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notchesandbullets · 4 years ago

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Pure Affections Wrapped Up in a Dark Green Bow (Husband!Pro-Hero!Bakugou x Wife!Reader)

Art credit: @/gaysony on Instagram

Warnings: suggestive themes (there’s one steamy kiss and innuendoes sprinkled throughout), nudity (not sexual), fluff, cursing, injuries, hurt/comfort, soft!domestic!Bakugou and heartwarming present.

Synopsis: You had been married to Bakugou for a couple years now and you had a special present for him. But when he gets home, it’s clear that he hasn’t had the best day. You’re there, steady and strong for him to lean on for support and he does until he’s capable of standing on his own again. This is what love looks like.

Words: 6k

The door to your flat slammed closed, signaling that your husband was home, and you wiped your grimy hands on your dirt-streaked cargo pants. You grabbed something and jumped on the counter, shoving it in a cabinet before closing it. Double checking to make sure you couldn’t see it, you leaped down, quelling your excitement as you sped out of the kitchen.

But your rapid footsteps faltered when Bakugou came into sight, looking absolutely drained.

He dropped his duffle bag on the floor without a care and kicked off his shoes, never looking up once.

“Katsuki?”

Your soft voice brought him back down to reality and he sighed heavily, gripping the roots of his ash-blond hair in frustration. When he finally glanced up, his garnet eyes were laced with exhaustion.

But everything melted away the instant he saw you.

Engine oil smudged on your cheeks, Bakugou refrained from snorting at the sight of your muddied cargo pants and stained, white tank top. You sure were a sight for sore eyes even when tinkering with your support items commissioned for big-time heroes like him.

“Hi.” You giggled as he dumped the rest of his stuff to the ground, closing the distance in between you two in three large strides.

You frowned as you noticed a slight limp in his gait but you didn’t get a chance to question it. Bakugou didn’t waste any time, trapping you in his arms and crushing your form to his chest.

He grunted his hello, but his eyes were soft and his smile was fond as he drew back slightly. He might’ve grown since his hot-headed days in high school as you helped him express his emotions but that didn’t mean all his ticks went away.

You just held him as his head plopped on your shoulder, sensing where his distress and aggravation was stemming from.

“Bad day?” You asked sympathetically, looping your arms around his neck so that you could card your fingers through his spiky hair.

He snorted but his fingers tightened from where they were gripping your waist. “Like you wouldn’t fucking believe.”

It was awful. He had gotten called away on a mission only to find out that his people mixed up who he was going up against and had given him skewed intelligence. He would’ve fucked them up for a mistake like that if it wasn’t for that column that landed on his leg and trapped it. He was fortunate that Recovery Girl had made a special trip to see him or else he would still be in the hospital.

You smiled sympathetically at the bite in his tone and pressed a kiss to his temple in an effort to calm him. “You want to talk about it?”

Bakugou shook his head no. All that could come later, right now, he just wanted to to hold you in his arms. Because when he did, it was like all was right with the world.

You didn’t press the issue. Instead, after coaxing him to stand on his own two feet so that you weren’t dragging his weight around the complex, you led him to your shared bedroom.

“C’mon, bathtime.” You encouraged softly.

Bakugou didn’t fight you as you guided him into the simplistic yet modern bathroom and he lifted his arms up as you tapped his wrists to indicate what you wanted him to do so that you could take his shirt off.

You turned around so he could strip the rest of the way and started to run the bath. You left the lights off on purpose so that the harshness of it wouldn’t hurt his eyes. Instead, the window provided natural light.

Adding a couple bath salts and essential oils (even though he claimed he hated the way it smelled) to aid in his relaxation, you adjusted the temperature of the water to chanced a glance back at the man draped over you. Your brow furrowed and a frown pinched the edge of your mouth as he leaned against you more than usual. He was more hurt than he was letting on.

Slinging his heavy arm around your shoulder, you supported him and helped him into the tub. He had already undressed the rest of the way but your brow furrowed as he struggled to lift his left leg. Eventually, you were able to lower him without a problem and you grinned triumphantly at the feat accomplished but it went unnoticed by your husband.

Bakugou frowned tiredly when you didn’t follow him in.

“Come here.” He rasped, his voice heavy and laced with a burden he didn’t want to voice.

Your expression softened but you shook your head. You were so dirty from working in your workshop. If anything, you needed a shower. He could soak by himself and then come eat dinner when he was ready and up for it.

But Bakugou tugged on your hand, insisting.

“I don’t give a shit.” He growled lowly. “Get in here, dumbass.”

Shaking your head at his crude language, you squeaked when he yanked you towards him. Your breath caught in your throat as he was now an inch away from your face, his hot exhales mingling with your gasp of surprise.

“You’re not asking, are you?” You sighed dramatically but smiled to let him know that you were just kidding. “Alright, give me a second.”

As soon as you took your clothes off, you clambered in the bath with him, facing him because you didn’t trust him not to try anything in this state where you were both nude.

He wrinkled his nose, giving away his displeasure as you stayed an arm’s length away from him but you didn’t care and urged him to scoot forward so that you could start to clean him.

Bakugou hissed as your nails dragged against his scalp. “Taking a damn bath is fucking dirty.”

“The water gets so fucking disgusting.” He scowled, huffing scornfully when he saw how brown the water was turning already.

You shrugged, focusing on a patch of particularly rough sediment clinging to his chest.

Bakugou took this moment of peace in time to observe the way your brow furrowed in concentration, how your nose flared and your lips pursed.

You hardly ever let him watch you at work in the shop, giving him a shitty excuse that he distracted you or some shit.

Fucking lame.

You were a vision when you were working on things that you were passionate on. He could watch you for hours and never get tired. He actually had, on several occasions, had gotten in trouble with his PR team more than once because he skipped or forgotten about a press conference meant to boost his publicity.

Not that he really needed more. If anything, as a top ten hero, he needed less.

All he wanted was to lay in bed and fall asleep with you in his arms. Was it too much to ask for that of the world? To give him an uneventful night of peace where he wasn’t called away to work, to be able to wake up with you in the morning when the sun rose above the skyline and greet you with breakfast in bed instead of a scrawled note that told you how much he loved and missed you since he couldn’t stick around.

You never minded. You never complained about the hardships once.

You knew that when you agreed to marry him you knew exactly what you were signing up for. And you never regretted it.

Sure, the days were hard. You had work and friends to keep you more than occupied but at the end of the day, it boiled down to commitment and how much you loved him. That wasn’t to say that waiting was easy, not at all.

Because everyday you had to worry about whether or not he would make it home that night. Whether he was eating properly and getting enough rest. How every time you turned on the news you held your breath as you flicked through the channels, hoping and praying that your husband wouldn’t be on the front of those stories that broadcasted the death of a hero for the whole nation to see.

But he was worth it. He was worth your unconditional love for him and every single moment of waiting. You would always wait for him because there was no one else you’d rather be with.

Bakugou almost fell asleep in the tub as you bathed him without being prompted. Normally, he's have some kind of irritation flashing through him as he was forced to endure your loving touch that he absolutely did not need. Or treasure.

Or was the only thing he was able to think of when you tended to him with the utmost care.

Fuck.

He had learned fairly early on in your marriage that being vulnerable didn't not constitute the same as being weak in his definition. But it got easier as time passed and he saw that you would be the last person on earth to judge him or think less of him because of his limitations.

