#WHY IS A CROWN OF CANDY SO SAD | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

earthtoharlow · 1 year

Text

Teach Me

2) February

AN: Part 2 of Teach Me

Thank you to @harlowcomehome for helping me with this, ily 🥹💜

MASTERLIST

“You sure you don’t want me to run to the store for you?” Jack asked from the floor as he was playing dress up with Jayla.

Alyssa shook her head no. “I got it, babe. I’ll be in and out. Just grabbing a few things for Jayla for Valentine’s Day.” She says with a laugh and an eye roll.

“And hopefully for me too.”

“Maybe” Alyssa said with a wink, knowing she already had a plan for them.

She could tell Jack was still worried, he never liked when she left the house late at night. Alyssa walked over, bending down to give him a sweet kiss on the lips. “You worry too much, princess”

“That’s not funny.” Jack told her, trying to hold in his laughter. Jayla was only 2 but slowly became obsessed with makeup/hair after watching her mother do her own every morning. So now Jack was currently sitting on the floor with lipstick smeared over his lips and barrettes in his hair, with a crown to match.

Alyssa gave Jayla kisses all over her face, childish giggles ringing in the air. “I’ll be right back, baby. Make sure to take care of daddy, ok?”

“Otay”

She gave Jack one last kiss before she locked the door behind her but not before saying their phrase.

“Love You, Mean It!”

—————————————————————————

“Jayla Rose! Can you explain to me why you waited till the last minute to tell me that you signed up Daddy to make cookies for your Valentine’s Day party”

It was 10pm, way past Jayla’s bedtime but Valentine’s Day was tomorrow and the kids were encouraged to bring baked goods.

“We always make cookies together!” Jayla exclaimed while adjusting her chef's hat on her head.

“Not at 10 o’clock at night.”

Jayla shrugged her and suddenly started playing with her KY chain hanging from her neck, something she did when she was nervous.

“What’s wrong, babygirl?” Jack asked her, concerned.

She began playing with her necklace some more and kicking her feet against the kitchen floor. “I just thought it would be fun, you always get sad during this time because of mommy.”

Jack immediately pulled her into a hug, he could feel his shirt start to get wet from her tears. “Hey, it’s okay.” He reassured her by rubbing her back.

“Look at me.” His heart wanted to cry as he looked at her big brown eyes that were filled with tears threatening to fall. “You don’t have to worry about Daddy, that’s my job. You and I are gonna have fun tomorrow. I have a whole day planned just for the two of us once you get out of school.”

Jayla perked up at that “Really?”

“Yes, really. You know you’re my favorite valentine. Now, let’s wipe these tears and finish these cookies so you can go to bed.”

MISSLOVE

liked by 456 users

misslove: my favorite day of the year

view all 128 comments

Ariel loved Valentine's Day, it was her favorite holiday. I mean, her last name was Love after all. Sure, she was 27 years old and single, but there were so many other reasons to love it. Not only did she love the flowers, the pinks and reds but she loved everything Valentines Day stood for, it’s about love, and what’s not to love about love?

By morning her desk was filled with cards, candy and small stuffed animals. She was sure her planner was underneath all the gifts but Ariel was in no rush to look for it. Her favorite gift amongst them all was the donut bouquet from Jayla Harlow.

Ariel: rumor has it that you burned our classes Valentine’s Day cookies for our party?

Pressing send, Ariel grabbed one of the donuts from the bouquet. Before she could take a bite, her phone buzzed on her desk.

Jack: didn’t you hear? I don’t clear up rumors

Ariel giggled at that knowing he was referencing one of his hit songs. As she was just about to text him back Jack sent another message

Jack: but whoever started that rumor is in big trouble, can’t have someone spreading misinformation

Ariel: you’d be shocked to know what else I’ve been told, but I wouldn’t want to give away my sources

She moaned as she took a bite of her donut. She always had a sweet tooth. There was nothing like a strawberry frosted donut.

Jack: well…you can tell me. I won’t tell anyone

Taking another bite of her donut, she thought about all the things Jayla has shared with her. They were honestly pretty tame, compared to her other students giving her details about their parents divorce.

Ariel: oh you know, just that you get red as a tomato in the sun, you drink ranch dressing (big if true), the source claims they’re better at basketball and soccer than you, and that your idea of dancing is just stomping around.

Jack: damn this source knows a lot about me

Jack: and I’ll have you know that I’m very useful on the court

Ariel: hey, don’t shoot the messenger! Just some silly gossip between a teacher and their favorite student

She laughed at the exchange before taking a glance at the clock, seeing the kids would be back from lunch in 15 minutes. Ariel should be using this time to plan out her lessons for the next week, but right now she’d rather flirt with her favorite students' dad. Lesson plans can wait.

Ariel: Speaking of the party, are you joining us?

Ariel already knew that he would probably say no, according to other teachers Mr. Harlow never showed up to any of the school's functions. And he hasn’t in a long time. She watched as those three bubbles indicating that Jack was texting back popped up and would suddenly go away.

Jack: uh probably not…I have some meetings this afternoon.

While she knew he was going to say no, she couldn’t help but think about Jayla, who is usually very social, was suddenly very quiet today.

Ariel: Well, if you end up getting out early, we’ve got plenty of heart shaped sweets with your name on it, and I have a feeling Jayla misses you.

She could hear the sounds of tiny footsteps and giggles coming down the hall so she knew her class will be making their way back in. She glanced down at her phone again and saw that Jack left her on read. She tried not to let it upset her, still she decided to send one last text.

Ariel: the kids are coming back from lunch, Happy Valentine’s Day Mr. Harlow

She shoved her phone back in her desk just in time to greet her kids back from lunch.

“Ok, my sweet angel babies, let’s get in our reading circles. Today’s book is all about…LOVE!”

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

An hour later the Valentine’s Day party was in full swing. After socializing with the other parents and students she sat back and watched with a smile as the kids stuffed their faces with sweets. A small frown formed on her face when she noticed Jayla watching another student coloring with their mom with the same frown. Getting up from her desk, she took a seat next to Jayla.

“Hi, Miss Love.” Jayla greeted her with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, before she looked down and continued to color.

“Hi, Jayla! I love your drawing. Is that your dad?” Ariel asked, pointing to the yellow stick figure.

Jayla nodded her head yes, “I had to draw him yellow because he’s pale, and I couldn’t use a white crayon." Ariel had to stifle her laugh at that.

“Of course. Well, I came over here to chill with you, if that’s okay?” Ariel asked.

“Yeah that’s fine! Do you wanna color with me?” Jayla asked not even waiting for a reply before pushing a paper towards her.

Ariel smiled and grabbed a pink crayon and started drawing hearts all over the paper.

“Miss Love, your heart looks like a BUTT!”

“It does not!”

“MHM!”

Since most parents decided to take the kids home early because of the party, that left Ariel and Jayla by themselves at the end of the day.

While Ariel waited for Jack to pick up Jayla, she decided to start cleaning up the classroom, hating a dirty room. As she was picking up papers and pencils off the floor, Jayla called her name from her spot in the class's reading corner.

“Yes, Jayla?” She replied and looked towards her so that she had her full attention.

“Do you have a mommy?” Ariel was shocked at that question, she walked over and sat on the floor next to her.

“Yes, but she became an angel when I was a teenager. So it’s just me and my dad now” Ariel told her

She could tell Jayla had another question as she nervously played with the necklace. Ariel stayed silent giving Jayla some time to process what she wanted to ask next.

“Do you ever miss her?”

“Everyday.” Ariel answered almost immediately.

Other teachers around the school talked all the time about how Jack was a “hot single father” and how no one knew much about Jayla’s mother. Ariel was never the one to gossip so she never dug deeper because it wasn’t her business to know.

It was quiet for a while as Jayla turned back towards her book, flipping through the pages. Ariel could tell she had more to say but she refused to push her.

“It’s just me and daddy too.” Jayla spoke after a while. She still was flipping through her book. “I don’t really know—“ Jayla couldn’t finish what she was saying as there was a soft knock on the door. Ariel and Jayla looked up and saw Jack leaning against the classroom door.

“DADDY!” Jayla yelled as she jumped up and ran towards her father, conversation seemingly forgotten. Ariel stood back as she watched Jack kiss his daughter all over her face.

“Sorry I couldn’t come sooner, babygirl.”

“It’s ok, Miss Love was hanging out with me.”

Jack put Jayla down from his arms before he stood up straight and greeted Ariel.

“Thanks, sorry I was late.” Jack said as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

Ariel waved her hand “it’s no problem at all, Jayla is one of my favorite’s students, I’d hang out with her any day.”

Jack smiled at that. “Now, Miss Love…I thought teachers weren’t supposed to have favorites.”

Ariel pressed her finger to her lips “SSH, don’t tell anyone.” Jack threw his head back with a laugh and the sound made Ariel’s heart flutter.

“Before I let you two go, Mr. Harlow, I did promise you that we had some cookies with your name on it.” Ariel grabbed the case of cookies that she saved back for him. Jack smiled as he looked down at the heart shaped cookies. He could tell they were homemade.

“Did you make these?” He asked, opening the container and grabbing one out. “Mm, these are delicious.” he said, biting into it.

“Yeah, I always overbake so I figured since you couldn’t be here I would save the rest for you.” Ariel said with a shrug, she could feel her cheeks getting warm as she watched Jack eat her cookies. God she was down bad.

“Maybe, I do need to come to these parties, if you’re going to be baking like this.” Jack flirted.

“Just for the baked goods?” She joked

“And to hang out with you..”

Jack felt a tug on his pants leg, breaking eye contact as he looked down at Jayla.

“What about me?!”

“You didn’t let daddy finish, I was going to say I’d love to hang out with Miss Love and my babygirl”

Ariel smiled watching the exchange, her face getting warmer at Jack claiming he wanted to hang out with her.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you all here any longer, so I’ll let you two go. Bye, Miss Jayla, I’ll see you on Monday.”

What she didn’t expect was Jayla to leave Jack’s side and give her a tight hug around her legs. Even Jack was shocked at the action. Ariel got down to her level so she could give her a better hug.

“Bye, Miss Love. You’re the best.”

-------------------------------------------------————-

“…and they lived happily ever after!”

The End

Jack read as he closed the book to Jayla’s favorite bedtime story.

“I love that book daddy, can you read it again?!” Jayla asked while giving him those award winning puppy dog eyes.

Still sitting on the edge of her bed, Jack shook his head no. “Not tonight, sweetheart. You know it’s late.”

Jayla huffed and cuddled deeper into the covers on her bed and laid her head on Jack’s arm. He always liked to stay with her until she fell asleep. “Did you have a fun day?”

“Yup, Miss Love is so cool, and she’s just like me!”

Jack looked down at Jayla confused, “yeah, how so?”

It got quiet and for a moment, Jack almost thought she was fast asleep before she spoke up.

“She only has a daddy! Her mommy is gone too, and she misses her everyday just like how I miss mommy” Jayla said softly followed by a small yawn

Jack tried to swallow the lump that immediately formed in his throat. Jayla hardly ever spoke to him about her mother's passing, so hearing that she missed her just as much as he did made the inside of his chest hurt. Jack was scared that if he opened his mouth he wouldn’t be able to stop crying, but thankfully when he looked down Jayla had fallen asleep in his arms.

Not having the heart to leave her just yet, Jack cuddled in closer, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as tears threatened to fall from his eyes. While Jack wished Jayla spoke to him about her mom he was grateful that she trusted Ariel enough to open up.

Jack stayed in Jayla’s room for most of the night before making his way towards his bedroom. He was having a hard time sleeping with all the thoughts running through his head. After tossing and turning for a while, he reached over to grab his phone from the side table, and scrolled till he found the name he was looking for.

“Thank you for talking to Jayla, I really appreciate it.” He didn’t feel the need to elaborate, he knew Ariel would know what he was talking about. With it being so late in the night, Jack wasn’t expecting a reply so quickly, so he was surprised when he got a reply back after ten minutes.

“Anytime, Jayla can always count on me.”

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

AN: So happy you all enjoyed the first part and I hope you all enjoy this chapter just as much! Thank you for reading and of course tell me your thoughtssss :)

Tag List:

(message me if you’d like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @toocriticalharlow @mace23477 @jackmans-poison @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @laylasbunbunny @ilyangelsxo @comehomeimissyou @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow reader #social media au #jack harlow instagram au #brieanniversary #Teach Me

206 notes · View notes

dotsartspot · 4 months

Text

Aight maybe an unpopular opinion but i have to say it bc i feel like i’m going insane??? I just don’t understand why people are so insistent on seeing this season as a black and white scenario in regards to TRG and especially Kipperlily.

First of all I have zero beef with this season. Dimension 20 has never once claimed to be on the same level of narrative seriousness as a show like Critical Role. D20 is a full comedy show on a streaming platform that posts almost exclusively comedic content. I get that people are disappointed and I understand why and it’s fair but it also just seems a little… i guess odd is the word I’ll use, to be so upset about feeling like the message fell flat or that the bad kids were rewarded for being assholes or what have you when Dimension 20, first and foremost, is a comedy show done by professional improv comedians. These comedians have also fully stated on record that emotionally heavy seasons are really rough for them. That’s the whole reason why they haven’t done a second Crown of Candy with the full cast of Intrepid Heroes. Their lack of making this season super emotionally impactful is probably simply bc despite the overarching message that was setup, they didn’t WANT it to be more serious than that.

