the brush of a lover’s hand.

But at the fourth, he sits bolt upright at the sound, eyes bright and wide in the dark, though moonlight spills onto the floor from the window, from behind those curtains that never consent to be fully closed.

He slips his toes out from beneath the covers and winces at the cold when they meet the wooden floor, but he’s quick to recover from the tingle of frost down his spine, and he walks toward the window in three quick, short strides.

When he brushes away the curtains and twines his fingers around the window latches to push the contraption from its frame, he finds Neil on the ground below, a hand raised with a fifth pebble, the other cradling several more.

Neil’s face breaks into a smile when he catches Todd’s eyes, and Todd fights the flutter of his heart, coaxes his own smile into a grimace; he should not be happy that Neil is here, in the middle of the night. He should be cross, and worried about his parents finding him up after bedtime, and grouchy with his lingering drowsiness.

But he is none of those things. He is decidedly lighthearted, awake and spirited and warm, despite the coldness of the night. He is how he always is, when he is with Neil.

“What’re you doing here?” he hisses, his elbows on the windowsill as he leans farther out into the night, the breeze beginning to ruffle his hair.

Neil smiles, like Neil always does. “What does it look like?” he says. “I’m here to see you, of course.”

“You can’t—” Feigned indignation has raised Todd’s voice on no account of his own, and he has to swallow to bring his volume back down. “You can’t be here,” he says.

Neil folds his arms. “Why not?”

“Because it’s the middle of the night!” Todd sputters. “Because you should be asleep!”

Neil only grins. “You’re not asleep,” he counters easily. His tongue is poking out between his teeth, his eyes vivid in the moonlight.

“Because you woke me,” says Todd, but it’s a lame attempt at an excuse, and Neil is already climbing the bush that twists up the wall by Todd’s bedroom, his sweater sleeves snagging on the brambles.

And Todd is leaning out the window, biting his lip as his fingers tighten on the windowsill and he pleads with the darkness not to let Neil fall, because he’d never forgive himself if Neil fell for him, for his sake, for the sake of seeing him.

And why? Why is the other question that nags at Todd as Neil skirts the windowsill, swings one leg up to clamber into his bedroom. Sure, they’re friends, but midnight visits in solemn shadow, pebbles thrown like stars, one leaning out the window to speak to the other like Shakespearian lovers.

It doesn’t make any sense.

Todd isn’t paying attention when Neil finally tumbles through the window, making a shushing noise as though his shoes will obey him and not make a sound.

He straightens up, and when he does, he’s nose-to-nose with Todd, who seizes up when he realises the position they’re in.

But Neil only laughs, his perfect hair hanging into his perfect eyes, and Todd wants to reach up and brush it away, to see the other boy better. He doesn’t, though, and Neil is left with that task for himself. He takes it in stride, and when he smiles down at Todd, his eyes crinkle.

Instinctively, Todd smiles back.

“Hi,” says Neil.

Todd’s reply is breathless, and Neil’s smile broadens.

“Scared ya, did I?”

“Well who the hell prances about throwing pebbles past midnight?” asks Todd, as though expecting a legitimate answer. But for all Neil’s openness, his vibrant personality, he is noticeably quiet on certain topics.

He snorts. “Prancing? I prefer gallivanting.”

Todd rolls his eyes in response. “Keating is getting to your head.”

“And yours,” says Neil, with twinkling eyes. “Can’t help but love him, though.”

Neil is often bold, but he rarely talks of love. Todd wonders faintly if it's because he’s never been loved wholly, properly. Only fragments here and there, what can be scavenged. Though Todd doesn’t understand how anyone could love Neil any less than wholly. Neil is magnetic, beautiful, powerful in his sense of self and conscious of the world around him. Todd has never met anyone like him.

“So what are you doing?”

“Doing? Neil, I was asleep.”

He shrugs almost apologetically, then fishes a leather-bound book from the inside pocket of the jacket he’s wearing. “Feel like reading some poetry?”

⭒

It starts off with Whitman, and Byron quickly follows, to precede Shakespeare and Wilde, and then they halt with Wilde, because their voices have grown languid with the passing time, and it takes longer now to recite a poem than it did an hour ago.

They’re sitting on the floor, leaned against Todd’s bed although the floor is cold, and Neil isn’t quite sure why they’re sitting on the floor, but he thinks it has something to do with the intimacy of sharing the space of someone else’s bed, a line Todd hasn’t offered to cross, and one Neil doesn’t dare to suggest— even if the floor is freezing.

But Todd’s side is pressed up against his, and so Neil is not as cold as he would have been. They lean against each other, and Neil reads aloud.

In the words of Wilde he tells of the sun and the moon, of the moon retreating to her sombre cave as the night wanes to day, and the silence that love makes of a person. He reads of feelings seldom felt, though they are ones he feels strongly, and he thinks that he must be wrong in his assessment of himself, because surely, his heart should not be beating out of his chest for the one who sits beside him.

“But surely unto Thee mine eyes did show/Why I am silent, and my lute unstrung; Else it were better we should part, and go,” Neil reads, and he thinks that Todd is falling asleep beside him. “Thou to some lips of sweeter melody,” and Todd is most definitely asleep, because his head rests upon Neil’s shoulder, and Neil thinks of how lucky he is for Todd to trust him this way, “And I to nurse the barren memory/Of unkissed kisses, and songs never sung.”

He finishes the verse, the poem, and there is a silence like that after rain. Soft, pure, and the world beneath is untouched, new, as the sun flits through the leaves to colour the Earth below in warm hues, firelight remnants.

Or perhaps the silence is not what gives Neil this feeling, but Todd’s soft exhale on his shoulder.

Neil smiles to himself.

There’s a blanket on the end of the bed, and he reaches for it, drapes it over the boy beside him. Then slowly, carefully, he eases Todd’s head from his shoulder, and lets him curl up with his head upon a pillow, still on the floor, because Neil worries he’ll wake Todd if he tries to move him back to bed. But at least now the other boy is cocooned in warmth, and unbothered by the world around him.

His cheeks are a little flushed, lips parted against the pillow. His hair is in his eyes, as Neil’s often is. Neil never brushes his own hair away. His mother used to do that. She doesn’t anymore, but he still hopes that one day she’ll return to her old habit. Neil wonders if Todd’s mother brushes his hair from his eyes.

Neil resolves that it does not matter whether or not she does, but that one of the most gentle things in this world is to have one’s hair combed away from one’s eyes, and Todd is the gentlest person Neil has ever known. He’s fierce when sufficiently provoked, but quiet up until that point, and Neil admires that betwixt the cruelties of this world, there are still people like Todd who find it within themselves to be gentle.

He stoops, and brushes the hair from his friend’s eyes, lets his touch linger.

“Adieu, adieu, adieu,” he murmurs, because he has no words of his own for this moment, and must borrow from Shakespeare.

Neil climbs out the window, finds footholds in the bush against the brick of the house, closes the window, and slips out into the night.

⭒

Todd wakes alone, and goes to school as usual.

When he meets Neil in the morning, they do not speak of the night before. Still, Neil’s smile is bright and warm as the sun, and they talk between classes, stifle laughter at the same stiff-necked teachers that they always do, exchange glances with one another as Keating’s lesson of the day proves even more adventurous as the previous.

He is getting to be better friends with the boys whom Neil keeps in company, as well, beginning to settle into a comfortable routine, and the lot of them meet in the cave on weekend nights as they always do. In content, it is much like the nights Todd spends with Neil, yet, the cave meetings have a different air about them.

The days pass with school and homework, the bore of scholarly tasks made lively by the asides of his friends.

Todd loves the days, but he lives for the nights.

Neil has now made a habit of coming to visit, sneaking up the climbing bush and letting Todd help him the last of the way through the window.

He brings a book, or a leaflet, something to read, or the script for the play he’s in, so that Todd can help him to practice lines. Neil hasn’t told his parents about the play, so Todd’s house, in the middle of the night, is the safest place to practice.

But Neil projects, as all good actors know to do, and Todd shushes him.

“My parents!” he reminds him, because they are asleep downstairs. But Neil’s speech only gives way to laughter, muffled by the wool of his sweater sleeve as he covers his mouth vainly, in an attempt to drown the sound.

Soon Todd is laughing as well, and they’re not laughing, but giggling, and the sound is so absurdly childish that Todd shushes Neil with new fervour. However, Neil does not take note, rather throws his head back as his shoulders shake, and Todd reaches up and covers Neil’s mouth with his hands.

Neil tries to bat away Todd’s hands, but Todd does not relent, a warning in his eyes. Neil ceases his giggling, and nods, to assure Todd that he will not laugh any more.

Ever-trusting, Todd removes his hands from Neil’s person, but Neil starts laughing again as soon as he is free.

Todd reaches up to cover Neil’s mouth again, more playful than in actual effectiveness, but immediately, Neil presses a kiss to Todd’s fingers, and Todd leaps back.

“Neil!” he says, but Neil only laughs, and when the latter leaves in the twilight of the youthful morning, it’s with extra care to move in silence, as though to make up for the ruckus of earlier.

Sometimes Neil brings food, pilfered from his own pantry, or from the dining hall at school, cookies and pieces of cake, fruit slightly bruised from being stolen and hidden away, but still always ripe and sweet.

They read books and poetry, learn Shakespeare, trade stories over their pillaged feasts, listen to records at the lowest volume possible, parting in the morning with no word of the night.

There is something comfortable about simply being in Neil’s presence. There is no pressure to do anything, to be anything in particular, and yet Todd feels that he could do anything, be anything— whatever he likes. So, in a rare moment of truth, he chooses to simply be himself.

He likes being himself.

⭒

As midnight decisions often do, the lack of sleep earned by Todd and Neil in the company of one another catches up with them, and one day, the two are awoken by someone clearing their throat.

But they are not in Todd’s bedroom when Neil lifts his head, lifts his head up from a desk and blinks sleepily to find Todd on his left doing the same. The classroom is otherwise empty, before they each notice Keating leaned against the table between them, his arms folded and his eyes crinkling at the corners as his gaze darts between them.

“Morning, boys,” he says, and Neil thinks his smile broadens.

“Mr. Keating,” he blurts, at the same time Todd says,

“I uh—”

But Keating waves his hands, smiling still. “No, no. No trouble. I imagine my voice has a bit of a droll to it. I’m sure that’s why my first thesis presentation went as badly as it did.” He shifts, lifts his chin, narrows his eyes. “So, what’s keeping you up at night? Dreams? Or fears?”

Neil glances at Todd to see if he’s going to respond, but Todd only smiles, as though he knows something Neil doesn’t.

A moment later, Neil realises that his glasses are askew on his nose, and adjusts them hurriedly, making a face at the other boy.

Todd makes a face back, before they both remember Keating, and turn their heads in his direction once more.

His eyes twinkle. “Or,” he says thoughtfully, “each other?”

Neil swallows.

“We’ve been reading poetry,” says Todd, and Neil looks upon him with pleasant surprise. It is not often Todd speaks unprompted.

Todd’s words are of truth, and Keating knows of the Dead Poets Society meetings in the cave. He should not, however, know of Neil’s late-night visits to Todd. And yet, something in his countenance persuades Neil that Keating does know.

“And poetry is all well and fine,” Keating responds, with his easy smile, “but you cannot dream if you do not sleep. And if you sleep in my class, you will miss some golden opportunities to follow your dreams.”

Neil fights laughter, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees that Todd is already in the throes of it, and so he gives up his solemnity and grins.

“We are such stuff as dreams are made of,” Neil quotes, “and our little life is rounded with sleep.”

“Ah,” says Keating, “our good friend William. But, Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks/Within his bending sickle's compass come;/Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,/But bears it out even to the edge of doom. Love waits,” he says, “and you have time. So long as in sleeping, you wait as well.”

The eyes of their teacher twinkle again as he gathers up his things and proceeds to the open classroom door.

Todd turns to Neil. “What— what d’you think he meant by that?”

Neil stares after Keating, though he feels Todd’s eyes upon him.

“No idea,” he says.

He lies.

⭒

Todd has been keeping Neil’s secret for months now. Two months, to be exact, and all he has to do is keep it for one more night, because Neil’s father mustn’t find out. Neil’s father mustn’t find out that Neil is going to be in a play.

But be in a play Neil will, and Todd has never seen him as happy as he is now.

They’re all here in the wings. Todd and Charlie and Meeks and Pitts and Knox, with Chris, and Ca— well, actually, Cameron seems not to be here. Todd has no idea where he’s got to, but he hasn’t seen him, and to be honest, he doesn’t rightly care where Cameron is. But Keating is here too and Neil— beautiful, brilliant Neil— waiting for the lights to dim and for the last of the audience to take their seats.

Neil is in costume— a simple thing, matching greenish-grey trousers and shirt, a crown of twining twigs and ruby berries upon his hair. The lot of them have been talking animatedly for the past few minutes, Neil the most animated of them all, but now Keating glances at his wristwatch and announces that they should probably make their way to their seats, before the theatre falls entirely dark. Murmurs of agreement ensue, and the gaggle of boys turn to follow Keating.