It had taken a while but eventually you broke down those high walls of his, embracing him in the midst of the maze he had built up around his heart to protect himself and kissed the top of his head as he leaned down.

You got him. All of him.

There was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be than by your side.

Bakugou’s head lolled back against the backsplash as your nails scratched against his scalp.

He exhaled deeply. “Fuck, that feels good.”

You fought back a cheeky smile. You knew him well and all of his weak spots.

Bakugou’s eyes fluttered closed as you continued to clean him. Usually, he would insist you turn around and relax so that he could take care of you but all the energy was sapped out of him. He was lucky he had someone like you to sit here with him after a shitty day, not ask any questions, but just simply be with him.

You squeaked in surprise when he suddenly brought you in for a hug and you blushed a rosy red when he nuzzled unabashedly into the valley of your breasts.

“Katsuki!!” You exclaimed in shock, your fingers winding in his hair when he didn’t let you go. Your eyes shot open when he tugged you into his lap. He was never this forward and he usually waited a good couple hours to initiate any kind of physical contact after a rough day at work.

Today must have been particularly bad.

“Thank you.” Bakugou grunted, the voiced appreciation coming out muffled from where he was attached to your chest.

Gaze softening, understanding filled your eyes and you gently kissed the top of his head. “You’re welcome.”

Discreetly, you grabbed the soap to finish his bath, sudsing yourself in the process. Bakugou didn’t complain once as the water turned dark with dirt, even though he was barking about it earlier, simply basking in your presence and breathing you in while you took care of him.

He toweled off first, per your insistence since you still needed to wash your hair.

As soon as you dried off, you gestured for him to hand you the antibiotic so that you could get to work on those cuts of his. He protested the entire time.

“This doesn’t even hurt, why do you have to put a fucking—”

Bakugou broke off with a hiss of pain as you pressed down slightly harder than you needed to in order to emphsize your point.

“Katsuki…” You warned, your eyes blatantly telling him not to fight you on this or else he’d regret it. He got it rather quickly.

“Yeah, yeah,” He mumbled, averting his eyes. “Fine. Do your fucking shit or whatever.”

You weren't thrown off by the indifferent tone in his voice. He needed to know that you weren’t going anywhere.

He always got agitated anytime he got hurt. It was only natural for someone who grew up thinking they had to be strong all the time.

Gently pressing down on his thigh, you paid special attention to when he winced.

“It’s just bruised.” You threw him a pointed glance, knowing what he was going to deny. “Recovery Girl came by?”

“Yeah.” Bakugou hissed under his breath. “Shitty nerd called her before I could say a damn word.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Well thank goodness for that because everybody knows you would screw that up.”

“Oi.” He growled at your snark. “Not fucking funny.”

You grinned. “Wayyyy funny.”

Your smile faded as you continued to patch him up, inspecting him thoroughly to make sure you hadn’t missed anything. He had a tendency to hide how bad his injuries were and although you could understand why, you didn’t appreciate the times he was literally knocking on death’s door and would die if he didn’t receive medical attention.

Those times, you weren’t all that forgiving.

Gesturing to his leg that he had been favoring since he came home, you arched an eyebrow in silent questioning.

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “It’s fine.”

You crossed your arms over your chest but didn’t push it. He could still walk on it so it was probably fine. His pride was probably what was hurt more. Either that or the mission had gone bad and he had been too late.

Swallowing harshly, you knew not to cross that line.

As the two of you exited the bathroom, you left behind the tense atmosphere and relaxed as you stepped back into the living area, making your way to the kitchen with great difficulty as Bakugou peppered kisses to your neck in a wordless thanks for helping him.

And the instant you arrived in the kitchen, you sprang away from him.

“Surprise!!” You shouted excitedly, waving your hands at the simple meal set up at the table.

There was a single cinnamon and spice candle that sat in the center of the white tablecloth. He never was one for extravagance but you put in a little extra effort today.

At his silence, your arms dropped and you played with your fingers nervously, thinking that he didn’t like it. Or maybe that he found it annoying and just wanted to be left alone and now he would have to eat dinner with you.

You started to ramble as you began to panic. “I-I thought we could do something nice, since it’s your birthday, and I know since the pandemic, things have been really hard on you guys so I thought it would be nice to relax and—”

You cut off with a squeak as he swept you up into his arms and off your feet, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Cheeks flushing bright red, your stammering came to a halt as he let out a shaky exhale against your heated skin.

“Thanks.”

It came out quieter than his usual volume, taking you by surprise, but you still heard it nonetheless.

You didn’t tease him. Maybe later when he could handle it, but not now.

Stroking his hair comfortingly, you grounded him in reality before guiding him to sit at the table. He had tried to hide how happy he was from you but he couldn’t. Not one bit.

You knew him too well.

Letting him rest his feet, knowing he must’ve been standing and running around all day to correct mistakes, defeat villains and save people.

You moved to go sit down on the opposite side of the table like you normally everyday at dinnertime but the arm locked around your waist stopped you.

Glancing back quizzically, you yelped as Bakugou pulled you down into his lap, pressing your back flush against his broad chest.

He didn’t say anything, and if you had to guess, you figured that his brow was probably furrowed in annoyance and his mouth was pressed in a thin line at indulging in something as simple as your company and affection, but you could let him have this.

He deserved it after all.

Twisting around, you planted a gentle kiss to his jaw, raising a hand up to tilt his face down towards you.

“Happy birthday, Katsuki.” You breathed, eyes shining with emotion.

Two years. It had been two years since he demanded that you marry him. You couldn’t believe it when he asked you.

Unlike most couples, you two hadn’t dated much at all. Your first date was a home-cooked meal at his apartment that he shared with Kirishima at the time, a day before the wedding.

Your friends were shocked, to say the least.

But you two were close. You might not have dated like how many people would classify it, but the two of you knew each other better inside out for most of your lives and was often the first one called whenever there was a villain incident that the other had gotten hurt in.

Bakugou hadn’t cared that the public knew about you. He had originally wanted to keep it a secret so that you were better off in terms of safety-wise, but you had nothing to hide, telling him to let them try.

They wouldn’t break you.

Your relationship might’ve seemed rushed to some, frantic and panicked, but it couldn’t be more off from the truth.

The thing was, you just knew. You knew that if it was going to be anyone, if you could see yourself with one person for the rest of your life, it would be with him.

No one else even came close.

But you were still surprised when Bakugou admitted the same, just in fewer words.

After going through everything, the USJ incident where you had gotten hurt taking a hit from the Nomu for him, the kidnapping where he was ripped away right in front of your eyes, to where he was the one to finally be able to rescue you during a break-in at Heights Alliance, he just knew.

Like you, after risking your lives for each other countless times and finding solace in each other after it was all said and done meant a lot. Meant more than he could put into words.

You squeaked as the arms around you tightened out of the blue, concern filling your gaze as you leaned back into his chest.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly, your small hands covering his on your waist as you sank into his embrace, tilting your head up so that you could see him clearly.

Bakugou’s vermilion eyes snapped towards you as he was broken out of his reminiscing. He grunted in your direction, internally wincing at how short he was being with you even if you didn’t even seem to mind.

His wistful smile transformed into a full-blown smirk as you grabbed a piece of korean barbeque off of his plate and popped it in your mouth.

