#When asked the traditional ‘are you a boy or a girl’ question I hesitated—

[maramahan]

I wanna hear about the pokemon ttrpg 👀

WELL SINCE YOU ASKED—!

Ok. so. You know how in the pokémon games there’s always those Team-Badguy grunts who challenge you to a battle then run away afterward? That’s my character:

Renn is literally an ex villain-squad punk who’s finally been released from house arrest in Starting Town & is taking the opportunity to go on a “normal pokémon journey” don’t mind the baseball bat officer I SWEAR it’s for self-defense :)

Other cast members include

Kestrel, a mysterious and kindly young doctor with an eyepatch and a knack for finding evolution stones

Vincent, a weirdo from the woods with an uncanny connection to pokémon and a mission to speak with the gods

Jiro, a gifted chef with a knack for battle on a mission to someday open his own restaurant

Emilia, a cheerful photographer who is god’s gift to the enemy not always completely prepared for the impact of her pokémon’s AoE moves

Douglass, an incredibly sheltered pokémon councilor who just wants to show his beloved Psyduck to the world and is also coincidentally Renn’s cousin

And the way my friend is running it — instead of standardized region starters, it was a potluck. Everyone chose one 3-stage pokémon that the other players might pick.

There was a Trapinch on offer. She was small, orange, and sweet— so Renn named her Clementine.

We are now best friends. I love her big ol’ head. She’s a long way from evolving, but I love her just the way she is.

Anyway, we left town as a group, me and the other trainers. It’s been pretty chaotic since then. I’ve been showing my cousin the ropes of living in the Pokémon World, Kestrel’s been paying me good money to stop extorting politely asking strangers for pocket change, Jiro’s on his way up in the world, and the Wiz Kid Vincey met god the other day.

AND. and. We’re slowly but surely on our way to BigCity — my old hometown, where Team Badguy runs the streets and Big Tech Corp runs everything else — and.

And. I’m on the trail. They took my beloved Zubat when I got arrested — but my little Echo is still out there. I got a lead that my little buddy might be in BigCity, and. I swear. I’ll burn the world if that’s what it takes to get her back.

I can’t wait to play again!!

[auras-moonstone]

ursula!! i have a request if you’re up for it:

what if the reader is a singer, let’s say she’s successful like taylor swift and the whole friendship bracelet thing was invented by her and her fans. what if jack made a bracelet with his number on it and gave it to her at her concert, like travis did to taylor? i think that’d be soooo cute!

how was your concert? i hope u had fun!

omfg i love this request!!!!! taylor and travis are so fucking cute, i love them so much. and the shows were amazing, thank you for asking! the energy was incredible and i was so happy with the surprise songs 🥺

friendship bracelets — jack champion

word count: 1,688

pairing: jack champion x singer!fem!reader

summary: jack goes to y/n's concert and hands her team a friendship bracelet with his number, but she doesn't reach out until she sees a clip of him from an interview where he confesses what he did.

warnings: none!

Y/N’S SINGING CAREER HAD BEEN SUCCESSFUL SINCE THE VERY BEGINNING. At only 19 years of age, she was on the peak of her career and currently doing a world tour with sold out stadiums. She was not only praised because of her versatile discography, but also for her lyricism and the unique bond she had with her fans.

Jack loved her music, so he was really excited when the sponsors of the stadium reached out to offer him tickets for the show. Alongside his friends, Jack made friendship bracelets—a cute tradition within the fandom—, and he had the idea of making one with his number on it.

“Do you seriously think you will be able to give her that?” Romeo, his friend, asked in disbelief as they walked towards their seats.

“A guy can dream” Jack simply said.

“I don’t think she sees anyone after the show. The girl performs for three hours.” Willa told him, not wanting him to get his hopes too high.

“Maybe I could give it to someone of her team.”

“She’s a hot, successful singer, J. She probably gets handed so many phone numbers.” his friend said.

Jack sighed. “Okay, I get it. Jesus. Have you two ever heard of the term ‘positivity’?” he asked bitterly.

“Have you ever heard of the term ‘delusional’?” Romeo asked. Jack rolled his eyes and changed the topic.

It wasn’t that crazy, right?

TURNS OUT ‘DELUSIONAL’ WAS THE RIGHT WORD. After the amazing show, Jack managed to give the bracelet to one of Y/N’s security guards and the boy was optimistic about it. But then, after one week of radio silence, he came in terms with reality—she was untouchable. He was an actor in the rising and she was a global superstar, what gave him the idea that she was going to reach out? His friends were right, he was indeed delusional.

“I saw you exchanging friendship bracelets at Y/N’s show! How was it? Are you a fan?” his interviewer asked him.

Jack smiled like a little kid at the question. “Yes, it was incredible. Is there anything that girl can’t do? Everything was mind blowing—her outfits, the visuals, her voice, her performance. It was honestly the best concert I’ve ever been to.” he said in pure awe. “And yes, I’m a big fan.”

“Did you make friendship bracelets or did you just receive them?”

“Both! I made a lot. It was a very therapeutic experience, to be honest” the young actor laughed. “I actually made one for Y/N, with my phone number on it.” he admitted shyly.

“You’re kidding!”

“Nope” he laughed awkwardly.

“Did she get it?”

“I don’t know. She hasn’t reached out, but she receives lots of gifts so maybe she hasn’t seen it yet, or maybe she doesn’t text strangers, which makes a lot of sense.”

“Oh my god” the interviewer said in excitement. “That is so adorable! Hope this gets to her! I’m sure the fans will sent her this clip.”

“Oh- please don’t bombard her, guys! I don’t want to make her uncomfortable! It was a silly thing to do.” Jack blushed, instantly regretting having shared the anecdote.

Obviously, his fans didn’t hesitate to do everything in their power to get the video viral. And, as lots of his fans were also fans of hers, the clip appeared on Y/N’s timeline in no time.

She was familiar with Jack. Even though he hadn’t starred in a lot of movies, he was a part of two huge franchises which Y/N, of course, knew about. And he was also one of—if not the—prettiest guys she had ever seen, so she remembered his face. She could not pass this opportunity up.

code red sabrina!!! come to my house asap

WHAT IS WRONG WHAT HAPPENED

this VERY CUTE actor went to my concert last week and put his number on a friendship bracelet and i just found out

okay???? why do you need me?

i have like a thousand fb, i need your help to find it

um… why don’t you just slide into his dms?

that would be easier, but he made that fb and i want it. pretty please? 🥺

fineeee, omw

“I GOT IT.” Sabrina screamed after hours of going through mountains of friendship bracelets.

“OH MY GOD.” Y/N screamed back, grabbing the bracelet and saving the contact on her phone. “Okay, I’m texting him.”

hey jack, what’s your favorite scary movie? 👀🔪🩸

um… i don’t like this, i’m out

“You’re so lame.” Sabrina laughed.

no wait, i’m sorry i was trying to be cool

it’s y/n y/l/n

very funny 🙄 is this you mason?

no, for real. it’s y/n

i saw your clip from the interview and i literally spent the whole day looking for that fucking friendship bracelet and here i am now :)

i’m sorry i didn’t see it before, i feel awful

is this really y/n?

i’m facetiming you

“Hi!” Y/N said cheerfully when Jack answered. His mouth was agape as he started at his celebrity crush. “Do you believe me now?”

“Holy shit! I wasn’t that delusional after all.” Jack said, making her frown. “Oh, my friends called me delusional for expecting you to text me. They were right for like a week.”

“You should’ve just sent me a dm, you’re verified.” Y/N laughed. “But I actually really liked the bracelet. It was original, and thoughtful and beyond adorable.”

“Thank you.” he blushed. “I’m sorry if my fans were harassing you with that clip, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No! I’m glad you did. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have known about you trying to get me your number.” she smiled. “I really liked you in avatar and scream, by the way! Wish I’ve known you were at my concert, would’ve liked to meet you.”

“It’s not late.” he found himself saying. “I mean, we can meet up, if you want.”

“Like a date?” Y/N asked nervously.

“Yes… only if you’d like it to be a date.”

“I would love to, Jack!”

Y/N AND JACK HAD THEIR FIRST DATE ONE WEEK AFTER THEIR FIRST CONVERSATION. Jack went to the singer’s house, for more privacy. They were aware that if they went to a restaurant, it would be all over the media and they preferred to keep quiet at least until they knew things between them were going to be serious.

After a couple of dates and weeks of talking, they both knew something good and real had formed between them. Y/N felt completely normal around Jack. He wasn’t like other boys she had dated, who always wanted to go out and make sure the reporters saw them or tried to seduce her with their expensive cars and luxurious mansions. Jack was grounded, kind, sweet and funny. He wasn’t intimidated by her success and her fame. Quite the contrary, Jack admired her and was in awe every time he saw her writing down lyrics on her journal or played songs on the guitar for him. Y/N was sure he was the one, and she wanted to call him hers.

“I have something for you.” Y/N said as they were laying on her bed. Jack was on his back, while the girl was sprawled on top of him.

“What?” he asked curiously.

Y/N got off him to grab something from the drawer. “I wanted to ask you something, but I thought this was the right way considering how it all started.”

Jack laughed in confusion. “You’re not making any sense.” Y/N handed him the thing she was hiding on her palm and Jack fell silent.

The blood rushed into his cheeks, and a smile broke into his face. His heart was beating so fast he was surprised they weren’t able to hear it. His eyes lifted up to find her anxious ones. Y/N was biting her lip nervously, and her hands played with the hem of her skirt as she waited for the boy to say something.

“You’re so cute.” he finally said, holding tightly onto the friendship bracelet that read ‘Be my boyfriend?’. “Yes, I’d love to be your boyfriend, Y/N.” Jack grabbed her wrist and brought her back into his chest, and then captured her lips with his. “I can’t believe this is happening. Feels like a dream.”

Y/N laughed “I know, I can’t believe you’re mine.“ she pecked his lips. “There’s one more thing. I have a show in two days.”

“Yeah, I know.” he furrowed his eyebrows, not knowing where the conversation was headed.

“Would you like to go? Like, be on the VIP tent” she said, and then added in a shy tone. “As my boyfriend.”

Jack widened his eyes. “Are you sure? I have no rush to make this public.”

“I know, and I adore you for not pushing me, but I want this. I really do.”

The boy’s smile shone brighter than the sun. “I’d love to, babe.”

So, two days later, Jack stood on the vip tent, watching his mesmerising girlfriend perform. He blushed through the entire show, because the singer couldn’t stop looking at him—especially when singing love songs.

Y/N was also having the time of her life. Seeing Jack singing along to her songs, dancing and recording everything with a huge smile like a proud boyfriend was one of the most heartwarming sights in the world. Her favourite part, though, was running straight into his arms at the end of the show. Despite being covered in sweat, Jack kissed her all over her face as he muttered how amazing she was.

“Look at your arms!” Y/N laughed as she looked at the friendship bracelets that were practically covering all of his arms.

“They’re killing my blood circulation but they’re so cute” Jack laughed. “One girl called my king of manifestation.”

Y/N bursted out laughing. “I should write a song about it.”

“You better.” he kissed her temple. “Let’s go home, you need to rest.”

“I’m so happy.” Y/N said as they climbed inside the van. She rested her head on Jack’s chest as he played with her hair.

He looked down at and smiled before pressing a kiss on her forehead. “Me too. Never been happier.”

[cazzyf1]

An Article about Lella Lombardi - Nobody makes jokes about women drivers around Lella Lombardi

The sleek Lola T-332 racing car crossed the starting line at the river side, Calif, Grand Prix, hurtled ahead of three cars, and swooped back inside with split-second timings.

"You mean that's really a girl?" Muttered three times indianapolis 500 winner A. J. Foyt, looking on in incredulously from the side liners.

For Lella Lombardi, the first woman in 17 years (and the second ever) to compete on high performance Formula One circut - the big leagues of professionals auto racing - the question is all but invetable. What in the world is a nice Italian girl like Lella doing in overalls and a crash helmet, risking her life at speeds close to 200 miles an hour?

"That's what mama keeps asking me," says the tomboyish 31-year-old Lella, "I guess she thinks I should be home with a good husband and a houseful of bambini."

It was obvious from the beginning, to Lella at least, that she was cut from different cloth compared to most girls. Born in the little Piedmontese village of Furgarolo, she was hooked on auto racing before she was out of diapers.

"The first I remember, I am perhaps 4 or 5 years old," she recalls, "I was making little cars from things I found in my mum's sewing box. When I was 8 I decided I shall be a racing driver. I didn't say anything but I made up my mind."

As a teenager Lella raced motorcycles with boys in her village. The boys were scandalized she beat them - their mothers that she was racing at all. Eventually the village priest came to call.

"He explained why I should be like a girl and what a girl must do," she remembers. "So I told him, 'yes father' but all the time I am thinking why am I not allowed to do as I want."

Nothing if not persistent, Lella saw her first race at 18. Five years later she brought a car of her own, secondhand, Formula Monza 500 that she tinkered with and drove in races herself. Last year, nearly after a decade of coming up through the ranks, she was approached by March Racing Ltd, of England which was looking for a driver for its two-man Grand Prix team.

"Formula 2, Formula 3, Formula 5000 - I raced in them all," says Lella, "I win a lot in Italy - six times women's champion. So when March comes to ask me to try out for them, I say to myself, 'Why not?'"

March's decision to hire her was hardly made lightly. A single Grand Prix car costs $100,000 and putting it through a season of racing costs several hundred thousand dollars more.

"Putting a woman into a Grand Prix cockpit means shattering a lot of tradition," acknowledges March team manager, Max Mosley. "Of course, my wild told me, the only reason I was hesitating was because of Lella's sex, no doubt about her skill, in the end, I guess my wife was right."

Now prepping for this Sunday's Monaco Grand Prix, Lella is given little chance of winning a race this season (although she finished a respectable sixth in last week's accident-shorter Spanish Grand Prix) since March is designing its cars. Some drivers perhaps disturbed by Lella's invasion of their male peserve, doubt the chunky, 5"2, Lombardi has the stamina for long-distance racing. But March chief Roy Wardell, was watching her during a gruelling test of the company's racers, disagrees.

"Thrasing a car about it bloody hard work," he says, "most male drivers would have been bitching and complaining but she drove more than 300 miles flat out without a whimper." Her main fault, says Wardell, is a rookie's understandable caution. "Lella is still a bit afraid that if she spins out everyone will say, 'see a woman driver'" he says, "but her confidence is building. Pretty soon she'll be mixing it up with the best of them."

[theoldsports]

Hi, i want to request a remus x reader, where its a girls night before lily's wedding and they play a spicy truth or dare, where reader realises she needs to ask remus out.

tradition.

FIRST REQUEST SORRY THIS TOOK TIME

1.7k

Bachelorette parties were a time honored tradition where the bride-to-be wore heels that were too tall to be worn drunk and got legendarily plastered with about seven of her worst behaved friends. Lily Evans (soon to be Potter) was almost an exception, but Dorcas bought her these platform go-go boots and it felt rude not to wear them.

Lily assumed the event would be less of a nightmare if [Y/N] planned it, as Dorcas usually took things too far. This way, Lily could almost guarantee that there would be no Chip and Dale-type striper dressed as the left-winger chaser from Puddlemere United. [Y/N] was therefore the most convenient choice for Maid of Honour.

Carefully, the bridal party made their way out of the Three Broomsticks and hauled themselves up the hill to do the rest of the night in Godric’s Hollow. All of them were too far gone to apparate. Sirius had taken James and the boys who knows where for a Bachelor party so the girls could use the house that night. The ‘girls’ consisted of Lily and [Y/N], Dorcas Meadowes, Mary Macdonald, Marlene McKinnon, and Alice Fortesque; basically the contents of their dormitory at school. The seven hung off each other and giggled as old friends as they walked.

“Never thought you’d be the first of us!” Marlene cried in glee, shaking her sharply bobbed dark hair out of her face. “I can’t get over it. Simply.”

“Oh, come off it!” Lily groaned. She was awfully tired of hearing this same banter recycled day in and day out.

Dorcas laughed. “Well, yeah. Marls is right. You hated your poor bastard Potter, for, like, forever. I thought first in and out of the binding contract of marriage was to be Alice and Frankie for sure.”

The most sober player of the evening, Alice, sighed. “Sorry that we’re patient.”

[Y/N] let out a firm laugh, pulling Lily’s set of keys out of her pocket as the house entered their line of view. “Bold assumptions from both Dorcas and Marlene considering you both told me you were gonna marry Sirius Black when you were fifteen or something.” [Y/N] said. Her comment illicited silence from Dorcas and Marlene rampant giggled from Mary, Lily and Alice.

With their Godric’s Hollow destination reached, [Y/N] unlocked the door with some difficulty. The seven flooded inside. Before Mary could loudly announce how bad she had to piss again, [Y/N] asked: “I’ve got a quick question ‘bout Black, actually,” everyone seemed very interested because everyone [Y/N] knew was in love with Sirius Black - unfortunately. “How many of you’v’fucked him? Just… Show off hands.”

Many groans of malcontent echoed through the room. Dorcas and Marlene raised their hands without hesitation, but instead with a bit of regret. Mary’s hand slowly went up with a sigh. Lily and Alice exchanged some knowing looks but both resisted a comment. “Bloody hell, ladies. Is he actually packin’ or something? He’s not that tall, so… Nice hair, but if he weren’t one of my mates, I’d just say he’s average. How does he keep pulling like this?” [Y/N] asked incredulously.

As Mary left finally to piss, Marlene bit back at [Y/N]. “Honestly, I think he’s just charming. Like, something about the smile, the leather jacket. Plus, he’s so fuckin’… noble, like. Yeah?”

“Noble? A guy’s a better fuck ‘cause he’s ‘noble?’” [Y/N] sighed.

“You know what I mean.” Marlene said and Dorcas nodded in agreement.

Dorcas piped up. “Well, [Y/N]. You may be the next among us. Ain’t the Maid of Honour and the… What’s it called? Man of Honour—“

“—Best Man.” Alice correct, pouring herself a sipper of firewhiskey.

“Ain’t the Maid of Honour and the Best Man meant to fuck? After the wedding?” Dorcas finished.

[Y/N]’s eyes widened. “No. Superstition. Clearly. I… Right, Lily?”

Lily’s playful grin widened as she pulled off her go-go boots and tossed her auburn hair into a messy bun. “Well, seeing as neither of you have a real date, then have at it. It’s tradition.”

“That’s vile. You’re vile.”

Mary walked back in from the bathroom. “Who’s vile?”

“Lily. Or Sirius. Can’t remember. Maybe both.” Marlene clarified.

“Ah, he is ‘packing,’ by the way. If nobody’s said that yet.”

[Y/N] was tired of everyone pushing her buttons because she had been single for a while. Single, yes. Desperate enough to shag Sirius Black, no. “Fabian Prewett was not worth all the trouble to keep that relationship going just to have a date to your wedding.” She said.

“He was so pretty!” Dorcas remarked, a drunken slur apparent in her voice.

“Yeah, and he was also a prick. Anyway, there’s no sense in finding someone with, like, days til the wedding.”

Lily sighed loudly. She knew what she was doing. It was that sort of sigh that baited someone to ask why one was sighing.

“What?” [Y/N] asked, scoffing.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Strained silence as all the other girls leaned into listen. “Oh, I’m sure. What’s the problem here?”

“James said one of his boys also doesn’t have a date to the—“ Lily started.

“You already implied Sirius—“

“Remus. Rem doesn’t have anyone.”

A longer, more strained silence.

Marlene gasped. “Holy fuckin’ shit. You should finally ask Remus out.”

“Finally? What do you mean finally? He’s my best mate.” [Y/N] said incredulously.

The other girls shared groans of indignation or shouts of surprise. “Dear, every boy you’ve ever been out with looks like a cheap knock-off of Loony Loopy Lupin. You have to have noticed.” Marlene pointed out.

“Don’t call him that!” Lily butted in.

“Don’t call him that. He doesn’t like it. And simply, I don’t think that’s true. About the boy thing.” [Y/N] insisted.

“Amos Diggory.” Mary said clearly. Amos had been her very first boyfriend. [Y/N] finally said yes to his obvious advances after Remus took a Slytherin girl his friends all hated to Hogsmeade. Amos had then been the same height and build as Remus, with those aggressively kind eyes. However, he was nothing like Lupin in any other way.

“They’re both tall with brown hair. So’s James for that matter—“

“Amos is just the polite version of Lupin. They’re practically the same bloke.” Mary finished he brutal comment and strolled into the kitchen.

“Tony Dolohov—“ Lily pointed out. Antonin Dolohov had been a rebound repeated hookup after Amos had broken up with [Y/N] since he thought she was too ‘disinterested’ in him. It was familiar commentary that Remus and Dolohov looked similar. They were constantly mistaken for the other from the back in school, despite being completely different as people.