And the second issue I have with complaints i’m seeing is the way people are coddling Kipperlily. I get she was manipulated I get that it’s tragic its part of why her character is so good but also hey guys can we please stop pretending like the kid who willingly became a pawn of a man trying to become a war god is fully innocent in her own downfall? Can we stop pretending like emotional distress, especially when it’s fueled by so much bitter jealousy towards someone who has truly done nothing to you, is any sort of justification for her actions? She’s the only one who joined them willingly. I’m not saying she wasn’t manipulated and that her story isn’t tragic but she wasn’t a GOOD person. She was a fucked up teenager who decided her sadness was more important than everyone else in the world and then actively aided a plan that would cause direct harm to innocent people who did not affect her in the slightest. Redemption is real and second chances are worth giving but not everyone is worth giving it to and i know some people think that’s such an awful thing to say but as much as they think it’s so awful that doesn’t stop it from being true. EVERYONE has their battles. EVERYONE is messed up in some way shape or form, that’s just the reality of the world. But not everyone who has trauma is an asshole. Because despite whatever pain you may have, you yourself ultimately decide what you’re going to do with it and how you’ll respond to your own ugly negativity towards others. And imho people who choose to take their pain and wield it as a weapon against people who have done nothing wrong are not always worth talking off the ledge. Sometimes these people don’t WANT to be better, they just want their behavior to be justified. Sometimes they take your attempts to reach out a hand to try to drown you instead, or just fully drown you with them. Sometimes people aren’t willing to put in the work to make themselves better, and you can extend all the hands in the world but if that person does not WANT to get better, they simply never will.

#d20 fhjy spoilers #fhjy spoilers #fhjy #i feel like this take is not gonna be a hit tbh #everyone i’m seeing is like so incredibly disappointed #and i just do not get why #and it keeps feeding back #into this issue i have with media #and at this point the general populace i guess LOL #nobody seems to get anymore that not EVERYONE can be saved #everybody wants redemption arcs #everybody wants the emotionally complex villains to join the good guys #But a very real part of life #is that sometimes you have to look at someone #and ask yourself if they are worth trying to save #you have to ask yourself if you are willing to extend the hand #even if it means YOU might drown too #you have to ask yourself if they’re capable of being redeemed #and if they themselves will be willing to work towards being redeemed

23 notes · View notes

vee-crytraps · 5 months

Text

Good Luck, Babe! | CH 1-1 | Ice Cream for Breakfast

{Trigger Warning/Themes Masterlist} This is split into a billion parts because it's long as hell! Read on Ao3 to avoid the headache!

It isn’t unusual to be up before everyone else in the house. To say that the people in your adoptive family were night owls is a total understatement. Most mornings, Wayne Manor was full of the haunting sort of quiet you would expect in any normal residence during dead of night. Only a handful of years ago, you couldn’t stand the eerie halls of the East wing before ten am. The tall windows leaking pale light onto the antique dark wood, the ornate, unblinking portraits that loomed over you with eyes that seemed to follow. Total daylight horror vibes. You still felt like that sometimes. Especially as you grew older, and nearly everyone else moved out.

Dick was out in California with his West coast lollipop brigade before he settled in Blüdhaven. Jason, you had barely gotten to know before he died, and upon his resurrection (and subsequent rehabilitation), he moved out and never looked back. Tim was…Tim. Overworked, overtired. He’d moved out before he was even legally an adult- but he basically a CEO at that point anyway. It only made sense that he carve out a little something for himself in the world, especially when Damian came along and assumed the Robin mantle. And then there was Damian- the only current permanent resident aside from yourself, Bruce and Alfred. You wouldn’t say that you were friends exactly, but you had certainly developed an understanding in the quiet moments you ended up spending together. So yeah, most of your older brothers were onto greener pastures. As much as it sucked to see such a large house so empty, you knew better than to whine about it. It had been a long time since your brief stint as Robin when you were about eight years old, but even then you could register that the vibe in the bat cave was…tense, to say the very least. You had felt it in the manor, too- the anger and sadness swirling around your family of vigilantes. And Bruce, your godfather, Batman- at the very center of it all. There was a saying in the city- that if you ever saw Batman, trouble wasn’t far behind. He was Gotham’s own Mothman, bringing omens of collapsing bridges, bizarre hostage situations and stuck up banks. Still, chasing Batman made for cool stories and dynamic photos, with only a minor threat of personal harm on a good day. Despite the good sense of the Batman Rule, Gotham city residents leaked into the streets for a peak of the curling cape and badass rocket car. If you saw the bat family, however, you were well and truly fucked. These days, your family only really got together on cataclysmic occasions, the stuff one step down from the bone chilling, universe ending Justice League shit. Well, that. And your birthday. It was why you seized every opportunity to take advantage of the situation, seated in the large dining hall with a plan in place. Pressing the tips of your fingers together in a super-villain worthy steeple, you rest your elbows on the ancient oak of the dining table. You were at the far end- the very head, in a chair that was usually reserved for Bruce. “You wouldn’t want to set a bad example by reneging on your promise to me, now would you?” A mischievous smirk curled on your lips as you released your hands from their position, to point to the paper birthday crown you’d fashioned for yourself in the early morning. “For my first decree,” you started, offering a dramatic wave. You gestured to the table, littered with spoons, bowls, and most notable- several pint sized containers of ice cream. Smaller silver dishes housed sprinkles, cherries, crushed candies and other fixings. “Ice cream for breakfast.” Part 2

#v.fic #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader #jason todd x reader #damian wayne x reader #glb!

20 notes · View notes

lostfirefly · 6 months

Text

Life Must Have It's Mysteries (Ch.8)

Hey. hey!! I hope you missed this couple! English is not my native language, errors may occur. As always, feel free to share your thoughts :) Masterlist is here.

Description: Buggy and Catherine (OC from my “You’ve Got the Same Dream as Me” series) collected all parts of the scepter.

Warnings: Fun, fluff, arguing, sadness, adventure, swearing (as always). Shitty shit again:)

Words: 4224 (Yay!)

Taglist: @gingernut1314, @operationroots, @hey-august, @rorywritesjunk, @yujo-nishimura (I hope you still like it!)

The title is taken from “Life Must Have It's Mysteries” by Hans Zimmer (OST Inferno).

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Cotton candy, what are you doing? Stop!”

“No, I won't. I love playing with your hair. They are so long, blue, and beautiful. Do you want a crown braid? A regular braid? Or something else?” They both sat on the sand. Catherine knelt behind Buggy and ran a comb through his hair.

“I don't want anything, Catherine. Leave my hair alone.” He carefully removed her hands. “I'll curl my ponytail later.”

“So it’s gonna be the crown braid!” She kissed him on the cheek, hearing his groan, and took a small strand of hair in her hands.

“Geeez!” Buggy rolled his eyes.

Smack. “Oh! Let me make you a bun out of your hair. Two braids and the bun!” Catherine said happily and continued braiding his hair.

“Little shit! Can you even hear me? Why are you doing this to me?” Buggy removed her hands again, stood up, muttering something under his breath, and walked towards the car.

“Buggy Bear, what's wrong?”

He looked at her silently.

“You know, I think you should give me a schedule of your moods.” Catherine crossed her arms and looked at him instantly. “One day you are silent when I touch your hair or kiss your nose, now you are unhappy. And I don't even talk about the fact that I’ve lost count of how many times a day your mood changes. You never say anything, you just get angry, get up and leave. I don't get it. Did I hurt you? You know perfectly that I will never do that. I just love playing with your hair. I’m sorry.”

“I just…” Buggy watched as Catherine became sad and began to move her hand along the sand. He sighed, walked back to her and sat down with his back to her. “Don’t like it sometimes.”

Catherine started stroking his head and asked softly. “Did something bad happen to you before? Did someone hurt you this way?”

Buggy looked at her, showing with his eyes that he didn't want to talk about it, and moved his back closer to her.

She knelt down and hugged him from behind. “Who did all this to you? What have they done?”

Buggy was silent, but Catherine felt that he became more relaxed in her embrace.

“Do you want to continue? Can I touch your hair?” She gently placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Fine!” He said quietly.

“Buggy Bear, you can trust me.” Smack. Catherine carefully took a strand of his hair and started braiding it. “Gosh! The color is amazing, love it and love you.”

“I don't understand why I let you braid my hair. It's not love, Cathie-pie. Admit, you just adore mocking me, right?” Buggy smiled and poked her in the side with his finger. “By the way, I'm hungry, when are we going to eat?”

“You're unbelievable. When it comes to food, drink or sex, you're instantly cheerful.” She looked at the fire where the sausages were being roasted. “Soon. I think another 10 minutes.” Catherine gently took another strand of hair and, humming softly, began to braid it. She noticed a slight smile on his face. “I wonder if you were offered food or sex with me, what would you choose?” She gently ran her finger through the braid. “Buggy?! You didn’t answer.”

“Wait, I’m thinking.” He got lost in thought.

“Fucking clown! I can't believe you're choosing between me and food.” Catherine sniggered.

“Because you ask difficult questions, baby. Food is very important to me.”

“I'll remind you of this the next time you start pestering me.” Catherine made a bun, took a bobby pin out of her hair and stuck it in his hair. She made a crown braid on top. She took a picture on her phone and showed him the photo. “Look! Shouldn't you walk around like this at home?”

“No way! It's disgusting.” Buggy responded with a laugh. “What did you do to me, red-haired shit?”

Catherine hugged him from behind by the neck, standing on her knees, and pressed her cheek to his cheek. He placed his hand on her wrist.

“Cotton candy, I…”

“Shush, clown! Don't spoil the moment.” She sat there for another five minutes in silence. “You're unshaven and prickly.” Catherine gently ran her fingertips over his stubble. “I love it and… you!” She suddenly squealed joyfully, smacking his cheek.

“Fuck! My ears!!” Buggy covered his ear with one hand. “I lo~...” He sniffed. "What smells?"

“Shit! Sausages!!” Catherine jumped and ran towards the fire. “Good new, it doesn’t seem like they were burned.” She took a bite. “No, they are fine. Go have breakfast, my blue-haired love!”

Buggy looked at her carefully.

“Why are you looking at me? Come here. Breakfast is ready.” She put food on disposable plates.

“I’m coming!”

Catherine watched as Buggy split into parts, flew to her and assembled himself piece by piece. She looked at him in surprise. “What was that?”

“Meh, I was too lazy to go.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“You're such a fool! So. We have hot dogs, donuts and warmed up pancakes. What do you want?”

“I want everything!” Buggy poured Catherine coffee and kissed her temple. “Here. Fresh coffee for my Egyptian girl.”

“Thank you!”

Catherine made him three hot dogs and put some pancakes on the plate. She watched as Buggy happily took a bite of the hot dog and started stroking his head. “Tasty?”

“Delicious!” He said with his mouth full and narrowed his eyes joyfully.

“Chew first, Buggy.” Catherine took the mug in her hands and took a sip of coffee. She blushed when she noticed his gaze on her. “Stop looking at me like you love me.”

He swallowed the food and said quietly. “But I lo~.. I.. I just.. I don’t understand how I got you. You take care of me. Come on, you're cooking me sausages in the middle of the desert. Of course, you sometimes squeal like an ultrasound, but.. Why are you with me?”

Catherine put the mug on the sand, crawled up to him on her knees, hugged him, kissed him on the cheek and felt how he place his hand on her back. “I thought you had long ago gotten used to all this,” She stroked his head. “Okay. Then I'll say it more often. Do you want me to say it more often? I love, love, love you! And even though I'm tired of constantly wiping your lipstick traces off of me, I still love you. And when I become a decrepit toothless old woman with a saggy ass, I will still love you.”

“You'll never have a saggy ass, cotton candy.”

“I will, if you keep grabbing it. Stop doing it right now, Buggy!” She hit him on the arm. “Okay! Eat your breakfast. I’ll bring my notes and the scepter.”

Catherine got up from the ground. “Hey, clown! I let you look at my ass! Watch me walk to the car.” She moved her buttocks left and right several times, and joyfully began jumping from one foot to the other towards the car.

“You're amazing, Cathie-pie!” Buggy said loudly, chewing the hot dog.

Catherine grabbed things from the car and ran back joyfully, slightly squealing. She plopped down on the sand next to Buggy, grabbed a pancake and, chewing, pulled out three pieces of the scepter. These were small pieces of gold, clearly once decorated with stones. Catherine twirled each piece in her hands for a long time.

“I think if we don’t find anything and this fucking thing doesn’t fall apart in my hands, we can sell it too and get some good money.” She heard him laugh. “What are you laughing at, clown.”

“Me? I'm just wondering where my honest, decent girl went.” Buggy started imitating her. “We can sell it too.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Catherine raised a piece of the scepter to the sun and squinted one eye. “Look. There are inscriptions on all three parts.”

He moved his face closer to see the scepter, chewing the food. “And what do they mean?”

“I don’t know yet. There is a mixture of languages here. A little archaic ancient Egyptian, which was in the pre-dynastic period, and ancient Egyptian, which was in the time of the pharaohs.” Catherine looked in the notebook and started writing all the symbols down.

“Anything?” Buggy looked over her shoulder.

“Shush! Don't distract me!” She moved her pen over the paper, periodically muttered something under her breath, then put the pen in her mouth and fell silent.

“Cotton candy? Cotton candy!” Buggy snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Catherine?! Do you hear me?”

Catherine poked her pen at the letters and symbols on the sheets, glancing at Buggy periodically, then wrote something down again.

“It's written that this scepter belonged to the one who could cut mountains, breakthrough springs.” She began to assemble the pieces of the scepter until she heard a click on each connected piece. “Look. It's beautiful, isn't it?” Catherine raised the assembled scepter into the sun. “And here are the coordinates on the edges. See?” She pointed her little finger at the small numbers. “Let's see where they point.”

They both bent over the map. Catherine compared the numbers on the scepter and on the map. “My blue-haired love, we need to get this place.” She pointed her finger at a point on the map.

⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥫⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭⥭

Catherine sat on the hood of the car and looked at the pyramid with a flat roof and sloped sides, with six layers, one built on top of the other. There was a smile on her face, her eyes were wide open.

“Cotton candy, you surprised me.” Buggy closed the car door and walked up to her. “You’re silent.”

She didn't take her eyes off the pyramid. “Do not tease me, clown.”

He leaned his back against the hood. “Come on, squeal.”

“Can I?” She looked at him.

“Of course you can.” He made a gesture with his hand.

Catherine jumped off the hood, clenched her hands into fists and began jumping around, squealing.