Bakugou’s breath tickled your ear as he leaned forward and his low voice, though rough with exhaustion, held a touch of amusement. “I saw that, dumbass.”

You blinked up innocently at him, kicking your feet childishly and he shook his head, pinching your side in retaliation. You jumped and smacked his chest, blushing deeply as a chuckle reverbated against your back.

“Katsuki!!”

“Fucking dumbass.” He muttered into your hair, unconsciously catching a whiff of the coconut and pineapple shampoo you used. You smelled even sweeter than usual, it was dulling his senses. But he was not complaining.

You smiled to yourself, snuggling into his warmth. It was quiet moments like this when there was nothing else but the company of him surrounding you and the ambiance of a safe place that you loved the most.

Heart at ease, you were surprised to hear that his heartbeat matched yours.

Your teeth worried into your bottom lip cheekily and before he could tease you any further, you redirected his attention to his mostly untouched plate, insisting that he eat.

Bakugou was generally pretty good about staying on top of meals and eating healthy to balance out all the exercise he got working as a hero, but lately things had hit him hard and he had been slacking off more than usual.

You were quick to catch it before it got too bad though.

Bakugou’s eyes shimmered with a hint of unspoken emotion. He was so lucky to have you.

Moving to get up so that you could get your food from across the table, you gasped as his arms squeezed around your midsection, preventing you from leaving.

“Don’t leave.” Bakugou muttered, his brow furrowed as a hint of a pout appeared on his face.

You giggled softly at his childish antics. “I’ll be right back.”

He could be so clingy sometimes, not that you were complaining. You were just as bad. There was something about being in his embrace and letting him hold you that made you feel safe, made you feel like you were at home.

Although it was rare and far in between, he did occasionally let you cuddle him. It had taken a while into your marriage for his walls to come crumbling down, but once they did, you never once made fun of him for what he needed or asked for.

Pouting when your beloved husband didn’t let you free, you blinked up at him with doe eyes.

You wiggled in his lap when he still didn’t release you. “Katsuki—”

“No.” He growled stubbornly.

You sighed, trying to appear as disheartened as possible. “But I’m hungry.”

“You can eat my fucking food, dumbass.” Bakugou huffed.

Folding your arms over your chest stubbornly, you frowned. He wasn’t going to eat the food you made? Even after going all day without eating his meals?

Oh hell no.

You squirmed in his lap, now trying to pry his unyielding grip off so that you could reach your own plate that was probably cold by now on the other side of the table.

“Katsuki, please?” You pleaded and his frown faltered.

Why did you have to be so damn cute? It wasn’t fair.

While he was distracted, you swiped your plate from across the table and settled back into his lap cheekily, sighing contentedly as he was left in a stunned silence.

“Oi, what the fuck?”

You giggled, waving your chopsticks at him. “What the matter, Katsuki? Cat got your tongue?”

He glared at you but it faded as you laughed harder and he found a small smile lifting up the edges of his mouth.

Dinner consisted of light banter back and forth as he stuffed the food you had made in his mouth, begrudgingly admitting that it tasted good when you eagerly asked.

He tapped your hip to get you to stop squirming once you finished eating but you retorted that he was taking too long.

He needed to finish, you had something to give him.

Bakugou arched an eyebrow and purposefully went slower until you smacked his arm with an indignant cry at his audacity. He barked out a laugh, his chest shaking as you pushed out your bottom lip at him childishly.

“Fucking brat.” He muttered fondly and you beamed at the soft tone he took on.

“You love me~” You sang, pecking his cheek.

“Go die.” He hissed, attitude back faster than you could blink.

You insisted that he finish his meal before you revealed what you were holding back from him.

Bakugou wasn’t going to admit that the curiosity was eating away at him as you dangled the unknown of his head like something to be played with and he was almost ashamed at how he quickened his pace.

Almost.

He didn’t react when you clambered off of his lap but his eyes widened when you climbed on top of the counter.

Chair scraping back and crashing to the tiled floor with how abruptly he stood up, he was by your side in a split second.

“Fuck— You’re going to fucking fall!!!” He cursed violently, chest heaving as he panted hard.

You giggled lightly, leafing through the spices you kept on the top shelf in order to find what you were looking for. “Relax, Katsuki, I’m fine.”

You started keeping them all on the very top after he dumped an entire bottle of chili pepper into your dinner one night. You were not amused at the shit-eating grin on his face that came from getting his fix of spicy food.

After that, it was only salt and pepper from then on, much to his dismay.

Bakugou didn’t look at all reassured by your words and he was strongly thinking about climbing up there with you just so he could catch you if you lost your balance when you squealed joyfully and hopped back down.

Thank fuck. You were going to give him a heart attack one day.

After you ushered him to sit back down, you presented the culprit as to what your dodgy behavior was all about.

Bakugou’s vermilion eyes widened when you proudly handed him a carefully wrapped gift box. The pattern on the paper was simple and you didn’t go overboard with decorating it, settling for a small bow on top.

He appreciated it.

Even though to the untrained eye it looked like you hadn’t spent much effort, he knew that it was in fact the very opposite. He could see where you had meticulously folded the paper so that it laid flat and didn’t crease or wrinkle. The dark green bow vaguely reminded him of Deku, but more of the time when you said you loved the green in his hero costume because of how much it contrasted against his eyes.

Your words, not his.

He couldn’t fucking care less about the color except for the fact that you said you liked it. That stuck with him more than he would’ve liked to admit.

Bakugou’s hand shook slightly as he accepted the gift. “You weren’t supposed to get me anything, brat.”

You only rolled your eyes humorously, planting your hands on your hips. “Oh please, like I’m not going to get you something for your birthday.”

You may have had a habit of going all out for things like his birthday and holidays and he hated it because he never knew what to do with those warm, fuzzy feelings you left him with, giving him those wide smiles of yours that lit up the room as though he had created the universe and blinked up at him with your bright, loving doe eyes that melted his heart.

So instead, his competitive spirit spurred on to compensate for the lack of emotional capacity he had to deal with all of these unwanted feelings.

It frustrated and flattered you to no end.

“You better fucking remember this when yours comes around then, dumbass.” Bakugou smirked, shooting you a sharp look when your jaw dropped. He would return the favor and go overboard when yours came around.

You blinked. The nerve he had. He knew you two were trying to save up funds so that you would have a stable foundation when you were ready to have kids. “W-Wait, Katsu—”

“Too late.” He rejected flatly, his eyes twinkling with a touch of amusement as he dodged your attempts to take back the present.

His present.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Bakugou snapped as you lost your balance and crashed face-first into his chest while trying to get it back.

You floundered for a second, trying to get your bearings but your husband was too fast and beat you to it. He set the box down in flash in order to catch you.

Hooking your legs around his waist so that you didn’t fall again, his palm splayed against your lower back, teasing with the hem of your shirt before it dipped underneath.

You jolted as his warm hand came in contact with your chilly skin and you shivered.

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed accusingly at you. “You’re cold.”

Blushing, you tried to hide only for him to be one step ahead of you and yank your wrists away from your face.

“Fucking idiot.” He muttered to himself and you giggled, bouncing excitedly in his lap now that your life was no longer in danger from falling ungracefully off of a chair.

“Open it, open it, open it!!” You chanted over and over again, tugging at his arm enthusiastically.