“Was a fling!”

“Evil Lupin…” Dorcas sighed.

[Y/N] was ready for another topic of conversation. “So what? I like tall brunette guys from the countryside. Sue me. Fabian Prewett was from out there too, but he was completely—“

“Mm… Yes. Redheaded, pretentious Lupin.” Dorcas grinned tempestuously.

Mary gasped. “That implies our Lupin isn’t pretentious!”

Alice cleared her throat amidst [Y/N] evident shame and irritation. “If you don’t mind my saying, [Y/N], you’ve been down for that boy since you were about fourteen. Lupin, I mean.”

[Y/N] watched Lily nod drunkenly at wise old Alice’s words. “Call him! Call him right now!”

“Fuck you! No!”

Before [Y/N] could do anything else, Marlene began leading a chant of “call him!” with others shouting such fare as “come on, don’t ruin Lily’s party!” That was when she had to pick up the phone, just to get it to stop.

She stood there, listening to the dial tone hum. “Shit. What number am I ringing? He’s not… He’s with James.”

Lily whipped out her wand from her back pocket and wordlessly summoned a number jotted down on a takeaway menu from who knows where in the kitchen. Lily dictated the number to [Y/N], just to make sure she would actually make the call.

“‘Llo?” Sirius Black slurred on the other line. [Y/N] had often heard him wasted, but he was gone-gone tonight. He spoke too loudly into the receiver. After multiple semesters of Muggle Studies, he still hasn’t mastered the telephone.

“Black, it’s [Y/N].”

“Hey there, love,” Sirius suddenly sounded on edge. The world was a scary place these days and such a call was scary to get this late during a bachelor party. [Y/N] thought he sounded more sober, or tried, after she announced herself. “‘S everything okay…?”

“Hm? Yeah, no. All’ve us are fine. Is Lupin there?”

“What you want with Lupin?” Sirius inquired, his tone sounding much more typical of a drunk Sirius Black.

[Y/N] looked over her shoulder at the expectant faces of the girls and an encouraging thumbs up from Alice. “Uh, drinking game, or something. Put him on. Please.”

Sirius sounded like he dropped the receiver away from his face and called something like “Oi Moony, there’s a foxy bird on the phone for you!” into the room near him. After some shuffling and unintelligible grumbling, Remus’s voice came through on the phone.

“Remus Lupin on,” he said too clearly. The kind of clearness of tone one had when stoned out of their mind and attempting to cover it up. But at least he knew how to use a phone. “Who’s speaking?”

“Lupin, it’s me. It’s [Y/N]. Everything’s fine.”

“Oh. Hi?”

“Yeah, hi. All the boy’s watching you right now?”

“Uh,” a pause. “No, yeah. All of ‘em.”

“Same here. Holding a wand to my chest, basically. You still don’t have a date to the wedding, right?”

A longer pause. “Hm? To the wedding, you said?” He swallowed. Dry mouth from nerves or smoking too much, maybe. “No.”

“Right. Nor have I. Wanna go with me? Since we already both, like, have to go? Figured it’d be fun to go with you,” [Y/N] dropped her voice to a whisper. “Like, go-with-me-go-with-me. Real deal date.”

Too long of a pause.

“Remus? You there?”

“Yeah. Yeah! Sure, I’m here, sure. Also, like, yeah, sure. I mean, yeah. I’ll go with you. If you want, I mean. Yeah.”

[Y/N] sighed in relief. “Brilliant. Pop by before and get me. We’ll go together. Ta.”

With that, she hung up.

“Ta?” Dorcas said dramatically. “Ta? You ask the man out and you close with fuckin’ ‘ta?’”

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Babysitter (6)

Catching A Liar

Wanda Maximoff X Reader

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

The Babysitter Master list | General Master List

Chapter 6- W/c 2.3k

Catching A Liar

Knocking on the door of the Maximoff residences, your eyes widened when the door revealed mesmerising green eyes instead of the impatient blue, Wanda smiling at you softly as you stood awkwardly on her doorstep. She motions you to follow her inside, following behind her until you're guided into the kitchen, her sitting back at her seat while her hands pick up her coffee mug, taking a small sip while you sit near her, eyes scanning around for the twins.

"I am supposed to be babysitting tonight, aren't I?" Confusion is evident in your voice making the older woman chuckle, her laugh making your heart flutter as she softly gazes at you.

"Yes dear," she places her drink down, crossing her legs over in her seat. "Vision just couldn't pick up the boys today so I did," she explains, nodding your head in understanding before she continues, "I'm also working from home today so I was wondering if you could maybe take the twins out for me? Just to the park?"

"Yeah, that's no problem," you sigh out, leaning back in the seat and letting your fingers play with the end of your jumper, "Can I ask Natasha to come?" Wanda's eyebrows raise at your question, "She can bring Fanny over as well for the boys to play with." Natasha had asked you earlier if you wanted to join her and Yelena walking Fanny at the park this evening, but you had to deny due to babysitting the twins.

"Yeah, I don't see why not," she says, an indecipherable expression on her face. "Vis mentioned that she dropped you off the other day," she murmurs before taking another sip of her drink innocently, you flushing at the sight of her peering over the rim of her mug at you, "Mentioned that you two seemed rather close." You grow nervous as she speaks, scared she'll judge you or not agree with the way you are.

"We're just friends," you say, a smile gracing her lips at the news before she catches onto your nervous state.

"There would be nothing wrong if you were more than friends," she states, the almost jealous tone to her voice oblivious to you, furrowing your brows as Vision had clearly stated otherwise.

"But Vision said..." you trail off, looking away from the captivating green and glancing down at your fingers, "He wouldn't be comfortable with anyone... like that."

"Vision is very traditional in his beliefs," she grits out, clenching her jaw a little, danger flashing behind her eyes. "Sometimes I don't even know why I married him," she mutters quietly, you unable to hear the comment as anger builds in her, knowing her husband was mean and homophobic to you made her see red. "But I am perfectly fine with you looking after the boys no matter what," you smile shyly at her, the angelic smile on her face and comforting look in her eyes helping you relax a little, still a bit hesitant though. "I promise you sweetheart, I won't judge you if you're gay," she assures before hesitating herself on her next words, "Are...are you gay? If you don't mind me asking."

You tense momentarily in your seat, not liking the question. You never understood why everything had to have labels, so what if you liked girls? Why should people be able to judge or discriminate against you because you liked a certain type of person, you were still you.

"I'm..." you trail off, rubbing your palms against your jeans to rid the nervous sweat that's built on your hands, "I'm just me." You don't look back up at Wanda, missing the way her features soften or the way she gently looks at you at your words. Her hand moves to yours, interlocking your fingers together to stop you fiddling with them.

"Thank you," she whispers. Wanda knew that, although you didn't say much, it clearly meant something deeper to you and the fact you felt comfortable enough to talk to her about it made her feel warm inside. "I'll have a little chat with Vision about what he said, ok? If he's ever rude to you again, just tell me sweetheart," you kept your gaze on your hands after nodding briefly, missing the venom in her words at her husband's name due the feeling of her fingers intertwined with yours, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand allowing you to completely calm down.

"I'm going to ask Nat if she wants to come," you murmur after a few minutes of comfortable silence, Wanda smiling at you as you walk away to call your best friend.

Around half an hour later, you're at the park with the twins, both of them wrapped up in warm coats as it was starting to get rather chilly outside. Your eyes flickered between the boys in front of you and your surroundings looking for either red hair, a grumpy blonde or a crazed fluffball.

"Fluffy!" The boys cheered when the dog came into sight, a chuckle leaving your lips at the look Yelena gave her sister when the boys called her dog a different name. Walking up to them as the twins busied themselves with Fanny, you were unable to hide the smile on your face when you heard Yelena grumbling in Russian at her sister.

"My dog is named Fluffy now?" she says, directed to you while her finger points at you.

"That wasn't me Belova, blame your sister," Natasha glares at you, Yelena's hand going to hit the back of her head, but the redhead swiftly moves behind your body, using you as a shield knowing Yelena secretly had a soft spot for you. You see the boys running over to you, Fanny close behind as the air fogs at their hot breath.

"Mini Maximoffs," you say, making the twins giggle, "This is Yelena, Natasha's sister." The twins greet Natasha again, already taking a liking to her after the last park visit before turning to Yelena with big grins.

"Hi Yelena," Billy says quietly, a little intimidated by the blonde and her stoic face. Tommy on the other hand doesn't seem bothered, wrapping an arm around Fanny and looking at Yelena with a toothy grin.

"Fluffy is so cute!" he exclaims, making Yelena's hard exposure crumble, you and Natasha sharing a look as you see the younger woman start to interact with the twins, showing them the cool tricks she can get Fanny to do.

"Fan-" the glare you and Natasha sent her way cut her off, the blonde mumbling cyka (bitch) under her breath before turning back to the boys, "Fluffy," she looks at you two with an annoyed look, contrasting the amused glint in yours, "Speak." The dog barks on command, the boys giving her the treat Yelena handed them before getting the fluffball to spin in a circle for another.

The five of you play with Fanny while you try to tire out the boys by getting them to try and race the dog while she fetches the tennis ball you kept throwing for them. About half an hour passes and you decide you want to get something to drink from the cafe nearby, so you ask around what everyone else wants. The boys politely ask for hot chocolates (with extra marshmallows and whipped cream because that's the only acceptable way to drink it according to them), and the two coffees for the other women.

"I'm trusting you to take care of them," you point your fingers at the sisters, Yelena giving you a sly smirk while Natasha gives you a reassuring smile.

"We've got this," her tone comforting while her glaze flickers to the blonde, "Well, I at least, have got this." You pray to the heavens that everything goes smoothly while you leave them on their own, starting your brisk walk to the cafe.

Walking down the streets of Westview, you pass by a few restaurants and shops, glancing inside at all the people living their lives. A familiar set of blonde hair in one of the restaurants makes you look back inside, your face paling at the sight.

Vision had his arm dangerously low around another woman's waist, his mouth muttering something in her ear as she moved her hand to settle on the arm wrapped around her. A sultry smile took over her lips at what he said, her peering up at him and biting her lip before they were interrupted by another couple trying to walk past them. You see Vision starting to look around and swiftly make your way past the restaurant, rushing into the cafe to get the drinks.

"Are you alright?" the barista asks, seeing your pale face as you wait nervously for the drinks to be made, your thoughts running a million miles an hour.

"Huh?" you say, blinking up at him lost. "Oh yeah I'm fine," you read his name tag while he hands you the drinks in a bag, "Thank you, Peter." You leave the cafe still in a daze, annoyed and confused at how he could do such a thing, especially when he had Wanda as his wife.

Once you return to the park, Natasha and Yelena instantly know something is up, the twins too oblivious to realise as they sit on the bench, talking amongst themselves. Yelena takes the bag from you, planning on keeping the twins distracted while Natasha speaks to you.

"What's happened?" her voice laced with worry as your nervous state. She guides you to a nearby bench, you letting out a sigh and putting your head in your hands.

"I just saw Vision," you mutter, moving to lean back against the metal bench, Natasha's brows furrowing as you told her earlier he was at a meeting and that's why Wanda was home and letting you take the boys out. "In a restaurant, with another woman."

"Oh fuck," she sighs out, your handles moving to fiddle with one another as you don't know what to do. "Were they just talking? Like friends would?" she asks, seemingly knowing the answer already. You shake your head, her looking over to the twins who were gushing over the amount of whipped cream they had on their drinks. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," you whisper. You could tell Wanda, but you didn't want to be the one to break her heart, tell her that her husband, the father of her children, is most likely cheating on her. No matter how much you liked the woman, you didn't want to hurt her. Part of you though knew you had to tell her, make sure she knew the prick her husband was and how she deserves more than him, how she deserves the world. "I have to tell her, but I don't know how," you follow Natasha's gaze, looking at the boys and how happy they were, "I don't want to ruin their family."

"Hey, you didn't ruin anything, he did," she tells you, wrapping her arm around your shoulder and pulling you close, "It's not your fault in the slightest so don't think that, ok?"

"Ok," you murmur, nodding and letting out a deep breath before standing to approach Yelena and the boys. You all finish your hot drinks quickly, the cold weather making them taste even better as they warm you up before you say goodbye to the sisters. Natasha hugs you, whispering comforting words to you before parting ways, a reassuring smile on her lips.

On the short walk to the Maximoff residence, you notice how tired the boys are, clearly playing with Fanny exhausting them, making you smile as they drag their feet along the sidewalk. They just about make it to their house, Wanda opening the door with a bright smile at the sight of two very tired boys. She does notice your apprehensive look though and invites you in for a drink.

Groans escape the twins as they flop on the sofa, burying their faces in the pillows and resting after their trip out. Wanda walks with you to the kitchen, grabbing you a glass of water while she makes herself a cup of tea.

"Is everything alright dear?" she softly asks, turning to lean on the countertop while the kettle boils.

"Uh I don't really know how to say this," you mutter, still anxious about how the whole ordeal could go down. "Where is Vision?" you ask, making Wanda's face switch to confusion at your question.

"He said he had a business event to attend to," she says, sceptical of where this conversation was going. "Why?"

"I saw him in a restaurant earlier," you look away from her, not being able to handle the emotions swirling in her eyes, "He was with another woman there." Her jaw clenches as an indecipherable look washes over her face, shoulder slumping.

"What were they doing?" Her tone contains hints of anger and annoyance.

"He had his arm around her hip and was talking in her ear," your voice is quiet as you speak, feeling small under her intense gaze, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to cause any problems, I just wanted you to know-"

"It's ok dear," she cuts you off, her words a little harsh but her face softening at the guilty and apologetic look on your face. "Thank you for telling me," she turns her back to you, making her drink while you finish your water off, fingers tracing the rim of the glass. "It's getting late now dear, why don't you head off home, I wouldn't want your parents worrying," her tone trying to stay light and caring but not succeeding as you can see the anger building behind her eyes. You just nod your head at her, taking your empty glass to the sink before starting to make your way out. You pause at the door frame of the kitchen, opening your mouth and closing it as you look at the saddened and irritated expression on her face.

"I'm sorry Wanda, I really am," you whisper before leaving, heart clenching at what you just had to do.

[latibvles]

points on a map.

this is... [loud kazoo] rather late but oh well! better late than never. related to this piece, this next one is plucking from the prompt crew and, as you can expect: is an introduction to the rest of Viv and Willie's crew! It was fun to write though, so I hope you enjoy it (will these make it onto ao3? maybe. no it is not proofread, sue me) Meet Inez Eckley, our very lovely navigator. All of these OCs will be on the carrd very soon!

—

It takes ten people to fly a B-17.

Not ten men, or ten boys — ten people. That was it. Really early on there used to be a joke, the setup was always the same: how many girls does it take to fly a plane? To no one’s surprise: Inez never found it funny, no matter how many times the punchline changed. It takes ten of me just like it takes ten of you.

She’d never said that, never had much of the courage to open her mouth about it. Luckily, the other navigators she knew either didn’t have the same sentiments or just kept them to themselves — Inez optimistically hopes for the second.

i.

“So we’re just… puttin’ pins in it?” Inez asks, turning to Croz and Bubbles. Croz nods, gives her a bit of a sheepish smile and Inez tries not to squint at the now blurry map in front of her — her glasses feeling like a cross where they hide under her jacket beneath her shirt.

“Pretty much. It’s a tradition.” He affirms.

“Gotta know where everyone’s from.” Bubbles tacks on immediately after — his smile is a little brighter. It doesn’t surprise her: Inez is fairly certain Bubbles was the one who was gonna run around and shoving red thumb tacks in people’s faces. Inez nods once, slow and pensive, before reaching for one of them.

“Ladies first, then?” She wants it to be a statement — but she can’t help but ask. As if they’d have her set up the map on the wall for a boys only activity.

She catches a glimpse of Harrie Morgan over in the corner, trying to nudge one of the guys out of the way so she could listen to the fight on the radio, and assumes that her worry isn’t a crazy assumption to make.

“So y’don’t forget about us,” Inez tacks it on at the end, a bit sheepish, fixing her gaze now on the plastic between her fingers. When she looks back up — Bubbles is still smiling brightly.

“Sure thing. You can do the honors.” He encourages, and that much makes her smile a little bit as she nods once to herself then takes a couple steps forward. She squints a bit, trying to will the text into becoming more solid, trying to recall the maps she’d pour over during practice missions over the States. Inez hesitates a moment, settles on the spot and hopes that she’s hit her target. Turning her head, Bubbles and Crosby are both looking over at where she’s placed it.

“Nashville, huh? That makes us neighbors,” Bubbles puts his own above hers. “Louisville.”

“Guess you’ll have to visit then. We’ll make a day out of it. Hit all the real touristy spots.” Inez offers. There’s a vision there that has her smiling to herself — one where her mother overfeeds them because they’re “too skinny to be Army,” and Croz, polite as ever, doesn’t know how to say no to her. “You too, Bing. And it’s your turn.” Crosby seems to perk up a little bit, takes his pin and tacks it right onto Iowa. Bubbles chuckles to himself, arms crossing over his chest.

“Yeah, you gotta visit. Th’hell’s back in Iowa.” He teases, and Inez can’t help the quiet laugh that escapes her. By the time they got back from this, Iowa would have Mrs. Jean Crosby again, who’s letter was probably sitting comfortably in Croz’s jacket pocket right about now.

“Don’t get him started, we’ll be here all day.”

ii.

Harriet Morgan, their ball gunner, has successfully stolen the seat closest to the radio. Carrie Hughes, one of their waist gunners, is standing awkwardly to her left when Inez tracks them down. Harrie’s leant forward on her elbows, the guy next to her, Roy Clayton, gives her a questioning look, expression twisted into one of mild annoyance as Amison messes with the knobs of the radio.

“You even got money on this, Morgan?”

“No, but ma’ pa might!” The expression on her face is bright, and she flashes him a sunny-side up grin — all crooked teeth and crinkled eyes. Carrie says nothing, but her cheeks flush in that mildly embarrassed way that they always do when Harrie’s garnering a bit of attention for herself. Sometimes, Inez is marveled by the fact that Carrie continues to follow her around in spite of her own introversion — but the world was full of mysteries and Inez figured this one would just have to go unsolved.

Harrie, as usual, is none the wiser.

Inez clears her throat on her approach, drops a hand on Carrie’s shoulder to squeeze it and give her a half-smile.

“Got a second to spare? Wouldn’t want you losin’ your seat, after all,” Harrie’s grin turns a little mischievous, and she waves her hand flippantly as she jumps up to her feet.

“Roy gon’ watch ma seat for me, ain’t that right?” Roy makes a face, a mix of shock and protest that falters almost immediately upon Harrie holding his stare for another second or two. Harrie claps him on the shoulder. “‘Preciate it, pal,” before clapping her hands together and jumping up to her feet. Inez thinks she hears Carrie mutter a sorry Roy under her breath. Inez can’t help the small laugh that leaves her as she guides the two of them towards the map.

“Shouldn’t take more than a minute.” Inez offers, but Harrie whizzes by her like a dog catching a scent, sidling up immediately at the work-in-progress amalgamation of push-pins.

“Well what’s all this then?” Her question is as bright as the rest of her and Inez only wonders momentarily how it is that she can treat every minor occurrence as though she’d just found a winning lottery ticket. Carrie’s interest, although more subdued, is still piqued — Inez can tell by the way those big brown eyes of hers light up in curiosity. June had made a couple jokes about the girl being the baby deer of the group: the nineteen-year-old was really living up to it now.

“Croz and Bubbles say it’s a tradition. Gotta put a pin where everybody in the group’s from.” Carrie tilts her head, brows furrowed — although Harrie wastes no time in taking one from the table and smacking it onto the map. Somewhere South, but that part was obvious.

“We get to…” Carrie’s voice trails off, but Inez knows how that question was going to finish, so she nods.

“All thirty of us. I went first,” That makes Carrie smile, and Inez pats her back before gently pushing her towards the map, before sidling up on its opposing side to squint at where Harrie found her mark. Montgomery, Alabama. Carrie, however, is more subdued about it — she simply points and voices it, as opposed to doing it herself.

“Denver,” Carrie offers and Bubbles puts the pin in.

“Ever been to the Rockies?” He asks with a bit of a tease. Carrie lets out a small huff.

“Do I look like a mountain climber to you, sir?” And now it’s Inez’s turn to snort at the barely there bite of Carrie’s remark — one that has Harrie laughing loud and unapologetic. Silently, Inez just hopes Carrie keeps sharpening that edge of hers’ until it gleams, if only for her own sake.

iii.

Inez knows that when their radio op smiles at her and promises she just needs to finish up this last game, that it is the beginning of a doom-coming.