Keating pauses, touches Neil’s shoulder.

“Break a leg, ye merry Puck.” He grins, and Neil smiles happily.

Meeks and Pitts wish Neil the same, and he nods his thanks. Knox tells Neil good luck, to the uproar of Charlie.

Charlie cuffs the back of Knox’s head, and Knox yelps. “What kind of idiot are you?”

“You tell me!” says Knox. “What kind of idiot am I, Charlie?”

“You don’t tell actors good luck!” Charlie rebuts. “That’s the kind of idiot you are.”

Charlie stalks off, and Knox runs after him. Their conversation floats back to Neil and Todd, who stare after them.

“But what kind?! CHARLIE!”

Todd finds Neil laughing when he turns back to his friend.

“They’re both idiots,” he says. “The same kind.”

“S why they get along so well,” Todd responds, and Neil nods his agreement.

Then at once, his eyes flit away from the shrinking figures of Charlie and Knox, and when Todd looks at him, Neil’s gaze dances with light.

“What?” says Todd, a half-smile already upon his face.

Neil’s eyes meet with Todd’s, and he grins. “I’m just so excited! I’ve never been this excited before, I mean, to be in a play, to be in an actual play, and not just any play, but Shakespeare— Todd!” Neil laughs delightedly, spinning in a wild circle with his arms outstretched, so that he nearly whacks Todd in the process.

Todd laughs as well, and marvels at the colour of Neil’s eyes, a colour for which he has no name but the-colour-of-Neil’s-eyes-colour. He’s never seen a colour like this anywhere else, with the sheer spirit and liveliness it bears, despite the fact that it is only a colour, and colours cannot be neither spirited nor lively. But then there are Neil’s eyes, staring back into his, and Todd thinks that colours can most certainly be both spirited and lively.

“I’m so excited, I swear I could do anything.”

“Anything?” says Todd, as the lights begin to dim.

“Anything! I could run a marathon—”

Todd laughs.

“— scale a mountain, write a poem far better than yours—”

Todd scoffs, not at that Neil should be able to write something better than he, but at that Neil thinks Todd sets a standard for poem-writing in the first place.

“— alright,” says Neil, “maybe not a poem better than yours, but still!” He’s breathless, now, eyes flitting from the stage lights to the stage itself, all about the world around him, and back to Todd. Always back to Todd. “I could fly,” Neil says. “I really think I could fly. I have this feeling.”

“A feeling?”

“Yeah, a feeling,” he breathes. “Like I’m invincible. Like I could do anything.”

“That’s generally the definition of the word ‘invincible’,” Todd deadpans. But nothing can or will faze Neil Perry.

“I’m so excited I could dance. Sing—”

“Yeah, got that. You could do anything.”

“Todd, I could kiss you, I’m so excited!”

It slips out, just slips out. That much is apparent to Todd, even as his cheeks flush crimson in the waning light, even as Neil’s eyes grow soft and Todd finds he can’t look away.

It slips out, but Neil is entirely serious.

Todd’s stomach does somersaults as he opens his mouth to stammer out that it’s fine, they can forget about what Neil’s said, but then Neil stoops and kisses him.

Gently. Quickly. He’s drawn back again before Todd can think to respond, though he realises his eyelids have fluttered shut.

When he opens his eyes, there’s a sigh on his parted lips, and he’s taken half a step forward, drifted toward Neil.

Neil’s face is impassive as he straightens up, but his eyes are soft and searching.

Todd wonders what he’s searching for, but he once again has no time to react before someone calls,

“Neil, showtime!”

Neil drops his gaze to the floor and spins away from Todd, showing no signs of the adrenaline high that presently has Todd in its thrall, rushing through him like an opened dam— there’s no coming back from this.

But before Neil gets too far away, Todd grabs his hand and squeezes.

Neil doesn’t look back, though his fingers curl in Todd’s grasp.

He disappears amongst the crowd of cast and crew before another word can be exchanged.

Todd doesn’t think anyone saw them, but he understands Neil’s caution, even as his heart twists in his chest and he makes his way to Mr. Keating and the others in the audience.

He settles into his seat as the lights finally fade into shadows, and Keating glances at Todd as though to ask if he’s okay.

Todd gives a brief nod and turns his head toward the stage, hoping Keating cannot see the apprehension in his eyes.

But as Neil and his castmates take the stage, Todd forgets everything but the show, and how talented Neil is as part of it. He chortles alongside the rest of the audience, smiles upon Neil with reverence, the way an astronomer would look upon a star, an artist upon their paints, an adventurer upon the undiscovered secrets of the universe.

His heart is full, his hands are warm.

And Neil lights up the stage.

⭒

They’re taking their bows upon the edge of the stage, striding forward to be met with the standing ovation gifted to them by the audience, and as the house lights come back up, Neil sees his friends and Keating applauding, whistling, cheering for him. Sees Todd cheering for him, for once the loudest of them all.

And then the curtains are closing and Neil exhales the high coursing through his veins, throws back his head and laughs as his castmates shout and celebrate around him. They jostle, congratulating one another and him, and Neil congratulates them in turn.

But then there's a cloud, because he’s being told that his father is waiting for him.

He changes briskly, takes his duffle bag in one hand and his crooked crown in the other, and parts the grand drape. He doesn’t breathe as he lifts his gaze, and makes eye contact with his father.

Any hopes he had of his father understanding this talent of his, this acting, which is not a fleeting love but an enduring one, disappears when he next exhales, a puff of air in the coldness of night, gone before you have time to fully realise that it is there.

Silently, Neil follows his father out the door. His friends fall upon him, some of them calling to him to congratulate him on his performance, others to invite him to some kind of afterparty.

“I can’t, guys,” he is forced to say, though really he has no idea why it is that he can’t. Neil was good as Puck. Neil knows he was good. Can’t his father see that too?

Somebody says his name as he’s walking, but it’s not until the repetition of it that Neil startles to perceive Keating beside him.

“You have the gift! What a performance!”

Keating is smiling and Neil smiles back, momentarily lost in that someone has spoken what he wants to hear. “You left even me speechless!”

It does not last.

“Stay in the car,” Neil’s father growls. “And Keating. You stay away from my son.”

Charlie is shouting Neil’s name, shouting an appeal to Neil’s father, but the latter only glares, and Neil gets into the car without argument.

As the car is started and driven away, Neil’s gaze lingers on Todd’s, through the window, through the snow.

⭒

They’re walking back to school, where they’ve left their bikes, when Todd stops in his tracks.

The others have been talking, but Todd has been thinking. Thinking about earlier.

He can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. Or that something was wrong. Or will be wrong.

And suddenly there’s an urgency that plagues him, and he has to see Neil, or he won’t be able to sleep that night, or any night.

He stops, turns, and then simply starts running.

Carpe fucking diem.

“Hey— Todd!” Charlie is the one shouting, again. “What’re you— where are you—”

“I’ll catch up with you guys later!” Todd calls back.

“But where’re you going?!” says Meeks.

“Neil’s!”

He begins to run properly, pumping his arms, letting the wind assault his senses as it whips the hair about his face, as he throws himself forward like he’s falling. And he is falling. But not because of gravity.

He barely knows where he’s going, but he and Neil have walked home together plenty a time, and so he remembers what street Neil lives on, by intuition, if not by name.

When he reaches the street he’s looking for, he slows and nearly slips in the snow when he makes a hairpin turn onto the lane.

From a run to a jog to a walk he slows, because now he’s looking for Neil’s father’s car to identify the house.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Todd mutters as he hurries up the road, scanning left and right, left, right, left— right again.

His heart is sinking and he bites his lip, starts to notice the cold, how his fingers tremble with it, his cheeks burning from the wind.

And then he sees it.

And he runs.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do once he gets there, but within moments, he’s there. He has to be here.

He runs across the grass, and then, by sheer luck, he sees it: Neil’s crown from the play, sitting atop a windowsill in the upper floor of the house.

Todd’s eyes scour the ground, but the snow is thick, and there are no pebbles.

He glances up again, and that desperation seizes him. Back down to the ground, and still he sees nothing. But then the next time he looks up, there’s Neil, standing in the window, and the crown is upon his head.

He stares forward into the darkness of the night, blankly, and Todd has rarely seen him this colourless. Still, there is something beautiful in those dark eyes, in the curve of his mouth and how it matches that of his shoulders.

Todd considers shouting, but then he doesn’t want to wake the whole of the Perry household.

In one moment, Todd is watching Neil through the window, and in the next he has formed a snowball in his hands.

He arcs it toward the window with a huff, never dreaming that it will land.

Much less dreaming that it will sail straight through the window— which appears to be open— and catch Neil upon his bare shoulder.

Neil startles with a gasp, the coldness of the snow instantaneous in reviving him from his reverie, and when he sees from whence the projectile came, his mouth falls agape.

“Todd?”

“I— I don’t know how I’m going to climb a drainpipe in a suit but I’m—” Todd swallows, steels himself. “I’m going to do it.”

He braces one foot against the brick and grasps the drainpipe with both hands, attempts to hoist himself upward.

“Todd, you’re crazy,” says Neil, and he’s leaning against the windowsill, the way Todd did the first time when Neil came to visit him. “This is crazy. Get down from there, you’ll fall!”

Sure enough, Todd slips, but he wasn’t really off of the ground in the first place, so it doesn’t matter. He looks up at Neil, standing in the window.

“You’re crazy,” he replies. “And you’ll freeze to death. Get back inside.”

But Neil shakes his head. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

Todd huffs in indignation. “Well, what then?”

Neil smiles. “Hang on.”

“Hang on?” Todd mutters, as Neil disappears from the window. “I’m still on the ground, how can I hang on?”

But then Neil reappears in the window, and drops a length of bundled bed sheets out the window.

Todd dodges before they smack him in the head, then takes the end like a rope that’s meant for climbing.

He calls to Neil in a stage whisper, “How do you just so happen to have bed sheets made into a rope?”

“Silly goose,” says Neil. “How do you think I get out of the house when I go to visit you?’

Todd grins in response, and Neil mirrors.

“Now come on. I’ve got you.”

With one final eyebrow raise directed at Neil, Todd shrugs and begins his ascent up the brick.

It’s an arduous climb, particularly since Todd has never done anything like this before, but Neil’s grip does not falter, and soon Neil is pulling Todd through the window, and Todd is collapsing atop Neil on the bedroom floor.

Todd blushes, embarrassed, but Neil laughs and winds Todd in his arms, and Todd feels as though his heart will burst.

“What are you doing here?” Neil asks, when he stops laughing. But it’s more habit than actual askance, and Neil has rolled over so that the two of them are on the floor beside one another. He props himself up on one elbow and stares at Todd, that soft expression ever-prevailing.

Todd shrugs, because he doesn’t know how to answer, doesn’t actually know what made him turn around and sprint through ice and snow to Neil’s house, and really, now that he’s here, it seems sort of ridiculous.

“Dunno. Couldn’t let you leave like that.” He’s mumbling, and something about what he says makes Neil’s face fall. It breaks Todd’s heart a little. “Neil?”

Neil presses his lips together, and Todd’s eyes trace constellations in the spattering of freckles that cover Neil’s shoulders. He repeats the other boy’s name quietly, and Neil inhales stutteringly.

“My father’s sending me to military school.”

“What?” Todd says. “Military school?”

Neil nods, avoiding Todd’s gaze.

“But what about Welton?”

“Pulling me out tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, but that’s— he can’t do that, can he? In the middle of the year?”

“He can,” says Neil morosely.

Todd doesn’t know what it is that’s driving him any longer, but it certainly is not his head, because he grabs Neil’s hand.

Neil looks up.

“It’ll be okay,” Todd says. “I’ll write to you. We’ll all write to you. In a year, you’ll be eighteen, and then—” Todd’s being bold, forward, doesn’t know how he’s doing it, but he’s doing it, pushing his fingers through the hair that falls loosely over Neil’s forehead— “then you can do whatever you want.”

“Whatever?” inquires Neil, and the smile has returned to his voice, his eyes.

Todd cants his head to one side, and he thinks that Neil has moved closer. Any closer at all, and Todd swears he will disintegrate. “Whatever you want,” he murmurs. But in truth, he’s not really thinking anymore, as Neil’s sigh fans his lips.

“Can I kiss you again?”

Todd lets out a nervous giggle. “I don’t know, Neil. Can you?”

And Neil does.

Neil kisses Todd deeply and steals the air from his lungs, the thoughts from his mind, the senses from his body, until there is nothing but thoughts of Neil and the curve of Neil’s body against his own. Neil is soft, like his smiles, and Todd feels himself melt, helplessly tracing fingertips over Neil’s skin, to touch those constellations he has only ever looked upon— and even so, rarely— lets Neil push the hair back from his face and kiss him with the lips that have for weeks read him poetry, shared emotions never shared with anyone else, breathed encouragement and compliment to no end, with ardour, with truth, with love.