“Well, where are we now?” Buggy asked, glancing at her.

“My love! You’re looking at the very first pyramid in the world. Djoser’s pyramid. It was built almost 5,000 years ago.” She joyfully pointed to the structure. “Just fuck me! The ancient pyramid may contain what we're looking for.”

Catherine grabbed her head, turned to Buggy and broke into a smile. He exhaled, spread his arms, inviting her to jump on him. She threw herself on his neck with a squeal. “Love.” Smack. “Love.” Smack. “Love, love, love you!” Smack. Smack. Smack.

He wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’m happy you're happy.”

“You know, this pyramid was built by the very first Egyptian architect.” Catherine turned around, pressed her back against his chest and took his hand. “It is believed that the steps carry some symbolism - along them the pharaoh was supposed to pass to the kingdom of the dead. According to the notes that I have and what is indicated in the map, we will need to find the king's eyes peeking out through a hole. And we need to be more careful. This pyramid is also included in the tourist route. But it also has fake paths. I don't know what's in them. Traps or attempted tunnels. Be careful, please.” She stroked his palm with her fingers.

“Why are you telling me this?” Buggy asked in surprise.

“You almost got stuck in some hole when you pulled out the third part of the scepter, clown. I don’t want to lose you ahead of time.” Catherine reached out her hand and laid it on his head. “Okay, let’s go and try to find this fucking diamond.”

They collected their things and headed towards the entrance. As they walked towards the pyramid, Catherine told Buggy that it was all considered a vast complex, including courtyards, sanctuaries, temples, and dwellings for the priests. They reached the pyramid, which made of six-tiered “stepped” layers of stone and clay. Buggy listened to her with interest. They bought entrance tickets and, together with a group of tourists, went inside the pyramid.

“Oh my God! We are now inside the very first pyramid in the world. Can you imagine?” Catherine pulled Buggy's hand and turned her head, trying to look at everything as best as possible. “Awesome, huh?”

“Not bad.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Not bad.” Catherine rolled her eyes at him.

They stood in a small room between columns. It was the central courtyard, from which eleven different tunnels branched off in different directions.

“Look.” Catherine took out a notepad. “We are in the central passage now. It was built above the sarcophagus of the pharaoh. The sarcophagus itself is located at the bottom of a very deep vertical shaft, which is covered with a dome. In addition, the tomb contains 11 carved burial rooms for members of the pharaoh's family. But there are also a lot of tunnels that lead to a dead end. The pyramid has not been fully studied, so the data may be incomplete.”

“Yeah-yeah, I remember.” He started imitating her, walking away to look at the wall. “Be careful. Buggy. You're such an idiot that you can go down the wrong corridor.”

Catherine exhaled, walked up behind him, buried her head in his back and took his hand. “You're my idiot. Just be careful. Okay?”

“Fine.” He squeezed her hand and replied with a smile on his face. “Where are we gonna go, my Egyptian girl?”

“We need to go to the southern part of the pyramid.” She took the map out of her bag. “It's this way.”

They walked along a corridor decorated with ornaments and paintings. Some walls were covered with blue tiles, reminiscent of a reed mat, and were also decorated with reliefs depicting the pharaoh performing various rituals.

“You know, it was previously believed that these corridors and the rooms next to them were used for burial. But do you see these drawings? They simply describe the life of the pharaoh and his family. There is no trace of the ritual nature of these rooms. They clearly look like they were once residential.” Catherine walked from wall to wall and carefully moved her hands over the drawings. “That’s amazing.”

They walked through several corridors, went down a few steps and found themselves in a part of the pyramid with narrow passages.

“Wait.” Catherine looked around. “Where is everyone? We followed the notes and the map, but I don’t see a single tourist now.” She took out her notepad and map again. “See? We went this way, this way. Then we turned here.”

“Maybe we took a wrong turn?” Buggy looked at her notes.

“No, no, impossible. We walked clearly along the corridors that were indicated on the sheets.” Catherine tapped her finger on the notes in her notebook.

Buggy scratched his neck. “Is there any possibility that this corridor where we are now is not intended for tourists? As I understand it, these Egyptian guys of yours were very fond of such things.”

“Perhaps. But everything indicates that we need to get through this narrow passage.” Catherine squatted down and looked around the small tunnel. “There's some light further down there.” She pulled out a flashlight from her bag. "See?"

Buggy sat down next to her and squinted. “Yeah. And what do your scribbles say?”

“It's not a scribble. Stop making fun of my handwriting.” She poked him in the shoulder and checked the notes once again. “They say we need to crawl there.” Catherine pointed with a flashlight at the tunnel.

“As a true gentleman, I will allow you to crawl first.” Buggy chuckled idiotically and nodded towards the tunnel with his head.

“You're not a gentleman. You just want to look at my ass!” Catherine rolled her eyes.

“Not without it, cotton candy!” He lightly spanked her buttocks.

“You're disgusting!” Catherine slapped his hands. “I hate you!”

“Lord, a blow to the heart!” Buggy rolled his eyes theatrically. “How can I live now?”

“Oh, shut up, please, clown. You like pissing me off, right?” She slapped him on the head.

“My baby gets angry. Love it!”

“Go fuck yourself, Buggy! Seriously, be focused!” Catherine looked at him angrily and then stroked his head. “So what? Shall we go back or shall we go forward?”

“You and I didn’t come this far just to go back, right?” Buggy shrugged. “If your notes say that we should go this way, we have no choice.”

“Okay!” Catherine put the notebook and map in her bag, stuck the flashlight between her teeth, got down on all fours and climbed into the tunnel.

“Fuck, yeah! My favorite view of you” Buggy grinned happily, rubbed his hands and also climbed after her.

“Shtp! I’ll pnch u!” She mumbled through the teeth.

They crawled along a narrow passage and found themselves in a large room, the walls of which were made of pale yellow slabs of granite mixed with limestone. In the middle of the wall, everything was decorated with drawings and inscriptions in the form of intricate carvings.

“Where are we?” Buggy asked, looking at Catherine.

“I have no idea. Wait.” She took out all her notes again. “So. You and I walked past the hall with the cobras, past the visitation with the double columns. Then we went down through the side passage. And if we walked correctly, then we are now in the southern passage under the underground galleries. Remember, I told you that the pyramid is not fully explored? We are diffenetly now on those paths that are not listed in the boring guide for boring tourists.”

Buggy took out a second flashlight from her bag and shined it on the walls, “Cotton candy, there are some people drawn there again.” He pointed the light at the walls.

Catherine came closer and began muttering something under her breath.

“Cathie-pie?” He came closer to her

“It says “Hathor and Amset will lead you through the gate. But you cannot go straight.. Start where Amset defeated the enemy”. This is some kind of nonsense.”

“Cotton candy, there’s some kind of lady painted on this wall.” Buggy pointed at the wall with a flashlight.

“Where? Where?” Catherine jumped happily and ran towards the drawings, pushing him aside.

“Geeez, woman!” Buggy walked closer to the wall. “Who is this?”

“This is Hathor. She is Horus's wife and was responsible for strength, love, beauty and was revered by women.” Catherine studied the drawing carefully.

Buggy tapped her on the shoulder. “Listen, is it normal that a piece of the ceiling is lighter than all the other slabs?”

Catherine shone her flashlight at the ceiling and looked at it. “No. Wait.” She looked at the drawing for a long time and muttered something under her breath. “These are not just light spots on the ceiling. This is.. the Milky Way?!”

“What?”

“Well, of course! The ancient Egyptians believed that Hathor's milk was the Milky Way. So we nned to find the stars there. Remember, in the last pyramid I told you about Amset and the fact that he is associated with the stars.”

“Cotton candy, we had wild sex that day. Believe me, I remember you naked, loudly moaning my name, my tongue between your legs and not some mythical guy in heaven.” Buggy guffawed idiotically. “I bet if we did this in his pyramid, he would look at us from his Egyptian clouds and be jealous.”

“Seriously, clown?!” Catherine waved her hands. “You said this in front of the face of an Egyptian goddess?”

“Oh, come on!” Buggy came closer to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “What will she do to me? Will she crawl out of the drawing and gore me with her horns?”

“You're disgusting.” Catherine shone the flashlight on the floor. “Look! There are stars on the slabs here. And you see, on each slab they are drawn only along the edges. Wait! Amset are the stars. Start where he defeated the enemy. Exactly!” She snapped her fingers. “It was believed that Amset defeated the enemy on the right side. So, we need to start from the right side. See? The Milky Way is like a curved line.” Catherine ran her finger in the air, the second drawing is on the ceiling. “We just need to step on those stars that the pictures above point to.”

“This is very exciting. But may I ask a question?” Buggy asked with interest in his voice.

“Sure!”

“Why is this woman... Hat.. What's her name? With horns. Why is she drawn with only one leg?”

“And look. The pattern of stars matches on these plates.” Catherine pointed to the right side. “And on those slabs that are closer to you.” She pointed to the left side.

“The distances between the plates are not the smallest. Sorry, baby, I don’t know how to stretch myself.”

“This riddle is not for one. This riddle is for two.” Catherine whispered.

“What?” Buggy asked in surprise and widened his eyes

“These slabs are for two people. Hathor with one leg. And do you see? There are more drawings of her further down, and she is also on one leg. So we need to stand on one leg and just jump on the stars. Nothing complicated.” Catherine smirked.

“Nothing complicated? Am I an acrobat or something?”

“You run the circus! Stop whining. Stand on the slab on the right on the left side, I'll stand on the ones on the right.”

“Maybe I should try to split up? Well... One leg here, the other there.” Buggy scratched his head.

“I don't think this will work, to be honest. I don’t see any different option. Let's try! Stand on the left side!”

They went to different sides and stood at the first slabs.

“Are you ready?” Catherine asked.

“I have not the foggiest idea.”

“Stop whining, Buggy! We stand on one leg and jump on the count of three. Ready? One, two.. three!”

Jump.

They both took a leap and looked around.

“So. Since nothing is going anywhere, that means it’s already good.” Buggy heard a nervous chuckle in Catherine's voice. “Now the next slab. Jump to those stars in the upper left corner. Okay?”

“Ok.”

“One. Two. Three.”

Jump.

“Great! Just to keep your balance!” Catherine spread her arms out to the side for balance. “I haven’t done this since school. I look like a seagull! Wooohoo!” She made seagull sounds.

“Stop talking and making fun. Where to next?” Buggy tried to keep the balance. “It’s not easy.”

“You're so boring now! Top corner on the right. Ready? One, two... three!”

Jump.

“I even started to like it!” Buggy heard a note of joy in Catherine's voice.

“I'm glad you're happy, my lovely seagull. But where to next?” There was irritation in his voice.

“Upper left corner again. One. Two. Three.”

Jump.

“Shit! Stand still, Catherine! Stand still! Damn it!” Catherine staggered and put her other foot down on the slab. She looked around. “Nothing seems to be happening, right?”

“I think that far wall is moving.” Buggy pointed to the direction they came from.

“What?” Catherine squealed.

“The wall is moving! Congrats, Catherine! You grumble at me most of all, but hello! You’ve just launched some kind of ancient Egyptian crap!” He put his foot down and clapped his hands.

“Enough of the theatrics!" She imitated his clapping. "So, what should we do?”

“Fuck!!” Buggy ran up to Catherine, threw her over her shoulder and ran to the other side of the hall.

“What about the stars?!”

“Are you kidding me? Better think where to run!”

“Look for the horns! This is the sign of Hathor!”

“I see something ahead! It looks like horns!”

“Faster, Buggy! I think the wall is moving faster.”

“Fuck!!” He ran faster and carried her to the other end of the hall. “Here are the horns!” He pointed to the drawing.

“It's a door! Try to open it!” Catherine started tapping his shoulder. “Faster! This fucking wall is getting closer!”

“Does not work!!” Buggy tried to push the door.

“Faster, please! Otherwise, we'll get crushed!”

“And who is to blame for this?!” He said with a grunt in his voice, trying to push the door with the pattern in the other direction.

Catherine began to examine the wall. “There is a passage here! Quickly!” She grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the passage.

They crawled into a small tunnel when they heard a rumble behind them.

“Fucking Egyptian traps!” Catherine muttered as she crawled out of the tunnel. “Buggy?”

“I'm coming!” He followed her out of the tunnel. “Are you okay, cotton candy?”

“Yes! Thank you! You saved my life again, my blue-haired hero!” She hugged him and rested her chin on his chest.

“Always at your service!” Buggy wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “So. Now where are we?”

“I don’t know. Look, there's something here!” Catherine walked into a small recess in the wall and ran her hand over the drawings.

At that moment, a rumble was heard, and the grate came down, locking her inside the room.

Catherine looked at Buggy through the bars. “It seems like I'm an idiot now, yeah? Damn!”

23 notes · View notes

cleoluvrr · 2 years

Text

The Last Days of Summer V (Rafe Cameron x Heyward!OC)

Warnings: violence, underage drinking, drug use, verbal abuse, jealousy, forbidden relationship, enemies to lovers, gaslighting + manipulation

Synopsis: Stuck in a situation she never dreamed of, Neriah Heyward blurs the line between Kook and Pogue; Rafe Cameron a witness.

masterlist

word count: 4.2k+

↠━ღ◆ღ━↞

“I can’t believe I’m going to this shit.” I say angrily as I slip on my shoes.

I stare at myself in my friend’s mirror, body and mind filled with self-pity. I couldn’t help but feel sad as I looked at the beautiful, pink gown draped over my body. Tonight was Midsummers, and instead of being excited about going with my best friend, I’m dreading having to go with the guy who beat up my brother. Twice.

“Maybe your ass should’ve thought before you beat him with my golf club.” Londyn says, adjusting the flower crown on my head.

“I said I was sorry!”

“Oh you’re sorry alright.”

Londyn and I left her house shortly after with her parents, moping in the backseat as we drove to the Island Club. I saved up all year to buy myself another Selkie gown, only to waste it on being a piece of arm candy at a dick measuring contest. Rafe made me send him a bunch of dresses, and I knew it was my fault for sending a picture of this one, but I still had hope he wouldn’t choose it.