Not for Fern, of course. Never for Fern — Inez was fairly sure she could talk Eisenhower himself into giving her a brand new fort for free. The doom-coming being for the wallet of whoever Fern has successfully deceived into thinking she was actually bad at darts: this time, it seems to be Quinn and Blakely — Hinton being her newfound accomplice. Inez doesn’t know how they haven’t been made aware of Fern’s goal to sucker at least half the 100th before they reach England, but that’s none of her business.

“No shame in callin’ it quits now, Carmine. I’ll even halve the winnings for ya,” Bailey drawls, and Fern scoffs lightheartedly. She puts her hands on her hips, cocking a brow and tucking a loose strand of shiny auburn hair behind her ear. There’s a slight pout to her lips. Hook, line…

“Don’t tell me you’re calling me a quitter, Bailey. Matter of fact, I hit this double eight and we double it. Two bucks each.”

Sinker. Quinn looks reluctant, but Bailey agrees — so they all cough up another bill to make it eight on the table. Fern takes her last dart and passes Hinton one of those award-winning smiles of hers, and Inez is reminded briefly of how they had her posing up by the plane for pictures back in Sioux City. And how a passing remark about how she should’ve been painted on the plane, not flying ‘em had earned the offender a fist to the teeth from June.

She lines up the shot, takes in a deep breath and then…

“Boop!” Fern declares as the dart finds its target, to the collective groaning of both Quinn and Bailey. “Thaaank you! And thank you!” She swipes the cash from the table, hands four to Hinton and then pockets the other four, before turning to Inez. “Heard something about a map, is that it?” Fern is looping their arms, her cheek brushing against the side of Inez’s head.

“Four whole dollars. You’re really stretchin’ that Mouse Hole piggy bank,” Inez remarks, and it makes Fern laugh a little with a shake of her head.

“Once we hit England it’ll burst all on its own,” She declares, definitively, then listens intently as Inez explains exactly what it was they were doing. The map’s got a few more pins — from Brady and Blakely and their crews. By the time they hit it, Fern’s already opening her mouth and unlooping their arms, pointing at the spot on the map in one fluid motion. “Racine, Wisconsin, boys, riiiiight there.”

iv.

Josephine Alden was always good at not taking up too much room — with Lorraine next to her, they would have the quietest corner of the bar were it not for Lena Connolly filling it with her own storytelling of tales from home. Jo seems more intent to listen than Lorraine, who’s eyes have fallen decidedly further down the bar, towards some back-and-forth occurring between June and Douglass. For a moment, Inez idles behind Lena, trying to figure out the best way to worm herself in.

Noticing this, Josephine gives her one of those warm and acknowledging smiles of hers.

“Did you need something, Inez?” she asks, shifting the attention towards her. Well, Lena’s attention at least. Lorraine still seems preoccupied.

Inez smiles, rubs the nape of her neck.

“Bubbles, Croz, and I are wranglin’ people to tell us where they’re from. Keep track of location and stuff. There’s a map for people to put pins in their hometown. I just wanted to make sure we all got ours,” she explains, looking over the three of them. Lena nods slowly, and Josephine is already straightening out to get up and head over.

Lorraine’s lips tug into a frown, dark eyes flitting from her back to the scene she was watching unfold in front of her.

“Do I have to?” And, despite knowing her, the question still manages to knock some of the wind out of Inez all the same. It’s not posed with a whine, but that sort of indifference that she takes towards most things that didn’t pique her immediate interest. Inez has shared a bunkhouse with the woman for the better part of a full year, but sometimes she still has to remind herself that it’s rarely ever personal; that it’s just Lorraine. Slow to convince, slow to bite down on anything without an incentive.

Sensing Inez’s own faltering, Lena taps in — a clap on Lorraine’s shoulder and a smile up at her.

“Haven’t seen Pasadena Nena touch down yet,” she casts a look to Josephine sliding off the bar stool, “Or Sparky.” Josephine perks up, an animated full-body thing so unlike her typical reservations that it even catches Inez offguard.

“That’d make us first, wouldn’t it?” Josephine points out. “First of the girls, at least,” She looks to Inez for confirmation, and it dawns on her all at once — so she nods almost too quickly in confirmation.

“Uh huh. Croz and Bubbles even let me put the first pin in it,” Inez admits. Lorraine’s brows raise just enough for her to notice, and there’s a twitch of Lena’s lip in knowing they’ve thoroughly incentivized her into something else.

Lorraine Ivanova didn’t care for much — but she did like to be first to things.

“Alright,” she assents, and Inez smiles a little more genuine, guiding the trio back towards the map. Josephine lets the other two walk in front of her, whipping around to raise her hand in greeting. Inez looks back to see who it is — only to realize all at once that she doesn’t know who it is that Josephine’s waving to. A member of Brady’s crew, maybe. By the time Inez is turning back around, Lorraine is taking one of the push pins to jam into the map wordlessly.

“Brooklyn,” Josephine murmurs quietly to Inez, as Lena mimics it, her own pin nearly on top of Lorraine’s. “And the Bronx.” She knew the two were from New York — but the differences between all those little neighborhoods made her head spin on a better day. Inez gives Josephine an appreciative smile that the girl returns, patting the spot between Inez’s shoulder blades before stepping towards the map and pointing.

“New Englander, huh?” Bubbles points out as Croz presses the pin into its spot.

“Same as Crank,” She nods, stepping back, before giving Inez a curious look. “Did you get Juney yet?”

v.

She had not, in fact, gotten Juney yet.

And their bombardier looked like she was about to bite Howard Hamilton’s head off — but Hambone just looked amused with his ability to successfully get a rise out of her. To be entirely fair, it wasn’t hard. And it also wasn’t worth the smack in the mouth he’d be getting if he kept poking her as though she were a sleeping bear; Inez walks a little quicker, Josephine keeping step. Douglass, who’d also been participating in the conversation, catches them first with that pearly-white smile of his.

“Ladies,” it’s an easy greeting, and Inez fixes him with a nod.

June Cielinski looks back at them now, blue eyes lit up, argument on her tongue and jaw clenched. She fixes her gaze on Inez and Inez feels her stomach drop almost instinctually. She’s like a horse being wrangled straight into a pen she wants no part of, because whatever conversation that was just transpiring would be far too much for her to keep up with.

“Eckley, would you tell Hamilton that—”

“We need you for somethin’,” Inez blurts abruptly. She then fixes her look back to the two men behind her and lets out a soft puff of breath. “I’m borrowin’ her.” Josephine slides seamlessly into the conversation with a heard you had a rough landing! that’s laced with all the concern of a mother checking on her kids after a long school day. June, however, is muttering what Inez can only assume are obscenities under her breath. Inez doesn’t speak a lick of polish — her cheeks flush anyway.

“What was that all about?” Inez asks after a moment, and June scoffs.

“Dougie wants to make a pass at Fern so I told him to piss off about it. Hamilton thought it was pretty funny,” June seethes, and Inez knows her immediate piece of advice wouldn’t be much help. Don’t feed into it was like asking June to hold her breath for an entire flight exercise.

She also knows it was less about the prospect of Douglass and Fern, of all people, and more about what lies beneath it — the principle of it. They’d all been sat down and had the fraternization policy nailed into their skulls. Inez figures that it’s hard to take a rule seriously when you’ve never seen the consequences of breaking it. So the guys found it funny, even if, like most things, the consequences felt very, very real for the woman. And most girls understood how words could be dangerous in a way that guys didn’t.

June was always going to be the first one to bat for them. That’s just how it was.

“Should only take a minute, then you can go back to uh… fightin’ the good fight, I guess,” June snorts, unapologetic in the way she rolls her eyes, but Inez knows it isn’t malicious. Her lips curl on something between a smirk and a smile and her physical being seems to loosen up a bit more. That makes Inez relax a bit, letting out a soft breath as they reach the map. “They’ve just gotta know where you’re from. Put a pin in it.” June’s lips pull into a small pout, a nod of understanding.

“Hope you boys don’t need me to point you in the direction of Chicago,” She raises a brow at the two other navigators. Bubbles just laughs, but Croz seems to flush a bit — meek in the presence of June’s sharp remarks as he goes to put the pin in its place.

vi.

“You get lost or something, Cleven?”

It’s never been hard to find her pilot, Captain Savorre’s made a spot for herself by the door just as Major Cleven comes in with a gust of wind. Inez watches Cleven take Savorre’s hand and shake it, and they give each other a smile — Cleven’s is barely perceptible, Savorre’s is mostly teeth. Whatever Cleven says in response, Inez doesn’t pick up on, but Savorre turns her head and Inez follows it.

Inez doesn’t get how she didn’t notice that the horn above the mantle was split in two. Savorre says something else Inez can’t hear, and claps him on the shoulder twice before he walks past. The two of them look like something out of the movies they’d play on base, if she was being completely honest with herself. Tall, confident, attractive. Cleven presses forward, nodding towards those who catch his eye, greeting those he knows.

She didn’t know the commander of the 350th well, but the general consensus of her and most of the girls was that he was quite alright. Harrie had gushed about how pretty his girlfriend was when they saw her once at the bar — all Veronica Lake waves and friendly smiles. Inez was too shy to talk to her then. Still, Captain Savorre and Lieutenant Neumann seemed to like him well enough — that was as much of an assurance as any. Sometimes it was hard to discern who their allies were in a group of hundreds of people.

Inez presses forward once she realizes Savorre is no longer preoccupied, clearing her throat as she approaches.

“Captain?” Savorre’s face lights up in another smile.

“Eckley.” Inez looks to the left, to Buck over by the map, then clears her throat.

“Me and uh… the other navigators were just gettin’ everyone to put a pin where they’re from up on the board. I pretty much got everybody but you and Lieutenant Neumann.” Captain Savorre had an air about her that was somehow both comfortable and intimidating. Inez always chalked it up to her having a good four inches of height on her. But the smile she maintains is a comfort as she straightens out a bit.

“Look at you, making friends,” There’s something about the way she says it that reminds Inez vaguely of her older cousins asking about her social life back in high school. It’s almost sisterly. When Savorre starts walking, Inez is quick to follow. “How’re those glasses working out for you?” she inquires. Inez feels her face flush. The cold metal frames hanging on the inside of her shirt feel heavier.

Savorre picked up on Inez’s habitual squinting pretty quickly. She said nothing of it, but Inez did find a pair of readers on the pillow of her rack in Wendover. She’d thanked the woman at least five times; Savorre just laughed it off, telling her her secret’s safe with her.

“Just fine, thanks,” Savorre nods, satisfied. Then, Inez lets her curiosity get the best of her as they pass by Cleven again in conversation with the Sergeant at the bar. “Everything okay? With the Major?”

Savorre’s mouth curls on a grin, directed ahead of her as opposed to in response to Inez’s question. Inez watches as Savorre drapes an arm around Neumann’s shoulders. She’d been in some kind of conversation with Lieutenant Brady. There’s a quick exchange there: an I’ve gotta steal her from Savorre, a small eyeroll from Neumann and then a small, surrendering nod from Brady that ends with Savorre turning on her heel.

It’s then that the Captain seems to remember Inez’s question.

“Our Air Exec just knows how to make an impression, is all,” is Savorre’s breezy reply, arm still draped around Neumann’s shoulders, who’s giving her an equally questioning look, but saying nothing. “Lead the way, Eckley.”

And so she does: back to the table, with its awaiting map with an ever-growing collection of red pins in places all dotting the U.S. Croz introduces himself all over again and handshakes are exchanged, Inez taking a step back to admire their work. There was something about being unable to distinguish any of them from one another that made her happy. Ten men in a bomber, ten women in a bomber, ten people to fly a B-17, ten pins on a map.

Bubbles puts the one for Neumann somewhere in Pennsylvania that Inez has never heard of. Then Savorre takes one for herself, looks over her shoulder and casts a smile pointedly at Inez as it finds its mark. Like she’s letting Inez in on a secret.

“Motor City,” is all she says as she puts it, presumably, on Detroit — it only then occurs to Inez that their pilot didn’t talk much about where she was from.

Before Inez can ask anymore questions, the door opens once more and Savorre heads off, curious as ever, to see who’s walked in. Neumann’s already ducked back to her prior conversation, and Inez falls into a contemplative, but satisfied silence as Bubbles goes to wave down another pilot. Indiscernable points on a big, big map.

[fxtalitygod]

VI. ~Survival~

Summary: You were determined to survive longer than anyone, even if you were set to marry him.

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, themes/depictions of horror, swearing/language, suggestive, mentions of child murder/adult murder, implied cannibalism, breastfeeding, pet names (Y/n called Little Flower 4-5x), Implications of child neglect, implied Stockholm Syndrome, images/depictions of dead bodies, slight misogynistic themes (if you squint).

Word Count: 4.9k

A/n: I apologize for being so late with this post... I was initially going to post this around Thanksgiving (practically on Thanksgiving day), but I decided to do a little revising. I finished this chapter on my flight though I was unhappy with the product, so I tweaked it a little. There were a few other factors, such as spending time with family, and I did happen to get sick while on my vacation; however, I am better and was finally able to finish this chapter. Chapter VII is already in the works and will be released sometime in early January, hopefully, sooner. I know I've been saying this for a while, but I'm still trying to figure out a posting schedule, but in the meantime, I will be posting when I can. Thank you all for being patient with me. It's greatly appreciated. This a friendly reminder that my asks are open. If you want to ask me any questions about this story/other works or to talk about hcs, suggestions, or to be added to the taglist for any of my series, have at it! Thank you for sticking around, and enjoy Part 6 of Survival!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules•

• Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt.III • Pt.IV • Pt.V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII •

You knew in your years of living that motherhood would never be easy, but taking care of the future heirs of a four-armed man practically considered a god was another story. You were restless, your stress and anxiety slowly creeping up on you. The worst part was that you had to keep those vulnerabilities concealed. Not once were you allowed to let a weakness slip, or else you and your children could end up being the next set of cold bodies on the record.

Today was especially no exception to those rules.

You sat in the garden with your twins, letting their beautiful giggles fill your ears. The wives that had begun to admire you gathered around the scene, cooing at how your baby boy and girl interacted with each other. This was something you had seen often with your babies. The two were inseparable as they were constantly interacting with each other, grabbing and laughing with each other, and overall enjoying their childhood innocence. The sight was almost able to make you forget the upcoming event today.

Inspection day.

It was a typical tradition among the mothers who lived in the temple. Sukuna would request all mothers and children to meet at the temple's main hall to inspect his sons and daughters. It was a way of seeing the progress of his kinder to pick out the most suitable heir among them.

Unfortunately, there were many situations where the father had decided it best for his weaker spawn to be taken out of the competition. It did not matter how old they were— if he saw that they were falling slightly behind the other children, he would not hesitate to end the child’s “miserable life,” as he deemed it.

You were no exception to this rule. No one was. The life of your twins could be ended with a simple wave of Ryomen Sukuna's hand, and you could not be more horrified by that fact. You tried to pride yourself in how you prepared your children for such days, but you could not help but worry. Your twins were strong and healthy, which was the only requirement for infants on inspection day, but as they mature, they must present more than general health. Hardly any of the children made it to their teenage years. None made it to adulthood.

"Is this not your twin's first inspection?"

The question pulled you out of your thoughts as you turned to look at one of the wives, an acquaintance of yours. It had been about a few months since you had given birth to your little miracles, and you could not be more content with the time you've been able to spend with them; however, it would be untruthful if you kept telling yourself that it wasn't taking a toll on you. You could admit that you had become more paranoid, causing harm to you both physically and mentally. There were days that you would hardly leave the nursery, trying to avoid others from seeing you in a disheveled state. Although, it was a rare occasion, meaning no one had any suspicions regarding your behavior.

"Indeed, but I am confident in my parenting," you responded in confidence.

You saw some eyes shine in admiration as you held your head high and proud, proving your current status among the other wives. Over the few months, you managed to convince the other wives that you were untouchable; however, that did not mean you didn’t receive loathing stares and comments. Most of those women had decided it best to keep a distance, waiting for you to slip up to take the higher ground, but it was proving difficult to be patient at that time.

You could feel the stares of the ones who were still waiting. You could already picture the snickers and smirks behind you, knowing that today could be one of your many possible slips. All that could be done was to pray; pray that everything would go according to plan.

Before you allowed your paranoia and anxiety to seep in more than you already had, you looked up to see servants pouring out into the garden, helping some mothers gather their children. One had attempted to approach you, but your attendant quickly hopped in, telling them she could aid you. The two of you gathered what little items you had brought and settled your children in your arms.

It did not take long for everybody in the garden to make their way to the main hall, where Sukuna awaited his next of kin. The crowd was suffocating, some women and even children being too close for comfort. You eventually found yourself in a line in front of the doors to the main hall. Hushed voices filled the room as the women started to converse. The conversations ranged from ones of concern, cockiness, and caution. No matter the topic, you could tell that the tension was increasing.

What went from whispers turned into boisterous discussions. It stayed that way for a while until the inspection began. The second those doors went ajar, the room went silent instantly. You could see how the simple action brought everyone slight fear. The children who were old enough to think were undoubtfully terrified of the occasion, having either been told the dangers of inspection day to prepare them or they had experienced the ritual and what it meant for them if they were to fail.

"The examinations shall begin!"

With that announcement from one of the distant servants, the line started to move forward. There was nothing but silence as the line advanced into the room. From what you knew, silence meant one of two things, dread or reassurance, and from what you could tell, the quiet was proving to be more of a relief. Unfortunately, the quietness did not last long.

"NOOOO!" you heard a woman cry, followed by the piercing scream of a child.

That was only the first of many screams you would hear that day. As you advanced toward the main hall, the shrill screams crescendoed. Some came from a mom, but most came from the youth. Most of your companions stayed in the room, while others left in a broken state or muttering in disappointment toward their deceased kid. No matter the result, you could only feel disdain.

Before you knew it, you were the next to approach your husband. You could see Sukuna sitting on his throne as he looked at one of his sons. The boy could have been no older than two or maybe even three years of age, hardly old enough to understand what was going on, but you could tell that this boy would not have a happy ending. You had spoken to his mother before, and based on what you had heard, the boy was lacking behind the others in his age group.

You remember sitting in the garden with your twins one day, feeding them as you watched the slightly older kids play; however, there happened to be one boy in particular that had caught your eye. He had been chasing around one of his siblings before he collapsed, coughing up blood not too long after tumbling. You knew that the child was your competition, but out of the goodness of your heart, you approached the struggling boy, managing to keep your children in place to not disturb them.

You found no need to ask if the boy was alright—blood splayed out in the grass served as enough proof that he was not. You rubbed his back as he was stuck in a coughing fit, blood spewing onto the grass.

You looked around for the boy's mother, only to see that no one around was interested in assisting the kid.

The child sat there with you for a few minutes before you saw a slightly older woman making her way toward you, a look of worry etched upon her face. She immediately ran up and hugged her son before thanking you profusely for caring for him despite having responsibilities with your own children. Despite not needing your assistance anymore, she remained, telling you of his illness. From what you gathered, he had developed the problem not too long after the inspection the previous year, causing him to fall behind the other children his age in their physical health, meaning it would be harder for him to develop his cursed energy.

As you stood there, hearing the incoherent voices of the child talking to his father, you focused your attention on his awaiting mother. She played with her fingers, bit her bottom lip, and let her eyes tremble as her anxiety began to kick in. A little part of you wanted to go in and comfort her, but you knew you could not, so you chose the second-best option. In slight haste, you whispered in your attendant's ear, asking her a simple request. She was only gone for a second before making her way back over to your side.

On the far left side of the room, where the mother had been standing, you saw a female servant approach. She tapped on the mother's shoulder, whispering in her ear before escorting her out of the room. Sukuna, despite being preoccupied with his determination for the boy, had taken notice of her leave. His gaze followed her path to exit the room as she let out a few sniffles, trying to hide her despair, as she knew her son's fate the moment they had walked into the room.

The conversation between Sukuna and the boy continued. You observed the scene, patiently waiting as you nurtured your twins. The wait repulsed you. The more Sukuna dragged out the conversation, the more the boy's symptoms started to show. Fortunately enough, the torture came to an end when the boy coughed up blood on his father.

You watched as Sukuna looked down at himself, seeing the splotches of blood on his skin. The fear in the kid's eyes was evident as they widened in absolute terror at what he had done. Despite being very young, the child knew that his father wasn't much of a forgiving person. It did not take long for the tears to well up and spill from his eyes. You tried to remind yourself that the competition was being eliminated, but your morals wouldn't allow you to suppress the sympathy you felt.

What came next, you could hardly watch. The boy, despite his horror, plastered a smile on his face as he apologized to his father. Sukuna only sighed as he looked up to meet the boy's eyes. You could hear the whispers behind you as mothers conversed with each other. Some were of pity, some were of fear, and others of relief.