Bakugou grimaced at your volume. “Stop fucking yelling in my ear, you shitty woman.”

But he froze and his whole body tensed the second he opened the lid.

You blinked at him nervously, brushing back your hair anxiously as you waited for him to say something. Unable to wait as the silence stretched on, you pointed out each one of the items sitting in the container to explain what they were so he didn’t just think you gave him a pile of junk as a gag gift.

“They’re specialized compression arm bands for when you’re out in the field to help reduce the muscle strain but they won’t be affected by your quirk, you’d have to try really hard to destroy them and even then—”

“Thank you.”

You stopped your nervous rambling and blinked up at him in shock. Was that genuine gratitude you detected in his voice without the usual mask of nonchalance?

You giggled, almost not believing your ears. He didn’t even bother disguising it. “Wow, the world must really be ending.”

“Shut the fuck up and die.” Bakugou hissed.

Ah, there it was.

You grinned widely. “You really like it?”

“Course, you shitty woman.” He glowered, slipping them on to try it out.

Bakugou remembered telling you about the strain overusing his quirk caused on his arms but when push came to shove, he didn’t care if he destroyed his body when it came to saving the day. But that was years ago.

Back when you had first met and he had blown you up during a training session. Literally. The burns landed you in Recovery Girl’s office and after that, he had walked in to begrudgingly apologize but you just looked up at him with that same kind face that greeted him everyday and asked him if it always hurt to use his quirk for such huge blasts.

You weren’t even offended by the fact that he had hurt you. It was true that he didn’t ever hold back against opponents, even when training, but even he admitted that he might’ve gone too hard.

Maybe.

But to think you not only remembered it but also worked through that pretty brain of yours to come up with a solution like this.

All the support tech in the world didn’t have a material that could withstand his nitroglycerin when he ignited it.

You were incredible.

Bounding up to your feet eagerly, you didn’t give him any time to throw a tantrum that you had detached yourself from him as you begged for him to try them out.

“Hah?” He glowered. “You want me to use my quirk indoors?”

But he raised his hands anyway. You were always the one to enforce the rule of him not using his explosion inside, since it was destructive even with his fine control over it. You must’ve been really excited to see him try it out.

His palms popped with sparks at first and he raised an eyebrow as a cooling sensation kicked in automatically. Slowly, he built up his power until he fired a controlled AP cannon that shattered the vase from across the room.

You cheered and clapped your hands gleefully at how well it worked. It had changed blue when it activated, signaling that the cooling agent was doing its job.

Flexing his hands, Bakugou noticed how his arms weren't as sore as they normally were.

He took them off and turned it over in his hands, examining it closely. “How did you do it?”

You went on a rant, enthusiasm taking over every inch of your being as you eagerly explained how you created the material, a hybrid of some sort of elastic that could withstand high heats woven in with a cooling agent to soothe his muscles when they were overworked. The threads that made up the compression bands were fireproofed down to their molecular level, an expensive process but possible with the right amount of funds, along with a ton of time and patience.

All of which you had as you spent a huge chunk on the money you had saved up for this.

Your husband’s expression softened into something that vaguely resembled fondness as your eyes shone with excitement over your newest piece of tech. Specially made just for him.

Fuck, he was whipped.

Bakugou buried his face into your chest and you yelped in surprise, tugging his hair to pry him off of your body but he just groaned and stubbornly refused to move.

“Katuski!!” You protested, your hands shooting to the arms that were wrapped around your torso and pressing you close to him. “I’m dirty!!”

A blatant lie since you had bathed with him but you were desperate. This would inevitably end up in the bed if you didn’t push him off you right now.

You had been working in the shop all day to finish these up, just able to wrap the specialized compression sleeves in time before he came home. And because all of your clothes were currently being washed since there was an accident in your workshop a few days ago, you had to throw on your dirty tank top and cargo pants after scrubbing it as best as you could; and it was not the most appealing or flattering on your body.

It was clear your husband thought otherwise though.

“Don’t care.” Bakugou grumbled into your chest, his meaty hands going down to cup your butt.

You smacked his chest, telling him off, squeaking when he retaliated by squeezing your ass firmly. Rolling your eyes at the cheeky smirk on his face, you kissed his nose softly and his expression crumbled away to the softness that you knew had always lurked behind his guard.

“Happy birthday, Katsuki…” You whispered, a millimeter away from his lips. “I love you.”

You hadn’t even finished your declaration before his hand was snaking around the back of your neck, closing the distance in one go and crushing your mouth to his.

You whined as he dominated your mouth, his tongue demanding entrance. You decided to play with him a bit and kept your lips pursed. He growled at your disobedience and you shifted giddily in his lap, yelping when he nipped your bottom lip.

He groaned against your mouth as you ground your pelvis into his.

Bakugou thought this was going to go somewhere with how much you were teasing him but to his frustration, you climbed off of him, panting hard to catch your breath.

You winked. He knew that glint in your eyes.

“Catch me if you can!!” You shouted over your shoulder as you sprinted towards the living room and took refuge behind the couch.

“What the fuck….” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head at your childish antics as you raced out of view.

He stomped into the living room.

“Oi, get out from behind there, dumbass.” He growled.

When you didn’t reply, he rolled his eyes and tapped his foot impatiently.

“I know you’re there, shitty woman.” “He drawled. “I can see your fucking foot.”

Your indignant squeak made the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement but the look was quickly wiped off of his face as a foam bullet whizzed past his ear. You had just declared war.

A wide smirk spread across Bakugou’s face at the invitation of a challenge and forgoing his shirt, he sank low to the ground. He didn’t even bother to take one of the other guns where they were stored. He was going to beat you in hand to hand so easily it was going to be embarrassing.

“Just remember when you fucking lose,” He started, cracking his knuckles loudly. “Don’t come crying, dumbass.”

“I don’t cry— Hey!! That’s cheating!!”

Your confident reply broke out into a whine halfway through your sentence as Bakugou leaped over the couch and tackled you to the floor, pushing the gun away so you couldn’t shoot at him anymore.

“You’re such a fucking child.” He snorted, stealing a kiss from you before you could say anything.

“But you love me anyways~” You sang, repeating your declaration from earlier as you booped his nose softly.

Bakugou huffed indifferently, a proud smirk stretching across his face as his true feelings won over.

“Damn right I do.”

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salmonid-ink · 4 years ago

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Let’s talk about Salmonid intelligence!

There seems to be a wide misconception that Salmonids aren’t intelligent, or at the very least, aren’t as smart as Octolings or Inklings. This idea couldn’t be farther from the truth! And because I’m the Resident Salmonid Fanatic™ it’s my job to talk about this.

In hopes to make people consider and think of Salmonids in a better light, and NOT as pets, I’m going to do my best to pull evidence from in-game, as well as interviews, that imply or outright confirm that Salmonids are sapient, much like our beloved Octolings and Inklings.

To start, I’d like to touch on their interactions with other creatures, namely their trade deal with the Octarians. It’s hard to argue for Salmonids not being intelligent when you consider the confirmed fact that they actively trade with other creatures to benefit the both of them.

They exchange their useful Power Eggs (and perhaps vegetables and fruits) to the Octarians for mechanical blueprints, weapons, and machine parts (and potentially tentacle cuts for food). We can wager this trade deal has been going on for a long time, as the Salmonids are fitted to the gills with machinery, and you can make the argument that the Octomaw was inspired by Maws!