Then abruptly, Neil’s mouth is gone from Todd’s, and Todd groans his discontent.

“Do you really think I could do anything?” says Neil, his hands resting on either side of Todd’s face.

“Anything,” says Todd.

“So you think I could be an actor, for real?”

Todd snorts. “For real, I think you could do anything. Most easily of all become an actor. You were good, Neil,” he whispers. “Really good.”

Neil positively beams, and Todd resolves that he wants to see Neil smiling like this forever and always.

He loves that he, of all people, can make Neil smile like this.

“Come see me tomorrow,” Neil breathes, “before I go.”

Todd promises to.

Neil seals the promise with a kiss.

The two part, and Todd departs, but they reunite upon the morrow.

And when they part again, Todd begins his first letter to Neil, writes to him then and there. Tells him of how he and the others already miss him terribly, though in truth, Neil cannot yet be far down the road that leads from Welton.

Todd writes to Neil that day, and the day after, and every day after that.

A year later, he stops writing to Neil, and Neil stops replying, because they see one another every day, free of parents and free of Welton, free to be with their friends and with each other, free to meet their former English teacher for coffee on Thursday afternoons, because that is simply how it is supposed to be.

They are living their dreams, and they are truly free.

Twas thus, and always thus will be.

#my tags are a mess but here we go #anderperry #anderperry fic #todd anderson #neil perry #neil x todd #dead poets society #fic

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catrasredemption-moved · 4 years ago

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Fic Meta | Always A Heatbeat From Me

There was a lot of world building in this fic, and I didn't get to expand much on it, but it's really fun and I want to share it! Starting small...

The OCs

Cyra and Lyra - okay, well, Cyra is like half OC since the name is riffed from one of Catra's aliases in the 80s and a lot of people use the name for a parental figure.... anyway!

Lyra (pronounced Leer-a) is purely an OC and purely mine, borrowed from the portal chapter of my Magicatra AU. She's tall and could be imposing if she wasn't so obviously soft. She loves gardening and sunbathing (and even doing both at the same time).

Marlena and Randor - Like Cyra, they're only half OCs, since they both have roots in the MOTU verse, but I like them and they're mine. Both are werewolves, although we never see them change (imagine a giant brown wolf carrying a tiny blonde wolf by the scruff, though. That's Randor and Adora. Sometimes he grabs Catra too).

Randor and Cyra grew up in Half Moon together as friends, left, and came back after college with their eventual wives. Lyra settled nicely into the small town life, and adored the house Cyra's parents had left her. Marlena had a more difficult time, but with the support of her friends she worked through it, and by the time Adora was born, she couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

Magic/Supernatural Elements

Magic and shapeshifters/were-creatures/hybrids are extremely common - Glimmer's entire family is magic, for example (Angella is Fae). Magicats aren't common, but they do exist. Werewolves are more common, although they tend to stick within their own families/communities - Erelandia (where Netossa and Spinnerella live) has a thriving community of territorial werewolves (as Catra encountered).

There are two types of were-creatures - natural-born ones who get the lycanthropy gene from their parents, and ones who are forcibly turned by being bitten. Those are the ones who change only during the full moon. Natural-born were-creatures, if raised properly, can control their transformations at all times, including during the full moon.

Despite all of this being very common place, there's still discrimination, especially against hybrids. Angella is the head of a nonprofit (which Catra works for after college) - they take on cases of clear discrimination and work with the community to try and integrate hybrids - one of the big ways is one Catra mentions in the fic - helping magicats with accessibility in public schools.

Other types of magic - Perfuma has power over plants, Netossa has her nets (and enjoys tying Catra up in them), Spinnerella has wind powers, Mermista has water, etc. Those are usually passed down the family line - it's very rare to find someone with magic who doesn't have a history of magic in their families.

***Magicats/Werecats

Magicats are obviously a big part of Heartbeat, considering one of the main characters and her parents are magicats themselves. All magicats are born with the ability to transform when they're old enough (usually around 3-4 years old). All magicats are werecats.

All werecats, on the other hand, are not magicats. Those who are bitten by a werecat are infected against their will, and are the ones who will change during a full moon only. There are services for people who have been bitten and need accommodations (such as a safe place to go during the full moon so they don't hurt anyone) but those are and few between. Cyra and Lyra run one such sanctuary, and partnered with Angella's nonprofit after Catra and Glimmer met, allowing them to expand their reach further.

***Magicat Bonding

This also plays a big part in the story. Long story short, sometimes a magicat will meet someone and just feel connected to them, drawn to them. It's not necessarily romantic, and the other person is free to walk away, but more often than not, it's mutual (it's a bit like soulmates). Catra is the extremely rare, one of a kind case of a magicat bonding with a non-magicat. The best theory anyone has for is that the girls grew up together, and it was only natural that Catra would develop such a bond with someone who made up her entire world.

The downside, of course, is what happens when the other person dies. It hit Catra particularly hard because she was the sole carrier of the bond, and to have it suddenly break broke something in her, so to speak. The chest pains that she refuses to call literal heartbreak are somewhat consistent throughout her life following Adora's death, and while they get better when Adora comes home, they never fully go away - it's something that's fundamentally changed and can't be reversed.

The World At Large

Discrimination is still, unfortunately, a very common thing, especially toward hybrids, and especially toward big ones like Rogelio, who appear threatening and often get judged on sight. They're very different from humans on just about every level - as Catra noted in chapter two, for example, all magicats technically have ADHD, except there isn't a word for it among magicats because it's normal behavior for them. Young shapeshifters sometimes need extra help if they can't fully control themselves before they start school (not a problem Catra or Adora had, although Catra changed several times on purpose). Larger hybrids need bigger desks. Hybrids like Scorpia (whose hands are completely different from human hands) need special tools for writing.

Some teachers, of course, go out of their way to make sure their hybrid students have everything they need to do as well as their human classmates. Others find it to be a bother (the elementary school principle and kindergarten teachers were the Other kind. Catra often ended up in the office for "misbehaving" during class).

#fic meta #fic: always a heartbeat from me #catradora #my writing

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naw-naw-honeyimgood · 3 years ago

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ChengQing (lmao never realized that was their fucking ship name)

so pros of (Jiang Cheng/Wen Qing):

one of the few possible het ships available to mdzs fans like there are all of five named female characters and this is the only one not in an established het pairing. and like sure ive seen yanli w/ someone else a couple times but you CANT put her with JIANG CHENG and i cant say ive ever seen mianmian in a serious relationship in fics with anyone besides either her canon hubby or a chick (usually yanli, wen qing herself, or even sometimes both lmao).

it’s basically written itself in cql!! he has a very obv and clear crush on her, even gives her a comb and offers to help her! she seems interested but the way the storyline went it was simply not meant to be :’(

you get to pair off jiang cheng!! ngl once u finish mdzs its kinda sad for everyone not wangxian (in their generation/above) cuz theyre the only one that get a happy ending. Everyone else is forever alone / depressed / bitter or a combination thereof. so it’s nice to see jiang cheng getting a happy ending!

he... gets... kids...? like ngl as a childless person that is happy to stay that way thats not exactly a pro in my eyes but you might look at his relationship w/ jin ling and say “he’s a great father! he deserves to be a father!” which okay good news! wen qing can bear children!

Now. Cons.

for one thing the fact that you have a lack of options doesnt exactly mean every possible het pairing can have good chemistry even if you change circumstances enough. there comes to a point where certain pairings can only be really viable if one or both of them are ooc.

lets be honest im willing to bet that AT LEAST 80% of the reason cql introduced this ship was because they were not allowed to make the wangxian pair explicitly Together (and i dont even mean anything specifically sexual), and they needed SOME SORT of romance to feature in the story. xuanli doesnt count because theyre an established background ship, the jiang parents dont count as romance, we aint talkin about the villain relationships, and lbr, mianmian already had a lot more signif in cql than mdzs. so it makes sense that they took the arguably most important male chara besides wangxian and made him have a crush on the most important female character that wasnt his SISTER.

what im trying to say is that cql pulled that pairing out of a hat. if you look at canon at ALL i highly doubt there would ever have been feelings, just as there never were. we dont quite know the age dif but we know that wen qing was the older sister and wen ning might have been a bit younger? than the boys? cannot quite remember but we dont know if she was only a year or two older or if it was like. mingjue and huaisang. we dont know! and i canNOT see jiang cheng going for an older chick. also their personalities would clash So Much. she has older sis vibes and not the gentle kind like yanli. she snaps at wen ning’s mumbling and stuff a good couple times- you think she’d tolerate jiang cheng’s emotional immaturity? hah.

this also kinda segues into my main point of: as depressing as it is that jiang cheng is forever alone unless you pair him off... he would honestly put whoever you pair him off with through hell. he’s not nice. so many jiang cheng stans like to argue that he’s a traumatized kid that was raised to channel his emotions through anger (and raises bitterness under his skin like an ugly puppy) but inside he has a heart of gold, and they’re... not exactly wrong! i mean- literally every younger chara is traumatized in some way. but... that doesn’t really... excuse the shit he’s pulled? as much as jiang cheng stans like to forget: jin guangyao was RIGHT when he said that jiang cheng’s insecurities got wei ying killed. his CLOSEST ALLY.

tying back to wen qing we have their actual CANON interactions (or lack thereof). wen qing didn’t exactly protect wei ying and jiang cheng out of the goodness of her heart when lotus pier fell: she was protecting wen ning (her BROTHER) from the repercussions of his own actions by saving wei ying (and Jiang Cheng ig idk he was just there bUT YOUNG MASTER WEI-)

not QUITE sure why she agreed to doing the golden core transfer (maybe scientific curiousity? i mean she had an unproven medical theory and here was a volunteer) but it def wasnt For Jiang Cheng.

and then the next time she saw him? do you guys remember the next time she saw him? it’ was when jiang cheng came up to the burial mounds to kill wen ning’s corpse and tell wei ying to turn over the wens.

KEEP IN MIND that jiang cheng KNOWS wen ning and qing SAVED HIS FUCKING ASS after lotus pier (not How but he KNOWS THIS) and yet he still tells wei ying to hand them over.

he makes wei ying choose between what amounts to the cultivation world and his morals.

that does not a good healthy relationship make. also again their personalities would clash like so bad. i love wen qing way more but you have to admit her personality is super similar to madame yu’s. and we already agreed that jiang cheng was traumatized as a kid. im not saying fengmian didnt have a hand in it but you gotta admit a good amount was madam yu and her insecurites and accusations she piled on her son. and you wanna pair him up romantically with someone who won’t take his shit and smile? will call him out? HAH.

im not saying this because i think jiang cheng should be with a softer personalitied (guy) like lan xichen or wen ning or huaisang because god knows those pairings have their own issues. im just saying that in canon-verse all i can ship whole-heartedly is jiang cheng / therapy, but since there is not therapy in canon-verse, or even if there WAS then there’s no way he’d admit to needing it, then yeah he can stay single for all his bitter life. better that than making jiang parent relationship 2.0 like fuck.

(this of course means that in modern aus where he DOES get therapy i am Open)

also real quick but jiang cheng was NOT a good parent to jin ling and i will not take constructive criticism like sure he was better than the jiang parents and the lan parents but that is SUCH a low fuckin bar and it’s a fact that in chapter 9 jin ling literally thinks “if I can’t slice off her head with this blow, I will die here- death it is then!!” (taken gratefully from the exiled rebels scanlation) and that is NOT a healthy-minded child.

the only healthy minded children is like. jingyi. and probably sizhui. although i am not here for the way the lan sect raise children but sometimes you have to take what you can get.

also i want you to look me in the eye and tell me that wen qing could and would do anything besides throw down with someone that so much as looked at her brother wrong

because jiang cheng apparently decided to lay the blame for jin zixuan’s death at wen ning’s feet (which is incredibly ironic considering he blames wei ying for yanli’s death??? like i feel like he could stand to use his brain cells a bit more??) and repeatedly tried to kill him.

#anyway this has been my ted talk #i dunno im just getting kinda tired of a certain writer and their idealized world but eh #it happens a lot too and damn cql certainly made wen qing more waif-ey #i didnt and do not want to get into the implied xianqing either do not start #im just saying that jiang cheng has a lot of flaws that people like to ignore a lot #this is true for many other charas too tbf #jiang cheng #not the angel you like to think he is #wen qing #not exactly the forgiving type #like i said tho they do work well together in modern aus with therapy available #and also tbf this isnt exactly my only issue with this author's fic(s) either lmao but hey #jiang cheng the prat #always ranks p high in my grievances #esp considering its a post-canon fix-it type so jiang cheng still did All That #also in any case this author seems determined to pair off like everyone into mostly het ships #mdzs #this is not for jiang cheng stans lmao #sorry ive been awake for like mayn hours and just got some difficul news and had Thoughts

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hopeaterart · 3 years ago

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PMTOK HORROR AU: INTRO

LET’S FUCKING GOOOOOO! Nearly four thousand words! (I’m trying to get back into writing, so if you guys want to see another part of the games translated into the Horror AU, send me an ask!)