As awful as it sounds, you felt it would be best for the boy. His condition wasn’t getting any better. To wait another year, with his fate practically predetermined, would have been torture. There was no doubt in your mind that by the following year, he would no longer be standing within the temple. Right now, you could tell he was at peace with his fate, the saddening smile proving you so.

The next few seconds were quick. Sukuna uttered one last statement before putting the child out of his misery. It was silent— there were no screams or pleas for mercy. All you could see was blood spilling down from where the boy once stood and a slight clinking noise as something had clearly fallen.

It did not take long to hear the shuffles of servants rushing to clean up the mess to avoid any “complications” regarding attachments. Any belongings of a deceased child were discarded immediately as Sukuna was advised that it would be easier for a mother to move on and procreate once more when they were not reminded of their dead offspring. In a way, this method proved to work sufficiently, especially with the women willing to keep Sukuna pleased or the more vulnerable women. It kept them obedient. It kept them distracted.

Sukuna watched as the help slowly and efficiently cleaned up the mess, but the second he looked up and laid eyes on your form, it was clear that the man was too eager to wait any longer. You could see the smirk on his face grow and the gleam in his eye. The gesture should have given you relief, but it made you apprehensive.

"Come forward, Little Flower," Sukuna announced.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as Sukuna beckoned to you. Despite your apprehension, you walked forward, keeping your head high to facade your uneasiness. As you approached your husband, you kicked an item, the clinking on the ground. You do not know what came over you at the moment, but some form of impulse caused you to slip the item into your shoe, hiding it underneath the sole of your foot.

In a matter of a few steps, you were standing before Sukuna. Unlike the other inspections performed, Sukuna was quick to stand, towering over your form. You could only stare into his eyes as he peered down at you, the grin on his face growing. Maybe it was due to the situation, but it was more unsettling than usual. Had he predetermined his decision? Was he going to take your children out of your care? The questions kept flooding your mind while keeping a straight face.

"You seem quite confident in yourself, Little Flower," Sukuna stated.

"I am as I believe I've shown enough skill in my ability to mother our infants," you responded, swallowing whatever anxieties you had.

The answer seemed to please Sukuna as he sat back down on his throne, grabbing your waist to stand between his legs. You knew he was teasing you at this point, trying to stir a reaction out of you, trying to rile you up. This was common for him to do with new moms. You did not know if it was for entertainment or a form of test, but it still made you uneasy either way.

"We shall see then, won't we?"

You watched as Sukuna went from looking into your eyes to looking at your twins. The babies were tucked snuggly in your arms, their heads turned into your chest to obtain warmth from your body. With one of his hands, Sukuna turned your son's head to achieve a better look, his teasing look turning into one of concentration. The two-faced man was gentle with his touches, something you had not known he was capable of, something you couldn't believe was in his nature.

He took his time, undoubtedly in no haste to proceed with the mandatory tradition. Just when you thought he had finished, anticipating him to pass your son back to you, he slithered one of his arms to take grasp of your daughter. You watched as the baby squirmed in his hold, attempting to shift into a comfortable position, letting out an occasional grunt as she did so.

Your heart was hammering against your ribs. Your chest started to develop a heave. Your hands began to grip the material of your kimono. You had never experienced fear as great as this.

"You never cease to amaze me, Y/n."

You almost sighed after hearing that glorious sentence, but you kept your poise as you bowed, ready to take your twins back into your arms. However, Sukuna never made it that easy for you. The four-armed man quickly pulled you onto his lap, handing your twins over as he plastered an all-too-familiar grin on his face. Before you could question his actions, Sukuna straightened his form, placing his back against his throne as he looked at the awaiting line of women and children.

"Listen well, women! This is where your standards should be. In a year of her time, Y/n has accomplished what the majority of you achieved in a decade here at the temple. She has even gone as far as surpassing you all. I suggest you all follow her example."

You didn't know how to feel about Sukuna's short speech. There was a chance that the man had placed a target on your back, but he could have also made you untouchable. His utterances of praise could be proved as both a curse and a blessing.

Once he had settled himself, you believed he would let you leave to inspect the next child— you were wrong. He held you in his lap and beckoned for the next mother to bring forth the child. He didn’t speak to you after that. He continued the rest of the inspection, caging you in a set of his arms.

To say you were horrified was an understatement.

What you had seen was gruesome and grotesque, but that isn’t what unsettled you. What truthfully left you distressed was your absence of physical and mental response. You were desensitized.

You watched as he slaughtered child by child. You felt his second mouth chew on the bones of his deceased kin. You heard the screams and cries of both women and children, some even calling to you to convince Sukuna to spare mercy. But no matter what, you felt absolutely nothing.

Had you really become that selfish?

You were always willing to get your hands dirty to keep yourself and your children alive, but you never imagined you’d have to shut down your humanity to achieve that; however, in a dog-eat-dog world, you would have to look out for number one.

So you sat there, watching body…

After body…

After body…

After body…

Stack up in the room without so much as a flinch. Not a word escaped your mouth, nor a yelp or gasp. You sat there motionless and silent as the chaos subdued into a conclusion. The dense silence was a dead sign that the event had ended.

You were shifted to sit between Sukuna’s legs, facing the mothers and children who had decided to wait in the room. You could see looks of great pride, looks of disappointment, and looks of grief. The sight alone could’ve made you cry, but you refused to let that happen.

There was no room for errors in your plan, such as letting your vulnerabilities show.

“What should I do with them?” Sukuna whispered in your ear discretely as he leaned down, almost making you jump.

“What do you mean?” You asked, trying to act oblivious to his question, although you knew fully what he meant.

“It’s relatively simple— should I spare their pitiful lives, or should I exterminate them? With what we created, there is no reason to keep them around; however, I leave that judgment entirely up to you.”

You could not help but widen your eyes. The power and jurisdiction Sukuna had given you were tempting and overwhelming. In a simple sentence, you could have the competition eliminated. Your mind was rushing with all the possibilities of your future if you went through with what Sukuna had offered. Knowing all the opportunities, you made your decision with ease.

"Spare them," you answered.

"What an interesting choice, Little Flower," Sukuna chuckled before sitting up straight, "Very well then."

Sukuna looked down at the forms in front of them, wearing a straight face as he examined each of their faces. With little to no expression on his face, Sukuna looked more fearsome. Nobody could tell what he was thinking or planning— any action that was to follow from his state of blankness would come unexpectedly.

"You should all be grateful to be standing here today. Unbeknownst to you, I just offered your companion a very tempting offer. However, she chose to spare your lives," Sukuna announced, "You should all be thankful."

You felt one of Sukuna's arms grab your waist, and you could feel his hand grasp your face as he pushed his cheek to yours. All eyes were now focused on you. Every movement was monitored and taken note of on both ends. If you were going to be truthful, you didn't know how to feel about the new-found attention— like you had mentioned earlier, Sukuna's praise was both a blessing and a curse.

You felt his Cheshire grin form as his face remained against yours. It was clear that he was pleased with what he had done. Whatever was brewing in his mind, you couldn't deduce, and quite frankly, you didn't want to. Even with your inquiries about the situation, you believed you would never follow up on them. Some questions were better unanswered.

"Ahem, Sukuna-sama, I believe it would be best to conclude this session," A person, whom you couldn't deduce whether they were a man or female, chimed.

You had seen this individual at the temple before, usually seeing him trail behind Sukuna. In many instances, you had assumed this person to be a personal servant to Sukuna, but if you were sincere, you thought they were more than that to the two-faced man. Possibly a close friend, sibling, or some sort of ally.

"I suppose you're right, Uraume," Sukuna sighed, straightening himself out again.

"This examination event is concluded. All of you may leave. Remember the words of caution I have so graciously given you. Dismissed!" The four-armed man announced, keeping his posture straight and intimidating.

With his confirmation, you stood, twins in your arms, making your way out of the room before you were yanked down into Sukuna's lap.

"Not you, Little Flower. I'm not finished with you yet."

At that instant, you didn't know what to think. Unlike the other moments you had been pulled aside, you did not feel anything. Your mind wasn't running with questions and fear— you were calm. If Sukuna had wanted to hurt you, he would have done it by now. If he found your children useless, he would have put them down the moment you approached him.

The room was empty and quiet as the two of you sat there, watching the last child leave. The silence encased the room after that. You made no effort to make eye contact, and neither did Sukuna. It was not out of fluster or fear but rather the peace in that silence. You couldn't remember the last time you had been left in a room where your mind wasn't running rapidly or where there wasn't some sort of commotion outside a set of doors.

"Walk with me," Sukuna blurted, allowing you to move out of his lap, babies settled in your arms.

You watched as your husband stood, motioning you to follow him as he made his way toward the main hall doors. It was quiet for most of the walk as he led you to who knows where. There was a moment you wanted to ask him about where he was taking you, but there was something about his blank expression that made you second guess yourself, deciding to continue trailing behind him until he released you to your duties; however, Sukuna took notice in your lagging behind, slowing down his pace while hovering one of his hands at your lower back to keep you from falling behind any further.

"We're here," the man announced suddenly, pulling you out of your own consciousness.

You watched as Sukuna opened a pair of grand doors, revealing a nursery; however it wasn't the nursery you were accustomed to. The room was relatively small compared to the other where you and the other mothers would care for your children, but it was size enough to fit at least a few groups of people.

"What is this? Are you relocating some of us?" you asked as you looked around the room.

"No, only these two. I believe they should be separate from the other offspring and their mother. They will be just fine with a wet nurse in the evenings."

The string you were working so hard to maintain snapped in that instant. You felt as if something overtook you, a shadow looming over you. The thought of you being isolated from your babies left you paranoid; moreover, the idea of a wet nurse taking care of them left you livid. No longer did you care if you upset Sukuna. He went beyond your line of patience when he suggested the concept of leaving your children in another's care.

“No.”

You swore that you saw all four of his eyes widen the slightest, and you were convinced that you even saw him smile a little, but with all the adrenaline from your sudden irritation may have easily made you see things. For a subtle instant, you wished you could have taken that singular word back, but the regret quickly flushed away as you remained glaring at your husband. This was the first time you had truly stood up against Sukuna, the man who was more than capable of wiping out a village in a matter of minutes— seconds if he pleased.

"disputing me? I have to be honest; I do not know how to feel about your sudden disobedience, but I'll entertain it. Why do you disagree with my plans?" Sukuna chuckled, inching himself closer to your straight form.

Selfishness.

"You know as well as I the betrayal and deception among the women in this temple; bribery, extortion, treachery, and other deceitful actions. I understand you are not a man of morals, but we can agree upon our children's interests. You said it yourself, they've been able to excel further than any of the other children, and I strongly believe that has been possible with my watchful eye and protection."

"You make a very fascinating argument, Little Flower. However, I still do not understand how this is beneficial if you do not tell me what you're proposing directly," Sukuna questioned.

You knew fully what he wanted to hear from you, and you were willing to give it to him. Though the words that would spill from your mouth would be distasteful, you had to come too far in the game to back out. The two cards you had set on the table were choosing between life and dignity— the choice was evident between the two.

Life.

"Sukuna, I beg of you. Please let the children stay with me until they are old enough to communicate their thoughts; this will benefit you. The time they spend with me will not be fruitless. I will educate them to the best of my ability, and when you deem them ready, they can begin whatever training you set out for them; however, during that time, I only have one request..." you paused, seeing if you should continue.

"And what would that be, Little Flower?"

"That you protect them with your life," you answered.

"And if I do not accept these terms," the man countered.

Your answer determined not just your life but your children's. You were starting to run out of cards to play, and you couldn't run out to get a new deck at the moment. With every option you looked at, there was risk involved, but all the safe options hardly guaranteed the future you were hoping for. It was a true gamble. So, in those last moments of desperation, you played your shot in the dark.

"Then I walk from this temple, twins in hand."

The silence felt like hours while, in reality, it was only a few seconds. In those few seconds of silence, you could not help but feel slight regret...who would not feel this remorse in your situation. Though you have faced life-or-death decisions in the past, this one way is by far the most alarming, and the stillness wasn't doing you any favors.

Then came the infamous chuckle, one of his more notable responses that could strike fear in the most powerful shaman.

“Seems that my Little Flower has grown some thorns, hasn’t she?”

You could only look at him as he approached, towering over you in his close proximity.

"Is this an attempt at proposing a deal, Y/n?"

Deal.

That word sent shivers down your spine, but not out of fear or disgust. It was a pleasant quiver. It wasn’t effortless to broker a deal with Sukuna, especially since you were merely another one of his, and as much as you hated to refer to yourself in such a degrading way, concubines. If it had been anyone else, you could guarantee that their head would be cut clean off by now, making it clear that you had something of value on the table to offer by the fact you hadn’t been decapitated at the moment.

“Yes,” you answered confidently.

“Straightforward as always, I see. I think that is what I love most about you. You never seem to dance around the question,” Sukuna quipped, looking down at you with a look you still could not deduce, “Fine, I’ll take you up on this deal, as it is of mutual interest, but I want something in return.”

You nodded, waiting to hear what he wanted to put on the table.

“I want your word that you never leave this temple unless it is under my supervision and say so. Unless I’m accompanying you outside those gates, you will remain here. Do we have a deal?”

Outings from the temple were usually uncommon, but they were on occasion, but only a select few would attend such expeditions. These women were commonly accompanied by a chaperone: maids, guards, gardeners, anyone from Sukuna’s staff but never Sukuna Ryomen himself. The man was not known for being someone to leave the temple for leisurely walks or to run a quick errand to the local market, meaning you would practically be bound to the temple for as long as he stayed in your village and bound by his side for as long as he or you lived.

This was your gamble.

Selling your life entirely over to Sukuna for the safety of your kin.

"Yes, we have a deal."

Taglist:

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[stromuprisahat]

Killing Ana Kuya as an act of liberation

The Darkling rarely does something for one reason only, and while the deed's unquestionably a move to draw Alina out of her hiding, and retaliation for Ol' Bags' death, it's also his flavour of mercy.

He might have- perhaps subconsciously- recognized Anne Cunt's lasting influence on Alina, because he was there himself. And while he was able to see Baghra's negative impact on his own behaviur, he's never managed to fully cut her off.

“Baghra has her own way of doing things,” he said. “Don’t patronize me, boy!” Her voice cracked out like a whip. To my amazement, I saw the Darkling stand up straighter and then scowl as if he’d caught himself. “Don’t chide me, old woman,” he said in a low, dangerous voice.

Shadow and Bone Chapter 12

Now, Alina's in a similar position. Her past, represented by her mother figure and principles she had instilled in her, has been holding her back since the day one. Worse- it made her vulnerable to Baghra's manipulation, which would be painfully obvious to someone raised at Ol' Bags' knee. Sure, he (rightfully) blames Alina's codependency on Malyen at the beginning, but even if he wasn't able to connect the dots due to missing information, meeting Ana Kuya in person should do the trick.

His long fingers tightened around the glass. “Did you deserve my trust?” he asked, and for once, his voice was less than steady and cold. “Baghra whispers a few accusations in your ear, and off you go. Did you ever stop to think of what it would mean for me, for all of Ravka, if you just disappeared?”

Shadow and Bone Chapter 21

“The night that Baghra told you what I intended, the night you fled the Little Palace, did you hesitate?” “Yes.” “In the days after you left, did you ever think of coming back?” “I did,” I admitted. “But you chose not to.” I knew I should go. I should at least have stayed silent, but I was so weary, and it felt so easy to be here with him. “It wasn’t just what Baghra said that night. You lied to me. You deceived me. You … drew me in.” Seduced me, made me want you, made me question my own heart.

Ruin and Rising Chapter 9

I nodded again. I was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that I was standing in a dark room with a near stranger and that only a few moments before I’d nearly had my skirts around my waist. Ana Kuya’s stern face appeared in my mind, lecturing me about the foolish mistakes of peasant girls, and I flushed with embarrassment.

Shadow and Bone Chapter 14

When I looked up, Baghra was standing on the porch of her cottage, watching me. For no reason at all, I blushed.

Shadow and Bone Chapter 12

Baghra had no patience with me. If I lost focus for even a moment, she’d smack me with her stick and say, “Dreaming of dancing with your dark prince?”

Shadow and Bone Chapter 14

It likely took him centuries to realize just how bad his mother is for him, yet he still loved and needded her enough to keep her safe and close. Now, Ana Kuya wouldn't last that long, but she has to be purged out of Alina's life just as much. Her eventual death won't be enough- Aleksander could't get rid of Baghra even with the Sun Summoner on horizon either. He was still under her influnce, he still cared. ... but her death brought grief and closure.

He's prone to hurry Alina through The Immortal Experience™, besides she needs to pay for her (unknowing) part on Ol' Bags' actions, so he does the one thing that will also lure Alina out (and close one of the fronts he has to fight on). He rids her of the living representation of the baggage that is her childhood under the care of a heartless hag. His- at this point traditional- miscalculation is thinking Alina would be able to understand later.

The wound is too fresh when they meet for the last time, and what's left of her AFTER falls into the same pattern with new women with a (verbal) stick.

[aylivaa]

ᝰ SECHS : QUESTION m.list • next chap

Word count: 837

Warnings: none.

When Mira entered the classroom the next morning, she immediately noticed the group that had gathered around her table and was talking heatedly about a topic.

Elina sat in her seat and scribbled something in Zayne’s notebook, which sat in his seat and slurped on his drink just like yesterday.

She hesitated briefly whether she should walk up to her place and so disturb Elina, or whether she should simply wait outside the door until the beginning of the lesson so that the group was not interrupted by her presence.

With an uncertain movement, she straightened her handbag and took a step towards her table when Elina suddenly noticed her and called her to the table.

Her stomach contracted and turned as the small group turned in her direction and looked at her as she walked with soft knees to the table and gave a soft "hello."

Elina greeted her, but didn't get up.

"Hello Elif," she said with a wide smile on her lips and looked around before continuing.

"Unfortunately, you missed a large part of the class yesterday, but that's not so bad."

With her right hand, she pointed to the girl with the red hair right next to her and then walked around clockwise.

The girl with the red hair was called Maria, the boy with the slightly too big glasses was called Adam, the boy with the curly hair was called Jones and the blonde girl with the beautiful dimples was called Ayla.

Zayne already knew her.

Elif smiled and tried to remember the faces and names of everyone, but the paralyzing fatigue made it harder for her than necessary.

She would have preferred to sit down and put her head on the table so that she could sleep, but her teacher could show up at any moment and start math class, so she tried to keep herself awake.

From the corner of her eye she could see how Zayne looked from her to Elina, and then from Elina back to her, and an uncomfortable feeling spread in her before she looked at the ground.

A moment later, Zayne stood up with a loud sigh and pointed his hand at his place without even giving her a look.

Elif stood a little perplexed in her place and looked at the empty chair, and normally she would have declined this nice offer, but that morning she was so tired that she ran past him and thanked her before dropping herself on the chair.

Elina examined her briefly, then she smiled again and moved a little closer and put her hand on Mira’s shoulder.

"Elif," she said excitedly and looked at the rest of the group. "Following our tradition, we always celebrate the start of school a week later at Jones’ in his garden house, you should come too."

Mira tried to hide her immediate rejection and pretended to think before shaking her head a moment later and pressing her lips together: "Unfortunately, I'm still very busy with the move, I can't," she apologized and hoped that Elina would leave it be, but the young girl in front of her was visibly disappointed and dissatisfied with her answer.

"But Elif, this will really be very fun, and we can get to know you more," she insisted, but Mira shook her head again. She definitely didn't want to go to a celebration of people with whom she hadn't exchanged a word before, but at the same time she felt bad about hurting Elina.

After all, Elina was the first to welcome her here at the new school.

"But -"

"Adelina," Jones interrupted the two and pointed to the teacher, who was walking through the door with his briefcase and visiting the class. Elina nodded and lowered her shoulders before she got up with a depressed look and made her way to her place.

A second later, she turned back to her to ask something.

"Elif, then at least tell us where you live, then we could celebrate a welcoming at your home," she suggested.

Mira felt the blood shoot into her ears and a wave of panic caught up with her. She did not know Essen well enough to name a district, and she would certainly not admit where she lived.

She tried to think of a district that she could name when Elina repeated her question and thus put even more pressure on her.

"Elif, where do you live? In which district?"

"I...I...–"

"Adelina, that's enough," Zayne interrupted the two and pushed them away from the two's table.

Elina sighed again and then nodded before she turned around and ran to her table.

Mira exhaled deeply and closed her eyes for a moment to regulate her heartbeat a little before turning to Zayne and quietly thanking him.

His look was a little confused, but he gave her a soft "please" back and took out his college block before he leaned back to her and smiled cheekily.

"Do you happen to have your calculator with you?"