While the Salmonids could easily take these blueprints and make the machines exactly as the Octarians planned them, these fish take it one step beyond and put their own twist on things! With their intellect, they’ve customized traditional weapons to suit them better, and the examples can be seen in just about every boss you encounter.

Ink Storm + Brella -> Drizzler

Sting Ray -> Stinger

Ink Jet + Tenta Missiles -> Flyfish

Splash Wall -> Steel Eel

Baller/Splashdown -> Steelhead

Shielded Octotrooper + Roller -> Scrapper

Octocopter -> Chinook

Flooder -> Griller

Octo Seeker -> Mothership

Additionally, they are INSANELY resourceful, able to use any scrap of metal or machinery to make their contraptions, and make them decently reliable. Not to mention the fact that Scrappers are able to repair their cars! On the fly! All while under fire! That takes dedication AND smarts!!

Not to mention the fact that Smallfry, who could very well be babies (and I will argue that they are, as there is no benefit to stunting the growth of ANY creature), are able to pilot Flyfish. They were raised just right in the best environment, and now they’re super smart!

Also, Salmonids are crazy creative, with how they’ve incorporated their cookware into their weaponry. They take their aesthetic to the next level, man.

Next, lest talk about their homes!

It’s vastly clear that they have their own society. At the very least, we can take a glimpse of it with their houses. The Lost Outpost (known as the Colony at Sea in Japan) is a great example of this!

While these houses look like they were cobbled together with recycled parts, which falls in line with Salmonid resourcefulness, they are clearly stable living spaces that were built by he Salmonids themselves with ocean living and fishing in mind.

Additionally, towards the back of the stage, we can see another house with a city on the horizon. While this is purely speculation, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to believe that this city is Salmonid-owned. The areas you go to are claimed to be restricted ocean zones, and given that you’re so far out that you need a house-sized radio dish just to communicate, it’s hard to believe that the city would be owned by anyone else.

I think these city-based homes would be owned by Salmonids that work with machinery, such as repairmen and mechanics. This could also include artisans! Farmers would obviously live in more rural areas, where they can plant and grow their crops.

We can also glean a similar idea from the Spawning Grounds (called the Salmonid Dam in many other languages):

I will argue until the day I die that the dam found in the Spawning Grounds, as well as the adjacent city, belongs to the Salmonids, as evidence by its proximity to the stage, the green water pouring from the dam, and the very clear Salmonid mark on it.

Whether this city was built by them, or it’s one they took ahold of and built upon during one of their past migrations is yet to be determined, seeing my speculations are even true. Either way, it’s clear that the Salmonids are capable of building structures and homes with ease!

If we talk about their homes, even if this is much more on the speculative end, we’ve also GOT to talk about the factory we can see at Marooner’s Bay:

Again, given the proximity to Salmonid territory, as well as the various Salmonid-themed items around the stage, we can speculate that these factories are Salmonid owned, and perhaps where they work on many of their machines and devices.

Things such as Scrapper Cars, Steel Eels, Flyfish jets, Grillers, and Motherships could be constructed here, or this place could be used for processing water or chemicals! It’s a rather vague factory, so again, this is all theoretical. I haven’t a clue what they do here.

Next let’s talk about their art. The existence of art alone should be enough of an indicator that they have minds to think and feel with! Especially when their designs are as intricate as these:

The most of these can be seen around the Lost Outpost and Spawning Grounds, but every single stage has a few of these markings floating around. I don’t currently have many in-stage caps on hand, but if you take the time to look around, you’ll find a few on the ground and walls!

While a lot of these are very clearly graffiti markings, the intricate designs may have some meaning. While we haven’t a clue what exactly they mean, or what they represent, I think they’re extremely fascinating, and give us a peek into what culture Salmonids have.

They’re likely made with stencils, but all the same, they were designed carefully, and must hold SOME significance.

I have a theory that these designs are primarily to mark specific territories. Perhaps certain marks mean different schools and families! Or some of them could be warnings, such as to indicate Grizz activity (such as with the bear icon, which appears in a few stages).

I believe in part, these are a form of expression, ESPECIALLY if they indicate schools. There are so many unique fish-shaped designs, it’d be cool to see how these correlate to individual groups!

They could also be a visual indicator for Inklings and Cephalopods that, yes, this is Salmonid territory, so you’d best stay away! Because while it’d be easy for a Salmonid to tell what area belongs to who by smell alone, Inklings certainly don’t have that luxury!

At any rate, I’d love to see what personal art looks like for Salmonids. What kind of crafts do they make? What sort of things do they love to paint? We don’t really know, and we can only speculate...

One thing we know for certain is that Salmonids appreciate music. It even seems as though they’re inspired by it, given the descriptions that the Salmon Run songs have.

I feel like this is worth stating, even if their existence is fairly common knowledge: ω-3. A band. That plays complex instruments. And does all their own mixing.

Pretty freakin’ smart, I must say!

Additionally, each of the members have VASTLY different styles. The Cellist is stern and stubborn, and won’t accept anything but the best, be it in passion or in radical works. The timpanist is soulful, passionate, and is straight to the point. The DJ is reckless and disrespectful, yet puts forth his best effort.

All three of them are so unalike to one another in style and personality. They may not even get along that well, but at the end of the day, they value working together SO MUCH that they make amazing, unique, and great-sounding songs that stir and inspire their people.

It’d be amazing to see what other types of music that Salmonids like, because this can’t be the only kind. However the style of ω-3 certainly goes hand-in-hand with the chaotic, resourceful, and determined nature of the Salmonids.

We should also touch up on the fact that Salmonids are stated to have tradition. Aside from their 70-year migration, they’re also stated to pass cookware from generation to generation in Sunken Scroll #19.

"Salmonids are known to keep their weapons in tip-top shape. The frying pans they wield have often been passed down from generation to generation. You can see the unwavering pride of these fierce warriors in their (somewhat crazed) eyes."

I like to think that they also pass things like recipes and other tools down to their offspring and kin. Family and schools on the whole appear to be very important to them, which ties directly into their drive to work together as a unit, rather than separately as a makeshift team.

For some conventional evidence, look at this one bit from the Merry Fishmas piece, posted by official Splatoon sources:

I LOVE this image, and there are so many tiny details that you can make out in this. Such as these two:

THEY ARE PLAYING CARDS, and this ain’t no dogs playing poker bit, either! It looks like the other one is losing really bad... Or going into a food coma. One way or another, the other Salmonid is trying to check up on them, haha. Or maybe they’re trying to sneak a peek at the other’s cards? Who knows! That sly grin tells a story.

Also, there’s this Goldie, who is fishing:

These are all pretty human-like characteristics, which makes me think, all the more, that they’re on par with Inklings intelligence wise. I REALLY want to see more interactions like this someday, it fills my heart with delight and joy.

Phew.. Well, thank you so much for sticking with me through this whole thing. I hope this helps people get more perspective on Salmonids, and what little we know about their community and culture.