The circle was completed.

The Craftsman took a deep breath, raising up and putting the vial of Blue Paint on his nightstand. The blue lines were glowing slightly on his floor, the circle just big enough for one person.

Good enough for him, it was an emergency anyway. The Sailor was already too late by a few days. He walked to it’s middle, bit his thumb, and let the blood drip upon the lines. They glowed brighter. “Flipflopside.” He muttered, and his world was engulfed in blue.

When colors came back to him, he was at the gate of the town. He entered town, and sighed as he recognized the decorations all around. Had circumstances been better, this festival would’ve been Olly’s first exposure to the outside world.

But Olly having disappeared a week ago, along with some very important supplies, was the reason the Craftsman had scrambled to gather and create the necessary blue paint to teleport.

He stopped at the town square. Where... was everyone? He frowned at all the decorations strewn around. It was like an hurricane had gone through town. He groaned in exasperation, before continuing his way toward the Lady’s Castle. If the town was having problems, then she would be too busy to offer help with finding his son.

He... honestly doubted anyone would’ve been generous enough to help in the first place, which is why he had prepared arguments about why his worry over his son going missing wasn’t just a parent thing (which it wasn’t, but it was the main reason, and they didn’t need to know that), but rumors had it that the current human lord- or in this case, lady- was a generous and kind one.

Yeah, if she was anything like her uncle, then he wasn’t holding onto hope.

He finally arrived to it’s front door, knocking once. He was expecting to have to knock more, and then for someone to come open the door. Instead, the door grinded open, having obviously been left as such. He hummed in concern, looking around, before entering, on-guard.

And just as he entered, the door slammed behind him, making him jump. He hurriedly turned back toward it, trying to open it again in vain. Door locked. He groaned in exasperation. He was getting rusty.

He slowly walked through the corridor, his footsteps echoing around him as he looked around. The place was strangely... dark and silent. For some reason, he felt like he was the only one there. He reached the end of the corridor, opening another door (this one properly closed, but not locked) and arrived at what he could only assume was the lobby.

The door at the top of the stairs opened, and out came the Lady. Long blonde hair, dark skin, and pink eyes... yep, no doubt, it was her, even if there was something... off about her that he wasn’t sure he could place. He had never formally met her, after all.

“How good... to see you...” She said in a discordant voice, and that immediately squashed any doubts the Craftsman had about this being her normal self. There was, at least, hypnosis involved.

“Answer me this... shouldn’t this miserable kingdom be unfolded... and be refolded unto glory?...” He shook his head, a hand reaching into his apron to get his paper scoring tool, the sharper end gleaming like a shiv. Better safe then sorry.

“And what of those... humans?” The venom dripping from her voice surprised him, even if he wasn’t a fan of other humans himself. “Shouldn’t they be silenced forever?” Oh, he didn’t like were this was going. Whoever was pulling the strings on her, they were the kind of scum that would make even the former Count recoil in horror.

“... I see... Last question.” She started as he grind his teeth together. “Will you crease yourself and be reborn, like me-”

“Lady of humans,” He started as he took a step forward. She didn’t react at that, freezing and keeping lifeless pink eyes on him. “You’re not in your right mind right now. Please, let me try to undo whatever magic is making you act like this-”

“Wrong answer.” She started, and the Craftsman realized he had made a mistake. “Right answer. It matters not.” She said, tilting her head in a stilted manner that exposed her shoulder and the thick silver lines on it. No doubt, powerful binding magic was at work. “Your replies are all paper thin.”

The floor suddenly opened under him, a discordant goodbye accompanying the fall. And then his world was wrapped in pain and darkness.

When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on a cold ground, and five faces -or at least what he assumed where faces, what’s with the loss of his glasses- were looking down on him. “Oh, he’s waking up, he’s waking up!” One of them said, making the four others back up as he sat up.

He blinked, blurry. “Have any of you seen my glasses?” He asked. “They’re round with black frames. Their lenses are thick, and they have a retainer with purple and yellow beads.” The retainer was especially important to him, a reminder of the only relationship he remembered fondly. “If any of you are well-versed in magic, they’re also imbued with some pretty powerful protection spells.”

“Is that why they didn’t break?” Someone asked, handing him an object that shone under the dingy dungeons light.

He nodded, taking them in hand on pushing them up his nose. “Yes, thank you.” He then blinked as he regained vision, and looked around. All of those people... “You’re all monsters?”

One of them flinched at that, while another took a defensive stance. “Is that a problem, old man?”

“No, of course not.” He answered, bringing his knees to his chest. “If anything, I sympathize more with monsters than humans. We’re terrible.”

One of the monsters, who looked pretty young, came nearer. “So you don’t hate us?”

The Craftsman chuckled, patting the little plant monster’s head. “When you get my age, you don’t have much energy left for hating everything in sight. So I keep it for people who are truly deserving.” Like the chucklefuck who broke into his home, kidnapped Olly, stole most of his magical supplies and half of his Origami ones.

Suddenly, the door opened. More monsters, but those ones moving just as stiffly as the Lady earlier, entered. “Come with us...” The one standing at the front, who wore a ancient demon mask, ordered. The Craftsman got up, groaning as some of his bones popped, as everyone exited the room. He was about to follow them, when the masked monster held a hand up. Restrained fury was radiating off of the monster. “Not you.”

And just like that, he was alone again. He sighed, sitting down on the ground. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? The wall over there seemed pretty brittle...

He got up the inspect it, gently dragging his palm across it. Hello? A little voice suddenly asked, making him jump back in surprise. Oh no, please don’t leave! It said again. Was it coming... from the wall?

He caressed the wall again, frowning. “Are you... trapped inside?” He asked, feeling dimensional magic weaved into the wall.

Oh, yes I am! The voice of the young girl started again. I’m in a very strange place, like I’m trapped in-between dimensions!

“You will be delighted to hear to your situation is nowhere that severe, then.” He snarked. “You’re merely the victim of a dimensional spell. Nothing that can’t be broken.”

Really!? The voice exclaimed, it’s (her?) happiness evident. I think there’s some Paint nearby, could you use it to draw a magic circle? I can use my own magic for the rest. He hummed non-committedly as he got up, heading for the boxes pilled in a corner.

After a strong enough push, they toppled, their content spilling. Mostly empty vials of Paint, beside one that seemed to hold enough for one circle. But more importantly, a crack in the wall that was big enough for him to slip through if he tried was there. But just as he was about to leave, the little voice made itself known again. You... you’re not leaving, are you? She asked in a tearful tone.

He stayed frozen for a moment, before groaning in exasperation and turning back toward the wall. He quickly made his way there, emptying the vial over his fingers and drawing a circle around himself. It then started glowing a golden color, the image of a hand appearing within it. “Shapeshifting magic, uh?” He picked at the wound on his finger, opening it again and letting blood drip once more.

The Craftsman watched, bewildered, as his arms flattened and folded like accordions. He then gathered himself, and ripped the wall away, shaking his arm back to normal as whoever was trapped in the wall detached herself. “Whoo! I’m finally free from the wall!” She exclaimed cheerfully as the Craftsman’s eyes widened in disbelief. Blonde hair, golden hair, the hat with two points... and those eyes... “Hi, my name’s Olivia! You-”

“I know who you are, girl.” The Craftsman interrupted, bringing a hand up. “I’m the one who designed you.” That seemed to shock her, her hat flying of her head as her eyes sifted sizes.

“What!?”

“And I must admit, whoever folded you did an excellent job. Almost makes me jealous.” He wasn’t jealous, but fucking furious, but not at her, and that wasn’t important right now.

“But- you- I-”

“Look, for now, let’s focus on getting out of here before those guys come back, alright?” He proposed, grabbing Olivia’s small hand and squeezing them gently. She nodded, an adorably determined pout on her face as they went through the secret passage. “Stay behind me, don’t make a noise, and above all else, do not tell anyone your name, got it?”

Olivia nodded, following the Craftsman as they slipped through the crack. They quickly walked out of the cell, both of their eyes shifting around to make sure no one was coming. The corridor seemed closed off, magic keeping the dungeon isolated from the rest of the castle.

“Unhand me!” As they heard a voice come from the other room, they quickly hid amongst the boxes near said room. The Craftsman flushed himself against the wall near a small crack, chuckling to himself as Olivia imitated him, before peering inside

The sight of the notorious Count folded into what was basically a wet floor sign would’ve made the Craftsman laugh if it wasn’t for the implications behind the type of magic needed to restrain him. There was also the fact that he was being held up by multiple clothespin, and the shadows. Two of the deformed monsters were holding up another above their head, the creature obviously struggling.

And then it stopped moving, almost flattened as it was folded, powerful magic shifting and contorting it’s body. And then it was brought to a truly humongous shadow, a beast that opened it’s mouth with a mechanical sound. The outline of two sharp fangs was visible as the poor soul was placed within it’s mouth. And then...

KA-CHICK

The Craftsman looked away just as the beast closed it’s mouth, a metallic sound similar to the one of a stapler stapling sounding out. Well, at least he knew where that binding magic came from now, and where one of his supplies went. Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to enchant a stapler!?

Poor Olivia was shivering in fear next to him, and he offered her a hand to hold just as the door opened. A horde of monsters, the last one being the demon-mask wearing one, got out. “Alright.” He started. “That was the last of them. Now, there’s only that old bastard left...”

As they left the corridor to go “fetch” him, he quickly made his way inside the room, relieved to find the door unlocked with Olivia still holding his hand. He made his way to the folded up Count, who had a miserable expression on his face. “Sir?” He asked.

The Count opened his red eyes. “Oh, a human!” He exclaimed, a surprised lilt to his voice. “My apologies, with all the chaos happening around here, I forgot that my beloved’s castle was on human grounds.”

“Your beloved’s castle is the middle of Flipflopside.” The Craftsman remarked with a raised eyebrow as he neared, taking the clothespins off. “If she wanted to live amongst humans, this wouldn’t be the place.”

“Ah, touché...” The Count commented as he fell to the ground, quickly figuring out a way to move. He then turned toward Olivia with squinted, and she squeaked. “And this young lady would be...?”

“My daughter.” The Craftsman hissed, not missing the sudden animosity in the Count’s tone.

To his credit, the Count immediately backed off. “... My apologies. Now, I do believe there’s another exit here,” he started, turning toward the other end of the room “but it’s hidden by an illusion spell. I would dispel it myself, but...” He shuffled a bit.

“I’m on it!” Olivia cheerfully declared, floating up to the wall and gently caressing it. Immediately, the surface fell away into Paint particles (which the Count was quick to waddle to and absorb, no doubt he wanted to collect enough magic to try and break out of his binds) as the young girl turned toward the two men.

The Craftsman nodded in approval as Count congratulated her, waddling up to her. “Incredible job, miss! Now, we can get out!” Olivia beamed, bouncing up and down in the air to a rhythm only she could hear as they made their way to a spiral staircase.

Just before they started climbing, the folded monster turned toward the Craftsman. The older man frowned. “What?”

“You have a very talented daughter.” The Count answered him as he started making his way up the stairs as fast as his body let him. The Craftsman smiled to himself.

“I know.” He started making his way up the stairs, Olivia’s hand back in his, when he noticed that she seemed unfocused. He stopped. “Is there a problem, girl?” He asked, turning toward her.

The younger girl looked up at .him, smiling. “I’m your daughter?”

A few seconds, then a shrug. “If you want to be,” He wasn’t the one who had folded her, but he was the one who had made the initial plan and cut out a piece of his soul for her, and he couldn’t be much worse than Olly’s kidnapper.

They finally made it back outside, the Craftsman shielding his eyes from the sudden light. They walked along the long balcony for a bit, until another door opened. Out walked the monster from earlier, the one with the demon mask, and the Lady. He heard the Count gasp behind him.

“Why are you still so... flat?” The brainwashed woman asked him. “Why won’t you join me in folded glory...” She weakly reached her hands out to them. “Come, we can reshape you...” The fear shining through her eyes was yelling at them to run, run as far as you can, and never turn back.

The Craftsman was very tempted to follow that message, ready to grab Olivia and jump over the balcony fence, before the masked monster opened their mouth. “Patience, Lady. This will do just fine. So...” They turned toward the Craftsman. “Why did you come to this castle, Craftsman?”

His eyes narrowed, pulling the paper scorer out again. “Someone stole what’s mine. I came here to ask help to get it back.” And it seems I’ve found my thief.

The masked monster made a sneering sound. “Is that how you see your son? A mere possession?”

“Wha- don’t talk about what you don’t know!” The Craftsman snapped, hand tightening around the tool in his hand.