» 🤍 «

— 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 : @dxmoness @reneezsq @lxdymoon0357 @yoghurtsan

[the-lark-ascending69]

Ronance smut headcanons?

ansnansnnf I have a few... this isn't a NSFW blog so I'll try to keep it light but... main HC I have is that Nancy insists on waiting until Robin turns 18 before doing anything, despite them being the same age and everything. Robin thinks that's a weirdly specific rule if what's happening is that Nancy isn't ready yet, but she doesn't question it. Truth is that Nancy, having lost her virginity as a kid to a boy she didn't love (while her best friend was being mauled to death a few meters away) has a... complicated relationship with sex. She really just wants Robin's first time to be absolutely perfect, with nothing staining it. She feels like losing your virginity can very easily be extremely traumatizing and she wants to spare Robin of that.

On a similar line, Nancy is a lot more experienced than Robin, who has only ever kissed someone as a dare when she was 12 at a birthday party or something. She never had a real kiss before Nancy, had never been touched before Nancy, had never touched anyone before Nancy. It's all so new to her, and while Nancy is no sex expert, having dated and slept with two boys before gives her at least a general idea of what feels good and what doesn't. She knows what it's like to be on the receiving end being a girl, so she's excited to show Robin sensations she never knew even existed.

She's extremely careful with Robin, especially during their first few times, always asking how she's feeling and checking that she's enthusiastic about it and not just going along whatever Nancy's doing. Thankfully for her, Robin is very vocal about what she wants and won't hesitate to tell Nancy is explicit detail what is it that she wants to try.

Despite being very articulate when she talks, Robin is extremely silent. You could barely hear her trembling breath. At first, Nancy thought she was uncomfortable, or that what she did didn't feel good, but then she realizes Robin is so obsessed with going unnoticed and becoming invisible as a survival tactic, that biting her tongue during sex just comes natural to her. She doesn't even think about it. It's in her instict to not alert "the monster" prowling outside. Even if they have the house all to themselves. Even if they know they're safe.

(The first time Nancy hears her make any sound is a few years into their relationship, one time that they knew for a fact they were safe, and she hears Robin make little whimpers next to her ear. She's more of a whimperer than a moaner, especially when Nancy is being rough with her. It strikes a fire in her belly that keeps them awake all night).

They're switches! Though Nancy tops more often. Depends on their mood really, sometimes she'll want to feel in control and sometimes she'll want to be comforted and taken care of. Robin is more of a traditional bottom but she's not at all opposed to taking charge every now and then. She's... surprisingly smooth when she does.

They're not into hard BDSM or anything but they do like it rougher sometimes, again, depending on their mood. I'd say, if anything, Robin is just a little bit kinkier than Nancy but she's scared to admit it.

Ummm let's see a few more headcanons uuuh

Robin likes having her hair pulled and enjoys some (very light) choking.

Nancy has a thing for dressing Robin in girly clothes and doing her makeup. They enjoy the power and control that goes into Nancy "forcing" Robin to be more femenine for the night.

Nancy has gifted Robin cute lingerie in the past.

Robin was scared of doing everything wrong the first few times. She didn't even know where to start. She didn't even know how lesbians had sex, not having the famous traditionally male appendage at their disposal (she's less educated on queer sex than she'd like but it's not like the local library had any information on that). She feels pretty lame, actually, but Nancy guides her through it and gives her a few ideas.

Robin had never touched herself before. She always felt ashamed to do that, because she felt ashamed of thinking of other girls that way.

Nancy loves fingering Robin's mouth.

They're always extremely careful and only ever have sex when they know for sure they'll have the house all to themselves. They're not taking risks.

Robin discovers she has a masochist streak with Nancy, and Nancy is delighted to exploit that.

Nancy loves trying to make Robin moan, loves to see the look on her face as she tries to remain silent.

Robin tried to ask Steve advice on "pleasuring a girl" once, and he just said "I don't know, just, put it in, you know? Like, just put it in, and it goes in and out, it's not rocket science, just in and out. Girls love that." She doesn't ask again.

They always shower together after sex.

Knowing they need to keep everything secret, Nancy only ever gives Robin hickies in her inner thighs, but if she could she'd fill her neck with love bites so everyone can tell she belongs to her. One time during summer, though, they go have a swim at the local public pool and Nancy notices the faint marks on Robin's legs - they still haven't faded, and even though Robin blushes when someone asks about them, making up something about insects and whatnot, Nancy can't help but feel proud and safisfied.

[vid-writes]

The Kingdom of Kroqales (Ch. 4)

Just like every other chapter in this story, this one is also not suited for anyone under 18. Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

The week in Kroqales goes by almost faster than the week in Vrathia until the fifth day when Kari insists, despite the eternal Winter, that it is warm enough for a picnic. The weather had been above sub-freezing since my arrival, but today, the snow from last week's blizzard was finally starting to melt. Since tradition required a chaperone to make sure Kari and I didn't get into anything too scandalous, Lydia joined us. The two of us girls are chatting about what nobility I should be wary of in the Graygate courts when Kari finally announces we've arrived at the picnic spot.

"This has always been one of my favorite places since I was a little boy. This place is as close as a field of spring flowers in bloom here in Kroqales. Are you sure this is where you want to spend the rest of your life, Flora?" he asks, and the question is laced with the hesitance of someone who has lived in a place their whole lives and has never really known anything else.

In the distance from where we were now sitting on the large blanket Kari had laid out on top of the mostly snow-free grass, there was a series of ponds that all had steam rising from them. The space in between some of them was dotted with red flowers that were sporadic but still beautiful.

I take a picture of the field with my phone. I might not be able to paint, but Clarissa is excellent at it, and I intend to ask her to paint this particular picture. When I look back at the blanket behind me, I notice the spread of foods Kari has laid out, along with the smile he has fixed me with.

"What?" I ask, trying not to sound defensive.

"Only a nature magic wielder such as yourself would find beauty in such a barren place," is his only reply as he pours a cup of wine and offers it to me. I accept the wine with silent thanks and sip from it as I look out at the field of steaming pools.

"What even is this place?" I ask as the taste of the wine, which is more bitter than I'm used to, makes its way through my mouth.

"It's a field of natural hot springs, and just past the horizon is a business that got permission to fence off eight of the largest pools for use. The rest are free for anyone brave enough to deal with all of that. Or you could go to the furnished business with places for your clothes, complimentary wine, and treats, along with so much more," Lydia explains as Kari lays out what he brought for the picnic. The more he pulls out from the basket, the higher my eyebrows get. Finally, when my eyebrows have nearly disappeared into my hairline, Kari explains himself.

"So, this basket is enchanted by someone who uses spatial magic. It's only ten times bigger on the inside because that's the limit I asked for." He's trying not to look guilty, which is weird because he has no reason to be.

"Well, you will for sure have to introduce me to this person. I think my seamstress would be happier to deal with two or three enchanted pockets added to my gowns instead of twenty or thirty regular ones," I explain as I pile some crackers and cheese onto my plate. Lydia offered me a plate of sausage that was already cut and dried for this sort of thing.

I take what I need and finish off my wine before I dig into the snack. On the blanket are four full plates of cheeses of all the varieties Kroqales has to offer, four plates of dried sausages cut up, some of which are darker in color than others, four plates of sandwiches cut into cute little squares, four bottles of wine, and four plates of dried mixed fruits. We all eat in silence for a few minutes as we watch the steam rising from the hot spring pools.

"So now that you've seen some of this kingdom of ours," Kari starts and gestures to himself and his sister, "do you have a favorite place in mind yet?" I break away from staring at the dancing tendrils of steam to look at Kari.

"Actually, this is my favorite place because it's so uniquely different than anywhere in my kingdom," I explain as Lydia refills my wine for me.

"You haven't even seen the official hot springs yet," she teases as she piles her plate with sandwiches so high I'm not sure how she manages to balance it on her knee.

"Well then, either Kari can show me the week after next or on our honeymoon if he doesn't want to deal with a chaperon or anything," I tease towards Kari. He's on his third glass of wine, so it's harder for him to mask the flare of desire that lights up his yellow and blue eyes.

Lydia notices and comments about not wanting to be scared by our desires. Kari, to my surprise, sticks his tongue out at her in response. The look of shock on my face must be comical because they both start laughing.

"Oh, if you think this is bad, then you should watch him tomorrow during his practice. He's much more childish around his merry band of dorks," Lydia manages to say around her laughter. Kari throws a sandwich at her, and though there's no real strength behind it, the sandwich still hits her on the back, and then she falls to pieces all over the slim black dress she's wearing. She shrieks in anger and lunges across Kari, knocking over her plate of sandwiches in the process.

"This is my favorite dress, you jerk," she screams at him while trying to punch him in the face. Kari was expecting the attack, though, because he quickly grabbed her by the waist and hefted her above him. She punches and kicks, all to no avail. His wingspan is simply longer than any of her limbs.

"Are you done acting like a two-year-old yet?"

"Me? You threw a sandwich at me," she seethes, but she's gone, still in his grip. It almost looks like a dad holding up his toddler to fend off a tantrum.

"And you act like we don't have people more than capable of getting out the stain and the smell," he explains as he sits up and deposits Lydia next to him since her previous spot is a sandwich debris field.

"I know, I'm sorry," she mutters out before she looks up at me sheepishly. "I'm sorry to you as well, Flora, for acting so childish in front of you."

"Are you kidding? My brother and I still fight almost exactly like that. From my understanding, sibling rivalries never die." I simply shrug and offer Lydia a new glass of wine since her old one has soaked half the sandwich mess. She reluctantly accepts it, and I remember her explaining that her powers get more challenging to control the more she drinks.

"Are either of you feeling brave enough to venture down to the natural springs? I don't want to bathe, but I think it would be nice for all of us to walk around a bit," I offer up as a heavy and slightly awkward silence falls over us. Lydia pushes to her feet first and grabs the already open bottle of wine as she starts down the hill that Kari and I remain perched on.

"I'm not waiting for either of you slow pokes," she calls over her shoulder as she finishes the cup of wine already in her hand. Kari stands and offers me a hand to help me to my feet.

"You better save me some of that wine, Lydia," I call out to her, and she just laughs.

"Catch up then," she says. She's only a few meters away, but my heeled boots and this rocky surface could be a better match. So, after a few steps, I hand Kari my own wine glass, lean on his outstretched arm for support, and pull my boots off. Thick wool socks that are nearly as thick as the dress I'm wearing cover my feet.

As soon as I said yes to Kari, I sent the seamstresses here all of my dress measurements so they could make me a custom-fit wardrobe for the eternal Winter that blanketed Kroqales.

Kari takes my boots and tosses them with perfect precision back onto the picnic blanket. He hands me back my glass and then takes my hand. In a matter of a couple of minutes, we are caught up to Lydia, just a few meters away from the edge of the nearest natural hot springs pool.

Lydia still held her empty glass in one hand and the wine in the other. She seemed lost in thought, so I cleared my throat to let her know we'd caught up to her in case she couldn't hear us coming. She is more involved with reality than I thought because she turns around and grins.

"Want to hear another embarrassing moment about Kari when we were younger?" she asks as she hands me the bottle of wine.

"Yes," I say at the same time Kari nearly shouts, "No!" Lydia rolls her eyes and launches into the story anyway. I can tell that even without the wine, she tells stories like this. Her arms punctuate each sentence, and her facial expressions would make a veteran actor jealous.

After a couple of minutes of animated storytelling, Kari discreetly takes the wine from Lydia so she's no longer sloshing what remains up and out of the top each time she throws her arms up wide. Luckily for him, the only reaction she gives is a cold glare that makes me shiver a little bit as we meander through the hot springs.

I take the bottle from him to refill my glass as we walk along the pebble beaches of the steaming pools. Apparently, in the official springs, I can now see the silhouette of Kari through the steam. Kari had nearly frozen an entire pool.

"And you really should have seen the looks of the woman who runs the place. She isn't originally from here; in fact, she's from Wreocaea, so when the woman saw Kari's fur-covered waist-deep in a mostly hot springs pool, she knew he had a curse. She helped our parents pry him from the water and offered him the steam room instead." Lydia finishes the story as we round back around to the hill we were picnicking on.

We start the trek back up the hill to gather our picnic since we are expected back soon. As if on cue, the guard who escorted us out here returns with our horses in tow. We crest the hill as the guard slides out of his saddle and bows to all of us.

"Your Majesties, I have returned at the time I indicated I would," he says in his deep, husky voice. He straightens up and adds, "Would you like any help packing away your picnic?"

"Yes, I'd like that very much. You two can get on your horses and relax if you'd like to, or you can help. It's up to you," Kari offers to us. The guard is already carefully putting the plates back into the picnic basket, which is bigger on the inside. I look to Lydia and find her already heading to the horses.

"Seems we are taking the relaxation route," I say to Kari before I turn to join Lydia on my horse. King Reginald had informed me when I arrived that this horse would be mine until it passed away. She was a gorgeous deep brown, the color of freshly watered dirt, with eyes a few shades lighter than her mane. I gently pat her nose before walking to the side and swinging myself up in her saddle.

"Hey, toss me your phone," Lydia calls to me suddenly. I turn towards her in my saddle, looking at her with a look of confusion all over my face.

"I'd rather not throw it across a hard open ground outside," I reply, still confused.

"Well, I want to put my number on your phone and yours on mine before we get back to the castle. Since there's a couple of days before you and Kari go back to your Kingdom, this time with only one escort, I want your number so we can keep up with each other," she explains as she dismounts her horse and walks over to mine. Kari and the guard have finished packing up and are heading our way as she sticks out her hand for my phone. I fish it out of my dress, unlock it, and hand it over to her.

"Exchanging numbers, I gather," Kari asks as he attaches the picnic basket to his saddle and pets his horse. Kari's horse is Apparently the older brother of my horse, and the thought makes me smile idly.

"Yes," is all Lydia offers to Kari before she hands me back my phone. I see she's saved herself as "Emotional Sorceress" with a few of those sparkling emojis afterward. The grin that breaks onto my face stays there the whole ride back to the castle.

That evening, Kari's mom pulled me aside before dinner to talk to me about the wedding. It's only six weeks away, after all.

"So, Kari has already let us know that you wish to stay here after you've wed, and I'm thrilled to hear that. What I want to know is if you'd like to have the wedding back in Vrathia?" Her voice is clear and crisp, like a breeze in early fall.

"I'd really love that. However, I'd really like to keep the plants and flowers to a minimum. My aura still needs more training to reign all the way in, and I don't want any part of that night interrupted by rogue plants," I explain as we head to the throne room. They still have meals in here, and I hope to convince them to change that.

I hang back a few steps to allow the Queen to ascend the dais and take her place first. Once I'm up at the dais, I sink into a deep curtsy, as expected, and wait for King Reginald to allow me to take my place next to Kari.

"Good evening, Flora. Please rise and join us for dinner," he states in a clear and bright but also deep voice. He and Queen Caitlin are the perfect pair, down to their voices. I rise from my curtsy and ascend the dais to take my seat next to Kari.

"You look lovely," Kari says as a way of greeting me as he starts to pile food onto my plate. Normally, I would object, but the dishes are still so foreign to me, and I want to avoid ending up with something incredibly spicy. "I gave you stuff that's mostly on the mild side. Our habit of spicing our food into oblivion may or may not come from living in a land of eternal Winter," he explains as he fills my wine glass.

"Take it from me: The adjustment period to the cuisine here from a kingdom like Vrathia, where spicy foods are more common among the commoners, you'll want Kari to plate your food for the foreseeable future," Queen Caitlin said.

"Is it too rude to ask where you came from before," I muse as I start to dig into the food on my plate. There seems to be some meat spiced almost too intolerably for me but smothered in gravy, a bed of spiced yellow rice underneath the meat, and some spiced vegetables in a small bowl separated from the plate. I guess that must be due to the juices the vegetables are swimming in.

"No, it's not rude to ask. I'm originally from Drizethia Kingdom," she said. I know that Drizethia is known for its exports; that V-shaped cliff that cut into their land made for the perfect trade harbor. They had even centered their capital city around that slice of land.

"Is the food there just as wildly different as here and back in Vrathia?" The rice is sweeter than I was expecting. This realization must make me make a face because a few of the Court Members closest to the dais snickered a little bit, as did Lydia on the other end of the table. She had been leaning forward around her dad and their youngest sister to listen to the conversation.

"So much different," was all Queen Caitlin said before she turned to King Reginald to talk. It only took a few sentences for me to realize they held court during dinner sometimes, too. And tonight was one of those nights.

Even though I was starting to love this place, these next two days couldn't go by fast enough. I want to get home and see my family and friends. Even though I still want to live here, I'm going to continue returning to Vrathia every other week for a while.

The following day, before breakfast, I sneaked out of the chambers they had assigned to me six days ago. I made a right and then pushed against the nearest bookcase. It swung inwards, and the secret passageway that led from here to Kari's room, among a few other places down other secret corridors it intersected with, was revealed.

I was determined to convince him to let me sneak down to the training arena to watch him train this morning. My other option was to spend the time between breakfast and lunch planning the wedding. Not that I didn't want to, but I wanted to meet Kari's band of fighting buddies myself. I'd read enough romance novels to know he had one.

I push open the floor-to-ceiling portrait covering the jagged opening across the hallway from Kari's double white ash doors. They're covered in silver mountains capped with star-colored snow. The portrait swings shut silently behind me. After checking that none of the guards have wandered down here yet, I pull open one of those magnificent doors just enough to slip inside.

Kari is awake and not at all surprised to see me. He's bent over the front of his couch with his ass to me. His tight-fit cotton fighting pants make it hard to look anywhere else. Thanks to an explanation from him, I learned that no one really fought or trained in leather. It limited the range of motion one had, not to mention the chafing. No one ever mentions the chafing.

After his boots are laced, he straightens up and faces me with a broad grin. "Well, good morning, my beautiful bride-to-be," he greets me as he closes the space between us to press a kiss to my lips.

"Good morning to you as well, my fiancé. I wanted to know if you could sneak me out to the training arena today," I ask before he can move away to gather his weapons.

"Why is that? Wanting to get an early start on your training?" He grins down at me as he wraps his arms around my waist. "Gotta admit I'm really looking forward to the sight of you in tight pants," he adds with another kiss to my lips.

"Not quite, actually, you horn-dog. I wanted to watch you train and meet your group of fighting friends. Or your honor guard if they're not the same people." His hands are sliding down to cup my ass through the thick material of this fleece-lined dress.

"Hmmmmmm," he hums as he pretends to think. I kiss the hollow of his throat, and his hands tighten on my ass.

"If you keep teasing like that, I won't have any energy for training, with or without a hearty breakfast," he whispers in my ear as he leans down.

"You started it by squeezing my ass," I counter. Kari grins and squeezes it again before stepping back.

"I'll sneak you down there, but my mom is going to be wounded if she learns you're dodging wedding planning. She's been dreaming of this for twenty-one years now," he says as he presses a final kiss to my lips. He gathers up his weapons and straps them to his body.

"Come on, let's get breakfast. And then an enchanted heated blanket. Trust me, you're going to want it at the training arena," Kari explains as we leave the room.

As soon as we get out of the mountain climbing vehicle at the training arena, I am grateful for the enchantment that keeps my blanket warm. I wrap it tighter around my body as we climb up the steep dirt path to the training arena. The driver is going to stay in the car. As the wind whips hard and nearly tears my blanket from my fingers, I start to regret this.

"I promise the wind is so much more tolerable once we get in there," Kari points to the looming archway above us, "the inside provides relief from almost all of the wind but none of the cold as it's open to the sky."

I try to tilt my head back to look up at the length of the high walls, but this causes me to tip backward. Kari's strong arm is around my waist and straightening me before I even register, almost falling over.

"Sorry," I mutter as we reach the archway that leads into a dimly lit tunnel.

"Don't be. I actually fell the first time I came here. I was six, to be fair. I rolled a good six meters before I bumped into my waiting trainer. She just hauled me to my feet and laughed," he finishes the little story with a wide grin on his face.

"Seems like little Kari was a menace," I tease and stick out my tongue. We enter the arena, and true to Kari's word, there's no wind in here—no risk of losing my blanket and freezing.

"Oh, trust me, big Kari is still just as much of a menace," a feminine voice that sounds like it's full of fire, even when teasing, calls from across the arena. My head whips towards the voice, and my jaw falls open involuntarily. Eight people are waiting to fight and train with Kari. Only two of them are men.

"I promise the explanation as to why your fiancé's honor guard and closest friends are mostly females," the same voice of fire calls, and I finally spot its owner. A tall woman with hair as red as her voice would make one believe it to be. She's got eyes the same color as her hair and a smattering of red freckles over her nose. Despite the lack of sun in this land of eternal Winter, she's also got rich, deep brown skin, just a few shades brighter than wet soil. It's one of my favorite colors in a freshly sewn garden.

"Does it have anything to do with the magic you wield?" The question doesn't bother her at all; in fact, she laughs.