“The pink one.” Rafe said over the speaker of my phone. I sighed heavily, looking at the dress laid out on my bed.

“But I wore pink last year…” I tried to protest, but he wasn’t going to give in.

“So wear it again this year.” He doesn’t leave any room to argue, hanging up the phone rudely before I can get another word in.

We arrive at the club, the sun setting on the horizon as we pull in. Londyn and I sneak away from the adults when they aren’t looking, avoiding the dick measuring the best we can. I see my Pope with our dad by the grill, and they spot me as well. I move to go talk to them, waving as a greeting, but am stopped with a firm grip on my bicep.

I recognize who it is immediately by both the look on my brother’s face and the signature scent of Versace Eros. My smile drops almost instantly, my shoulders slouching in disappointment once again. I look up at Rafe, who is now waving at my brother with the same smug look he can’t seem to get rid of. Pope looks as furious and defeated as I feel and turns away.

“Get your hands off me, douchebag.” I say, shrugging his arm off my shoulder. Londyn looks at him in disgust, laughing when I pretend to shoot myself in the head and play dead.

“Hello to you too, Neriah.” He greets, smiling down at me. “Londyn.”

“Don’t talk to me.” She says, rolling her eyes. We all turn our heads when we hear her name called by her mom who motions her over to them. “I’ll find you later, sweets.” She sighs out before dragging her feet towards the tall woman.

Rafe leads me away as well, mentioning something about seeing his dad. I try to drag my feet in a way similar to Londyn, but the blonde places a hand at my back as we walk which prevents me from going any slower than him. We pass Topper and Sarah who seem to be having some kind of confrontation, but we walk past them without saying a word.

We walk through the familiar halls of the club, brushing past adults dressed rather flamboyantly. After a few minutes of me being dragged around in silence, we find Ward inside surrounded by a group of older men. I feel my heart about to crawl out of my throat at the sight. I feel only a little relieved when I spot Londyn’s father.

“Oh, there you are! I was wondering where you disappeared off to.” Mr. Woods says as we approach. He spots Rafe’s hand on me and the uncomfortable look on my face. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” I reply after the older boy squeezes my waist.

“Dad, you remember Neriah?” Rafe says to his father, whose eyes have landed on me finally.

“Of course I do.” Ward looks between the two of us quite strangely, as if he doesn’t understand why I’m standing here with him. “You look very beautiful tonight, Ms. Heyward.” I blink at the use of my last name, a reminder of my status amongst everyone else.

“Thank you! You clean up very well yourself, Mr. Cameron.” I reply sweetly, laying on the charm heavily.

“Heyward? You’re Heyward’s daughter?” One of the men asks, his eyebrows scrunched together. The rest of the men show similar expressions.

“Yes, I am.” If I felt offended, I didn’t show it.

“Are you working here tonight?” Another man asks, quite rudely. I shake my head no, biting me tongue so as to not say something I shouldn’t.

“She’s here as my guest.” Mr. Woods interrupts, sensing me becoming uncomfortable as time passes by. “She’s my daughter’s best friend. They go to school together.”

“Oh?” The rude one says. “Really?” He asks as if he can’t believe it. I stop myself from rolling my eyes.

“She’s on a scholarship if I remember correctly.” Ward looks at me for confirmation and I nod. “She’s a very smart girl from what I've been told. Very hardworking.”

“Are you two here together?” One of them asks. Ward raises his eyebrows at his son, waiting for an answer.

“Yes, we are.” Rafe says, pulling me closer and looking down at me with a fond smile. “I’ve always been too much of a coward to talk to her, but after seeing her looking so beautiful under the sun of the golf course, I just had to ask her to be on my arm tonight.”

“Well isn’t that just lovely?” The rude man says, eyeing my attire.

“She’s such a great influence on me, y’know?” Rafe continues, the hand previously on my waist now rubbing up and down my arm affectionately.

The motion gives me goosebumps.

“Really?” Ward’s eyes light up a little, his eyebrows far into his hairline.

“She just makes me want to be better for her. I think she’s too good for me, honestly.”

I think my face has gone numb with how long I've been forcing a smile during this conversation. Hearing Rafe speak about me like this while knowing the things he actually feels is making me feel almost violent, my nails digging into my palms once again.

Ward leaves the group to join us, introducing me to a bunch of people I’m sure don’t even view me as the dirt under their shoe. The fact I’m a scholarship student and my father being Heyward is thrown around a lot, as if that’s something to be bragged about. Surprisingly, people find that interesting. My father is well respected, for a Pogue at least, and nobody knew that he had a daughter.

The adults seemed shocked that someone like me could end up in a school with their children, assuming that I’m some sort of prodigy to be able to get a scholarship. I’m dragged around like a show pony, which I didn’t sign up for. I guess Ward Cameron endorsing a little pogue girl is a big deal, but quite frankly, I want nothing to do with this family.

The whole ordeal makes me sick to my stomach.

At some point I’m able to sneak off, the men far too deep into their conversation to notice me slip away into the crowd. I ran up to Londyn, spotting her with a bunch of other girls our age. Sarah Cameron included. I don’t even care about the night of the beach anymore, just glad to see someone that isn’t a bunch of old rich men showing off their money.

“There you are!” A tipsy Londyn says as I approach. “Where have you been?”

“Hell.” I answer, grabbing a glass of water from a passing waiter.

“I thought you were with Rafe?” Sarah quirks up at that, eyeing me curiously.

“You were with my brother?” She asks, looking me up and down.

“Not willingly.”

“What do you mean ‘not willingly?’” She inquires. I sigh, taking a long sip from the glass in my hand.

“Well,” I start, putting the glass down on the table. “Your brother beat the shit out of my brother, so I beat the shit out of him. As a result, your brother made me come here with him or else he’d press charges. For some odd reason, Ward really likes me, so Rafe thought if I came with him it would somehow get your dad off his back.”

Sarah’s mouth gapes open slightly, as if she can’t comprehend what just came out of my mouth.

“So no, I did not come with Rafe willingly.” I say. “Your brother’s a pussy by the way.” She snorts at that, clearing her throat to cover up the sound.

“Agreed.”

I’m not sure how much time we spend dancing with each other. The music was kind of bad, but we didn’t let it stop us. We laughed so hard that my cheeks burned from smiling. Sarah apologized for that night at the beach, but all had been forgotten by now. I was having fun, more fun than I’d had in a long time.

I’m watching Londyn do the catdaddy in front of me when I see a head of blonde hair float by out of the corner of my eye. JJ somehow snuck into the event, well dressed in a vest and dress shirt. We catch each other's eye, the boy coming up to me with a smile on his face. I smile back gleefully, embracing him in a warm hug when he reaches me.

“You clean up well! I didn’t know you were coming?” My voice raises a question.

“I’m ‘working.’” He says vaguely, winking at me to hint he’s up to something else.

“Hm…right.” I laugh lightly, the blonde wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“You look beautiful as always.” He pulls back from our embrace to get a full look at my outfit, his eyes shining brightly. “The prettiest girl here, actually.”

“Don’t flatter me, JJ.” Smiling shyly I look down, my face burning up at the compliment.

“I'm serious! Don’t tell your brother I said that though,” He glances back at my brother by the grill before facing me again. “He’d kill me.” I giggle, shaking my head at the slightly nervous boy I’m dancing with.

“Thank you, JJ. And I won't, promise.” I hold out my pinky which he takes with his own, the two fingers interlocking. “But seriously, what are you doing here?”

“You’ll see.” He smirks. I raise my eyebrows in suspicion as he glances around the venue for a moment. “I gotta go. I’ll see you around.” He says. Before he leaves, he plants a kiss on my cheek.

“JJ?” He gives me a thumbs up as he backs away grinning.

“Don’t tell Pope about that either.” Is the last thing he says to me before he gets too far for me to hear him over the music.

A few minutes pass without seeing the blonde and I assume he left the party, off to cause trouble somewhere else. However, my assumptions are proven wrong when I turn around and spot JJ dancing with Sarah back to back, discreetly passing her a note and whispering in her ear. Before I can warn him, Rafe and his goons approach him faster than I can get a word out.

I can’t hear what they’re saying over the music, but Rafe and his friends look very intoxicated and ready to pick a fight. A nervous JJ tries to talk them down, walking backwards to avoid them but they keep pressing up on him.

“Until then, help yourselves to hors d'oeuvres.” I hear him say as they pass by me.

“Guys,” Rafe motions the gaggle of Kooks to come follow him. “JJ’s gonna serve us some hors d’oeuvres.”

The group passes me, Rafe catching my gaze briefly with a look on his face I don’t recognize.

JJ says something to them before he takes off running, snatching open the door of the club and rushing inside with the Kooks hot on his heels. I shake my head and rub my temples, telling myself to stay out of whatever drama they have going on now despite every bone in my body telling me to go check on him.

When I turn back around, Sarah has also disappeared from the patio. I shrug and continue dancing with the rest of the girls.

It’s none of my business tonight.

That is until a disheveled JJ is escorted out of the building by one of the security guards.

“It’s okay everybody!” He shouts. “Do not panic.”

“Oh God…” I say to Londyn. “What the hell happened in there?”

“Leave it to the men and women in uniform!” He continues. “Let’s hear it for them. Rose!” He calls out, clapping at Sarah and Rafe’s step mother.

“Is he drunk?” Londyn whispers to me, watching the situation go down next to me.

“Let go of him!” Kiara says loudly, appearing on the balcony in a purple dress. Rafe appears beside her, drinking something I’m sure is alcoholic and laughing at the drama he definitely caused. “You can’t just boot him. I invited him here.”

JJ pushes the guard off of him, the man stumbling into a table filled with people.

“Mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie.” JJ says, pointing up at the girl standing on the balcony with her parents before turning to my brother. “Pope, you as well, alright?”

My head swivels towards my dad and Pope, sure that nothing good is going to come from whatever he just said. I watch as Kiara slips away from her parents, running towards the beach after JJ, and John B who has appeared seemingly out of nowhere. My brother rips off his gloves and apron as my dad warns him not to leave the party. He runs off as well, leaving my dad to stand on his own.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He calls out after his son, watching as he disappears into the darkness of the beach with his friends.

Heyward turns to look at me for an answer and I shrug, turning back to the balcony where Rafe is standing. He’s already looking at me, smirking as he watches me over his glass. The music starts again, everything going back to as normal as they can get after that.

Rafe descends the stairs slowly, discarding the now empty glass on a random table. He approaches me, the smell of alcohol and cologne filling my nostrils strangely pleasant. He says nothing, grabbing my hand and leading me further onto the dance floor.

“I think you owe me a dance.” He says as he pulls me closer to his body.

“I’ve already fulfilled my duties for the night.” I tell him, but I don’t pull away. “What did you do JJ?” He scoffs at my question like it was the dumbest thing he’s ever heard.

“Why do you care?”

“Because he’s my brother’s best friend?” I replied obviously. “What the hell did you do?”

“You guys looked very comfortable earlier.” He says smiling, a tinge of anger in his voice. I scrunch my face up at him. “Too comfortable.”

“Were you watching me?” I try to pull away from him but his grasp is firm. “I’m allowed to dance with whoever I want to. And I think you’re forgetting that he’s my friend.”

“I thought he was your brother’s friend?” He tilts his head at me.

“Two things can be true. What did you do to him?” I ask again, now irritated at his non-answers.

“I didn’t like watching a Pogue put his hands all over my date.” Rafe’s jaw hardens. “I especially didn’t like watching him kiss her with that dirty mouth.” He chuckles dryly, poking his tongue into his cheek.

“Rafe.” My brows knit together as I watch his tense shoulders and face covered in more than just irritation.

Is he…jealous? What right does he have to be jealous?

“Nothing he didn’t deserve.” He answers my previous question vaguely. I open my mouth to ask him to clarify but he cuts me off before I can say anything. “It’s none of your concern, princess. Your job right now is to dance with me.”

“I am dancing with you.” I say. We sway gently to the music amongst the crowd of people that have now joined us. Rafe’s hands are planted firmly on my waist, holding me against him as my own hands rest on his biceps hesitantly. He leans down to whisper in my ear and I wince.

“Try to look like you don’t want to kill youself.” He speaks lowly into my ear. He grabs my hands and wraps them around his neck instead before placing his own hands back on my waist.

We stay like that for a while, painfully close as the adults watch us from afar. Ward keeps a close eye on us especially, whispering to Rose as he takes in the scene of me dancing with his son. I started to enjoy it at some point, the feeling of his warm body against mine almost relaxing.

And that terrified me.

“I need to talk to you.” Rafe says pulling me away from the crowd suddenly.

“Can you slow down? I can’t walk that fast.” He ignores me, dragging me through the door of the club by my arm. I stumble over my heels trying to keep up with his fast pace.

People throw us quick glances of curiosity, the sight of a random girl being pulled to the club by an anxious Rafe Cameron barely capturing their attention long enough to spare us anymore than that. He opens a random door and flips on the light switch, pulling me inside with him before shutting and locking the door.

He releases me and begins walking back and forth through the room, stressfully running his hands through his hair. I hear him breathing heavily, whispering to himself as he paces. I watch him in silence, unsure of what his problem is this time.

“Jesus Christ, Rafe.” My voice dripped in irritation. “What’s wrong with you this time?”

He doesn’t seem to hear me, still pacing through the room.

“Rafe. Rafe!” I call for a third time, finally capturing his attention. “What? What do you want? What’s the problem now?”

“You can’t talk to JJ, not anymore.”

“What?” I say in disbelief, eyeing him incredulously.

“You can’t hang around him. He’s no good.” He keeps going, not making any sense. “None of them are any good, not for you. None of them.”

“Rafe.” I repeat, even more confused than I was previously.