“... Last chance, Craftsman.” The monster started. “Volunteer yourself to my cause, and let me fold you into something greater. Simple offer. Yes, or no.” The only thing that stopped the old man from going ‘go fuck yourself’ was Olivia’s presence. He instead shook his head. “Of course, I didn’t expect any less. And I wouldn’t have it any other way...” The monster snapped his fingers.

Another mind-controlled monster came into view. The Craftsman recognized him as one of the monsters from earlier. The Count snarled behind him, a surge of powerful magic catching him off-guard. “What have you done to my people!?”

“Folding them to my will. Look at your precious Lady.” The monster started, gesturing to her. “She’s better this way, don’t you think.” The only answer was a hiss. “Now...” The mask-wearing monster turned back toward the Craftsman, one violet eye glowing. “Prepare to be Folded!”

The monster jumped the Craftsman, hissing and snarling. Caught off-guard, he went down like a sack of potato, falling on his back and barely keeping the monster off-of him. He dropped the scorer, weakly moving his legs as his arms came up to hold the monster’s claws away from him. Olivia gasped in horror. “Dad!”

“Wait, miss.” The Count started as he watched the Craftsman successfully move one of his hand to the monster’s throat. “I do believe that your father as the situation in hand.”

The Craftsman continued to hold the monster away from him, his hand tightening around his throat, before grabbing the paper scorer and stabbing the monster through his eye. Dark purple blood stained his hand as a pained noise came out of the monster, the scorer getting wringed out.

The monster was then knee-d into the stomach, the Craftsman successfully throwing the monster off of him and over the fence. He got back up, groaning and doing his best to ignore Olivia’s horrified look. “Is that all you got?” He asked the masked monster, who sighed.

“Of course, how stupid of me. You did go by Mercenary when you were younger.” The masked monster noted as he started floating ominously. “I suppose there’s no point in maintaining this charade any longer...”

The monster shook, his arms raising in the air, before suddenly flattening and unfolding. Colors faded away as the illusion spell was uncast, revealing violets and yellows as a little boy wearing a crown revealed himself. The Craftsman’s eyes widened in disbelief, the Count made a noise of confusion, and Olivia gasped. “BROTHER!”

No... no, no, no, NO! It couldn’t be... “Wh- what are you doing here?” The Craftsman asked, putting his scorer back in his apron as Olivia started shaking.

“Please, brother...” She sobbed. “How many times have I told you you needed to stop? Please! You can’t do this!”

The boy simply sighed. “Why couldn’t the Craftsman have simply left you in that wall where I put you... Sister, I am afraid that if you stand in the way of my ambition, we will not be able to share my glory as family.”

“Brother-”

“I am not your brother anymore.” He stated, flipping his hair. “I am KING OLLY!” He then floated up and out of reach, floating in the sky as he cast a disdainful look to Flipflopside. “By the time I’m done, all those miserable humans will be folded... and those flimsy monster subjects shall be reborn as Folded Soldiers, serving me!” He then turned his look upon the Craftsman and Olivia. “And I shall fold, crease and bend this world to my whim... the birth of an Origami Kingdom!”

Olly snapped his fingers, a bright violet light emanating from his hand. It took a moment for the Craftsman to realize that was a signal, but he quickly dragged Olivia to the floor when he realized. And just in time too, as something yellow and charged with magic razed right past where his head used to be a second ago.

He quickly got up, scanning his surroundings as Olivia held onto him for dear life, the Count screeching right behind him. Streams of binding magic surrounded them, all controlled by Olly, all coming from different directions. “Follow me, you two!” The Count yelled over the rush of magic, hopping on the fence and then on a lower part of the roof. The Craftsman quickly followed him, hand tight around Olivia’s.

“GRA-BLAGH!” The Craftsman turned toward the voice, confused as he saw what was possibly one of the ugliest man he’s ever seen come to them at high speed in a rocket-propelled hot-hair balloon. The Count quickly jumped in, followed by the Craftsman and Olivia. “A’m ‘ere, Count!”

“Thank you, Warrior.” The Count started, smiling for what was probably the first time today. The Craftsman decided to give them as much privacy as he could as he turned toward the Lady’s castle.

There was five streams of magic in total. The red one came from the North, the blue one East, the yellow one South, and the purple one West. As for the green one, it seemed to come from the clouds. They seemed to take material form as they tightened over the castle, similar to shiny ribbons.

To his horror, the Castle was then ripped right off of the ground, the stone floors breaking away with it as it was lifted in the hair and above them. He blankly registered something lilac and yellow falling off of the castle as the other man with them (the Warrior, he thinks?) and the Count shrieked.

He sat on the floor, Olivia joining him and hugging him close as the Warrior yelled something incomprehensible. They then felt the machine machine shake. “What’s going on?” He asked the Count, who had slid next to them.

“They magic streams ur giein’ use some problems.” The Warrior answered for him. “Sae hing oan tiiiiIIAAAAAH!” The machine had collided with the red ribbon, making the Craftsman, Olivia and the Count fly out, with only the last one getting caught by the Warrior. He then tried to reach for the other two, but they were already too far away.

And as they fell, the Craftsman could only look as the ribbons carried the castle away. He closed his eyes as he saw it being placed upon the top of the dormant Sulfur Crater, a single thought circling in his head.

What the fuck did I get myself into this time!?

#writing #My writing #pmtok #pmtok horror au #pmtok olivia #king olly #origami craftsman #count bleck #lady timpani #paper mario #Paper Mario The Origami King #tw violence #tw blood #tw death

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darkpoisonouslove · 4 years ago

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Sleeping Beauty Missed Opportunities

I watched Disney’s Sleeping Beauty about ten days ago and I actually loved it a lot. The aesthetic is lovely and the music is absolutely ethereal, there was some awesome comedy and Maleficent remains such a cool villain even if she is not particularly competent at it, Phillip is probably the best Disney prince ever and I got all nostalgic so it was a great experience. I couldn’t help but notice a couple of things that had so much potential had they been explored and now I am going to write them out because they will simply not leave me alone.

- The fact that Flora’s gift to Aurora was beauty annoyed me a lot. So you’re telling me that her beauty is not only not natural, but it was also pretty much a gift wasted since it literally never played any role in anything. Aurora grew up in isolation so she could have looked as Godzilla for all anyone cared and it wouldn’t have made a difference. And to top it all, her beauty also does not play a role in Phillip falling in love with her because he falls in love with the beauty of her voice at first. It would have been much better if she was naturally pretty (as opposed to supernaturally so aka magically induced) and Flora had given her another gift. I suppose that since she is named Flora, she has something to do with flowers which is why her gift to Aurora was beauty. After all, flowers are there to look pretty and not much else. But I think it would have been a better idea if her gift to Aurora had been that of a nurturing touch that makes it so that Aurora nearly gives life to plants by just touching them. Animals are trickier but she can still heal and nurse them back to health with a little more effort. That would have been in contrast with Maleficent’s whole “kingdom” (aka the Forbidden Mountain) decaying and being in ruins and would have gone better with Fauna’s gift of the soul.

- In the scene where Maleficent appears to the Christening, it is Merryweather that tells her she was not wanted. Granted, the king and queen did not object to that but it was obvious they had already pissed off Maleficent so they probably didn’t want to get on the wrong side of the fairies whose benevolence they still had. When you think about it, though, it was Merryweather who escalated the situation into a disaster that could not be saved so my thought was that it would have been interesting to have learned a little bit more about the fairy ways and the conflict between the Three Good Fairies and Maleficent. Obviously, Maleficent has high social status since even the queen called her “Your Excellence” so the decision to not invite her to the Christening was weird and ill-advised. With a little more background info on the fairy business we could have witnessed the dilemma of the royal family that is caught in the middle of a feud they have nothing to do with aka having to choose which side to invite and risking to draw the wrath of the other upon themselves. It could have been interesting to see what would have happened if they had invited Maleficent instead of the Good Fairies in fear of what she could do if they didn’t only to have the Good Fairies paying them back for the disrespect but that would have changed the plot too much so it is probably best to explore as an AU.

- The consequences of King Stefan’s decision to burn all spinning wheels were never ever shown and that was such a great waste. The fact that the target audience is kids makes it a little bit more understandable, of course, but this could have made for a great political subplot. The decision was impulsive and was made more from the heart of the father rather than the head of the king in his desperation to protect the child he and his wife have wanted for so long. However, that will surely have economical and even political impact on the kingdom. Instead of celebrating the birth of the royal heir, they had to pay the price for protecting her. It is the fourteenth century so without spinning wheels in the whole kingdom, they could no longer turn wool into threads. Any industry including fabric would have suffered from that choice and that would have led to poverty. Now that would have been a perfect way to explore the alliance between Aurora and Phillip’s kingdoms. Maybe they signed a contract for Phillip’s kingdom to trade finished products for the resources that they need to make them coming from Aurora’s kingdom. It would have been a good way to include the aspect of royalty, politics and economics more since they already introduced it through the arranged marriage. And it would be interesting to see Aurora’s reaction once she was back at the palace to how much her subjects and the whole kingdom (even Phillip’s kingdom) had sacrificed for her well-being. Any decisions she could have made on the matter as the future ruler could have shown her introduction into her role of princess and future queen as well as her compassion and good heart.

- The king and queen’s pain over their lost daughter was never explored. They waited for years for the happiness to have a baby and when their only dream finally comes true, they are forced to give up the baby if they want to keep her alive. They can not see her for the first sixteen years of her life and by the time she comes back to the palace she is all grown up. She is not their baby daughter but a beautiful stranger that they don’t know anything about. Whatever happiness and relief there was over her being well and alive was surely overshadowed by the fact that Maleficent still succeeded in tearing their family apart. Their daughter is not dead but they lost her and she never had them. It is a horrible tragedy that the movie never even bothered to address for a second past that scene of them sending Aurora away with the Three Good Fairies. Considering all the negative repercussions the king’s decision to burn all spinning wheels must have had on the kingdom, it was a shame that they never truly showed the emotional consequences of the choice to give Aurora to the fairies to raise for the royal family. It could have added much emotional depth to the story and characters.

- In relation to that, there was a big missed opportunity with Philip also. Since his mother wasn’t there neither at the Christening, nor at the celebration of Aurora’s sixteenth birthday, a sound assumption would be that she was dead. The loss of her that Phillip and his father were going through and the loss Aurora’s parents were experiencing after they gave her away could have become a great bonding point for the two families. It has been shown that Phillip’s dad is a great friend of King Stefan so it would be safe to assume that the two met quite a lot. Phillip could have easily been brought along on those visits and since they lost their own daughter, Aurora’s parents would have probably become very fond of the boy and loved him as their own. He was to be their son-in-law one day and through him they could give their daughter all their love, by caring for him and helping raise him in any way they could. And Phillip could have come to think of them as family as well and respect them like his own parents which would have made it harder for him to stand up to the arranged marriage because he also loved them and didn’t want to hurt their feelings after all the love they’d given him. And later on, once Aurora was back home, he could have helped her get to know her parents. It would have been bittersweet that he knew them better than she did but it would have shown both his support of Aurora and the trust that binds the two families in one as well as helped both Aurora and her parents get over the pain and trauma they’ve experienced.

- This is more of a detail that would have just made things a little cooler if it’d been included but what if the gift of soul Fauna gave Aurora was the reason she was seeing Phillip in her dreams? It connected her to the living beings like the forest animals and it could have very well been the one thing helping her connect with the one she is destined to be with. It could have been a cool side thing. And maybe it also affected Phillip in some way and that was why he could communicate so effortlessly with his horse. Or they could have made it so that Phillip had also been blessed by fairies as a child and that was why he was communicating the same way with his horse that Aurora was with the forest animals and it helped them establish their dream bond.

- And one last possibility that I thought of would have been if Aurora had been raised according to fairy understanding and perception of the world. The Three Good Fairies themselves said that they knew nothing about raising a human child and Aurora neither knew they were fairies, nor had contact with any other humans in order to figure out that something wasn’t quite right with the way they were raising her and the things they were teaching her. So she grew up experienced in fairy traditions and the fairy way of looking on the world. Once she goes to the palace, she finally learns that what she’s been taught is not the human way of doing things so on top of having to patch up her family and learn the royal ways, she also has to learn the human ways. And since she’s been raised with fairy outlook on the world, she cannot believe her parents’ decision to not invite Maleficent to her Christening. It is not that she blames them but to her it seems incredibly stupid and disrespectful and she understands why Maleficent went for retribution. Since Aurora is so well versed in the fairy ways, she becomes something of an ambassador for the kingdom in its dealings with fairies (and possibly other magical creatures) to avoid repetition of history and offend another powerful being. The kingdom becomes prosperous thanks to its extraordinary princess who has managed to earn the benevolence and blessings of various fairies. There are those who do not like her since they think a human should have never been allowed the privilege to know their traditions so well but, in general, she is in the favor of most powerful beings that protect her kingdom and make it a force to be reckoned with.

Those are the things that I would have loved to have seen included or even hinted at in some way in the movie since there is a lot to cover in all the cracks of the story. Any of these would have made for great additions to the original plot imo and would have given more depth and life to the story.