"Bingo," she declares as I turn to face Kari. He's already smiling. I had no idea he would be worried about me meeting his group of friends, but I can see why. Most women wouldn't trust a man around all of these girls, especially as friends. Luckily for him, I'm not like most women.

"As long as you promise to train me when I move here, there will be no problems of any kind," I say with a smile.

"Sounds like a deal to me," she agrees and sticks out her hand as she closes the distance between us. "I'm Elidi, the head of Kari's Honor Guard."

I shake her hand with an eyebrow raised at such informality. Kari, like me, doesn't care about tradition and formalities, but I wasn't expecting this. Elidi laughs again, and the sound makes me feel like I'm sitting in front of a roaring bonfire in the streets with the commoners during one of the celebrations a royal family is throwing.

"I probably should have warned you that these ladies are like you and me. They don't care for formalities and tradition any more than I do," Kari explains as he scratches the back of his neck sheepishly.

"I look forward to teaching you how to fight with more than just weapons," Elidi says as she sketches a bow toward me. "For now, please enjoy watching us train with weapons."

So, I do. I'm sitting in the middle of one of the rows of bleachers that surround the training arena. Another one of the Honor Guard, Vesa, a water magic wielder, explained that once a month, there were a series of trials held here. The trials test how far along in training everyone is. So, the bleachers are for anyone who wants to watch and other groups awaiting their turns.

The way they seem to dance around the arena and each other has to be my favorite part. I always thought it was cheesy of romance writers to say dancing and fighting were alike, but I see now that it's true. The way they all weave, strike, dodge, and sometimes roll across the arena is like a dance. It was a violent, brutal dance. One that, thankfully, doesn't have any bloodshed. The lack of bloodshed, however, doesn't ease my nerves at the fact that they're all using sharp steel weapons. It does not ease my nerves even a little bit. The way the metal rings out against metal nearly consistently does, however, set me at ease. The sound confirms a weapon is striking no one.

After nearly an hour of sword fighting, they finally take a break. Vesa doesn't even bother walking to the water cooler; she makes the water come to her.

"Stop showing off," the only male among them, save for Kari, calls out. She flips him off as the stream of water arcs over his head, and he nearly walks into it. Having had her fill, she gently returns to the cooler and backs up the spout from which it pours.

After sword fighting comes regular hand-to-hand combat training. Elidi squares up with Kari and shoots me a glance full of amusement over his shoulder, and they proceed to start fighting. The way they are fighting indicates that they are evenly matched in skills, once again leaving me in awe with my jaw hanging open. It really does make a difference to have been trained from an early age. There's no way I'm ever going to catch up to these guys without working twice as hard. And I can already tell Elidi isn't going to take it easy on me.

Buy me a coffee?

[bobbiworks]

Beyond the Bell's Chimes | Part 32

The day everyone had eagerly awaited had finally arrived. Segye High School's annual educational trip to Gyeongju was a chance for students to immerse themselves in culture and tradition. The cold, gloomy weather did little to dampen the excitement, as the surroundings transformed into a magical landscape adorned with strings of lightbulbs and colorful ornaments.

Jiwoo's heart raced as she made her way to the parking lot, where buses awaited to transport the students. Spotting Suyoung and Sohee together, her excitement reached new heights.

"Suyoungieee!" Jiwoo squealed, running towards her friend. The two embraced as if they hadn't seen each other in ages. "You look so cute in that jacket!" Suyoung complimented, referring to the matching outfits they had recently bought.

"Hello, Sohee!" Jiwoo greeted the third member of their trio. Addressing Suyoung with a meaningful look, she inquired, "Aren't you going to tell the others?"

Suyoung hesitated, glancing at the shy Sohee. "I think it's not yet time. I want to disclose it in the most dramatic way," she chuckled.

"Dramatic way?" Jiwoo questioned, intrigued. The boys arrived, backpacks in tow.

"Nice!" Seunghan fist-bumped with the girls. "Glad we're all here," he warmly stated. Wonbin, however, surprised everyone by walking straight to Jiwoo, embracing her.

"Wow, that's surprising," Suyoung gasped. Wonbin held Jiwoo tightly, his focus solely on her. After pulling away, he pinched her cheek with a smile. "Hi," he greeted, leaving Jiwoo blushing.

"Are you alright?" Jiwoo stammered.

"Yes, I'm alright," Wonbin replied with a small smile.

Mr. Park arrived with the list of students assigned to each bus. As names were called, students lined up and boarded the buses. Suyoung and Sohee were among the first to board, followed by Seunghan. When Jiwoo's turn came, she placed her bag in the storage before entering the bus. Inside, Seunghan awaited with a smile.

"I figured you'd be next," Seunghan remarked. Jiwoo took the window seat, and Seunghan joined her. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm pretty excited. You?" Jiwoo responded. Seunghan nodded, expressing his own excitement. "It's my first time in Gyeongju, so I'm quite nervous too."

"Did you bring enough warm clothes?" Seunghan inquired.

Jiwoo nodded. "My mom packed me tons of hotpacks and jackets. I get easily cold," she chuckled, but a cough interrupted her.

"Are you okay?" Seunghan asked, concern evident in his voice.

Jiwoo waved her hand dismissively, clearing her throat. "Yes! I am okay. Something just got stuck in my throat," she assured Seunghan, but he wouldn't let it slide. Without hesitation, he pulled his scarf off and wrapped it around Jiwoo's neck.

"You don't have to—"

"I am okay. My body can be pretty warm in the cold," Seunghan reassured her. "Just wear this for now until we get to the center." He fixed the scarf around her neck, and their attention shifted to Wonbin, who was seated just across the aisle.

Wonbin approached and asked if they were both okay. While aware that Seunghan was expressing his interest in Jiwoo, Wonbin didn't interfere, knowing his friend would do the same for him. Ultimately, the decision rested with Jiwoo.

"I'm okay. Really," Jiwoo assured Wonbin, who returned to his seat next to Ji Minseul, a fellow classmate Jiwoo had noticed.

As the buses embarked on their journey, the students initially reveled in singing and chanting, infusing the trip with energy. However, as the excitement waned, one by one, they succumbed to sleep. Seunghan observed his friends, some engaged in quiet conversations, others dozing off. Jiwoo, however, remained awake, sketching on her pad.

"Didn't you use to draw Eunseok?" Seunghan asked.

"Yes, I did. I finished it and gave it to him," Jiwoo replied, her attention now on Seunghan. Unaware of their proximity, he leaned towards her sketchpad, causing a brief moment of closeness. Jiwoo innocently stared at him, and Seunghan, struggling to control his heartbeat, quickly pulled away, attempting to appear unfazed.

"You're not usually shy, Seunghan," Jiwoo chuckled. "But why are you being like that all of a sudden?"

"Jeez, I don't know either," Seunghan denied, secretly thrilled to be seated next to Jiwoo. He couldn't hide his eagerness to see her smile.

"You know I can draw a caricature of you," Jiwoo offered, still energized to create one for him. Seunghan seized the opportunity and struck a pose in his seat.

"How about I do this?" he suggested, cupping his face with both hands. "I'm not really sure what a caricature is."

"Hmm, it's a little different from doing a portrait," Jiwoo explained, sketching his head. Seunghan marveled at her talent, realizing it was the first time he'd seen Jiwoo draw so well. Her small, delicate fingers moved gracefully.

"You have really pretty hands," Seunghan blurted out, unaware until Jiwoo raised her hand, marked by blisters from sketching and smudged with charcoal.

"This? Pretty?" Jiwoo asked, pulling her hand away before Seunghan could touch it. "I always have weird hands. I can't grow my nails long because I'm scared to scratch myself." She pouted.

Seunghan chuckled, producing a pack of tissue paper from his bag. He took Jiwoo's hand, wiped it clean, and couldn't help but feel a desire to hold it longer. "I can clean my hand—" Jiwoo began, attempting to pull away, but Seunghan held it, insisting he was already doing it. She sighed and let him, eventually smiling and patting his head.

"Thanks," Jiwoo said.

"You're welcome," Seunghan smiled. Jiwoo returned to her sketch, and it took her half an hour to finish the caricature. When she attempted to show it, Seunghan had fallen asleep, his lips protruding as his head rested on his chest. Chuckling, Jiwoo decided to keep the sketch for now, planning to give it to him later.

Jiwoo glanced around and met eyes with Wonbin, who was watching her from his seat. She smiled, and he waved back. However, she couldn't help but notice him engaged in conversation with one of her female classmates, diverting his attention away from her. Suppressing a pang of discomfort, Jiwoo turned her gaze to the window, hugging herself as the snowy scenery flashed by like a fast-forwarded slideshow. She barely absorbed the fleeting landscapes before drifting into sleep, finding comfort in Seunghan's scarf wrapped around her.

Seunghan woke up later, realizing Jiwoo had unconsciously leaned her head on his shoulder. Wanting to provide comfort, he adjusted himself and pulled out a blanket, wrapping it around them.

Meanwhile, Wonbin found himself unexpectedly engaged in conversation with Ji Minseul, a classmate usually occupied with idol training. She was pretty but not particularly academically inclined.

"Why did you become a trainee anyway?" Wonbin asked.

"I don't like to study," Minseul chuckled. "Besides, it's easier to sing, dance, and all that." She playfully nudged him. "So, why are you here instead of with your girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend?" Wonbin was taken aback, his mind immediately conjuring thoughts of Jiwoo. His face turned pink as he stuttered, "She's not my girlfriend…"

"You mean…yet?" Minseul nodded, as if understanding the situation instantly. "Why not yet?"

"I don't know. She has never thought of it yet," Wonbin shrugged. Minseul laughed, placing a hand on his shoulder. Wonbin quickly moved away, giving her a judging look.

"Sorry, my bad," Minseul grinned. "So, I assume she's asking you to wait for her."

Wonbin nodded. "See…have you ever dated someone?" she asked.

"Never," Wonbin replied shortly.

"Has she?" Minseul asked, referring to Jiwoo. Wonbin shook his head sideways.

"Ohhh, no wonder you guys are frustrating," Minseul mumbled.

"H-How are we frustrating?" Wonbin stammered, flustered by her comment.

"People are betting on who will win Jiwoo's heart. If I were a dude, I'd like her too," Minseul smiled. "So stop looking at me as if I'm trying to flirt with you. You aren't my type."

"What is your type?" Wonbin asked, to which Minseul smiled mischievously.

"I like someone like Jung Sungchan," she said, frowning as she admitted he liked someone else. "But I still haven't given up…not until he graduates."

"Okay," Wonbin replied dryly, earning a flick on the forehead. "Ouch. What was that for?"

"Don't you hate the idea that Jiwoo is giving a chance to other guys? Are you sure she likes you the way you like her?" Minseul bombarded him with questions.

"If you want me to make her jealous, I don't want that. I can't stand seeing her cry because of me," Wonbin sighed. "Besides, Seunghan asked me to give them time together for at least a day."

"So you gave in? You're okay with that?" Minseul asked, and Wonbin dismissively shook his head.

"I'm not. I'm really jealous, to be honest, but Seunghan's my best friend. He'd do the same if he were in my shoes," Wonbin said, looking at Jiwoo and Seunghan, who were peacefully sleeping.

"Why don't you hang out with me then? Just until something snaps?" Minseul suggested. Wonbin was unsure what she meant and immediately rejected her invitation.

"Promise, she won't be hurt unless she cares a lot," Minseul smiled mischievously. "Besides, Seunghan's going to be with her." She added, trying to convince him.

The buses made a stopover for half an hour to ensure the engines were in good condition before continuing the remaining route. The students were given time to use the restroom or stretch. It was 3 in the afternoon, and the unanimous decision seemed to be to grab some snacks.

Jiwoo headed towards Suyoung and Sohee, thinking they should go together to explore the food stalls. However, her attention shifted to Wonbin, who was adjusting his jacket. "Wonbin…" She smiled as she approached him. "Wanna go buy snacks with us?" she asked.

"With whom?" Wonbin inquired. "Suyoung?" he added, and Jiwoo nodded.

"Come on, we can find something you'd like," she said, casually reaching for his hand. However, Wonbin pulled away.

"I made plans with Minseul," Wonbin said quietly, avoiding her gaze. He felt bad, but he believed Minseul's suggestion might work. "Sorry."

"Oh, well… I'll just get Suyoung and Sohee then," Jiwoo smiled, though a hint of hurt lingered in her expression. She had thought she and Wonbin had plans to try some food during the stopover. Turning her back on him, she sighed before making her way to Suyoung.

"Where's Wonbin?" Suyoung asked, standing with the group in the parking lot alongside Sohee, Seunghan, and even Eunseok, who had joined despite being in a different bus. Jiwoo shrugged, attempting to force a smile. "Really? He's having mood swings now?"

"It's fine. Maybe he just wanted to enjoy the trip on his own," Jiwoo explained, not wanting Suyoung to develop a negative opinion of Wonbin over something minor.

"It's Wonbin," Sohee remarked, pointing to Wonbin with Minseul's group. "Since when did he become close to that group?" she pondered aloud.

Seunghan observed his best friend from a distance and noticed Jiwoo's silence beside him. "Just let him be," he said, reaching for Jiwoo's shoulder. "We can go inside. We'll run out of time if we stand here too long," he suggested, and his friends nodded in agreement.

[clownqueenofprom]

An Unnecessary Evil

Why are girls allowed to say girlfriend to refer to a platonic friend but boys can't say "this is my boytoy Twink male wife Jason?

another part of the Au “where everything is exactly the same but Lady Bone Demon destroys everyone with facts and logic”

“You’ve been busy.”

Appearing strong when weak was, what Macaque considered a key component when in a bad spot. His “brothers” always considered him the most cowardly among them. Usually, he would roll his eyes and snark that he was rather the most intelligent- able to keep a cool head. He’d need it.

“Tell me,” The Lady’s voice was boundlessly more undone- calm, yet accompanied by a second presence that echoed her words aloud. “What madness overcame you that you would forsake your oath?” She asked, the pitch of her tone dropped.

“When did you decide to betray me?”

The answer to that question was certainly nothing that the bone witch wanted to hear- that he had not a moment of hesitation in tossing her key to the side, not ever any intention of freeing her in the first place. What was he supposed to say? That it didn’t count because he crossed his fingers?

“Listen, Lady Bone Demo-” He started, with a casual tone and a smile laced with nonexistent nonchalance, but The Lady was in no mood to hear whatever seat-of-his-pants lie he was planning to give her.

Sharply, her eyes flickered open, a blue gleam enforcing her stony glare as the winds pushed him back. He had to cover his face, anchoring his foot down to the ground so that he wouldn’t be pushed back by the sheer force.

“Have you forgotten who I am?” Her voice was louder now, and clearer, no longer accompanied by the eerie whispering. “What I am?”

He clenched his teeth at the sound of her voice splitting into many at the last sentence, each one ringing in his six ears.

“Were my instructions, perhaps, unclear to you, Liu’er?” At the mention of his traditional name, he felt similar to a child who’s parent who just called them downstairs with their full name. A fight-or-flight instinct within him begged him to inch away into the shadows, but he knew all too well how that would end.

“Did I cause you pain during your resurrection? Or perhaps, you felt yourself above a task so unbelievably simple as freeing me from my prison tomb,” She said, staring down at him, before vanishing in a blur of blue, before reappearing in front of him, mere inches away from his face just as quickly. “In exchange for something so unbelievably meager as your soul!?”

Again, her voice seemed to contort, and this time, he really did step back, trying to get as far away from her as he could. He stumbled backwards, bumping into the chest of the lady’s puppet, who sent him a wide, unnerving smile that reminded Macaque of a young child amused at a sibling or classmate getting in trouble.

He placed his hand on Macaque’s back, shoving him forward with surprising strength. The wind was knocked out of him for a moment, but he mustered a confident smirk, looking up at the bone demon, who stood before him, arms folded behind her back.

“So…” He said, a conscious effort going into keeping his voice steady, “You want something.”

“From you? No.” The lady said tersely, eyes cooling back into her host’s deep brown ones as she turned away. “There is nothing I have to gain from the presence of someone who is unable to insert a key into a keyhole.”

With her back turned, a white circle opened up beneath Macaque, chains in her signature blue color shooting out of it to entangle his limbs, dragging him inside. “Wait!” He huffed, yanking on the bindings, trying to stay afloat. “So you’re just going to kill me because I didn’t open your stupid cage!? You dragged me all the way out here so that you could get even!?”

The puppet lunged forward, grabbing Macaque by the hair and holding him down, smile wide with giddy anticipation of Macaque’s imposing death (the strange fellow didn’t seem to like him very much). The Lady turned her head, eyes narrow.

“Even?” She echoed, before her lips quirked upwards into a smile, and her brows creased before she let out a shrill laugh.

“If I wanted vengeance, my champion, then I wouldn’t grant you a painless death such as this.” She flickered out of view again, appearing in front of him as she crouched down to meet his eyes, a cold smile decorating the soft features of the child she was possessing- an eerie contrast.

“I would shrink you,” She said, holding her fingers close together to intimate being tiny.

“And find a nice jar to leave you trapped in for a few centuries. I’ll even find a nice blanket in the color of your choice to make sure you never get to look at the face of another sentient being. With that being the alternative, ask yourself,” She leaned down. “Wouldn’t you rather die?”

His lips parted in mild horror- but only for a moment as she leaned away from him. He struggled against the puppet, thrashing about, as if that would save him. “Wait, what do you want!?” He yelled. “I can find Wukong, and his brat too!”

She stood, turning away. “Goodbye, Six-Eared Macaque.” She said coolly. “Your magic will be going towards an excellent cause. You will be much happier in your next life.”

Macaque released a grunt of distress at her retreating form. Was that supposed to reassure him or something?

“Wait!” He yelled, disliking the frantic tone. Was he really about to die? “Damn it, Baigujing, listen for once!” After that, it was silent for a moment. The pull of the chains seemed to ease on his limbs, and the thrall was no longer shoving his head into the pit of doom.

“…You may speak.” She said tiredly, probably of him and his refusal to die with dignity, and baffled with the audacity he had to use her traditional name like they were old chums. “Do be quick about it. I do not have all day to listen to your pointless excuses.”

“Why do you think I didn’t free you? Probably because you never make room for reason in all your crazy ramblings about destiny,” He sneered.

Maybe insults weren’t his best option, but in Lady Bone Demon’s actions, there was always method to her madness. Maybe he could find some way to compromise if he could just get through to her, he could at least get out of this Scott-free.

“Is that so?” She hummed, turning her head to look away. “I suppose you would feel that way. I understand why many try and fight destiny- it is oftentimes cruel. What I do not understand why they fight the only solution to that problem.”

“The only solution is destroying the world?” He snapped. His voice came out a lot less “understanding” than he intended. We’re his acting skills slipping? She chuckled.

“And I suppose you’d prefer I leave it to it’s devices?” She mused. “That I allow war, famine, and crime to endlessly continue when I have the power to stop it all?”

“So you’re a Good Samaritan now? Let me guess, taking over this city was a necessary evil?” He mocked her aristocratic manner of speaking, able to rise to his feet again, as the chains had gone limp.

“Quite correct,” The Lady said, a hint of amusement in her tone. “And you, Six-Eared Macaque? Was destroying this city to get to Sun Wukong a necessary evil?”

He stopped, eyes knitting together at the question. “How do you…”

“My servant made it a point to update me on current events worldwide upon being freed from my tomb.” She answered quickly. He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was smiling.

“Don’t tell me the cat has your tongue now, Liu’er. What happened to all your newfound self-righteousness from before?”

He grit his teeth. “So, I’m not the crème de la crème of purity and goodness.” He said, fists clenched tight enough to draw blood. “You certainly aren’t any better than me. You’re the one who brought me back to life.”

She lightly laughed, and Macaque grew angrier by the second. She was still going to kill him after this, wasn’t she? He needed to get the upper hand, but…

“You’re quite quick to blame others, I notice. I presume that is also my fault that my little host was orphaned in that attack of yours?”

Macaque’s eyes widened. What? “What…?” He repeated his thoughts aloud, no louder than a whisper, but it didn’t go unheard by The Lady.

“I wasn’t trying to…” He trailed off. “But you did.” The Lady finished for him, titling her head upwards as she sighed. “I’ve seen selfishness and hatred far more intense than yours, Six-Eared Macaque.” The wicked amusement she had garnered earlier had faded. She turned to look at him, finally.

Her eyes seemed far too tired, and filled with far too much anger to be on the face of a little girl.

Her tone was cool as she looked above him, at the night sky. “But it will all be over soon.”

For a moment, all was quiet.

“Why’d you pick me?” He asked, after a moment. The Lady, seemingly brought back down to earth, hummed in question. “Anyone could have opened your tomb. But you went out of her way to pluck my soul out of the Diyu, specifically. Why?”