“I can’t keep seeing you around those fucking Pogues. You’re too good for them. They don't deserve to have you.” He keeps pacing, not even acknowledging my presence in the room. Something in the back of my head tells me to start inching towards the door, but I don’t.

“Rafe, are you having a psychotic break right now?”

“I’m not fucking crazy!” He suddenly lunges at me, only stopping a few inches in front of me. “I’m not crazy, everyone needs to stop calling me that.”

“Okay, well are you high? Because you aren’t making any sense right now.” I push past him further into the room, learning from my past mistakes to not have my back against any wall when in a room with him. “And quite frankly, you’re creeping me out.”

“I’m making perfect sense.” He advances towards me again, stopping less than a foot away from my body. “You can’t be around those people anymore. You’re too good for them. I don’t like the way JJ looks at you.”

“Who are you to tell me who I can’t hang out with?” I ask angrily, poking a finger in his chest to push him away from me. He only moves a couple inches. “You don’t even like me, first of all, so what’s it to you?”

“No, No, that’s where you’re wrong, Neriah.” He says, shaking his head aggressively. “I do like you. I like you so much that i-it makes me feel crazy and I don’t understand why because you’re a fucking Pogue. And I sometimes think ‘maybe I am crazy,’ but I’m not!”

“What are you talking about?”

“God, Neriah. You just don't get it, do you?” He runs his veiny hands through his hair once again before looking at me with his blown out pupils.

“No, Rafe! I don’t ‘get it!’” I shout frustratedly. “The only reason I’m here with you is because you threatened me with criminal charges. You beat my brother and were going to let Topper fucking kill him! You, you-” I scoff, pressing a hand to my forehead with a slightly gaped mouth.

“And I’m sorry! I’m so sorry for that, really.” He pleads with his eyes, pulling my hand away from my face so I’d look at him. I snatch it back, stepping past him to get to the door. “But I didn’t know how else I’d convince you to come with me. I didn’t have a choice. You didn’t give me any choice.”

“Didn’t have a choice? You didn’t have a choice?” I spin around to face the stressed out blonde behind me. “Your choice could’ve been to leave me the hell alone!”

“But I can’t do that, Neriah!” He shouts back. “I can’t do that anymore. I’ve been doing it for so long and I just can’t anymore.”

“Yes you can.”

“No, I can’t.” He presses his fingers into the sides of head as he walks up on me. “Do you know I can’t sleep without listening to that video of you singing at the Club talent show a few years ago? I used to follow you around school and watch you during lunch to make sure nobody was picking on you. I only became friends with Brye because I know he’s your best friend and I needed a way to get closer to you.”

“Rafe, you’re fucking insane.” I say in shock, backing away from him and feeling around for the door behind me.

“No I’m not! Stop calling me that!” He corners me against the door, the handle pressing into my bottom uncomfortably. He wraps a hand around my neck tightly, not enough to stop my breathing, but enough to hurt. “I love you, Neriah.”

“You don’t love me, Rafe. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” I place my own hand on top of his, shivering at the way he looks down at me. “You barely know me.”

In his eyes is a mixture of things, none that I can recognize immediately with the feeling of our breath mixing together. My heart skips a beat and my stomach drops into my feet, my brain begging me to fight against him but my body staying statuesque at the feeling of his against mine.

“I do! I do…” He trails off, swallowing dryly as he looks deeply into my eyes. “I know everything about you. I know your favorite place to eat, to hang out. I know all of your hobbies, how much you used to love singing. I know you used to dance when you were younger but stopped because your parents couldn’t afford it anymore.” What the fuck?

“Rafe…”

“I know your favorite color and your favorite places to shop. I know that John B was your first kiss when it should’ve been me.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“I told you, I know everything about you.”

“Rafe, you’re scaring me.” He loosens his bruising grip on my neck, hand still firmly in place.

“I’m sorry. I just…” He sighs, pressing his warm forehead against mine.

“You called me a dolled up gutter rat and told me in so many words to stay off Figure 8, so I’m really having a hard time believing your very…abrupt change of heart.”

“I was just scared to confront my feelings. I was a stupid boy then, but I’m not like that anymore.” He says, gently rubbing circles on the side of my neck with his thumb. “Please, Neriah.”

“Rafe, please stop touching me.” He hesitates at my request for a moment before reluctantly backing away.

I swallow hard, touching my tender neck as I watch him warily. I shake my head, pressing on the door handle and briskly walk out of the room. He calls after me but doesn’t follow, leaving me to return to the party on my own.

“Hey, where did you go? I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Londyn appears in front of me, her sudden appearance causing me to jump. She looks at my anxious and stressed out expression with concern, brows knitting together as she eyes the way I hold my neck. “Are you okay? What happened?”

I shake my head, moving to sit at a table near the corner of the venue and away from everyone else. I watch the door for the rest of the night, waiting anxiously for Rafe to return.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #obx3 #obx fanfiction #outer banks #rafe cameron x oc #outerbanks rafe #pope heyward #outer banks fanfiction #obx1 #obx2 #drew starkey

169 notes · View notes

archduchessofnowhere · 9 months

Note

Hi, hope this question won’t be too long.

In “The Real Francis Joseph, the Private Life of the Emperor of Austria,” by Henri de Weindel, it states that in 1873 at the Vienna Exhibition, Empress Elisabeth was given an Egyptian slave who was part of the exhibit. The book later states that Elisabeth nursed the boy when he was sick and that he became a playmate to Marie Valerie and Sisi even had them photographed together and allowed copies of the photo to be sold. However, when the photo was caricatured in the newspaper Franz Josef became so angry he had all copies of the photograph and caricature destroyed. Another source said the boy was named Mahmoud (with the spelling varying according to source).

My question is though is there any information on what became of the boy afterwards? (The Weindel book doesn’t mention Mahmoud beyond this event). Or even to the accuracy of this incident?

Hello! I think Wendel is actually talking about a boy called Rustimo, who entered Elisabeth's service around 1877:

Rustimo with Archduchess Marie Valerie and with Crown Prince Rudolf.

There doesn't seem to be an agreement on how Rustimo actually entered Elisabeth's entourage. According to Corti, Rustimo was "presented to her by the Khedive [the title of the governor of Egypt]" (1936, p. 280), meanwhile Brigitte Hamann says that he was "a blackamoor the Shah of Persia (according to one of various versions) had sent as a gift" (1986, p. 231). Giving that in both versions he was allegedly a "given" to the Empress, it may be safe to assume he indeed had been enslaved.

Before continuing, I'd like to make a small detour to talk about an event from Elisabeth's childhood: her father buying five enslaved boys in one of his trips.

Soon after the future Empress of Austria's birth, her father Duke Max in Bavaria embarked on a several months-long trip to Orient. In Cairo Max visited the slave market, and was horrified of seeing "people being sold like cattle", as he later wrote down in his memoirs about the trip (Winkelhofer, 2022). It was then probably an attempt at altruism what brought him to buy five boys from the market and bring them back with him to Munich, instead of just an "eccentricity" as it's often put.

Why did I mention this? Because the boys remained in the service of the Duke for many years. As Dr Martina Winkelhofer points out:

They lived in the servants' quarters at the back of Palais Max, on the second floor. Elisabeth also had her room up there, but at the front of the building. Having to deal with black servants was an everyday occurrence for her from childhood. (ibid)

Considering this, it wouldn't have been "exotic" for her to take Rustimo into her household. But given the reaction of the court, it's not strange that previous biographers see this only as her wanting to offend Viennese society. Landgravine Therese Fürstenberg, one of the Empress' ladies-in-waiting, wrote to her sister in August of 1877 that (warning for racist connotations):

The Archduchess [Valerie] recently took the blackamoor along on the promenade, he was put in the carriage with the French teacher, who sat next to the heathen feeling shamed and sad; the Archduchess always gives candy to children along the road. But now none of them dared to come near her when they saw the black boy and tried in every way to avoid the monster and his bared teeth, so as to get to the candies; all this seemed a great joke to the little girl. (Hamann, 1986, p. 231)

We have (even more) explicitly racist comments made by Landgravine Fürstenberg as well as by Countess Mária Festetics, another lady-in-waiting, but I rather not share them, they're just too nasty and add nothing to the post. You can make an idea of how everyone felt about Rustimo.

And what about Valerie? According to Corti, she "was afraid of him and took some time to grow accustomed to him" (1936, p. 280). But she never wrote down her feelings about her playmate. In the over 300 pages of her diary, she only mentions him once, in an entry from February 24 of 1880:

At ½7 Puttl and Raab come and we both have a dance lesson together until 7 o'clock when we have a supper and then "Eile mit Weile" [a board game] with Rustimo. Papa comes after ½8 until 8 o'clock. Then I go to bed (p. 21)

Elisabeth had Rustimo baptized in 1878 (it was just unacceptable that the Catholic Habsburgs had a heretic in their service). He was given the Christian name of "Rudolf" after the Crown Prince, his godfather. The Empress wrote of this ocasion to her mother Ludovika:

Today was Rustimo's christening in Valerie's salon… Rudolf was godfather. It was solemn and ludicrous, there were tears and laughter. He himself was very moved and wept. (Hamann, 1986, p. 231)

Rustimo continued to ascend in the Empress favor, and in 1884 he was made "announcer of the bedchamber". He remained in the service of Elisabeth until 1890, when he was pensioned, and in 1891, Rustimo "was sent to the charity institution in Ybbs, where he died the very next year" (Hamann, 1986, 232).

Screenshot of the Official Guide of the Austro-Hungarian Empire from 1890 that shows Rustimo as part of the staff of Elisabeth's chamber (middle column, at the bottom).

While Hamann states that Rustimo fell out of favor in 1885 (she gives no source for this) and that after he left court he was abandoned, Winkelhofer claims that, while writing her two-part biography of Elisabeth, she found evidence that it was the Empress who payed for Rustimo's stay at the institution Hamann mentions, and also for his grave when he died (she wrote about this on Instagram but I cannot for the life of me find in which post, you'll have to trust me on this one sorry). Winkelhofer has said that the second part of her biography, which will be published on August this year, will have this evidence, as well as new information about Rustimo; she claims it we'll give us a new image of him. This is actually the reason why I hadn't written about Rustimo yet, I was waiting for her book to come out to have all the information we have available and make a more complete post.

As for the claims made by Wendel, I honestly don't know. None of Elisabeth's biographer mention anything of her nursing Rustimo, and clearly all the copies of the picture of of him with Valerie weren't destroyed, since we have it to this day.

Before finishing this post, one more thing: Muhammed was a different servant! We know nothing (yet) of him, in fact neither Corti nor Hamann mention him in their books. Winkelhofer just says in the first part of her biography that "the Nubian Muhammed Beschir, [was a] servant for three years until his return to Africa" (2022). But she has also promised to reveal what she has discovered of this unknown servant in the second part of her biography, and I can't wait for it!

I hope that you found my answer helpful and I promise you to update this ask when I get Winkelhofer's book!

Sources:

Corti, Egon Caesar Conte (1936). Elizabeth, empress of Austria (translation by Catherine Alison Phillips)

Hamann, Brigitte (1986). The Reluctant Empress: A Biography of Empress Elisabeth of Austria (translation by Ruth Hein)

Hof- und Staatshandbuch der Österreichisch-Ungarischen Monarchie, 1890

Schad, Martha and Schad, Horst [ed.] (1998). Das Tagebuch der Lieblings Tochter von Kaiserin Elisabeth. 1878-1899

Winkelhofer, Martina (2022). Sissi. La vera storia. Il cammino della giovane imperatrice (translation by Federica Saccucci)

#rudolf rustimo #empress elisabeth of austria #archduchess marie valerie of austria #crown prince rudolf #asks

24 notes · View notes

baileyondemand · 10 months

Text

just started a crown of candy. i do not trust this manipulative cake motherfucker. i don’t know why he just pisses me off and i think he’s evil. this is supposed to be the sad season so maybe it’ll happen? idk nothing sad has really happened yet.

#d20 #dimension 20 #acoc

29 notes · View notes

ladyhayaakawa · 2 months

Text

Chronology of us (as it is, as it was, as it will be)

haijme iwaizumi x f!reader, kuroo tetsurou x f!reader

For you, life is synonymous with the azure blue of the Johsai, and love rings with the cadences of Hajime's voice. But life is cruel, and power vicious, and you wonder if this devotion will lead to your demise.

tags/warnings - period typical misogyny, childhood friends to lovers?, strangers to lovers??, hurt/comfort, little to no historical accuracy, manipulation, abuse of power/authority, aged up characters, objectification of women, depictions of violence, depressed reader, self-image issues, pining, blatant mischaracterisation, brief depiction of a very creepy old man, body image issues, bad writing, frequent pov changes

₊ ⊹ Series masterlist | ₊ ⊹ Previous chapter | ₊ ⊹ Next chapter | ₊ ⊹ ficsforgaza

||The king is cake, cunning and deep,

With promises to keep, secrets to sweep.

After all's said and done, he'll find,

Sweet dreams leave him far, far behind.||

One of your earliest memories involve Hajime, a funeral, that devil he calls his friend, and a frog.

Woken up hours before sunrise, you remember how the wardrobe camphor clung to the mantilla lace, folded thrice to fit your crown, and the grasp the Iwaizumi nurse had on partly-blindfolded you, on your hand unoccupied by flowers. You were tired, infantile annoyance in your steps at being pulled out of bed at odd hours, but it had to be done. His grandma, the dowager duchess, had suddenly “moved to heaven”, or so you were told—why she had done so in the late of the night you didn’t know—and your white roses and solemn eyes, at the behest of the the nurse, were to signify your sadness at her departure moreso than reverence for the late matriarch.

Toru, from the other side of the nurse, asked if the hag would be back anytime soon.

(Ever since he had been found hiding in her brassiere drawer, the old lady harboured an uncanny grudge towards the Oikawa child. You knew better than to believe Toru’s story of that being her secret stash of magic potions, and when she tried to turn him into a frog, he had escaped by the skin of his teeth.)