#sleeping beauty #disney's sleeping beauty #aurora #princess aurora #prince phillip #maleficent #king stefan #merryweather #flora #fauna #sleeping beauty meta #meta

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geniusinventora · 4 years ago

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This started off small, but became a REALLY long post. So. Let’s talk about how Gyro talks to people and his general socialization skills.

Under a read more after a point because well, this is going to get VERY long. There are a lot of aspects to this that just don’t come across unless you’ve spoken to me, or you over analyze how Gyro speaks in the show and in the comics.

Gyro has a very hard time getting the meaning he’s TRYING to achieve come across. Like- he wasn’t really socialized until his late teens. His only peer was his brother who he fought with constantly.

Gyro is just very, very bad at communication in general. He will say what is on his mind, how he thinks it with nearly no filter. While he does sometimes try and make things come across better, it doesn’t always work. It’s somewhat of that trope “He assumes people are smart enough to figure out what he’s saying”, but... not? Because it’s not like he’s trying to be pompous about it.

Miscommunication and hostility just come with talking to him. It really takes a lot for him to not be quite honestly inept at social interactions. It’s why he likes talking to close friends, or people who know him, and will almost always let someone close to him translate for him. Eventually people learn that the rudeness, sass, and his quickness to anger aren’t always purposeful or even noticed by him about 99% of the time.

. . .

The notecards that he uses in the first episode are actually something he’s had for... well since he was working with Scrooge. While he was somewhat socialized with people while with Akita, FOWL was a... unique work place. There wasn’t a precedent on how to act or react; just respect heron and bradford. And respect from Gyro is extremely hard to come by, partially because of how he was raised. Gyro doesn’t respect people, but if they do something wrong they lose it. Gyro respects NO ONE until they prove they should be respected, and then he does. It’s really ironically like how he was raised, though he’ll never come to make that connection.

People he respect, or value, or become close with he TRIES to be better at talking to for a time. There’s an awkward phase will he will attempt to fix how he talks to a person- adjusting verbiage, colloquiums, and slang in an attempt to understand how they talk to him. Most of the people in the Duck Family are either in this phase, or past it. Where you can get him to notice that things he says aren’t always okay. That actions he do aren’t okay. He’s much more open to being corrected at this point, and while he won’t say thank you, will appreciate it. He doesn’t always change HIS speech, but he does clearly speak and treat the people in this category different than he treats about 90% of the population.

There is a very small circle of people, however that are past this. Gyro feels like he can TRULY be himself around them, and rather than caring about how he talks, he does the opposite; he just speaks as himself without worrying. It’s near identical to how he acts when he doesn’t respect someone with a huge difference. All it takes is a comment- sometimes a WORD to get Gyro to stop and re-evaluate everything he had said before he was stopped, and actually tries to correct himself and his behavior. While he is not trying to change or alter his own self, there’s just an understanding between him and the other that he just is like this. He doesn’t need to change, but he doesn’t expect the other to either BUT he does actually value their input, and doesn’t want to upset them. It’s mutual respect, at least from Gyro’s point of view.

While within canon of the show, really the only person we ever see him speak to this way are Scrooge, and at the end of Astroboyd Fenton. Those are the 2 pure canonical ones that he will, should either of them point out he is taking things too far, or being rude, or anything will fix his behavior near instantly. Fenton will still get sass, and Scrooge being far more respected is due to his history with Scrooge, and the fact he wants to prove he was worth saving. Fenton... well that’s a peer. He doesn’t feel like he needs to be formal with him.

Within the canon of this blog though, there are a few people he respects. @lunarspeared‘s Della is obviously one. Following the idea that he did spend 5 years with the Cousin Squad due to Della dragging him into it- then everyone in Cousin Squad he holds that same respect even if they aren’t close. This can lead to really interesting dynamics... especially if particular members of Cousin Squad don’t like him. He will no matter what though, take any and all advice that the cousin squad gives him. In some instances (and what’s been plotted with Ash, Oreo, Zak, and others) the Cousin Squad made notes on his cards- symbolically showing that they have just as much respect and value in Gyro’s eyes with their opinions and advice that Scrooge does within Gyro’s reasoning. Della, Donald, Gladstone, Fethry, and Scrooge being the ones who he relied on the most to learn to properly communicate.

@livesforgttn‘s Black Heron and @tunnagan‘s Bradford actually hold this respect, however as time passes it slowly starts shifting. @voidfcllen‘s Gladstone also holds this as well. If you’re extremely close with him, and he’s spent a lot of time with an individual who has learned to see past the surface level of his words are usually the only ones he respects at this level.

Depending on his specific relationship with the triplets, the AU, and how it’s plotted he might have this with the kids. Really, it depends on how the children ask, if they respect him- if they’ve had more interactions than just what’s shown in canon, and a lot of other factors (whether or not he’s dating/married to Della or he was ever close to Donald). There are a lot of factors that I won’t actually force on a person, but would leave up to them if they wanted certain dynamics.

That being said, respect can be lost and gained tenfold. While there are extremely subtle differences in how he speaks and acts around the people he really trusts and respects- sometimes if you don’t really know how I play Gyro it can be very subtle to see. It’s why I’ll go to people and cry about how he’s being secretly soft, despite not seeming that way at first. Because of that, unless you know how close Gyro views a person, it can just look like there are some he’s slightly awkward around, but

Gyro’s also been lying for nearly all of his life, over some very very big things, down to what his favorite color is. Gyro is not a trusting individual and sometimes will refuse to ever be truthful with someone should he feel like doing so would put him in any sort of danger. Danger being mental, physical, or just situational of course. He really does follow the “look out for myself” philosophy, and lives by it to a dangerous degree that can make getting to know him hard. Which ALSO leads to problems in communications because he will always favor making himself more comfortable than whoever he was talking to. You know he likes you when he makes an effort to make it a more balanced in making sure neither party is upset by what he says, or by avoiding conversations that lead to possible conflict.

That being said, Gyro doesn’t “open up.” He doesn’t just start telling his whole life story, or feel like there are big truths to him. At this point he honestly cannot remember what secrets he are keeping. They’ve become such an integral part of who he is, he forgets that they are actually secrets at all. The Gearloose family, the fact his father disappeared, Tokyolk, FOWL, Bradford being the Director for FOWL, his feelings, his full name- There are a lot of MAJOR secrets that he keeps. Ones that, depending on where he is on the timeline, can cause more damage than good should they come to light.

His opening up to someone is the small truths. How he likes his coffee. Someone knowing his sleep schedule. Where he lives (cause no, its not at the lab.) He doesn’t see himself as the lies that he tells, or the secrets he keeps. He sees himself as the small details of himself that, unless you know him well, someone would never know. THAT is who he is, and if someone sees him that way he usually is very close with them. However, it can break the friendship/relationship if they begin to hold him and view him as what secrets he keeps because they are automatic for him. It takes little effort to lie to anyone about anything. When he hesitates or choses to be honest and show himself is what he considers opening up.

The exception to this is whenever a child is HIS child shaped. He will (nearly) never lie to them, and tell them the truth should they ask. The primary reason for this is because of how Fulton raised him. Gyro recognized that Fulton was hiding his intentions a lot, and because of that there was never a clear lesson or take away that Gyro got from all of the lectures he received. Because there was no reason behind “Inventing is bad”, he chose to ignore it. He doesn’t want a child of his to follow down the same path he did- so he will be OVERLY clear and transparent should they ask him. Any intentions, ideas, beliefs, or reasonings they want to know, he will almost always tell him. The only secret he would consistently keep is FOWL, but that’s more dependent on the timeline of the AU.

And, unfortunately these are not consistent across all verses. Any universe that Gyro is parent shaped to the Triplets (as in, from the time they hatched to show time) he is a lot softer! He understands how to be more personable, and caring towards the people he loves without being outright malicious unless it’s necessary.

Alternatively, any universe where he’s even MORE isolated than in canon (Crossed Paths, FOWL Demise) or has some other circumstance affecting his mentality and being in some way (Taken, Dark Impetus) will make all of this much worse. Becoming more friendly, or taking the steps to actually try and have that in-between state that allows them to know he is making an effort for them can be all but gone. In other cases, he might actually just- not care at all. He doesn’t have what little empathy that canon Gyro does, and so therefor has never CARED if someone has bothered to try and understand him or takes his words at surface value.

Because of this, some universes he is much more... blunt than he is in canon or the blog’s canon. The Notecards that Scrooge gave him when he first began working for him were a HUGE help. @scroogemcdork and I have talked about it a lot. Scrooge was the first positive, influential work environment that Gyro had ever been in. He had NO IDEA how to act, speak, or really do anything. The cards were there as a crutch to help him learn what situations need a specific amount of tact. While they were slightly there to help him, he ended up valuing them a lot, and just kept them.

In fact, he usually keeps them on him at all times. Him using the notecards usually is a non-verbal (ironic, huh?) cue that Gyro is completely at a loss for how to treat someone, how he should speak to them, or how he wishes to present the ideas in his head. It usually, while at first APPEAR to seem respectful because he is attempting to be respectful it’s really the opposite. Gyro’s biggest disrespect he can show someone socially would be to use the cards on them, and to communicate only through those. You can usually tell when he is, because he starts sounding more empathetic, and uses words like “Sorry” and gets perspective on other people’s emotions and possible reactions.

If he’s using the cards on you, 90% of the time it’s either because he isn’t sure what to say, he’s being FORCED to be respectful, or he just doesn’t think you’ll ever understand the intentions he really wants to get out of what he knows he would say naturally.

Gyro usually is overly confident in himself and his abilities, however the one he knows he lacks is the social skill. He knows FULLY well that he is AWFUL at communication. He doesn’t hide that. In fact, usually he just either lets someone determine how their relationship with Gyro will continue. If they stop talking to him, then that’s on them. He has more confidence in himself, really thanks to Della (and the cousin squad if they were involved in specific plots), and in his eyes he has come FAR from where he was before.

Really though, in the end we only see him in ‘17 when he’s first using the old, worn down cards to present ideas to the Board. Something that has happened numerous times. Something that Gyro and Scrooge have obviously talked about before. He didn’t get that he was being rude or demeaning, and was forced to use the cards. He’s been extremely rude and socially inappropriate to Donald, the kids (never using their fucking names), Fenton (office bathroom. Need I say more?) and many other people we see in the show.

Conversely we see him being extremely kind to Lil Bulb, and Boyd, and Fenton (after Astroboyd). It’s clearly something that he CAN be, however it seems to be that the relationship that someone has with him will change how he acts DRASTICALLY.

People’s reactions to him (standing up to him, cowering, ignoring his rudeness, trying to politely correct him, etc) will affect how he sees them. In the end, while he does act like a dick, the intentions and meanings behind so much of what he says. You either have to be close to him to know that while he is being an ass, it’s not entirely his intention... unless you’ve annoyed him but that’s how it is with anyone.

The longer, closer, and deeper a person gets to know Gyro typically is when I start seeing that they can see past the sarcasm, the sass, and honestly the cruel way he can sometimes act. Comments of violence, anger, and resentment that he’ll never act on or doesn’t even have being ignored, he can be rather telling if you read between the lines of what he’s saying.

And it only took me nearly 2 years writing him to be able to completely figure all of this out. So I hope you enjoy the quick guide- and yes I mean quick guide to Gyro and his miscommunication issues.

#» » 〈《 meta 〃 general 》〉#» » 〈《 blog canon 〃 general 》〉#if you were @ed its cause i was subtly saying you were my main or you really helped with this headcanon #anyways u H #WHO WANTS A FUCKING ESSAY EYYYYYYYY

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mrs-nate-humphrey · 3 years ago

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reboot!milo is just dan-like enough that it’s making me wonder… what do you think dan would do if he DID raise milo, but milo grew up to be scheme-y and chaotic like georgina? (i’m assuming in this scenario georgina is also heavily involved with his upbringing and not just an absentee mother, but really it could go however with her)

hmm, so, before i answer that im gonna tell you that i have a fic i'mn excited to write planned in my WH;WW verse in which.... milo wonders what if he's too much like georgina. naturally, there is a pep talk involved & this is talked through. (it's pretty heavy, but that verse is very much me making things worse before making things better, as you do.)