#Salmonid #Salmon Run #Splatoon #Splatoon 2 #Other Headcanons #mod stinky

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gaemkyuu · 4 years ago

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Mommy, Can We Keep Him? (Charlie Gillespie x Original Character

Warnings: mention of teenage pregnancy A/N: I was inspired to write a character like Lilo from Lilo and Stitch and thought of what if Charlie had a daughter like that? Then I thought about Dad! Charlie.... Here is my inspired writing piece! Let me know if you want a follow up wedding piece! Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

Mommy, Can We Keep Him? (Charlie Gillespie x Original Character)

Riley King started working for Netflix when she was 18 and impressed everyone at the head office with her hard work and dedication. With her motivation and work ethic, she managed to climb her way to be part of the executive management team all at the ripe age of 21. People often asked Riley how she climbed the ladder so quickly, or what was the secret to her success. No one ever guessed that her motivation came from a little girl who looked exactly like her.

Emerson Gianna King was born on August 31st of 2014 when Riley was 16 years old. She had quite the wild nature to herself, always sneaking out and illegally partying with her friends. It was only a matter of time that she would be blinded by love and give her virginity to a boy she swore would get married. He was 17 at the time and she was head over heels for him. One drink too many and a poor judgement call resulted in Riley’s teenage pregnancy.

Her one true love broke up with her a week after they had had sex, stating that his dad had had gotten a job at a law firm in Miami and that a long distance relationship wouldn’t work. She didn’t know that she was pregnant at the time, but when she did, she tried to reach out to him. His family thought it was stupid attempt at getting back together and claimed that the baby wasn’t his. They were ready to launch a full lawsuit in order to protect their family’s reputation, something that Riley and her single mom couldn’t afford to do. So they dropped it, signing legal papers that they would never contact them again and that their son wasn’t responsible for paying any child support.

This heartbreak and her daughter made Riley clean up her act and graduate high school a year ahead of her friends. She quickly started working for various companies, taking night classes at the local college campus in hopes to get her foot in the door for a bigger company and work her way up. Which is exactly what she did and how she ended up working for Netflix. That’s how she met Kenny Ortega, who introduced her to the actors of Julie and the Phantoms. She mostly worked with Netflix, but she was assigned to be there every day of boot camp to watch and monitor the development of the TV show, making projections about how their viewers would receive the new show. She didn’t anticipate to be a part of the small family that was created behind the scene with the cast and crew, and she certainly didn’t anticipate falling for one of the lead actors Charlie Gillespie.

They had been dating for three months before Riley told him about Emmerson. She had expected that he call off the entire relationship, understanding that not everyone wanted to be with someone who had a baby at sixteen. They were 22 at the time and Riley explained that she was looking to be in a serious relationship for her daughter’s sake. While Charlie couldn’t promise that this relationship would go in the direction they both wanted, he did promise that he would do his best to be there for her. He didn’t know that winning over the little girl’s heart would prove to be difficult.

Emerson wasn’t like all the other kids. For one thing, she was very mature for her age. She was potty trained at two years old and started to learn how to read basic books at the age of 4. She developed her speech quickly and often looked to use specific words that kids her age rarely heard or understand. She was a perceptive little girl and sometimes she was a little too smart and observant for her own good. This made it difficult for her to make friends at daycare because everyone thought she was weird. Riley would often catch her talking to Lilo whenever she put Lilo and Stitch on for her to watch. She would tell Lilo about the frustrating girls at her daycare and how they too “need to be punished”.

So it was no surprise to her that when Emerson first met Charlie, she would be grilling him. Charlie had expected her to be a cute little girl that likes to play with dolls. Instead, he was met with a perceptive toddler that made him question his own intelligence at times. She was very standoffish when she met him, afraid that this man was going to hurt her mommy, but over time Emerson began to open up and trust Charlie. One night, when they were six months into dating, they had to cancel their dinner plans as Riley’s babysitter came down with a flu and no one else could babysit. Therefore, their dinner plans were changed to ordering pizza and having a movie night with Emerson. Riley groaned partly through the beginning of Lilo and Stitch when her work called, excusing herself as it was an important phone call.

This left Emerson and Charlie alone for the first time.

“Charlie, who’s Elvis Presley?” Charlie’s eyes grew big like teacup saucers.

“Your mom hasn’t shown you who Elvis Presley is?! How many times have you watched this movie?!” Emerson shrugged, not taking her eyes off the screen, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth and chewing.

“Do you want the real answer?” he was caught off guard at the frankness in her tone, starting to wonder just how many times she had watched the film. He shrugged it off and paused the movie, pulling his phone out and opening Youtube to educate the child on the legend, Elvis Presley.

When Riley returned to the living room, she was shocked to see Emerson sitting in Charlie’s lap, holding the phone, staring intently at the screen and listening to the music that played out of the speaker. She had never seen her daughter so focused before. She looked at Charlie who was equally focused on the screen of the phone as well, and she smiled to herself enjoying the view. Out of defense, Riley quickly shrugged off the creeping thought that this could be her family. After all, her and Charlie had only been dating for 6 months.

“How have you not shown her who Elvis Presley is?” he exclaimed, noticing her presence. Emerson looked at her with questioning eyes as well, feeling slightly betrayed that her mother withheld such precious information away from her.

“I’m not really a big music person! I kinda just listen to songs I like rather than musicians” she shrugged sheepishly.

“Mommy, Charlie said there’s a documentary on Netflix about Elvis Presley. Can we watch that instead of Lilo and Stitch?” Riley’s jaw dropped at the fact that her daughter was more interested in watching something other than her favorite comfort Disney movie. She silently nodded and changed the settings on the TV, starting the Elvis Presley documentary. This was the first time her daughter ever really opened up to someone and found something in common.

Emerson absolutely loved the documentary and would go on for weeks listening to Elvis Presley nonstop. After Riley waved goodbye to Charlie and closed the door, Emerson sat patiently on the entryway bench for her mother.

“Mommy, can we keep him?”

“Yeah, Emmy. I think we can”

***

It soon became a regular thing to have Charlie stay the night at Riley’s house. He woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, but on his way back to the bedroom he heard soft whimpers and sniffles coming from Emerson’s bedroom. He stood outside her door, debating if he should go get Riley or if he should go in himself. He knew Riley was exhausted having had a full day of work and meetings, so he opted to let her sleep and peek into Emerson’s room. He thought that if it was out of his control, he could always go and get her. The sight of the little girl broke his heart.

Emerson was fast asleep, but she was trembling and clutching onto her stuffed bunny for dear life. She whimpered and tears fell from her closed eyes. Charlie quietly moved to her side and sat on her bed, softly rubbing her back, whispering her name to break her out of her nightmare. It worked, but when she woke up, she jumped into Charlie’s arms and softly cried. He was surprised at first, but quickly snapped out of it hugging the girl and rubbing her back.

“It’s okay Emmy... It was just a bad dream... It wasn’t real... you’re okay... you’re safe” the little girl started to calm down as Charlie soothed her and rocked her side to side a bit.

“They took me away from mommy...” she whimpered and nid her face in Charlie’s neck. He felt the collar of his shirt dampen as she cried, but he picked her up and moved to the armchair she had in her room. He sat down and held her tightly in his arms.