Hajime was dressed in the same teal-white as his father, drowning in the size of the ceremonial cape (not unlike you, you note), both males tasked with officiating the ceremony while the guests filed into the pews. He met your eyes for a moment before you knelt in front of his father, the tissue in your new shoes crunching to fill out the space beyond your toes, and you remember looking away because Toru kept fidgeting as the nanny led him to the coffin, gloves and flowers long since discarded.

(He later confessed to having dropped a frog with the flowers the nanny had hastily gathered at the altar. You thought it was funny. Hajime did not.)

────────────────────────────────────────────────

“Child, you know the Duchy will agree to end the betrothal, do you not?”

You feel betrayed. The Iwaizumis are the only family you have ever known, your only other relative being a father popping up in scenes few and far between. You thought they thought of you as a daughter, hell, at least family, someone not to be discarded like this, like rotten fruit, at a greedy behest.

Silly girl. They pity you no more.

Despite your anger, a part of you seeks to understand. Whether they want it or not, they will have little choice in the matter if the king made up his mind. Besides, why will they choose not to? They know their heir deserves better than you. He deserves someone deserving to be the lady of the house, a position beyond being his wife and companion. The thought burns. You had leeched on them long enough.

( A heartbreak weighs nothing. The scales tip; a betrayal weighs heavier)

You think of the first time you tasted tea in the lessons with Hajime’s grandma, how you scalded your tongue on her words and the heat she did not warn you about. It hurt then, and it hurts now, but there’s no grandma to begrudgingly hand you honey salves and candies. You consider getting on your knees.

would she have forsaken you too? (without a doubt).

“Please, Your Highness. Please don’t do this. I-I can’t do this. This is—”

Cruel.

(Washijō prides himself on his collections. He prides himself even more on his cruelty.)

You notice the king push his chair back, sighing as if weary of dealing with a child, as if weighing your petulance against his restraints. You pray silently.

“And here I was, thinking the duke held no affections for you. Was I wrong?”

No, no, I-he- he does. He asked me to wait. He said-

“Your debut blessing was that brooch-rhodonite, if I remember correctly? One of my late mother’s, she had an awful lot of those-“

Yes. Hajime hadn’t liked it on me, yet I insisted. It was customary. It was supposed to be a blessing. It-

“It has been so long since your debut, child. If he has not wed you till now, you know Iwaizumi is just trying to be kind-“

The princess is a young thing, pretty as expected of her bloodline, and all that her family name doles in with it. She’s prim and reads and sews and takes lessons in dances and—

(As have you. It is you, in the fundamentals, who is not enough.)

The king looks at you with mock goodwill, as if he hasn’t orchestrated this. His image sickens you, and you realise why Maman refuses to let anyone take his name in her house.

“But his kindness will run out. You should fear the day he discards you, no lineage to fall back on, no wealth of your own. What are you holding onto, child?”

What a fool of a man, Washijō muses, the sweetness of seeing the girl crumple unfurling under his tongue. The Iwaizumi heir is a fine diplomat, if his recent endeavors are any indication, a pawn on his board finely draped in the guise of a knight (fit to stand on the rows of a king). But a woman like this-

(The Aoba qualities without the blood ties; if not a lady of the house, then to warm the bed perhaps?)

Maybe his preferences lay elsewhere. His eyes trail down. Probably in more buxom specimens.

“Is it honour, perhaps?”

(The Aoba Johsai peerage, a quasi-independent body with a political influence comparable to the king, is represented by five sycamores woven into one. The monolithic tree stands in the northwestern regions overlooking the sea, thriving off a subterranean stream flowing down the mountains.

A miracle, it is called. The cornerstone of the blue bloods of Miyagi.)

“A standing in society?”

(When news reached the house that the king had fallen, along with his crimson allies, Aori realized three fundamental truths. One, as Lady Iwaizumi, she was to hold her post, come what may. Two, the safe house was a good one hour away on horseback, a quart more if they were to travel by underground. Three, she was a mother of two, despite her womb having carried one; her children had to survive the night, lest the hour of tyranny brought Seijoh to their knees.

And so she dressed them in peasant clothes, braided her daughter’s hair, and whispered blessings into their ears.

Maman? Won’t you come along?

—The new king had sent the military to their doors the next morning. It had handed them two chests, one holding a dead Luzon dove, the other a fresh violet—

She saw her daughter, beyond the disguise, a deeply unnerved magnification of her; one day slated to step into her shoes, and she turned to open her coffer.

A quarternary knot. A part of the miracle they carry.

“This”, she handed her the wrought pile of sapphires and pearls. “ Iwaizumi women are given this as soon as their marriage is announced. Your grandmother passed this onto her son for me, but I hand it to you. Keep Hajime safe for me, dear?”

She is family, no less.

This is us. This is what will be left of us. If–

She kissed them farewell. Too big for her hands.

Spare them. They’re so young. Please.)

“Maybe there’s a better settlement we can reach?”

There was a time when Washijō could just watch. Watch, with his fingers splayed on the glass, as his brothers played and fought, caged in by this frailty and reticence. Watch as his brother’s head was weighed down with the crown and a match he had once sought for himself. Now, he realises as he feels the chill of metal warm under his touch, he is barred by nothing (but the limits of his seemingly limitless mangled power.)

A pawn to a knight. A pawn to a queen.

You see the king reach out, fingers unguarded with gloves, slowly tracing over the veins on your wrist. His callouses catch on your skin in their ascent, and to your horror, he doesn’t stop.

Your sudden motion to stand throws both the king and the tea off of you. Vomit crawls up your throat at the act and his insinuation, and you wish the ground would swallow you.

“I will let you know my decision as soon as possible, Your Highness. Please lend me time. I will take your leave.”

You turn to leave without waiting for a reply, panic setting your veins alight. The door is too far, and it’s difficult to trudge the path under the weight of the eyes on your back. Just a minute more. You wrap your hands around the latch and push.

The door won’t open.

You push the latch, pull again for good measure, but it wouldn’t budge. Your demeanour splinters and falls apart, veins chilling in abject alarm.

I die here. At the hands of this tyrant. Like this, if not worse.

You don’t dare to turn as the chair is pushed back, and the king rises from his seat. The door is unlocked, yet held fast from the other side. You push with all you have. It doesn’t budge.

You don’t turn in fear of how close you might see him.

“I have overlooked your transgressions till now, child. You must know that I don’t enjoy being slighted.”

He sounds too close. The phantom grit of his skin burns you, yet you turn, hands pressed onto the door.

“This—” he gestures to you and the tea, “—was just my generosity.”

There’s nothing you can do, poor girl.

He knocks on the table twice, and you hear the hinges creak from behind you.

────────────────────────────────────────────────

You felt the brief prick of the needle on your skin before seeing the red on your reflection. The seamstress, youngest in the group of four, immediately fell to her knees, apologising profusely for her slip. It had been hours they had been at work, and you nodded understandably. When they had been called in, the straps of the dress wouldn’t stay up, and the waist sagged despite being tailored to you just a month earlier.

I must’ve lost a little weight.

You tried to blink away the hair falling into your eyes, afraid to move from the position they had put you in, lest you ended up interfering in the alterations. Gloves had been buttoned (and sewn for good measure), the sash thickened (and stitched), shoulders tied at the back with extra ribbons- you felt like a ragdoll, so, so horribly out of place.

The matron modiste, noticing your discomfort, reached out to push the strands away, and you smiled gratefully. You saw the hurry evident in the needle flashing in and out of the teal silk, and guilt seeped in. You should’ve noticed this before you left for the capital; what if there were no seamstresses available? Were you to show up to the King’s banquet like this?

You could only hope Hajime hadn’t been waiting for too long.

A good hour later, in the confines of the carriage, he sat across you, uncharacteristically soft in the dark, and you thought you could paint him in the pales of the palettes you owned. Older than the boy you had come to love, yet young, younger than the man that would brave to marry (you, you sincerely hoped you). Breath slightly fogging, yet warmer than the cold seeping in through the wood, you felt his eyes dart over you, trailing over the jewels matching his, down to the conspicuous lack of a ring.

“You look so-” pretty? beautiful? “-stiff. Is the dress too uncomfortable?”

You looked away.

Amid the slow roll of the gravel under you, you heard the capital live through its people; cheers of celebration, promises of good food, warm, gamboge—the street by the square, if you remembered correctly. You quickly learnt that you couldn’t turn enough to see beyond the seat across you. It was getting cold, almost unbearably so, and you moved to seat your palms under you, a futile gamble to warm them, wincing when the stitches dug into the softs of your elbow.

Hajime found himself barely swimming in his thoughts these days. There was much to do, affairs of the duchy to put into order, royal commands to carry out, papers, papers, a love to keep at bay until he could bear to breathe. Promises weathered but remembered; he would have to eventually settle into his position, the life dictated for him, be undeniably grounded to a legacy he thought he could shed, if only for a while (only because the promise of land was never far), and get married to you. You, who he had been taught to love, grown up loving, he hardly deserved you, yet he still choked under the gentle waves pushing him to you-the shore you were to his existence, he wanted to touch and push away all the same. You were shivering, and he dreamt of pulling you closer than the binds of unwed decorum.

But he could warm your hands. And sail in hopes of actually setting sail one day. Just a little while longer. Just a bit.

(He looked up to your father, a soul belonging to the sea, a merchant by nature, and his tales of lands beyond the horizon. He promised himself to see those one day— the pearl sands under a moon, the green clouds and walls so intricate they couldn’t be drawn. He would see, just see, and then return to shore. To you.)

You saw him shift and pull at his cloak, making quick work of unfastening two of the brooches and draping half his cloak over you. The warmth was immediate, your numb fingers curling into the fur, and pulling him minutely closer.

“The gloves are stitched?”

“The whole dress, really. They will have to cut me out of it once we return. Could you,” you huffed, “could you help me turn a little?”

He laughed quietly, shifting you with tightly corded strength to see out the window, but you found your vision still limited to him; the intermittent light and dark of the life on the streets reflected in his eyes, face bathed in the scintillations, white turned golden, teal to sepia.

You felt sick from how much you’re in love (its all you had ever known).

“We will be returning as soon as the formalities are over, is that alright?” he hummed, too close to speak needlessly loud. He eyed the nick on the column of your neck, barely visible under the powder; “I’ve called for a doctor at the townhouse, he’ll be there as soon as we go back.”

He was being tender, you recognized, perhaps stepping onto the role of being yours, bits you recognize from the murals of affection between the older Iwaizumis. These were the crumbs you had survived on till now, the ones sating your wait for him, the paint for your illusions of a life with him beyond the altar. He asked me to wait. So I will.

You thought you could wait. You would have to.

“Do you want to go for a walk, maybe if the doctor, or if, perhaps, after?,” you asked, “I think I saw them selling the sweets you brought home last time…”

You glanced up at him, and found him quickly looking away, frowning out the window.

“Not unless the doctor approves, no. It’s going to get colder here on out.”-her hands are so cold, do we stop somewhere for something warm? should we see the doctor now?- ”And I got a box of those sweets back at the townhouse.” He cleared his throat. “Several, actually. I know you liked them. “

(There was a brief moment where the vendor well and truly regretted calling out to the man in white and teal. His limerick of cakes and the king probably didn’t sit well with him, oh god he was losing his head today wasn’t he, the angry man in Aoba colours, he was getting too close—

“May I get two of these?” He pointed to the left. “ Also these.”

Once the surprise and relief washed over, his sense of business honed in on his catch. Loaded, definitely, someone who’s got a good taste for the finer things in life, like the sweets sold in this cart. It was easy to goad the man into handing over more coins than he had initially bargained for, thanks to his genius.

The king is cake, indeed.)

“I haven’t been to the capital in so long—“ last you were here you hadn’t even grown into your first corset- “don’t want to stay cooped up like at home.”

“You won’t be cooped up. We will be visiting your father tomorr-“

“I promise I won’t overexert myself, Hajime-“

“You know I’m having a hard time trusting those words. You’ve been looking so ill, you had me worried for- “

“Just for a little while, please? “

He sighed, shifting to lessen the pull on his shoulder, when had he linked his fingers with yours? He choked on the familiarity in you, your eyes painted with undertones of innocence, the quiet shades of his childhood. Maybe he could keep your hands warm in the winds outside too. Like before, his mind supplied. Just for a little while.

Your forehead a breath away; could he kiss you?

“Hajime?”

(You looked up to see him moving away. )

The two of you stood in front of the hall, his arm still around your waist from when he helped you down the carriage steps. There is a certain circumference provided to the two of you from the rest of the guests, a berth only their stares breached, and you quietly moved his arm into a bend for yours to slip into. His proximity was not unwelcome, but rather inappropriate in their eyes. He looked at you, worry still marring his features, and you nodded to assure him.

The moment before the doors opened for the two of you, you press your fingers into his skin in a slow caress. He was nervous, you noted, and you hoped you didn’t look as nervous as him.

We’ll be fine. We were, we are, and we will be.

The air shifted in the silence following the voice announcing you two, and you knew you would remember how it went wrong. You registered the horror first, embarrassment flooding in at a delay. The wine left a lengthy red laceration at your side, your hem beyond the reach of the shards owing to Hajime pulling you away. The world paced down beneath your feet as you both froze.

You turned to look at Hajime, too humiliated to think of actions beyond your instinct; you turned to him for the momentary succour of not being alone in this disgrace. You took in the sight of him, eyes intent on setting the gild aflame, fists clenched, all of him reverting to the rigidity of taut emotions, disappointment thinly veiled. You watched him close off what little warmth you had glimpsed, the cold burning your eyes the longer you took it in. You take a step after him, too late, and the stumble was hardly unnoticed; you had heard the initial crescendo of the gasps before your thoughts were reduced to noise.

(Lord Iwaizumi, and Lady Iwaizumi, the steward announced you as.)

You were no Lady Iwaizumi. (would you ever be?)