THAT aside... so, dan canonically falls in love with blair, remember? the ultimate scheme queen? dan himself is a schemer sometimes. even if milo keeps causing trouble and generally bringing chaos about, i think dan would still be like, 'yeah, that's my son whom i love unconditionally' dkfhgfklhgf. it's complicated - like, i keep thinking about how dan reacts to jenny scheming, and i think if it's his own son, that's his gut instinct; get worried and angry and judgemental. but parenting is a process that changes you and opens your mind and makes you grow as a person, if you let it, and dan WOULD let it. i think he would actively try to understand why milo was scheming, and (similar to giving blair that toy tiara to meet her princess needs) he would find alternate avenues for milo to behave however milo wants to behave without hurting real people the way georgie does.

i feel like if dan got to raise milo, even if georgie ALSO was raising milo alongside him (this is difficult to imagine tbh, georgina isn't a very nourishing caretakery kind of person, i don't know how she'd interact with any kid, least of all her own) i think dan would impart SOME amount of like. gravity/values/down-to-earthedness in milo? even if milo DOES end up misbehaving in georgie-esque ways, i think he'd have different limits than G does, i think he'd restrain himself a bit and whatnot.

i also headcanon georgina's behaviour to be so random and arbitrary and lawless and with no limits on bad behaviour because of her own childhood. we already know serena's mother was very absent and serena's father was gone, which is why pre-series serena was able to slip away unnoticed or unsupervised or unrestricted and do things she should not be doing at her age, getting into unsafe situations and having nobody look after her. and yes, georgina exploited her a fuckton. but georgie was the same age as serena too, if i'm not mistaken. georgina was also in places no kid their age should be, doing things no kid their age should be doing. which brings about the question of like. what were georgie's parents doing? why was she acting out in this way?

when we DO see georgie's parents in 1x18 we know that they're, uh, very strict and apparently the best option the gang has at getting revenge on G, and they send her away to jesus camp where she becomes all super religious. i think it's safe to say that jesus camp in particular is a cult, or at the very least, cult-like? i don't know. i just feel like georgie's parents would've been terrible people.

and if dan is in milo's life... milo has dan!! milo has at least one parent who is sort of in his corner. in my WH;WW verse, dan is married to georgie in order to protect milo (told u it was heavy!) but he DOES divorce her eventually. because i wanted that au to be whump AND fluff, dan is very, uh. he does lose a lot of agency to georgina (because he's dan and she's georgina and. there's literally no way a dangina marriage wouldn't be absolutely shitty and fucked up for dan) BUT dan is actively putting himself in those positions so that milo has a support system and a reliable parent, which he would not otherwise. and i deliberately characterised milo in that AU to share a lot of value systems with dan!!

basically, i feel like georgina turned out the way she did because both her parents were unreliable & unsympathetic, among other reasons. and i feel like. if dan's in milo's life, milo is NEVER gonna be in that situation. because georgina is georgina, but milo has dan. and even if milo DID have schemey traits, he wouldn't be as 'burn the world down' as georgie is. i feel georgina is as 'fuck everyone and everything' as she is because of things that happened to her in her own life, things we never see or go into because G isn't a main character, but things i think dan would protect milo from.

did this make sense? after every paragraph or so my parents' dog came up to me and asked for kissies and head-pats, so i feel like my essay structure and general repetitiveness were worse than EVER over here. fingers crossed this still makes sense though dlfkkhfgdklh

#my parents' dog needs soooo much attention #attention that i am happy to provide! he is an angel #anyway #this got into georgina analysis KLHGFKLHGFLH #meta #georgina sparks #anon #long post #this COULD go under a read more #and honestly it probably should #but i don't wanna? im gonna just tag it #instead. sorry not sorry lkfkdhlkghd

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years ago

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Beside The Dying Fire (part ten)

[DnD AU with the tour!verse]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Word count: 4271

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

Hot. Scorching. Sweltering. Searing. Balmy. Parching. Oven-like. Those, and so many other words could describe the desert Katherine and her companions were trekking through, Katherine just couldn’t think of anymore because her brain was being melted.

The Brazen Empire--or just “Braze”--was the desert territory on the far east side of Atlas. It was boxed in on all sides by tall, platformed plateau mesas called the Highland Cliffs, which kept the land in solitude from the rest of the continent.

Golden rolling dunes stretched out as far as the eye could see—which, to be fair, wasn’t very far because Katherine was sure she was seeing mirages everywhere. Cacti and shriveled shrubs stuck out of the ground, somehow surviving in the wasteland despite the cruel elements. The sky was an eye-bleedingly bright blue with not a single cloud in sight, letting the blisteringly hot sun rain down on the land.

And Katherine HATED IT.

“God, this is awful,” She panted, sweat burning in her eyes. Her dirty blonde hair felt like tassels of fire on her head, and her ears were like little torches attached to her skull.

Catalina laughed. “What are you talking about? This is amazing!”

Catalina had grown up in Braze, so she was used to the desert life. Katherine and Joan, however, were not as fortunate to have been raised in a scorching wasteland of dehydration and skin disease.

Katherine sluggishly wiped away a torrent of sweat from her brow. Jane had given them supplies for the journey to the different territories, but the glass bow strapped to her back felt like it was burning her alive. Joan was lucky enough to just get a simple ebony dagger, but she looked just as miserable. Her grey felt clothes and extra fur paddings for protection looked like they were roasting her like a chicken. Hints of blotchy sunburns were already starting to appear on her long, whip-thin white tail and ears.

Catalina gazed over a sand dune, looking for any signs of her home city. Behind her, Joan doubled over, heaving her breaths. Katherine could see several streams of sweat cascading through her white-blonde hair.

“We shouldn’t be far.” Catalina said, turning back to them. It was clear she was trying not to laugh at their discomfort. “Just a little longer!”

“Easy for you to say,” Joan wheezed. She lifted her tail to keep it from touching the sand.

“Trust me! We’re almost there!”

They began their trek once again.

“So, what’s this area of sand called?” Katherine asked, falling into step beside Catalina. “Wasteland Number Six?”

Catalina laughed. “This is Droughtmaster Dunes,” She said.

Katherine blinked. “That’s actually very fitting.”

Her friend laughed again. “Isn’t it?” She looked up at the bright blue sky, smiling. “I’m actually happy to be back. Nothing beats the sun here.” She stretched her arms out to catch the rays and signed happily.

“And that’s a good thing!” Joan barked from behind them. Heavily hindered by the sun, she was falling behind slightly. “The sun here SUCKS!”

Catalina tittered. “The mythical bovine, the Brazen Bull, was said to have made Braze, which is why it has that name. The Bull made everything here. It dug out the land it claimed for the territory, it lifted Highland Cliffs with its horns to protect us from other territories, it scraped its hooves through the ground to create the canyons, it stamped its feet to created pools for oases, and, after it was all done, it shook out the dust in its fur and filled Braze with sand.”

Katherine smiled as she listened to Catalina talk. Her friend rarely ever spoke about her homeland, so it was nice to see her reminiscing over her childhood territory.

However, she went quiet for a moment and fiddled with the sunstone necklace around her neck, lightly touching her belly with her other hand. There was an unreadable expression on her face.

“Just a fair warning,” Catalina said, “that my family is kinda weird.”

Katherine chuckled lightly. “Alright. I’m sure they’ll be fine, though. After all, you turned out amazing.”

Catalina smiled again, nudging her. “Aww. You softy!”

Katherine smiled back. “I speak the truth!”

“I need water,” Joan wheezed from behind them.

“We’re almost there, sweetie,” Catalina said, giving the poor Tiefling a sympathetic, but amused look.

She was right. After clambering over a particularly high sand dune, the capital city of Braze was revealed.

Aragon was a city that was smartly built around several oases. Shiny golden walls that glittered in the sunlight boxed in the civilization, and the tips of sun-dried brick houses and a particularly tall tower could be seen peeking out from over the high edges. Hints of a huge skeleton was sitting behind the furthest wall in a sunken sand pit. The clamor of people could be heard as the three of them approached the front gates where two Aasimar guards stood, wearing long, protective garbs covering every inch of skin and holding spears. They bristled as the trio approached, but their jaws weirdly dropped open after a moment.

“Princess Catalina!” The grey-skinned guard exclaimed. “Y-you’re back!”

Katherine’s and Joan’s heads whipped around to Catalina, their eyes going wide.

“Princess?!” They both yelped.

“Surprise!” Catalina said weakly. She gathered herself up regally and turned to the dumbfounded guards. “I request to see the King and Queen.”

Both guards nodded hastily. “Of course, princess!” The grey-skinned one said.

“Right this way!” Said the other.

The three of them were whisked inside the gates.

Aragon was filled with sun-dried brick houses and sturdy wooden huts. Merchant tents and carpet canopies were set up on the entrance pavilion, where shop owners hawked their wares to anyone who passed by. Fruits and fried meat, protective desert garbs and sunscreening oils, venomous scorpions to use for something and vials of antivenom--there were so many different items being sold. The smell of sizzling meat and roasting scarab beetles and brewing coffee swirled through the hot air, attacking Katherine’s nose with aromas that made her mouth water.

Small pools dotted the city, rippling softly in the heated breeze. Some of them were burbling like a fountain, while others were edged by lush greenery that seemed to be surviving much better than the plants outside the walls. Children were playing in a few of the pools, keeping cool in the midday heat, but some adults were collecting water in buckets.

A bronze statue of a giant bull sat in the center of the city, in front of the steps leading up to the palace. It was reared up on its hind legs with its fur bristled in powerful rage and horns thrown up in the air. Smoldering coals were set in its skull, and the furry tufts of its tail were crackling with orange fire.

The palace behind the statue was huge and majestic. It seemed to be made out of actual gold, glowing in the sunlight. Gemstones were inlaid across the outer walls, sparkling like colorful eyes. There were no front doors so the breeze could filter inside, so the guards led the three of them right inside.

Two thrones were sitting at the back of the wide, high-vaulted entrance room. They were made of solid gold, embedded with rubies and emeralds and cushioned by soft camel fur pillows. A curtain of water was pouring out behind the royal seats from the ceiling, collecting into a bubbling trough pool. The desert could be seen rippling behind the sheet of water.

And in the thrones sat the king and queen.

Queen Isabella was glowing like a polished garnet. The dress she wore was made of silk, in a rich dark orange shade that allowed her thick black hair to be shown to best advantage, and edged with ribbon and lace that perfectly set off her fire-like amber eyes and dark tanned skin. Golden veils wreathed her blood red wings, and yellow diamonds, topazes, sunstones, and tourmalines hung from her arms in glittering curtains of wealth. An elaborate headpiece made of gold and rubies sat on her head, with strands of gemstones dangling down into her face. Three golden medallions hung around her neck- one had a symbol of a broken rib cage etched on it, the second had what looked like small intestines forming the shape of a coiled snake, and the third had a faceless head.

King Ferdinand was less flashy than his wife, wearing simple cotton clothes with a camel fur cape around his neck and onyx wristbands on his wrists. His skin was slightly blotchy from sun damage and his hair was long and ash brown. Pale orange-salmon wings were folded neatly against his back, not nearly as big as the queen’s.

The two of them leapt to their feet from the throne when Catalina walked in.

“Catalina!!” They both cried, bustling over to their daughter. They threw their wings around Catalina, swaying her in glee, but Katherine noticed how Catalina just barely hugged them back.

“Oh, my dearest desert flower,” Ferdinand said. “You’re finally home after all these years!”

“It’s so good to see you again,” Isabella said. “You’ve been gone for so long!”

Catalina nodded reservedly. “Yes. It has been.”

The king and queen stepped back, taking in the sight of their daughter. Isabella’s joyous expression faded into a calculating one when she noticed Catalina’s pregnant belly, while Ferdinand just blinked at it.

“You’re pregnant,” Isabella said.

“Yes, I am,” Catalina said, ruffling up the feathers in her hair. “I hope that isn’t any issue, Mother.”

Isabella considered the bump, like she thought the baby was going to jump out now and steal her throne. “Who’s the father?”

“His name is Arthur.” Catalina said.

“Where is he?”

“Not here.”

“You aren’t with your baby’s own father anymore?”

“Oh my god.”

Catalina glanced back at Katherine and Joan for a moment, giving them a, “Here we go again” kind of look. She turned back to her parents with as much reserve as she could manage.

“What is he?” Ferdinand asked, glancing at Catalina’s belly every few seconds.

“A human.” Catalina answered. “I hope that isn’t an issue, Father.”

Ferdinand just cleared his throat and looked away. Katherine could tell that he didn’t have as much power as his wife, therefore making him weaker in disputes, even ones that don’t have to do with court matters.

“You shouldn’t just sleep with random strangers, Catalina.” Isabella scolded.

“I’m not!” Catalina barked, her face heating up. “Arthur is--was different! And why does it even matter to you? It’s not your body, it’s mine! And if I want to use it to sleep with people, then I should be allowed to!”

“Well, your body is holding my grandson. Or granddaughter.” There was something icy about the way Isabella said that word, and Katherine noticed how Catalina shuddered and set a hand over her belly protectively. “Plus, you’re still my daughter and I’m concerned over what you’re doing. You already ran off and disappeared for five years!”

Catalina rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like you weren’t happy.”

“I wasn’t.” Isabella growled, her blood red feathers standing on end like an angry cat’s fur.

“Sure you weren’t.” Catalina challenged her.

Ferdinand quickly put himself between his wife and his father. “That’s enough, that’s enough,” He said. “The point is that Catalina is home safe. That is what matters.”

“Hm. Of course.” Isabella said, settling her expression back into stolid noble maturity.