The Lady’s expression morphed into one of annoyance. “You’re only wondering this now?” She asked crossly. His expression didn’t change.

“I had decided not to tell you what I had planned to happen to you in your next life, but I suppose, if it will give you closure,” She hummed. “I can answer your last question.”

She’s really set on killing me… He thought wearily.

“There is one person who exists in this world who, with certainty, will not exist in the new one. Do you know to whom I am referring?”

“Wukong. Right,” Macaque answered. “Yes,” The Bone Lady sighed, closing her eyes. “But in the absence of the Great Sage, there will be a void that will need to be filled.” She spat the words “Great Sage” out as if a worm she’d found in an apple. (He understood finding the title obnoxious. Great Sage, Equal to Heaven? Give me a break.)

A void? Macaque thought for a moment. As in, an empty space that would need to be filled- someone to replace Wukong as the monkey king. MK? But…

Macaque’s head shot up. “You mean-!?” The Lady cut him off with a smile. “Interested now, are we?”

The next thing he knew, the chains were gone.

[nachfo]

ok time to ask you the same question you asked me, and don’t fuck up this time /j

When did you decide to get serious with art? did you ever expect to in the first place.

I’d also would love to know more about the OCs you shared, is there anything you could tell about their story, it looks so interesting and cool!

"sob sob" Forgive me 🥺🥺🥺 My brain is smooth and I have only 3 brain cells left. This shouldn't have taken me so long to answer.

I think I decided to get serious with it when I got my drawing tablet. That was in the pandemic and since then I've been improving. before I would just make little doodles on exam papers or sometimes I would do little comics. One time I gave one of my comics to a friend so that they could borrow it and they never returned it. I remember I would make like 5 - 6 pages of a comic and then grapple them together. One time my cousin helped me digitalize one of them. I still have that comic (it's horrible). I always looked up to my cousin because she was really good at digital art and she was studying that. So now that I am following her same steps, she gives me tips and classes which we sometimes stream on younow. We have very similar interests and we get along really well. She is the only person in my family I get really well with. Also, my brother was a big part of why I decided to start drawing because he also drew but in traditional.

To answer the other question I'd say no, I never would have imagined I would be doing this and be actually good. I never thought of pursuing art as an actual career and studying it. But look at me now! Before art, I was more into video editing and today I still enjoy it, but now it has passed to be more of a hobby than something serious.

Oc lore under cut :3

Okay, so you remember the characters I drew before? The boy is Anthony, and the car girl, oh shit, I still don't have a name for her. I need to come up with one.

So Anthony is part of a band with his friends (I still don't have names for them, damn it). So in the band there is Anthony, his childhood friend, his brother, his brother's girlfriend, and like two more unimportant people to the story (and by that, I mean I haven't developed them).

So they have a consert, and when they get there, Anthony's friend has a panic attack right before they get on the stage and runs from the building, and Anthony follows him. They decide to cancel the concert, and Anthony calls his mom to pick them up. But it was raining really hard, and while going, Anthony's mother crashes and dies. Just before, his mother gave him a pendant that contained a yellow gem.

Anthony now blames and has hatred for his friend. He isolates himself from everyone, and this has a big effect on the group. 2 years later, and Anthony still can't let it go yet, so in an effort to set things right, they all go on a camping trip. At night, they are all around a campfire, and they start talking and having fun, all but Anthony, who doesn't want to talk to anyone. Then his friend says something about his mom, Anthony gets angry, they have an argument, the argument turns into a fight, and Anthony breaks his friend's guitar in a flash of rage. Anthony realizes what he has done and runs into the woods. They all go after him. Anthony stumbles upon a big door made of rocks with a little hole in the middle to insert something. Anthony's pendant starts glowing, and he places the pendant in the hole that opens the door.

there is nothing but pich dark inside. In desperation, Anthony crosses the door without hesitation and keeps walking. It seems like it never ends until he sees stars all around him. All of different colors. He sees a light on the other side and starts running towards it. And gets to the light…

And thats all you are getting. Now that I am writing this, I realize it is very cringy oh god. This looks so much better in my head. I need to rework this a lot. Oh god this is so horrible. Well this might seem cringy because this is just surface level and i haven't talked about a lot of important things about characters and their personalities. I'll expand more of the story another time. I still need to talk about the cat girl, and there is a whole other world. It's a lot, it really is. This would be like the start of the story, and it is the only thing that I have completely planned out in my head.

[birdie123au]

eros

eros - a love that leads to the desire for sensual and passionate affection

As the years continue to fly away, you find yourself in a unique predicament with the prince of Salamis. Through love, heartache, and great loss, you must navigate your position in a world that was not made for you, even if that means breaking a tradition or two.

tw: mentions of sexual harassment

part three of five

prev // next

materlist

The young actress screamed out in horror, crimson color fluid leaking from her shirt. She laid on top of the two young boys playing the role of her sons. The small children too were covered in the same deep red. The actor at the center of it all stood tall with large, bulging muscles, a noticeable beard, and red painted hands. Heracles. He had been driven mad by the gods, Hera to be specific, as stated by the Chorus at the beginning of the scene. You along with the rest of the audience gasped in horror at the sight in front of you. Clutching the jug of wine, you found it hard to tear your eyes from the scene. As soon as Heracles had gained clarity for what sins he had committed, your heart felt heavy as you heard the screams of terror rip from his throat. It all felt so real, too real for your liking. 

The King had hired some of the best actors in the land to perform the play of Heracles, and they truly did not disappoint. As you made your way through the crowd offering various guests wine, you were often greeted with harsh shushes by insulting rich men who were annoyed simply by your presence. Over the past couple of years you had learned not to mind such cruel gestures as it was simply in the nature of your job as a wine pourer. You once frail and hesitant demeanor when serving guests had been washed away as you grew from adolescence to young adulthood. You stood with a strong, certain arm ready to impress the guests of your king. You took your job with pride, afterall, you were sure it would be the highest role you were ever to amount to in the palace. 

There was still about an hour left until the moon reached its highest point in the sky in which your shift would be over.

You made your way out of the small amphitheater to rejoin a group of guests waiting outside. The guests consisted of mostly older women who did not wish to waste their precious time engaging in the arts but rather delectable gossip about those within their communities. As you offered the wine to each woman, you tried to overhear exactly what they were saying: births, deaths, hook ups, and flings all taking place at each one of their residences. You were used to hearing such gossip, as although you didn't wish to admit, you sometimes found yourself being nosy on the personal lives of your fellow staff. You sighed heavily as you continued to make your rounds across the floor. A particular group of girls caught your attention as you had seen them many times before. They were of the opinion that servant girls were nothing but dirt and were to be treated as such. You had attempted to obstruct your view from those girls as you passed them by, but like many times in the past one of them hollered out to you to come fill their glasses. 

“Well isn’t it so nice to see you again, huh?” the taller one of the bunch remarked as her friends giggled beside her. 

You wore a faint smile in hopes that she would not find a reason to be offended by your sort-of response. You knew she wasn’t really asking a genuine question; women like this enjoyed the thrill of thinking they were superior to at least someone in a society that did not truly value their contributions. Nevertheless you poured the wine as a good practitioner of xenia would. 

“You know,” one of the women began, “those rags you parade yourself in are truly dreadful.”

“I know right!” another replied, “I cannot believe the good king would allow us to view his servants in such a state.”

You were used to this sort of abuse, but at this point their unprovoked remarks were beginning to anger you. Why could they never just leave you alone? As you went to step away, you found yourself suddenly losing your footing. By either coincidence or accident, your leg had caught along one of the gossiping women, and suddenly you found yourself making contact with the floor; you jug of wine barely being spared a shattering death as you managed to land in a position in which your body softened the blow of the fall. With a red, flustered face you turned your head back over to the group. Laughing. They were laughing at you. 

As one of the women bent down to mock you one more, you heard a familiar voice interrupt her actions. 

“What seems to be the problem here ladies?” the man asked. You practically laughed as you noticed the look on all of the women’s faces in the group morph into that of horror. Although they had been accused of nothing, they wore the countenance of a cowardly criminal caught during their crime. One woman audibly gasped as another threw her hands over her face as a shield. The tallest woman took it upon herself to respond to their unsuspected audience member.

“I’m so sorry, my prince!” she exclaimed, “There is no problem at all. We were simply… discussing the fashion choices of the serving girl.”

“Well,” he began, speaking in a tone not angry, yet serious, “I do hope you’ll redirect this attention of yours to the play, not the ‘fashion choices’ of my staff.”

You let out a small sigh of relief as you made eye contact with this ‘savior’ of yours. His hair that was once a bright orange had darkened slightly with the passing years. What was once a build of an athletic teenage boy had developed into a strong, muscular body of a man. His eyes which were a soft blue appeared black as the night sky in the lighting of the amphitheater. But what never changed despite age nor circumstance was the mischievous smirk he wore across his face whenever he smiled at you. 

“Your majesty.” you said with a slight bow, smiling back to him with the same amount of enthusiasm. After standing and smiling for a few moments, the two of you seemed to realize how ridiculous you must look to the group of women Ajax had just scolded. So with an awkward laugh, the man scratched the back of his head before turning away and hastily making his way up the stairs. You bit back a smile at his antics. 

And so the night continued. The two of you stealing glances and smiles as you paraded around serving wine while he entertained and drank. At midnight you would be relieved from your work and he would be sufficiently intoxicated. Most nights like these would end with the two of you meeting by the beach, you holding him in your arms and him lamenting to you about the circumstances in which you exist. 

Ever since your seventeenth birthday almost two years ago, you noticed a change in Ajax. The once heartbroken teenager who broke sticks and played dirty began to take his role as both a prince and warrior far more seriously. Each day he would spend hours training, attending his study lectures, and drinking with his fellow politicians and leaders. But most importantly, his attitude towards you began to shift. What was once a genuine friendship of the closest kind began to grow more deep, passionate, and daresay lustful.

At first you denied any of Ajax’s advances. Afterall, the wounds of his months-long affair with Domitia were still too fresh for you to discredit. You did not want to be the girl Ajax went to just because he could not have her. You also felt guilty. Guilty that you had behaved in a way that could disgrace yourself, your father, and your head mistress. You were careless and had let your jealousy consume parts of you.

You also understood Ajax was partially to blame. Harboring jealousy between Domitia and you. Calling you names and petty insults. It took some time, but you eventually began to cave into his desires. Your desires.

He began to send you small tokens of appreciation: food, flowers, rings. But what really made your heart melt was the poetry he would send to you. Written and signed Your Ajax. In them were words of passion, desire, and appreciation. The way he would speak about the light in your eyes, or the gentle yet stern power of your words softened your heart. Each letter that would appear discreetly at your door would leave you prancing around like a young schoolgirl around your father’s home. You had been in love with him for many years, but it finally started to feel like he was capable of loving you back.

As you walked home that night following both your shift as a wine server and your meeting with Ajax, you took in the familiar scent of sea salt. Clutching in your hands was no longer a jug of red liquid, but rather a fresh new poem wrapped around a flower that Ajax had just handed you himself. He was more intoxicated than usual tonight, which also meant he was more careless, more physical in public, more open with his feelings for you.

Being around him in that state was exhilarating. You took in a deep breath of the flower he had given you as you quietly opened the door of your father’s home. The once small shack had only felt smaller as the years had gone by.

“Y/n?” you perked up at the voice of a frail, old sounding man, “My sweet child, have you finally come home to me?”

Stepping into the house further your eyes landed on a small bed in the corner of the room. There lay your father. Eyes shut tight and a sturdy chair with wheels by his side. Over the past several years, your wise father’s health had steadily deteriorated. Despite him barely being 37 his health conditions made him appear even decades older than age 70. He no longer was able to walk about the great halls of the palace, but instead had to be wheeled around in his chair by an apprentice scribe named Dimitri. His skin was as fragile as a leaf and he often found himself plagued by headaches. Many nights you found yourself weeping by his bed; you were heartbroken you could do nothing to relieve his pain.

Despite all of this hardship, your father never gave up his wisdom. What was once a weekly affair of gathering by the bonfire with many of the servants turned into a monthly one. He would still prepare an insightful story of the gods filled with important lessons on humility and decent morals. Your father was determined to keep the morale of the servants, and palace by extension, as high as possible. Afterall, he would explain, that is what I was put on the earth by the gods to do.

“Yes, father,” you responded, “it's me, your daughter.”

“Ah,” he said, “and Rosaria, is she with you as well?”

“No, father,” you said, “Rosaria no longer stays with us, remember? She lives amongst her fellow maidens at the temple of Athena.”

“Oh,” he replied, “Oh yes, I remember. She left us quite a few months ago. Y/n, my child, has she written?”

“I read her most recent one aloud only a few nights ago,” you softly said as you felt small tears begin to form in your eyes, “Remember…father.”

You couldn’t help but feel emotional at the sight of your father’s worsening memory. He would go through phases where he was incapable of remembering what he ate for breakfast, followed by shorter, more intense phases where he seemed to remember everything of his life spanning back to his infancy. The doctor who visited your father, per the request of his old friend the king, said he had never seen anything like it with patients who struggled with memory loss.

You lay down at the side of your father’s bed as you used to do for you as a child. You no longer found yourself comfortable in the bed you and Rosaria used to share, so instead you spent most of your nights alongside your father on the dark, cold floor. 

You wished to protect him as he always did for you. 

–––––––––

It had been several nights since King Telamon had hosted the performance of Heracles. The winds that were typically docile and calm at this time of year were unusually fierce. You sat with your back against the castle and your head facing the ocean. You closed your eyes to savor how your hair felt being blown by the cool, fresh air. Your blissful silence was interrupted by the sound of someone sitting down next to you; you hardly had to turn your face to know who it was.

“The stars look beautiful tonight,” he said, “They remind me of the broken glass I found earlier while training, scattered across the sand. Broken yet unbound. Separate yet still together.”

“They do,” you responded with a small laugh, “I didn’t think you were one for sounding so philosophical in casual conversations.”

“You know me well,” he said before shifting his arm so it now fell around you, “You always have.”

You had expected him to laugh along with you, or at least smile at your observations. Yet instead his eyes were darkened and he stared at the sea with a serious, unwavering expression.

“A flower for your thoughts?” you said, trying to sound as cheerful as you could manage, “You seem troubled, Ajax, is something the matter?”

“My father received word from Princess Arete’s father,” your chest tightened, “It seems our marriage is to go through. My father wants her to be my bride.”

Ajax was no fool, and neither were you. As the future king of Salamis, it was his duty to one day marry a princess with great wealth and connections to strengthen the empire and give him heirs. During your earlier years when he was with Domitia this very notion would make you feel physically ill and keep you up at night. It’s not right! You would think, How could he do this to me! It wasn’t until years had passed and your maturity raised that you realized this was an inevitable step in his life. He could not stay your Ajax forever and you were in no position to require him to do so. As painful as the thought was and still may be, you become at peace with it. Especially after you yourself had become betrothed. 

Linos was a bastard serving boy who worked in the same palace that belonged to Princess Arete. When your headmistress had told you of her work you screamed out loud. You hadn’t thought it to be possible that a serving girl such as yourself would ever be married, not even to your own kind. But once you learned of the deal she had struck up with Linos’s serving maid to trade places with her you began to understand before becoming flabbergasted all over again when she told you she actually had your father’s blessing.

When you first told Ajax he refused eye contact with you for days. When he finally spoke to you again he said as though he felt the same heartbreak of Domitia all over again, though hundreds of times stronger. You watched painstakingly as you saw that heartbreak turn into anger to only turn into heartbreak once more as he learned of his father’s plan to betrothe him to the Princess Arete. 

This news was weeks old, and although you had long made your peace with it you were not sure if Ajax could say the same. So instead of responding to his words you instead placed your head on his shoulder, thinking that your actions could provide more comfort than words.

“I’ve been preparing to take the Salamis throne all my life,” he began, “But the older I get the less prepared I feel. Hell, I’m sure a 15 year old me could do a better job than I could now.”

He chuckled at his statement; “But gods, I really thought it was what I wanted. The training, the education, the responsibilities, the politics.” He then rested his own head on yours, “I know there are so many young men and boys out there who would trade places with me in a heartbeat. But, gods I don’t know, the burden is getting a little heavier than I can handle.”

You then raised your head off his shoulder and turned to face his eyes, waiting for him to continue; “I mean being the king. King Ajax. I can hardly believe it!” he said, “But you know what I realized? Every day that passes gets us closer to a world to where that's a reality. A world where my father… and everyone else I love is gone.”

“The gods can be cruel,” you said, reaching one of your hands up to stroke his face, “But fathers, well– they can't live forever. We just have to learn how to make peace with the consequences of that.”

He leaned in and pressed his forehead against your own; “You’ll make a good king,” you told him, “It’s what you were born to do. Besides, you’ll have your brothers, sisters, Princess Arete, your children, and your millions of servants at your side.”

“Yes, I’ll have a random rich princess who I currently know nothing about at my side,” he joked.

“You say that like you have a choice,” you smiled back despite how painful the notion truly was, “Besides, what are you going to do? Run away and marry me instead?”

Your tone of voice and smile clearly indicated you were joking, but Ajax’s already solemn face only grew more stern; “You would be surprised…” he said.

“Oh now stop it you!” you laughed, playfully slapping his shoulder, “Now– stop talking. Let's go for a swim.”

Perhaps the water would keep his mind off things. Ajax let out an exasperated sigh as he reluctantly chased you into the water. You tried your best to smile in the most authentic way possible as you splashed water at him and swam in the cold, refreshing waters until the later hours of the morning. 

–––––––––

“You! Girl, over here!” you spun your head around to see the source of the sound. Such brash words to call your attention no longer bothered you. After all, years of dealing with drunken old men taught you that basic respect and decency faded as a person sunk deeper into their cups.

With a jug of wine in one hand and a smile on your face, you made your way to where the man had been yelling from. Today was a great day of celebration as it was the Prince Teucer’s 12th birthday. It was strange to think that Ajax’s youngest brother was now the age the two of you were when you first met. You had only ever seen the young prince in passing, as Ajax had never formally introduced the two of you. Or to any of his siblings for that matter. 

In the young prince’s honor, King Telamon hosted a great festival with games, food, shows, and drinks. In the center of the great courtyard was a pitched tent where the royal family sat. It was rare to see the queen and the princess in such a public display, but due to the nature of the day you thought you understood. The queen and king sat beside each other, faces bare with no conversation. Princess Tonia, on the other hand, sat beside her mother looking generally uninterested in the festivities. The three princes were nowhere to be seen, you noted, as they were likely running around all the various tents and activity centers. 

You finally approached the man who had been calling for you. He was not nearly as old as you thought him to be. He looked around your age, maybe slightly older, he had big blue eyes and shining blonde hair. If it wasn’t for the harshness of his voice, perhaps you would have found him beautiful. The group of men he stood with were similar aged athletes, perhaps companions of Ajax, who were gathered around a game of toss. 

“Well don’t just stand there and look stupid,” he said, “Come pour me some wine, won’t you?”

It was clear to you that the young man was very intoxicated as evidenced by his slurred speech and pink tinted cheeks. You held your tongue and poured his wine.

“Oh don’t be so harsh,” another, slightly taller blonde man said, “The girl probably doesn’t know better.”

Towards the right side of your peripheral vision you noticed another group approaching. Another five athletic young men walked straight towards where you stood. At the center of it all was the crowned Prince Ajax, dressed in slightly more formal attire than usual. The men who you stood by all bowed their heads to the prince as he approached, but after this usual sign of respect they returned to their business like it was nothing. So these were his friends. 

“Anyways, like I said, I finally told her the two of us were done…” one of Ajax’s friends resumed the story you assumed he had been telling before you were called over. You then went one-by-one filling the cups of any man who held it out to you, tuning out much of the gossip during the process.

As you naturally completed the circle, you found yourself standing next to the very drunk blonde man who seemed rather angered by your presence. 

“What is she still doing here?” he asked his friends, though this time he seemed more confused than annoyed. “She’s kinda pretty, maybe we should keep her around,” another one of his friends responded.

“Is she married?” the taller blonde asked his friends of course, rather than you yourself.

“I don’t see any jewelry from her betrothed.” another speculated.  

“Wait, I didn’t know servants could be married…” a brown haired boy spectated. 

You made brief eye contact with Ajax: a silent plea for him to dismiss you from the conversation. A wise sailor flees the water before the storm. But instead of seeing his classic smirk or any sort of faux joy on his face, you met his cold, dark eyes. He was clearly annoyed. 

“Well, are you?” one of them finally asked.

“Betrothed yes,” you said, “Married no, and I don’t believe I will be for some time.”

“Hah!” the drunk blonde laughed, “Well if you ever want to experience a good time. Just stop by the gymnasium and find out.”