“No one is ever going to take you away from mommy, okay? I won’t let that happen” he didn’t know where these words were coming from or where he got the confidence to say them, but in that moment he knew that he would do whatever he could for Emerson.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” he whispered, kissing her head and rubbing her back. She settled comfortably in his chest and took deep breaths. Charlie instinctively started to hum a song softly as he rubbed her back, until her breathing steadied and soft snores came from the small figure. Charlie smiled to himself that he was able to handle the situation alone, but he realized he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to put her back in bed, or if he had to hold her for the rest of the night. Not wanting to wake her up, he carefully reached for the knitted quilt beside the armchair and draped it over them. Guess he was sleeping in the armchair that night. His neck would hate him in the morning.

Riley woke up early that morning when she rolled over to cuddle the missing Charlie. She bolted up and threw on her housecoat to search for him, but stopped when she noticed Emerson’s door cracked open. The sight inside the bedroom brought tears to her eyes and she covered her mouth to avoid making any sound that would wake them. There was Charlie sleeping in the armchair holding a sleeping Emerson in his arms. They were both fast asleep and quietly snoring.

For the first time, in their nine months of dating, Riley let herself see the possibility of Charlie being the man who could be Emerson’s dad.

***

Charlie fiddled with his collar nervously, holding flowers in the other hand. He took a deep breath and shook off his nerves before pressing on the door bell. He waited patiently and anxiously outside, only to be greeted by his beautiful girlfriend, Riley. She smiled brightly at him and he stood there blown away by her beauty. They were both dressed up semi-formally tonight as Charlie insisted on taking Riley out for a fancy dinner to recreate a cheesy romcom movie date for their anniversary. Their usual dates consisted of hiking or lounging at the beach, so Charlie figured it would be nice to dress up for once, especially since Riley rarely dressed fancy.

“Hey! Come on in, I’m just finishing up debriefing the babysitter” Charlie kissed her cheek quickly and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him as she rushed back to the kitchen. Charlie waited by the front door patiently for her to finish up.

“Where are you taking mommy tonight, Charlie?” he jumped at the voice from behind, turning around to see Emerson sitting on the entryway bench. She looked up at the man who waited for her mom, bunny beside her in one hand and her blanket in the other. Charlie smiled at her presence and squatted down to her level, petting her bunny on the head.

“I’m taking mommy on a fancy dinner. You off to bed?” she nodded and opened her arms, to which Charlie gladly received her hug, only, he didn’t expect her to awkwardly latch herself on to him. Thinking quickly, he adjusted himself and picked her up. She was short and thin, so it was no problem carrying her. Her small stature always made her mother worry that she wasn’t getting enough nutrients. “I guess I couldn’t let you sleep without some snuggles could I?” she nodded as she laid her head on his chest, something her and Charlie had in common was that their love language was physical touch.

“It’s nice to see mommy in something other than jeans or sweats. I like your bowtie too” Emerson fiddled with said bow tie as Charlie gently rocked her. He was always so surprised at how observant she was and how she was able to clearly articulate her thoughts for being six years old. She was very bright and quick to understand situations, which made it hard for her to make friends at daycare. Another thing that Riley worried about often.

“You want me to tuck you in Emmy?” she shook her head against his chest and wiggled, signifying that she was okay with being put down. Charlie obeyed her wish and set her down on the floor, sitting on the entryway bench like she once did. “You’re looking a little sleepy squirt” he chuckled, clearing the hair from her face.

“Mommy said the babysitter and I get to watch a movie of my choice before bed time since it’s Friday. I wanted to watch Big Daddy but mommy said the babysitter might question her parenting choices” he let out a big laugh and Emerson giggled back.

“Having fun you two?” Riley appeared in the entryway with the babysitter. Riley crouched down and opened her arms wide to hug Emerson. The little girl jumped into her mom’s arms, nearly knocking her to the floor. “Love you Emmy. Please listen to the babysitter and go to bed on time” Riley knew she wouldn’t put up a fuss, but she figured she would remind her anyways.

“Love you mommy” she smiled as she kissed her mom’s cheek and walked to Charlie. “Love you Charlie” she tiptoed so that she could reach the man’s cheek, who also gave her a big hug. “Don’t be out too late!” she called skipping into the living room, the babysitter following after. The couple stood in the entryway thinking about Emerson’s last remarks before disappearing.

“Ready to go, my love?” Charlie cleared his throat, opening the door and gesturing for Riley to go first. She playfully rolled her eyes and they stepped out of the house towards the vehicle. Emerson waved at them from the front window, and they waved back, until she couldn’t see them any more.

***

“Remind me again what time you fly in?” Riley wiped some of the water that splashed on her face as she washed the dishes. Like all mothers, she was multitasking. Cleaning the house for Emerson’s birthday and trying to figure out her schedule considering Charlie was flying in from Canada. Emerson sat at the kitchen table quietly coloring while her mother was on the phone.

“Don’t worry about picking me up. You already have so much to do! I’ll just get an uber to your place” Riley toweled off her hands and took Charlie off speaker phone, holding the phone to her ear. Despite dating for a year and a half, they hadn’t officially moved in together. Charlie still had his place with all of his things, but half of his stuff was at Riley’s. “Plus I don’t want Emmy catching on to my surprise for her.”

“Right. Okay, well I’ll keep the door unlocked, since we’re home all day. I gotta go though, I still have to call the bakery to set up a pick up time for her cake and cupcakes” the couple said their quick ‘I love yous’ while Emerson shouted hers from the kitchen. Riley took a moment to herself and sighed against the wall in the corridor. Between everything at work and Emerson’s birthday, she had quite a lot on her plate but she was relieved that Charlie was able to come home a little earlier to help her out. She straightened her spine and returned to the kitchen, kissing her daughter’s head. “Emmy, mommy has to jump on to a zoom meeting in the office, are you okay to color for 30 more minutes?”

“Mommy, when can I go on a date with Charlie?” her mother froze mid movement around the kitchen, the question catching her off guard. “I know we go on dates together, but you always look like you have way more fun when it’s just you and Charlie. I wanna have fun with Charlie too” she smiled at her daughter and sat down beside her.

“Well, why not ask Charlie on a date? You can make him a little card before he gets in tonight and while I do my meeting.” her eyes lit up at the suggestion and she quickly got to work, making her mother smile. Riley got up and headed to her office, not wanting to disturb the project her daughter had started.

Riley’s meeting lasted an hour, much to her displeasure, but it was a productive one. It worked out for Emerson as she had made an elaborate card to give Charlie when he came home that night. Riley helped her daughter take a bath and ordered Sugarfish for dinner, both of them anticipating the arrival of their favorite guy. As soon as Emerson heard the door creak open, she bolted for the entryway and jumped into Charlie’s awaiting arms. He peppered her face with kisses and tickled her until Riley came along, who he kissed deeply and earned a “yuck!” from Emerson. Their dinner arrived soon after Charlie’s arrival and they all sat around the dinner table, Emerson lost in Charlie’s stories of his hometown.

“Emmy, don’t you have something for Charlie?” she perked up remembering and clumsily got out of her chair, putting her chopsticks down to run to the office. She grabbed her card for Charlie and skipped back to the dining room, placing the card beside his bento box.

“Oh? What’s this Emmy? Can I open it?” she nodded her head enthusiastically and sat back in her place at the table. Charlie’s smile wavered as he read the card, feeling slightly emotional. On the front was a picture of the three of them and inside the card read:

Dear Charlie,

Will u go on a date with me?