────────────────────────────────────────────────

|| —In the event of the Aoba Johsai leadership and associated governing bodies not fulfilling these obligations within the periods laid down above, the King and the Royal Court reserve the right to take all military or other measures of coercion which they may consider appropriate.||

Hajime thinks back to the first time he made you tea (it was just water, really).

He stares down at the now empty cup he is cradling, the detritus at the bottom rapidly cooling into acerb under his stare. The rest of the liquid seeped into the papers around in his idleness, and he thinks back to when tea came in cups too big for his hands and had sweets to accompany them.

(Tea is to be had after 3 clockwise swirls, with the spoon at 6 o’clock, and with absolutely no dunking. Your two pupils, albeit forced, listened as you schooled them on lessons you had learnt the day before.

No pinkies up. Napkins on the left.)

Coming to, he hurriedly pulls out his handkerchief to dab at them, his actions futile in impeding the rapidly disintegrating words. There, he thinks. He’s gone ahead and ruined it. Reports of unrest on the southern border, conflicts in the northwestern waters, hell, did they have copies of these anywhere? He wonders briefly if he is even suited to the role he has been bestowed- an advisor by name, a plenipotentiary armed as a knight, an ambassador to the king in regional conflicts-an unlikely favour, not without its own implications. Shoes too big for him. But why? Of all the Aoba families, the Iwaizumi’s were stout royalists, if only in the public eye. But the king knows. He knows the hooks and strings he has woven through their flesh to keep them in check; he knows of the festering humiliation of them being toothless mutts of his. To arm their heir with a sword and keep him near, surely—

“Son,” the king called him. “I hear of your victories in the east from the mouths of common people before I hear from your messenger. The pride of Aoba, they call you, did you know? They say you fight with words better than any sword they have ever seen.”

Kneeling down despite his wounds, Hajime felt pride prickle through him at the acknowledgement. The king was proud of him. His efforts were being acknowledged. It felt needlessly good, and he momentarily forgot how he had resolved to portray nothing more than quiet anger. Despite the convoluted ways the king had risen to power, this has been the longest they had been without any direct conflict with the lands neighboring them. Word of a king so ruthless he murdered his own kin for a taste of power did well to ward off their advances, and for a brief second, Hajime wondered if it all was for the best. There was peace, and it was glorious. A strong king at the helm, and they could finally prosper. Shame flooded him the next for even harbouring such thoughts- the same man with Aoba blood crusting under his fingertips, a death he escaped at the price of indignity.

“ You've proved yourself worthy, Hajime.”

(He made you tea when you wouldn’t stop crying when they were in hiding. You kept clinging to the little ball of fabric and cried day and night. The teacups were of clay, but it made you stop and smile.)

He grew up hearing the whispers about the four remaining blue families, rumors of betraying the fifth, how the family not conceding to the whims had been plundered. All that remained of them was a tomb built at the Oikawa’s discretion, disguised as a commoner's grave.

Betrayed by their kinsmen, they said.

|| —The fortifications, military establishments, and harbours of the region and surrounding territories shall be destroyed under the supervision of the Royal Court convened under the rule of His Highness, King Washijō Taiji, at the expense of Aoba Johsai within a period to be determined by the Royal Court.—||

The door opens, and his manservant bows in.

“Sir, the princess is here to see you.”

#taramea plates #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyu x reader #haikyuu regency au #chronology of us:main tag

7 notes · View notes

sashi-ya · 2 years

Text

ᴍɪɴɪ ᴇᴠᴇɴᴛ > ＣＯＴＴＯＮＣＡＮＤＹＣＬＯＵＤＳ˚۰

ＳＵＮＦＬＯＷＥＲ 🌻 ＦＩＥＬＤＳｋｉｓｕｋｅｕｒａｈａｒａｘｆ！ｒｅａｄｅｒ

4k raffle price for: @jin-supremacy01 thank so much for your participation! I hope you enjoy love!! 💖🌻 tw. nothing really. sweetest sfw ever. :3 wc. 2.2k masterlist.

Run, run throw the sunflowers field. run, and take his hand.

The waraji hitting against the ground were making him uncomfortable, so he took them off. His ashy blonde hair changes to orange with the sunset lights, his silly laughter echoes through a yellow immensity.

You reach his finger; he pulls you closer. “We don’t have these in the soul society, that’s why I stayed in the living world” he lies, of course he does.

“We don’t have you there either” you smile back, eyes fixed on his silver ones.

Kisuke pouts, he is way too intelligent to understand exactly what you were saying. Both being Shinigami, loving each other so much, but living in different realities was something that you didn’t really like. At all.

“I told you, (Name)-san. I can’t go back” he sighs. But… is Kisuke really that intelligent, after all? Were you really asking him to go back to the Seireitei, or, were you asking for something different…?

The scientist -now a “handsome, sexy young shop keeper”- pulls you closer to his chest as he stops in the middle of the sunflowers. Nuzzling on his pale exposed chest, you rest for a bit, inhaling his unique skin scent.

Allowing his arms and reiatsu to embrace, you enjoy the last hours of your free day outside the Gotei 13 facilities. He notices your sorrow, that’s the same as his.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbles, with his chin over the crown of your head, tracing circles over your back with his palm. You sometimes feel Benihime grazing your side, but you know he is just holding it in his cane form.

“It’s ok… you brought me here because you know how much I like sunflowers. Thank you” you tell him, muzzled on his pecs. You play with the hem of his musk green coloured clothes, inhaling his scent, feeling the warmth of his flesh against your lips.

Kisuke knows you aren’t happy, he really knows. He takes his hat off, and places it on your head. “Keep it. You will bring it to me whenever you come back. It’s gonna be soon, hey!” he tries to make it better for you.

You are gonna be busy with missions while serving at the Seireitei so it’s gonna be hard -again- to go back to sleep alone in your home at the barracks.

“You sure I can take it with me?” you mumble, looking up at him with puppy eyes and pouty lips.

“Yes, and stop making that face or else I will have to kidnap you and make you my employee. You wanna sell candy all day?” he says, with pain in those last words.

You blink, why is he sad if you were to give everything away just to be with him, your Shinigami career, your zanpakuto even… “I wish…” you whisper, almost inaudibly, enough for him to imagine what you said.

Urahara meditates for a few seconds looking at how you hide under the wings of his bucket hat, and, you notice in his reaction that he has finally come up to a conclusion.

What could it be?

He walks with you in between the flowers that often look at the sun become down as the last rays of it had abandoned the day. Both sit on the back seats of his van and from there you take your time to observe the moon shining its light over the fields.

The rustling sound of the sleeping sunflowers lulls you. You place your head on his shoulder while Kisuke rounds you with his dark green haori as the night becomes a little chilly.

He plays with your hair until you finally fall asleep. The ex-captain looks at your peaceful countenance with longing. He doesn’t even know by now how old he is, but he knows he had been alive for the longest time, and, he is sure that he has never seen someone as beautiful as you.

“Is it time already? Should I-…” he whispers, stopping himself from keep talking as you snuggle closer to his body.

“mhgfh Kisuke- i- go take a bath” you mumble in your sleep, causing the shop owner to bite his lips not to laugh like an idiot.

“You give me orders even while sleeping…beautiful woman” He kisses your head and closes the door of the van, tonight you will be sleeping there…

As the first sunrays hit the field, and the flowers look straight up to the sun for energy, you both open your eyes. Your pager announces you it’s time to come back to the Soul Society, and, even if you don’t want to you simply have to.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, before touching you with the tip of his cane.

“My gigai is hungry, not me” you mumble, while rubbing an eye to shake off the sleepiness. You need to leave the fake body behind before passing the senkaimon, and so Kisuke will help you do so.

After your soul takes the body form, and the gigai fells on his arms, you look at it with jealousy. What would you give to still feel his touch on that skin.

“Sure you aren’t hungry?” he asks again, just to make sure you have enough spiritual pressure.

You nod, the shihakusho you are used to love now feels like some kind of punishment. Why… come home, please…

The delicate hands of the scientist round your waist, pulling you closer to him, as behind you the world penetration gate opens. Both are surrounded by a purest light. It’s so bright, that even the sunflowers turn to it. Or maybe they just wanted to see the sweet depiction of love in between two eternal souls.

A kiss on your lips, a kiss on your nose. A kiss on his forehead as you stand in tippy toes.

“I don’t wanna go back” you protest, with your forehead pressed against his. But your pager keeps ringing. Your captain keeps calling you, he wants you there. Kurotsuchi Taicho, or maybe Akon. Whatever the case it is, you must go.

“Go now. I promise you I will have something for you when you come back” Kisuke smiles, putting his hat back on your head. “And I told you, I want you to keep it until you came back, ok?”

You try to stop your lips from trembling, every time you have to come back it’s the same, but he has never given you his stripped bucket hat.

“uhum. uhum.” you nod repeatedly, because there is nothing you could say without bursting into tears. And after a sweet last kiss you finally turn around to pass the door.

His fingers softly let go of your wrist, one by one. Kisuke is making sure you are able to feel his spiritual pressure up until the last moment.

The black butterfly that gets out, sounds like a jingle bell, and before the light totally engulfs you he smiles and mouths “I love you, please come back”

You count the days. It’s not a lot, but it’s not just a week. You fulfil your investigation duties with utmost care, helping the Shinigami Research and Development Institute to keep the Seireitei working and safe. But, your heart is aching. You miss Kisuke more than anything.

“What is it, (Name)?” your lieutenant Akon, asks. “Noth-nothing” you sigh, trying not to throw a certain liquid that your hands hold.

He frowns, and then lets a little scoff scape his lips. “Go ahead, I know you are missing Urahara-san. I don’t mind finishing what you are doing, it’s not gonna change anything if you come or not tomorrow. Go, I will excuse you with Captain Kurotsuchi”

You pout, sniffle, and hug him. He had become such a big man after all these years; you remember him with pure love as the tiny kid under Mayuri’s lab coat following him everywhere.

“THANK YOU SO MUCH VICE CAPTAIN!” you chime, making the always serious man to smile warmly.

“Now go, go! Kurotsuchi Taicho is about to come with little Nemuri”

You hang your coat and quickly put everything you were using in place. And right before you leave, Akon has something else to say to you.

“Oi, (Name)… come and visit us some time, ok?” he says, confusing you to no extent. What is he talking about?

“Akon-san, what do you mean? I’m gonna be ok! I’ll be back in some days!”

You run towards the streets of the Gotei 13 facilities with happiness in your heart, you are gonna see your lover earlier and you wanna make sure you had everything ready so you go as fast as possible.

You hesitate to call him and announce you are getting there one day earlier, but you resolve not doing it just to surprise him… “He told me he will give me a surprise when I get there, but, I’m going to surprise him too!”

As soon as you finish packing some basic stuff, since your gigai’s clothes are all at the world of the living, you cross the senkaimon through the dangai again. (This time running from the Kōtotsu, wondering if Mayuri knew you were scaping one day earlier and had decided to make it difficult to you)

Before you arrive Kisuke’s shop and home, you fix the hat on your head. He told you that whenever you came back you should give it back to him, but the truth is that is gonna be difficult to, since you have slept with it every single day you weren’t with him.

Sneaking on the back, concealing your spiritual pressure, you take a look at the little window to see him speaking to Tessai. You smirk with a naughty attitude, you wonder what they were discussing, probably something about the shop.

However, that’s not exactly what you listen…

“Urahara-san, you have to be brave and tell her” his loyal companion says, serving him a cup of tea.

“It’s not about bravery, Tessai-san. It’s about… her. I’m afraid she is gonna suffer” Kisuke mumbles, scratching his dishevelled hair and his a week of no shave face.

You swallow… if there is something that he needs to be brave to tell you that will potentially harm you that means is something bad. “He wants to leave me…” you murmur, trying not to cry even if a tear is already scaping your eye.

You can’t keep listening, and, instead you leave the hat over the window sill right before running away.

You run, fast in between the people. In any case they won’t see you, you are still a soul with no real body. The gusts your shihakusho creates alerts the citizens, but they simply think it’s just wind that bring them, somehow, sorrow.

And you run that much that you get to the last place you’ve been happy; the sunflowers fields of Karakura city. “Hi… sweet flowers, you know? He doesn’t love me, but I do love him… just like you all love the Sun”

“What are you saying, (Name)-san? Do you really think I don’t love you?” a soft voice makes your muscles suddenly stiffen up. “Do you really think that?” he asks, coming closer.

You can’t look at him. He knows, of course he knows you were there. He can sense you, there is only so much you can do to hide your reiatsu from him.

“Tell me, (Name)-san. Do you really think that?” he repeats, at your back, never coming closer to touch you. And it hurts, somehow you want his touch, you need it.

“Kisuke… I- I heard you talking about it… you are gonna leave me, right?” you ask, with your eyes fixed on the sunset ahead. Just like every time you two say goodbye, the golden hour caressing your cheeks and the yellow petals of countless sunflowers.

You notice he is not saying anything, nor even breathing. You are getting annoyed, and so, impulsed by your own heart you turn around…

“Marry me?” he asks, looking like a cute little puppy, blushed and kneeling on the ground with a weird looking ring on his hand.

You blink, and gawk. What… the hell?

“I’m sorry if this makes you suffer… I just- I just don’t want you to leave the courts if you don’t want to. I- I’m gonna go back to the Seireitei if that is what it takes to be with you… so, would you marry me, (Name)-san?”

You take your hands to your face, that was what he wanted?! Suffering?? You just want to be with him… and now you understand Akon’s words… you are staying here, in this new world, just with and for him.