You cringed at his lackluster attempts to flaunt his sexuality, so you instead flashed him a strained smile. You hoped ducking your head down and walking away would deescalate the situation that you seemed to not realize was escalating in the first place. 

Slowly stepping away, you began to turn your feet until you were stopped by a force. The taller blonde man, who you thought seemed the most polite of them all, quickly crushed those expectations as he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close. 

“Why don’t we just show her now?” he turned himself and, by proxy, you to face the rest of his friends, “Come one boys, it's not like she married or anyth–”

You practically fell down to your knees upon impact. One moment you were held hostage by a man twice your size and the next that very man lay on the floor. It wasn’t until one of the other men had the mercy of helping you to your feet did you realize the horror of the scene. The tall, blonde man whose name you never knew lay flat on his back with the crown prince on top of him, beating him. You couldn’t help but cover your mouth in horror as you watched Ajax, the boy who you used to watch play ball, break cheap spheres, write poetry and songs was now defending your honor with his fists. The look of anger upon his face was unlike what you had seen before, even years prior at your fight with Domitia. This anger was not soiled by childlike naivete or personal insecurities; it was pure, genuine rage. 

Several servants and guards had gathered around, and the friend of Ajax who once held you up was replaced by two young servant girls. The twins clutched at your arms as though the smallest gust of wind would have blown you off your feet. I’m not entirely sure they are wrong, you thought. 

It took three fully grown guards to lift the prince off of the man who had harassed you. Time seemed to slow as the crowd of entertained and horrified spectators continued to grow. You practically passed out again when you saw King Telamon, strong and angry, shoving his way through the crowd to assess the situation. His younger son, Prince Anton, beat him to it as he was the first non-guard to physically hold Ajax back. Anton’s face was full of concern. You thought it would be in regards to the potential political consequences to his reputation, but it wasn’t until Anton’s worried glances began to center to you did you realize what was really going on.

Prince Ajax, first born son of Telamon the First, heir to the Salamis throne had just beaten a son of a powerful family from a nearby kingdom for a serving girl. Some may say Ajax was simply defending the honor and protecting his staff, but most knew that his reaction was very unusual. For the past six years you thought to have hidden your relationship with Ajax well, hell, your own father was unaware that your affair was still continuing, but judging by Anton’s attitude the two of you may not have hidden it as well as you thought. You never felt the need to ask if Ajax had ever spoken about you to his family, as you assumed the answer would be no, but now you thought you should have.

By the time Telamon had made it to his son, arms aggressively holding onto his son’s shoulders, did a majority of the spectators shift their gaze to you. The men raised their eyebrows in suspicion, disgust, or both, as the woman began to whisper to each other as they attempted to piece together all that had transpired. Although you could not hear what the king was saying, after a brief moment of yelling at his son, the two ginger men slowly turned their heads to you. Telamon, angered but not enraged, and Ajax, eyes darkened by sadness. 

The two twin girls who had been supporting you suddenly let go of your arms. It wasn’t until you were being harshly dragged away by the headmistress did you begin to cry. Harassed, heckled, and humiliated. You wished to run to Ajax’s side knowing that he would comfort you without questions, and then the realization that that was not possible only made you cry more. 

“Oh i’ll give you something to cry about, Y/n” the headmistress said, “It seems your disobedience is ever unwavering.”

Once the two of you had stopped at the front of the steps leading to the ocean, quite a ways walk from the festival, did she finally sit the two of you down on the nearby rocks. She immediately smacked you in the face.

“You’re a foolish girl,” she said, comforting the part of the place she had just slapped with her hand, “You grew up with even your fellow servants whispering ‘bastard’ behind your back as you walked through the halls. Do you now want to be called ‘whore’ as well?”

“No,” you said, defiantly wiping away your dried tears with the corner of your sleeve, “No, Headmistress Xanthe, I do not.”

“I only wish to protect you,” she said, “You already have a dark cloud of rumor that hangs over your shoulders, and you should try your hardest not to strengthen it. I’m certain Linos would not wish to wed you if he found your honor more damaged than it already is.”

“Headmistress Xanthe! Y/n! Come quick!” you heard a frantic voice emerging from the bottom of the stairs. 

“Dimitri?” the headmistress replied, “What troubles you, boy?”

“It’s the old priest!” he screamed, “Something is very wrong!”

You, the headmistress, and Dimitri raced down the hill. You prayed to every god, both big and small, good or bad that your father would be spared. 

–––––––––

Your father’s beachside cabin smelt of sea water and death. The windows were covered by draped rags that blew open with each passing gust of wind. Your father laid flat on the ground, rather than his bed. He wore an old robe of his, one that belonged to him during his days as a priest. A robe that he never removed from his closet under any occasion. Your heart began to race.

Running to his side, you noticed Dimitri had set a towel over his face, likely to shield him from the small waves of sunlight that shone through each time the wind blew. You grasped his hand; it was cold. The only sign of life was his chest that rose far slower than it should.

“Send for a doctor!” the headmistress cried, “And alert the king!”

Dimitri wasted no time and ran out of the cabin once more. 

“Father?” you whispered, “It’s Y/n. Can you hear me?”

As gently as possible, you lifted the rag from where it lay over his face. Slowly and tensely, the man opened his eyes with a slight turn of his head. 

“My daughter?” he spoke slowly with a wheeze, “Child, should you–should you not be doing… your chores?”

“Oh, father” you said, “What has happened? Will you be alright?”

“Y/n,” he said, “Listen to me…and listen n-now. I will not walk much longer amongst the physical world. The gods…your mother, they call me.”

You felt physically ill; “No, father. Father you cannot know that for sure. A doctor is coming– he will help you father. Father?” 

Your voice was frantic. You placed your hand on top of his forehead, but he seemed to pay no mind.

“Y/n, I wish to tell you a story,” he said as he smiled to the best of his abilities, “There was once a young boy, from a small village outside of Athens. He was the son of a shepherd and a weaver, older brother to two young boys. But the gods did not smile down upon him, as by the time he had grown into a teenager all but his father had died. But the boy never lost his faith, no- no he did not, he left his father in search of becoming a scholar. A priest. He met many allies among the way, a blacksmith, a king, and even a goddess herself. No matter how sorrowful his life had been, he never stopped learning, writing, and telling stories. No matter who whispered what behind his back. It did not matter. Oh my sweet Y/n, you must not let the opinions of mere mortals and their mortal constraints stop you from being who you are.”

He suddenly began to squeeze your hand back, “Your entire childhood I spent being afraid. Afraid of what the gods may do to you what they did to me. What they do to mortals when they love too passionately, when they love outside what is conventional. But my child, I did so with your mother, and my life was most fulfilled–” he began to tear up, “Most fulfilled as my love for her led to my greatest gift of all.”

The clarity of which he spoke to tell the story amazed you, but you shook these feelings of awe away instantaneously. You leaned in closer to your father, determined not to weep but instead to stand as a beacon of comfort and strength. His breath began to fade even faster than before; his hand grew limp in yours.

“You…” he wheezed, “She gave me you.”

“Father,” you said, “Father I’m right here. Please don’t…”

“She calls out for me,” he interrupted, eyes staring straight at the ceiling with his arm as extended upwards as his frail body would allow, “My love, I’m here.”

Just like that, he was gone.

–––––––––

You spent the immediate several days following the death of your father locked away in the servants quarters, weeping. By the time the doctor had arrived, he, the headmistress, Dimitri, and several panicked servants saw you weeping into his chest. His limp, cold chest. The headmistress saw it best to stay in the servant quarters over the next several days, as she thought even bad company was better than no company.

On the fourth day Dimitri had the mercy to write Rosaria and inform her of you and your fathers condition. The very next sunrise she was there at your side, giving her own shoulder for you to cry. On the seventh day was when the headmistress dragged you out of the quarters. It was the day of your father’s burial. You and Rosaria held onto each other as the morticians lowered him into the ground. Because of his status as priest for the servants and friends of the king, many were in attendance at his funeral. Ajax stood at the very back of the crowd alongside his family. You caught several glimpses of him, dressed in black with a countenance more melancholy than before. 

On the ninth day you were finally allowed back into your father’s cabin where you wept over the remainders of his scrolls and books. That is, until you were hit by a fit of anger; how could he have abandoned you? How could he have chosen the afterlife, your mother, over you? In this fit you ripped all the make-shift curtains off the windows and rearranged all of the furniture. Only hours later when you finally realized how foolish you were acting did you sit down by all of his belongings and begin to weep once more.

On the eleventh day was when you finally met up with Ajax. At the beach. During the dead of night.

You sat sluggishly on the sand, eyes swollen from tears, and heart heavy from sorrow. 

“Y/n?” he said as he approached you, deciding not to sit next to you without warning. As soon as he sat down and saw your face he immediately pulled you into an embrace. Even with the moon as the only source of light, the grief in your facial expression was difficult to miss. 

“I feel as though I’ve been cursed by the stars,” you said, “My father is dead. I won’t ever hear another story from him again.”

Ajax said nothing, but instead pulled you tighter against his body to say I know, and I’m here for you, and so you continued to speak; “I always knew this day would come, but I truly thought that him being only 37 would give us more time. Why do the gods kill those who have already suffered so young?” 

“I’m so sorry,” Ajax finally said, “If I could trade his place, bring him to you, and see you smile I would in a heartbeat.” 

He took a deep breathe before grabbing a hold of your shoulders, and pushing you back so you now made eye contact; “And I’m sorry for what I am about to tell you.”

“What do you mean?” you said, mind racing. No, you thought, surely he is not here to tell you he is to be married this instant. Or maybe that you would be married off instead.

“Y/n” he said, “There's going to be war. Helen of Troy has been kidnapped by a young man named Paris. Menelaus has reminded us of our oaths we swore. Oaths to protect her from any other suitors.”

“I don’t understand,” you said, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” he replied, “I will go fight this war.” 

You couldn’t help but begin to weep. After eleven days of doing so non-stop, it felt like second nature to you.

“Y/n,” he said as he tried to wipe the tears from your eyes to which you dodged his hands, “I'll go with Menelaus and we're gonna bring Helen home. I’ll bring the kingdom honor and gold when I return. Return to you.”

“Ajax please–” you closed your eyes and raised a hand to massage your temple.

“–Y/n, I need to ask you something important,” he said, using a hand to move your head to face him, “Do you love me?”

That's what was so important?

“Ajax you're being ridiculous,” you said, “Of course I love you.”

He looked you dead in the eyes; “Then we should get married.”

“What?” you whispered, “No.”

“What?!” he said, “But you just said? Y/n I love you– we love each other. What else are we to do?”

“Are you serious?” you said, “My father died not even two weeks ago. I am betrothed– and so are you! You are a prince, I am a serving girl!”

“Yes and I am leaving for war!” he said in a fit of frustration, “Neither of us are to be married to our betrothed for quite some time, especially now that I’m leaving. Besides, you don’t have to marry Linos. Your father is dead, the headmistress doesn't have the authority to force you. Y/n, what if we never see eachother again?”

As he continued speaking his frantic, angry words began to die down to desperate whispers.

“Ajax I don’t think you understand what you're saying. To marry me is to go against the wishes of your father, your people, your country.” You stand up from where you comfortably sat in the sand and began walking towards your cabin, “You should go to sleep, take some more time to think about your suggestion.”

Ajax did not relent. He ran after you and grabbed your arm. You spun towards where his face was, angry at him for his brashness, but instead he softly grabbed the lower part of your jaw towards him and kissed you.

“Y/n, sleeping is not going to change the way I feel about you,” he said, “Tonight, we ride to a temple and say our vows. No one can stop us because no one will know.”

Your heart began to soften, and the weight from grief you felt on your chest began to lift; “We don’t even have a priest,” is all you could say.

“Y/n,” he laughed, “Do you seriously think we didn’t think this through?”

“We?” you said, questioning his odd choice of pronoun.

Instead of responding, he flashed you his signature devilish smirk and held out his hand. Kicking up sand and fighting against the wind, the two of you made your way around the back of the island to where the horse stable was kept. 

–––––––––

The sacrifice, proteleia, was done as a formality rather than an actual practice between you and Ajax. Rosaria’s fellow maidens brought before him a lamb which he slew as they recited prayers to the lady Artemis. This sacrifice was done in order to assure the favor of the gods, who surely would not be smiling down on this wedding seeing as it went against many Greek customs. Typically weddings lasted multiple days and were all about the bride. The majority of events taking place before the ceremony would be hosted by the bride’s father and after by the husband. But alas, you were a runaway bride with no father. So relying on the proteleia it was.

You were surprised Rosaria had gone along with this stunt. Ajax and you fled from the palace around two hours after midnight with no other company besides two horses, Dimitri, and a guard. As spontaneous as the event felt you couldn’t help but realize how meticulously planned it truly was. How you snuck past the main entrance right when the guards switched their shifts. How you rode down a trail that had only been mapped out days prior. How Rosaria was waiting for you at the front of her temple, identity covered by a long coat across her body, alongside half a dozen priestesses.

You and the prince wore similar coverings for protection, and it wasn’t until you were safely inside the main room with the statue of Athena that you could finally take them off. But you had to work quickly. In order to not raise suspicion, the two of you had to take a ceremony that would typically last hours and cram it into only two. After Ajax had finished sacrificing the lamb, two of Rosaria’s priestesses ushered you away to go get dressed. 

Because you had no formal time to prepare, you did not wear a traditional wedding dress. Instead, you wore a priestesses robe with a hand-me-down veil gifted to you by a priestesses's married sister. The white veil felt odd over your face. You understood its purpose of being removed in the wedding ceremony, a symbolic shift between ownership from father to husband, but now you just felt silly and slightly grossed out by the notion. The maidens continued their dressing as they adorned your arms with gold bracelets and semi-precious gemstones. The one that truly caught your eye, however, was a small golden necklace with an even smaller piece of aquamarine at the center.

“It’s from the Lord Prince’s late grandmother,” one of the younger priestesses said, “He spoke of her great love for the sea.”

The temple was a beautiful marble with doric columns. There was a great statue of the lady Athena at the center towards the back with a vast fire pit at the center of the entire building. In front of that very fire was where Ajax stood, dressed in his finest robes, alongside the now royal priest Dimitri who was granted permission to perform wedding ceremonies. As you walked through the temple towards the fire, Rosaria holding your arm, you passed by each of the other priestesses. Each of whom whispered a prayer of love and fertility. When you finally stood directly in front of Ajax, you could only imagine your appearance with the veil.

“Please lift the bride’s now, my prince,” Dimitri requested, though his voice was rather timid than stern or ‘priestly’. He spoke nothing like your father.

With that, Ajax lifted the veil from your face, leaving you with a sigh of relief now that your vision was fully restored. You did not smile at him, instead you stood tall and with honor, just as your father would have wanted. For the next several minutes, Dimitri stumbled through various prayers and offerings to different gods and goddesses in his attempt to remain in tradition. Half way through this, he decided instead to speak some kind words of your fathers and their friendship. Perhaps to comfort his own feelings on the matter and leave him to believe that this is what they truly would want for the two of you. You knew this was not true, people married for status, not for love.

“The late priest of Hebe, Y/n’s father, and beloved serving man of King Telamon was a just sole with piety and morals,” he began, “He had great love for his child, his fellow servants, and his dear King Telamon. The two became friends in Athens during their teen years despite their difference of status, and bonded over their mutual respect for the gods, maintaining honor, and their country. We miss the late priest each day that passes.”

With the finishing of that speech you felt a tear begin to form in one of your eyes. It was Ajax who wiped it from your face with the sleeve of his robe, and so the ceremony continued. Dimitri ceased the official ceremony with a kiss, untraditional, yet in his eyes metaphorical. He saw it as a continuation of the veil ceremony. A solidifying action between two parties to bless a marriage. This kiss traditionally occurred for the first time between the couple later in the night, and in this case it was neither. 

The ceremony ended as quickly as it began. Ajax and you linking arms as you excited the temple wrapped in disguises. You rode off into the mysterious darkness of the night leaving behind you childhood and a six year relationship of secrets.

Long time no see. Here are the three remaining chapters, all at once. Sorry for ghosting everyone for several months, I lost motivation to complete this story after writing the first two pages from this chapter. Recently, after reading some of the sweetest comments on tumblr, I finally decided it was time for me to sit down and finish writing this story, one last story. As always, thank you for taking the time to read this, I truly appreciate it.

[talesfromasnarkylisa]

Lacey: Chapter 12

Lacy’s Diaries: August 16, 2023

Dear Diary,

I’m not really sure if I can take Archer J. at his word anymore.

It’s not that he’s deliberately dishonest or malicious. He’s still one of the sweetest guys (other than Otto) I’ve ever met. At least, better than most of the fixer boys from when I was young. I don’t really get too close with men otherwise. Save for Otto, who I met before he came out as trans.

But Archer does seem to have somewhat overinflated confidence. Not to mention, he’s kind of pushy.

Today, I texted him in the morning. I had a bit of time before I had to go work with the daycare children, so I wished him a happy birthday. I also politely asked if he knew any way to access the Writer’s Delight submission guidelines - since those got paywalled recently. I’m currently locked out of my private PayPal and have better things to spend my money on, so I haven’t really bothered with Medium membership perks.

This is how the conversation went afterwards:

Archer J (08/16/23, 8:14 AM): Yes. I write for it less now that I don’t have to worry too much about engagement.

Lacey Hannah (08/16/23, 8:17 AM): Got it. I finished my article draft for them and checked for grammar, which is great. Then I tried to double check the submission guidelines. Problem is, it’s paywalled. I am neither subscribed to Medium membership perks nor have access to any sort of friend link. They say there’s a nonmember version linked at the beginning, but it cuts off before I can access it. Is there anything I can do?

Archer J (08/16/23, 8:20 AM): I could ask one of the editors there for a friend link. I know people there well.

Archer’s answer…surprised me, to say the least. To be fair, he does appear to know the staff there. Some of the top results when searching for him show conversations between them and him. But they were rather wary around him because he was more into social justice issues than they were. 

Speaking of social justice, the Writer’s Delight editors aren’t too keen on that. They’re pretty neglectful when it comes to victim-blaming screeds being published - though granted, they do get a lot of articles to go over. From what I’ve learned of the top 3:

-Jonathan is a supposed centrist who dislikes fictional stories featuring anyone other than someone who looks like the protagonist of a traditional 50s sitcom prominently. He also takes the concept of “alpha males” a tad too seriously. In addition, he likes joking about dark skin tones unless you tell him to stop in front of him. At least he doesn’t have a weird fetish for Asians or something.

-Alfred is basically like Jonathan, but without the racial insensitivity towards real individuals.

-Vivian isn’t as bad as the other two. Her main problem lies in a lack of hesitance to promote sketchy financial schemes aligned with NFTs. Kind of akin to the Storytime people.

I questioned Archer on his insistence.

Lacey Hannah (08/16/23, 8:22 AM): You…sure about that? I thought you had beef or something.

Archer J (08/16/23, 8:23 AM): We did. It’s fine now.

Lacey Hannah (08/16/23, 8:25 AM): Oh. Alright. 

I had to go to work, so I couldn’t message him more. Needless to say, something felt very off.

After Work

Whew, those kids were exhausting to deal with. 

There was a 3 year old boy named Max who came to daycare for the first time today. The minimum age is supposed to be 4, but the daycare people are desperate so they now unofficially allow anyone potty trained to come as long as the parents pay full money. 

Max was not. He wet and soiled his pants the moment his parents left. I was the first to notice the awful stench, so I called senior counselor Chastity over. Turned out, he was still in diapers, despite the fact he’d be in junior kindergarten in September. While the other staff rushed to call home and clean up the mess, I had to break up a fight between two girls. Yes, two girls. Both ended up moderately bruised, with one bleeding from the arm.

Anyways, I really don’t think I’m going to trust Archer anymore. I’ll explain why.

I called Dina up today. She’s pretty good at giving advice on relationships, so I asked her hypothetically what she would do about a guy who took nearly a week to fulfill a simple promise which could have been completed overnight and continuously tries to push oneself into a potentially uncomfortable work environment which could pay off well in the long run. Her signal glitched out before the call could finish up, so she sent me a text.

Best D-Girl Ever (Wed, Aug 16, 5:22 PM): I would run from this dude as fast as I could. Either that, or humiliate him in front of everyone he knows for his stupidity. 

Lacy Hanna-Azarian (Wed, Aug 16, 5:23 PM): I see. Thanks.

Best D-Girl Ever (Wed, Aug 16, 5:24 PM): You’re not talking about Archer - right?

I told her I asked to help him out. If I told her directly, she’d go straight for his throat. It’s not like I was lying; I genuinely do believe that this guy could be a great friend.

After I stand my ground, of course.

(Wattpad version: https://www.wattpad.com/1496410132-lacey-chapter-12)