Catalina growled softly underneath her breath, and Katherine set a comforting hand on her shoulder. Isabella glanced at her, an eyebrow twitching up.

“Introduce us to your friend, Catalina.” The queen said.

Grinding her teeth a being ordered around, Catalina said, “This is Katherine. And this over here is J--”

“TIEFLING!”

Katherine jumped at the cry. Isabella suddenly whipped out a hidden dagger from inside her right wing, her face contorting with rage and feathers ruffling up into two big red masses. Several guards around the room jumped to attention with their weapons raised, and even mellow Ferdinand growled softly and raised his wings to look more threatening. Meanwhile, Joan just blinked in frightened confusion, curling her tail in close.

“Catalina, you brought a TIEFLING into our home?!” Isabella shouted, and Katherine saw Joan wince and lower her ears.

“I didn’t recognize it at first,” Ferdinand said at her side, slightly more to himself than to the others in the room. “Why does it look like that? Aren’t they usually red or blue?”

“Her name is Joan.” Catalina said, stepping up beside Joan, exuding a protective aura. “And she’s with me. There’s no need to worry.”

“There is every reason to worry,” Isabella hissed. “You brought a Tiefling into our city! A TIEFLING!! Don’t you know what they are?” She didn’t wait for Catalina to answer her, “They’re DEMONS! Goat-faced, hell-touched, unbirthed DEMONS!”

“Mother, will you stop shouting?” Catalina said, agitation biting her words. A few people from outside were peeking in and ogling the scene with wide, curious eyes. “Joan isn’t bad. She’s my friend. And you’re not going to throw her out.”

Isabella narrowed her eyes at Joan, sizing her up several times. She sniffed. “We’re going to have to put her through decontamination.”

“Mother--”

“You will not fight me on this, Catalina.” Isabella said firmly, turning her knife-like gaze on her daughter. “She will be back with you soon enough. But she is a Tiefling and this needs to happen for our safety.”

Catalina clenched her fists tightly, but said, “Fine.”

Isabella smiled like a venomous snake. “Very good.”

Catalina turned to Joan and cupped one of her cheeks. “You’re going to be okay, sweetheart. My family is just super paranoid over some races and feels the need to do a really stupid examination on them before they can have free reign in the city.” She brushed an unruly lock of white-blonde hair out of Joan’s face. “You’ll be out in no time, alright?”

Joan nodded quietly, and Catalina gave her a quick hug before a group of guards came to take Joan away. The young Tiefling glanced back at Katherine and Catalina, her tail slightly tucked between her legs and ears folded back, before disappearing down a hallway and out of sight. Isabella shook her head with a look of visible distaste.

“I don’t know why you would ever befriend one of those beasts,” The queen said, earning a growl from Catalina. Katherine put her hand back on Catalina’s shoulder, hoping to provide some comfort to her. “Anyway, I’ll alert the chefs. Your arrival back home needs a celebration!”

And celebrate they did.

That night, when the desert dropped to a startling cold temperature for a blisteringly hot wasteland, the Brazens of Aragon rejoiced in the return of their missing princess. Firelight emblazed then night sky, the Bull’s horns were lit with golden flames, and a band played Catalina’s favorite instruments. Cactus juice, strange alcoholic concoctions, and camel milk were passed out in tinted yellow glasses, and roasted desert fruits, grilled meat, and spicy hot foods were served on bronze trays you could see your reflection on. Aasimars danced and twirled in the main pavilion, celebrating gleefully, all while Catalina stood at the top of the steps leading to the palace, receiving guests and graciously accepting their best wishes. Everyone had a smile for her. Some of the adults looked at her appraisingly--only to be expected, Katherine supposed, as she was royalty--and many of the youngsters tried to flirt. Catalina humored them lightly solely for the entertainment of their reactions.

Katherine got lost in the festivities rather quickly. One moment she was getting her tongue melted by a painfully spicy dish, and then next she had a glass of translucent greenish juice thrust into her hands. She tasted it as she tottered up to Catalina and made a face at how bitter it was. Catalina laughed lightly.

“That’s Snake Wine,” The princess told her, “It’s made out of cactus juice that we put a dead snake in and leave out to ferment in the sun for a week.”

Katherine silently spit the mouthful of Snake Wine back into her cup. Catalina burst out into laughter so loud it rivaled the blaring music and made several people’s heads turn in curiosity.

“That is, umm,” Katherine said, covering her mouth. “Ah--”

“Horrible?” Catalina smiled and passed her a napkin. Katherine took it gratefully.

“Your words, not mine,” Katherine said, wiping her mouth. “But yes.”

Catalina giggled. “It’s better than that weird berry crap you used to have me drink.”

Katherine gasped with a wounded expression. “Berry Milk is amazing, thank you very much!”

“Berry juice and milk do not go together! You have to choose one, Kat! ONE! You can’t have both!”

They both laughed, earning even more confused stares.

“Are you happy to be back?” Katherine asked after a moment of serene silence between her and her friend.

Catalina shrugged, losing her smile. “I guess. I mean, I like seeing the city again and all my old friends, but…” She cast a frustrated expression at her parents, who were chatting animatedly with two old nobles. “Like I said before, my family is weird.”

Katherine frowned. “I’m sorry.” Hoping to get Catalina’s mind off of her family issues, she looked over at a tall orange tower in the far right corner of the city. It was made of dried clay, with several twists, points, and spires, and Katherine noticed the deep red of a Kobold snout peeking out of one of the large barred windows. “What’s that?”

Catalina looked at the tower. “Oh that’s Hotshot Hall. It’s our prison.” She said. “Mother doesn’t like having the prisoners near the palace, so they’re kept as far away as possible.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Ah,” Katherine nodded, watching the Kobold pull back inside the tower.

“Well, maybe you’ll get to see a Calf Scramble while we’re here,” Catalina mused. “So that’s something to look forward to.”

“Calf Scramble?” Katherine looked at her confusedly.

“Oh, it’s great,” Catalina said. “Five people are taken out to the sinkhole in the back of the city and have to try and catch these camel calves we release with them. It is HILARIOUS to watch them run around and slip in the sand!”

Katherine smiled. “I look forward to it!”

“Princess Catalina! Princess Catalina!” An eager young voice called.

“A princess’ work is never done,” Catalina said to Katherine, smiling. She bumped her shoulder affectionately. “Have some fun, Kat. I’ll talk to you again later.”

Once Catalina whisked off to go speak with more people, Katherine delved back into the party for a little while longer before straying away to explore.

Aragon was truly a lavish city, even for a civilization in the middle of a desert wasteland. She passed by several cozy-looking houses and lively bars decorated with desert flowers, all abandoned for the celebration.

She soon found herself in a small clearing between buildings where an oasis pool sat. Two bendy palm trees swayed lightly in the breeze, and clustered of paddle-shaped succulents hounded the edges of the pool. Katherine sat down on a smooth stone and looked up at the sky, where every single star in the entire universe seemed to be visible.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Katherine jerked around, nearly falling off of the rock and into the pool.

Queen Isabella was standing in an alleyway feeding into the clearing, darkness shrouded over her. She stepped out into the moonlight, and all her gemstones glittered like eyes around her.

“Yes,” Katherine nodded, composing herself.

“Why aren’t you celebrating?” Isabella asked, standing above Katherine.

“I’m just taking a breather, Your Majesty,” Katherine answered. “Is that alright?”

Isabella eyed Katherine suspiciously. “Of course,” She said slowly. She looked up at the sky. “When did you meet my daughter? You seem to be good friends.”

“Five years ago,” Katherine said. “She lived in a city next to my forest village and wandered in one day. After an interrogation, I was showing her out and we just started talking. She kept coming back after that and became a regular visitor in the village.”

“Hm.” Isabella said. “Well, I thank you for bringing my daughter back home safe.” She looked down at Katherine and smiled, sending chills down Katherine’s spine. “I am so, very pleased.”

————

The celebration was still going on when Katherine eventually turned in for the night. She went to her lavish guest bedroom in the palace to sleep, but not before visiting Catalina.

Catalina was in her own huge bedroom, sitting under the marigold velvet blankets in her equally giant bed. She was looking down at a painting in her hands, and didn’t look up from it when Katherine walked inside.

“I ran away because I wasn’t happy in Aragon.”

Katherine walked over and sat down next to Catalina. The painting she was holding had four girls in it, all smiling and engulfing each other in their wings.

“I was restricted from doing so many things and Mother watched my every move.” Catalina went on, her voice brimming with hate. “I couldn’t stand it.” She brushed her hands over the surface of the painting, an expression of longing in her eyes. “You probably think I’m just being selfish and snobby, but you don’t know how things happen here.”

“Then tell me,” Katherine urged softly. She set a hand on Catalina’s thigh, letting her know she was there for me.

Catalina sighed. “The queen rules in Braze. And that’s great, you know, girl power, yay!” She laughed dryly. “But the way we take the throne…” She trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. “Only daughters, nieces, granddaughters, and aunts are allowed to challenge for the throne. And they do this by fighting the queen. To the death.”

Katherine frowned, quickly understanding why Catalina didn’t like the system.

“Mother’s three sisters died young, so she didn’t have any competition growing up.” Catalina went on. “She challenged my grandmother when she was twenty-two and killed her swiftly. Crushed her ribs during the fight. Then, she married Father and started having children. She said she would only humor four female heirs. No more than that.”

She pointed to the tallest girl. Her wings were dark indigo and powerful-looking, and she had glowing golden skin. Dark brown hair was cut short around her head, bordering her fiery green eyes. She was wearing the sunstone necklace that Catalina now had around her neck.

“That’s Juana, my second oldest sister. She had the wildest temper and always thought of fun stuff for us and my other sisters to do. She also LOVED to challenge the teachers she had.” A smile pulled on Catalina’s lips, then quickly disappeared. “She challenged Mother when I was ten. I swear, she nearly beat mother to death; Juana did not mess around when it came to combat. And she would have won, too. She should have won. But then Mother, bleeding, bruised, and pinned on the ground beneath her, looked up and said, ‘I’m proud of you.’ Mother doesn’t say that often. Rarely ever. Juana hesitated, smiled, and then Mother slashed her stomach open with a dagger hidden in the bends of her wings. I still remember Juana’s face. That look of realization. She had looked down at her organs now hanging out of her stomach and grabbed at them like she was going to try and put them back in, then looked at me and my sisters with the most agonized face I’ve ever seen on her before.” She dipped her head and swallowed thickly, blinking back tears. “I think--I think she thought she failed us.”

After a moment of silence, Catalina swiftly wiped her eyes, sniffled, and then pointed to the next girl. Her wings were narrow but shiny and the color of raw salmon and hibiscus flowers. Her tree bark brown eyes were calculating and calm, but her smile was bright and beaming.

“That’s Maria. My oldest sister. She was like the voice of reason for the group, but she always got dragged into mischief anyway. She was also really good at getting us out of trouble. Except that time Juana mooned our history tutor.” She laughed, tracing her fingers over Maria’s long brown hair. “After Juana died, she became a lot more protective over me and my sister. I never thought she was going to challenge Mother, but she did when I was sixteen. Because Mother gave birth to another female child. A healthy baby girl. But, three days after she was born, she just--disappeared. One night, she was there, and then the next morning she wasn’t. Nobody ever said anything about her again, but Maria was furious because she knew Mother had killed our baby sister.” She swallowed thickly. “Maria was never a fighter. She was good at non-lethal combat, not--not what the challenge for the throne was. After she was beaten senselessly, cut up and bleeding all over the sand, she begged Mother for her life, saying she forfeit the challenge and wouldn’t try to overthrow her again. And Mother decapitated her.”

With the sadness of losing her sisters came anger, and Katherine saw Catalina grip the sides of the painting tightly and grit her teeth in rage.

Catalina pointed to the last girl. Her wings were fluffy and a goldfish orange color. She was small and had large, innocent dark amber eyes and sun-kissed brown hair she kept up in a messy bun.

“That’s Isabella Jr. Pretentious of Mother to name her that, huh? We just call her Izzy.” Catalina said. “Izzy’s the youngest out of the four of us. She was always worried in a cute way and was super smart. After Maria died, she became a lot more clingy towards me. I let her sleep in my bed at night because she was too scared to sleep alone. Not that I blamed her. Mother always looked at us like she was just daring us to challenge her. It scared the poor thing.” She shook her head. “But then I ran away. I left Izzy alone. I didn’t tell her where I was going or what I was doing, I didn’t even leave her a note or ask her to come along. I just--left.”

She gently touched her pregnant belly. “I hope they aren’t a girl. I can’t stand the thought of Mother doing something to them to get rid of competition.”

She shook her head and looked up at Katherine, her eyes shining in the candlelight. “This may be my home, but this is not my family. You and Joan are.”

#dnd au #six the musical #six the musical au #six the musical fanfic #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fic #uk tour six #tour katherine howard #katherine howard #catherine of aragon #tour catherine of aragon #tour joan on the keys #joan on the keys

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