“Of course I wanna marry you, Kisuke!!!” ~

#urahara kisuke x reader #urahara x reader #bleach x you #bleach x reader #bleach x y/n #bleach #bleach fanfic #urahara x you #kisuke x you #kisuke x reader #sashi ya

178 notes · View notes

larrythefloridaman · 6 months

Note

Hmm. Peppermint for bingo

the thing with peppermint is there are kind of two peppermints to me?

pre-nccts peppermint as-voiced-by-katie is a being so fascinatingly, hilariously, suffocatingly rancid that i felt the need to take a breather at one point when the streams originally aired and still wince going back to her scenes, an erratic obsessive creep armchair psychologist writer and masochist on a constant dizzying sugar high who happily rejects all adherence to social contract in devotion to an evil god she's actively stalking who wants nothing to do with her in pursuit of an escapist fantasy she's projected onto him. (red candy)

nccts peppermint as-written-by-ryan is a particularly unstable cringe sad wet newly crowned old god in a box all alone with abrasive and obsessive tendencies over shipping, fandom drama and her own opinions about character writing to the detriment of her ability to engage positively with the 'real world' (Relatively Speaking) outside of those lenses, her derealization and her tendency to treat other people as fictional objects to project her desires onto in violation of their boundaries only being worsened by Prism's enabling of that mindset and her possessive and obsessive desire for a tooth-rotting archie-andrews ass romantic fantasy with Crimson, but she's observant and sharp and self-assured enough to stand her ground when she realizes she's being manipulated with the promise of companionship and to not waver in her conviction that Prism is wrong. (green candy)

these arent at all incompatible, in fact they read to me as two parts, almost two perspectives, of one greater whole, but they are pretty noticeably distinct in their focus execution and tone, i think?

she's still a creep, but ryan doesn't always sell it as hard or as strongly as katie did, often leaning on common (and thus usually less shocking and by extension less effective due to not hitting as hard) 'unpredictable viscerally lonely yandere' trope stuff. Or maybe the written medium just dampens its effect- hard to explain what specifically makes katie's pep character voice so Offputting, i cant imagine it's easy trying to translate it into text without losing some of its offensive punch when you lose the element of vocal delivery, im not sure how id do it. Havent gotten to the most potent ncct pep stuff in the reread we've been doing yet, my opinions' subject to change, maybe shes worse than i remember, lol

if peppermint's character premise is summarized and boiled down to the absolute basics as 'creepy and obsessive parasocial fan of the sport' then katie put the emphasis on 'creepy' and 'obsessive' and ryan put the emphasis on 'parasocial fan of the sport' to better use her as a character that reflects the concept of fandom and position her as being on the side of characterization over strict narrative structures and expectations for the nccts' metanarrative thematic purposes, you get what i mean?

marking 'couldve been a great character if handled differently' is admittedly kind of misleading when what i really mean is 'i hope these takes on her character maybe get synthesized a little more going forward now that prism's arc villain era in the nccts is effectively over and the narrative actively problematizes her violative and antisocial behavior more again because shes less interesting to me when its treated as inconsequential in the grand scheme of things as it kind of mostly is after ncct2, and that her loneliness and the roots of how she is and why are explored more.' alas the bingo board is written in past tense. None of this is a criticism really just kinda observations of the disconnect that sometimes comes into play when a character is really Made by their voice actor in a way thats sorta lost in translation to another medium and to the hands of another writer with different goals.

All this being said, i like her! In a show about identity and connection and our responsibilities to ourselves and eachother when living in community with others, a character defined by loneliness, disconnecting from other people and their own reality and sinking deeply enough into themself and their eccentricities and what little they DO find connection through to the point of lacking consideration for others' existence as full, real people, reducing them to picking them apart as though theyre storytelling tools, trying and struggling by navigating the world around her as though its the fiction she loves with no REAL consequences, until she upset someone badly enough to be forced to consider them as a real person with feelings (relative to her as. Also A Fictional Character,) is a really interesting character concept for a metanarrative arc of the show, and her being manipulated by the godly 'author' into being her lackey through a sense of companionship and enabling that perspective on the world by letting her in on the in-universe Cosmic Secret that their world IS a fiction to someone, us, the audience... its pretty fascinating, especially because she only falls for the lie in it for so long. It does matter. It may not be real, but it does matter. And she took us believing in her so close to heart...

#looking forward to disc and peppermint evil girlbesties unraveling time at the seams 👍#ive never been as obsessed with her as some folks are. but i Do find her interesting #so if i seem like ive missed nuances or something feel free to shoot me #(...an ask pointing them out lol)#theres a lot of characters in this show and pepperming kinda bounced off me im ngl.#like i enjoy her and her role but she is not a frequenter of the brain carousel

11 notes · View notes

inbarfink · 1 year

Text

Okay, the thing is that I’ve seen some people speculate about the Winter King’s backstory and past assuming, like, that he’s always kinda been Like That. Like, that this version of Simon Petrikov has always been an evil heartless bastard or at least just a little less caring and loving than Mainworld Simon and that’s what led him down the path of the Winter King.

But speaking personally… I think this is a less compelling story as it relates to Simon’s character arc. I think it’s a lot more interesting if the Winter King was indeed ‘once just like’ Mainverse Simon.

That he used to be that selfless, dedicated and loving man - and he still managed to stoop this low. I mean, well, Simon seems to have come to the conclusion that this version of him was just ‘messed up’

and that was mostly part of a trend of him in these last two episodes just kinda going

You know, like, I don’t think that the lesson he should’ve learned from his adventures in Winterworld is just “wow, that one specific alternative version of me sure does suck!”. Farmworld, via its version of Finn, was a reminder for Simon of just how much of a traumatic experience the Curse of the Magic Crown is. Winterworld should’ve reminded him of the torment and indignity he was trapped in and how often he was a danger to himself and others

And of the truly fucked-up and terrible things he was capable of doing due to that torment and desperation of the Curse.

The Winter King is like a Whole New Exciting Way for Simon to lose his identity due to the Magic Crown, preserving his mind and memory by destroying the love and dedication and care that the Magic Crown never quite managed to fully burn away - his actual ‘immutable essence’. And this doesn’t work if the Winter King was always just Intrinsically a significantly different and worse person than Mainworld Simon, y’know?

And remember, we know the Winter King was in full on Ice King mode when he ‘conquered the crown’ (AKA cast that terrible spell to condemn Princess Bubblegum to the same terrible fate he’s been suffering).

And Mainverse Ice King was absolutely capable of trying to perform some fucked-up mind-altering spells of his own.

The only thing is that he was never quite that successful.

The main thing I am still unsure of with my favored reading/interpretation of how Winterworld Simon became the Winter King is…. There’s like, two different mutually-exclusive readings of what happened after the Curse was cast on Peebles and Simon regained his lucidity that are both very appealing to me from a thematic perspective. And I’m really not sure which one I like best.

Because the real issue was never ‘would Ice King be willing to cast such a horrible immoral spell?’, especially as one could easily imagine that whatever lucidity would allow Ice King to understand how his Crown is harming him and devise such a complicated spell would not necessarily extend to enough lucidity to fully understand the consequences of his actions. The issue is Winterworld Simon Petrikov, having regained his clarity of mind, choosing to maintain this spell for a hundred years. There's a reason why that's the thing Mainverse Simon fixated on when he figured out what's going on.

My first thought (and that’s something I went into more detail in a previous post) was this: Ice King’s madness was never wholly separated from Simon’s personality. Like, yeah, it was the Crown’s Magic that drove him so Mad and Sad - but it was also the trauma of losing Betty and surviving through the Mushroom War and feeling forced to abandon his beloved Marceline.

And that Madness was based on Simon’s psyche. Ice King’s loneliness and romantic obsession and Princess-nappings are all based on how much he loves and misses Betty

And now, Princess Bubblegum has been forced into a mirrored recreation of them.

The Candy Queen isn’t suffering from just the Magic Crown’s madness in general - but specifically from how it was shaped by Simon’s heart. And since you can’t actually separate this manifestation of Ice King’s Madness from Simon’s love for Betty - the Winter King ridding himself of one also rid himself of the other.

And since so much of Ice King’s Madness was interwoven into Simon’s psyche and especially his love and his kindness - throwing away all of this Madness into someone else also decimated these aspects of his personality. Princess Bubblegum already paid the ultimate price for Winterworld Simon’s sanity - but in a way he also paid a grave cost as well; becoming an unrecognizably different person he would previously find morally disgusting - even morso than Ice King.

Because the lines between Simon Petrikov and Ice King are always going to be a bit blurry and messy, and because Simon can’t probably live a life totally free of his Madness and Sadness but he’s gonna have to accept it for an actual mostly happy and sane life as someone who is recognizably Simon Petrikov.

Buuuut… that still basically means that casting of that Curse just kinda irrevocably transformed him into a Heartless Bastard. And that’s maybe not as compelling as if this change from kind and dorky Simon Petrikov into Evil Brian David Gilbert was done of his own free will

Hundreds of years of the Magic Crown eating away at his sanity and memories couldn’t truly destroy Simon Petrikov’s ‘immutable essence’. He still missed Betty more than anything even as this longing was twisted into something horrible, and still loved Marceline like a daughter even if he didn’t understand it. The one thing that could truly destroy this love that is so core to Simon’s being is him choosing to become selfish and cruel and uncaring.

And since he was in Full Ice King Mode when he cast the spell… I dunno if I can actually call it a fully-conscious act of cruelty. Deeply fucked up? Yes. But it’s hard to say how much Winterworld Ice King actually understood what he was doing. And while I think it’s much more emotionally compelling if the Winter King started from the same place as our beloved Mainworld Simon. The only difference can’t just be the pure luck that Mainworld Ice King was just never lucid or focused enough to successfully cast a spell that would transform him into an equally terrible person.

For this angle to work, this decision to continue doing the bad thing has to come from a lucid Simon who is still kinda recognizably Simon and still chose to continue perpetuating the Curse Ice King cast on Princess Bubblegum.

This might seem unthinkable, especially considering how obviously disgusted Mainworld Simon was at the Winter King’s actions. But you have to consider just how much Winterworld Simon would be desperate to not be Ice King again, Mainworld Simon was once willing to die then live the rest of eternity as IK. The fact that he’s so willing to throw away his sanity again now is so worrying because it shows just how badly he’s being doing - because at first, Simon was fighting so badly to avoid diving back into this pit of madness. And that Spell must've seen like the only chance he was gonna get.

And, yes, Simon Petrikov is a character full of kindness and love and selflessness - but that never meant he was the sort of Cinnamon Roll incapable of ever hurting anymore and especially not when he’s desperate or lashing out. That’s kinda the fallacy Simon himself fell into when he had that total identity crisis in the second episode. He just couldn’t find a way to join his previous identity as the patient and fatherly man who took care of Marceline

With the fact he made a little girl cry.

But yes, both we the audience and Simon himself have to face the fact that despite possessing such strong fatherly instinct and a desire to help children - Simon can also lash out in his trauma in a very cruel manner that goes against all of his own values.

And by the end of the fourth episode, he was tempted to let himself die - even though that will also utterly destroy a whole universe of sapient beings living in his head. It was brief thanks to Fionna knocking some sense into him and obviously the Literal Suicidal Depression involved was also seriously clouding his judgement. But that is still Simon nearly dooming a whole realm of other people because he was feeling absolutely desperate.

Not to mention him kidnapping someone and forcing him into a terrible experiment for the sake of trying to summon GOLBetty.

A desperate attempt to reconnect with his lost love (and in a way, a missing part of his identity as Betty Grof’s other half). Which I mean, yeah, ‘it’s just Choose Goose’, but also last time GOLB was summoned it nearly fucked up all of Ooo and the only thing GOLBetty could do about that is get herself as far away from Simon as she can. And now Simon is gonna try and summon his Eldritch GF again in the middle of a major population center.

And of course, Winterworld Simon and Mainworld Simon are never going to be fully exactly the same person because ‘Simon Petrikov’ is not some immutable unchanging concept and we know that they’ve had different experiences. It was really so sweet to see Mainverse Simon pay forwards the kindness he’s gotten from his loved ones when he was stuck as the Ice King towards the Candy Queen

But it also reminded me that the Winter King himself never got that sort of kindness and grace in the first place. The Curse was cast one hundred years ago. Back then, Marceline was still avoiding him because she couldn’t stand to see what he had become, Finn and Jake were not his friends on account of neither of them being born yet and… they also directly or indirectly helped him get his entire rest circle of friends.

So Mainworld Simon emerged from an Ice King who was not absolutely free from misery and loneliness… but has also experienced happiness and friends both from people who just loved him for who he was at the moment

And grace and kindness from those concerned for his condition and honestly doing their best to make sure he’s doing his best in his current state and trying to bring out whatever of Simon was left in him.

While Winterworld Simon emerged from Ice King at his worst and his most miserable.

And while the Winter King’s callousness about Betty would kinda always be a worrying testament to how much Simonness he has lost - it is extra disturbing for the viewers and Mainworld Simon because they have seen Betty sacrifice her entire being for his sake. That would just reinforce his own love and dedication to her in his mind… not always in the healthiest of ways.

But the Winter King has experienced nothing of that sort. He was not freed in a self-sacrifice fueled by love that literally defied time itself. Wintdrworld Simon only regained his lucidity because of a deeply fucked up and selfish action he has taken as the Ice King. And as far as he knew, that was his only choice except death or the eternal despair of being the Ice King.

And so maybe Winterworld Simon managed to convince himself that he can stay like this for just one day. Just one day of enjoying both lucidity and Magic and then he’s going to undo it because obviously he knows that it’s terrible what the Ice King did! I mean, yeah, Princess Bubblegum and the rest of the Candy Kingdom are suffering but they’re also going to suffer when the Ice King comes back so it’s really a lateral move for them. For just one day!

And then by the next day, Winterworld Simon finds one more excuse why he can wait until tomorrow to bring everything back to normal. And day by day it becomes just a little bit easier to justify perpetuating something so terrible. Day by day he gives up a little bit more of his morals and his selflessness and his love. Until he finally finds out that he just doesn’t care anymore about being a selfish heartless bastard.

The same way the Magic Crown took his sanity and identity gradually - he’s now so desperate to cling to them that he chose to tear away at what was once the core most parts of himself

Until he became just as unrecognizable.

Both of these ideas are really compelling to me but they’re also kinda opposite. Maybe there’s a way to balance them both in a way that preserves what makes them so interesting for Simon’s character in the first place??

115 notes · View notes