Love, Emmy

Hearts, flowers and smiley faces decorated the inside of the card, but the text was written in big bold letters. He could tell a lot of effort went into making the card judging by all the neatly placed stickers and carefully drawn pictures and patterns. It still amazed him that for a six year old, turning seven, that she could write so neatly.

“Mommy helped me with some of the spelling, but I mostly did it myself” she smiled, anticipating his response. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful Emmy. I would love to go on a date with you” she clapped her hands and bounced in her seat, her reaction causing everyone at the table to smile and laugh. They continued to eat their dinner while planning things that they could do together, as Riley sat there watching and admiring the relationship that was unfolding before her eyes. How did she get so fortunate to find a man like Charlie?

***

Charlie ended up taking Emerson to Disneyland and even though Riley accompanied them, Charlie and her went on all the rides together. Riley took pictures and held onto their things as the two enjoyed themselves around the theme park. Charlie knew it would be a good thing to have Riley around because she was the voice of reason when Emerson and Charlie thought of having their third Dole Whip of the day. The two of them laughed and had the time of their lives. When supper time came, Riley planned to meet a client over super at downtown Disney, planning on meeting her boyfriend and daughter later on in the evening. This left the two of them to have dinner with Goofy at Goofy’s Kitchen.

As they enjoyed each other’s company and visits from Goofy, Charlie helped Emerson pick out her dinner and order it. Charlie could honestly say this was the most fun that he had had in a long time, but he should’ve known that with Emerson’s intelligence, there was more to this date than just having fun.

“Charlie, when are you going to ask mommy to marry you?” Charlie choked on his water, not expecting the question from the curious little girl. “Mommy said I wasn’t allowed to ask you because it was rude”

“Not rude at all Emmy, but why are you asking me that?” he was genuinely curious, thinking that maybe Riley had been venting to her subconsciously again, or that Emerson overheard a conversation with one of her friends.

“I heard Aunty Savannah teasing her the other day over the phone and mommy got really red in the face. I think you should ask her, I know she’d say yes” Charlie’s eyes grew wide as Emerson nonchalantly recounted the conversation her mother had the other day. Emerson continued to color in the coloring book Charlie bought her earlier.

“Do you want me to ask mommy to marry me?” Emerson nodded her head as soon as the question came out of his mouth. “How come?” the question was meant to be playful, but Emerson’s reply was serious.

“Because I want to be able to call you daddy.”

Charlie felt a lump in his throat.

“I’ve never had a daddy. It’s always been mommy and me. If you marry mommy, then you can be my daddy.” she paused to take a sip of her juice. “I think you’d make a great daddy”.

Charlie wiped away a tear that threatened to fall from his eyes and cleared his throat, feeling emotional. He took a sip from his water and took a deep breath. “You think so, Emmy?”

She nodded her head, continuing to color in her book. “Plus Justina at daycare said that in order for me to have a little brother or a little sister, you have to have a daddy AND a mommy.” Charlie chuckled at the little girl, and got up to kiss her on the head, hugging her too.

“Got any ideas on how I should ask Mommy to marry me?” Emerson forgot about her coloring in that moment as her eyes sparkled with excitement over Charlie’s question.

“Well...I have a couple ideas...”

#charlie gillespie #charlie gillespie x reader #charlie gillespie fanfiction #charlie gillespie imagines #imagine #fanfiction

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murdereraisuha · 4 years ago

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Classpecting TWST: Savanaclaw

Time to classpect the dorm that deserved better writing-wise. I’m gonna start tagging these “twst analysis” now too cause I am basically using the classpect stuff as a vehicle for getting a better understanding of the characters

Spoilers for chapter 2 and some of the trio’s personal stories. No knowledge of Homestuck required to read.

[Image description: A banner containing a picture of Leona, the symbol for the hope aspect, and the words “Leona Kingscholar: Prince of Hope”]

Before we get to the reasoning, I just want to say, Leona I am so sorry you have to share a classpect with Eridan. Okay now I’ll hand the mic to past me.

Throughout his personal stories, we see that Leona is fine with resorting to underhanded tactics, but he specifically values cleverness and creative use of resources. Leona looks down on those who don’t exhibit those things (ex. the Savanaclaw students in Leona’s dorm uniform story who tried to beat up Jack using sheer numbers).

Leona tends to only expend effort on things that benefit him in some way.

Leona is a powerful and intelligent magic user; he could have easily graduated already if he wanted to, but it seems he doesn’t want to.

Despite Leona’s strengths, those around him criticized him and constantly compared him to his brother due to Leona being the 2nd born prince. No matter what he did, he could not sway those opinions. He could never become number 1.

Because of this, he developed the belief that life isn’t fair and he gives up on things rather easily.

Based on this, I have 3 aspects in mind: rage, hope, and doom.

Rage and hope go hand in hand as opposites: rage is negative emotions, rejection, and doubt, while hope is positive emotions, acceptance, and ideals. For Leona, his story seems to be about him having given up on his hope and dreams of ever succeeding. In its place he has become quick to deem efforts worthless. He acts antagonistic to people like Vil and Malleus, and he seems to disapprove of some of Jack’s honorable ideals. All of these things connect to the parts of rage/hope.

Doom is also a possibility, as it represents negativity, decay, and limits. It is the opposite to life, the aspect that I picked for Kalim. Therefore, I think doom is plausible since Leona shows the opposite side to the luxuries enjoyed by Kalim and Farena as first borns.

Now for classes. I don’t think Leona does much stealing, he doesn’t suffer from indecision, he doesn’t put up any masks, and he’s not a very healing focused person. I think that narrows it down to witch, heir, mage, prince, and bard.

If it’s prince or bard it would have to be hope, in which case prince of hope fits Leona best due to his destruction of hope being focused more than just happening naturally. Though Leona has suffered, it seems to have more hampered his potential than gave him useful knowledge so now I’m kicking out mage. Heir seems to fit best if it’s as a heir of rage. Finally, I’m also kicking out witch since he he doesn’t do much manipulation of any of the 3 aspects.

Between prince of hope and heir of rage... it’s prince of hope. Since Leona says that nothing he did could sway people’s negative opinion of him, we can assume that Leona had hope earlier in his life that he could change those opinions. He did stuff like studying and improving his magic until he finally realized that that wasn’t changing his image at all. Rather than preserve his hope, he choose to destroy it, making his class the active destroyer class, prince.

In chapter 2, he rallies Ruggie the rest of his dorm against Diasomnia, using their hopes as a tool for destroying the other teams. In 2-24 Leona then tries to destroy their hopes once he deems their plan useless. At one point he says 「じゃあ本当のことを教えてやるよ」, translated by Shel_BB on youtube as “Let me give you a dose of reality.” This and the other things he says this episode really connect to the hope/rage themes of reality vs fantasy and stop vs go. Therefore, quite ironically since he is an actual prince, Leona's classpect seems to be a prince of hope.

[Image description: A banner containing a picture of Ruggie, the symbol for the Life aspect, and the words “Ruggie Bucchi: Rogue of Life”]

Ruggie grew up in a poor environment with food insecurity. Many of his clothes are hand-me-downs, he’s fine with eating odd things like dandelions, and before holiday break he raids the cafeteria for food to bring back for the others in his town.

Ruggie’s official hobby is part-time jobs. From working at Mostro Lounge to selling mandrakes, he’s really focused on earning money however he can.

His skillset, which includes pickpocketing and haggling, lets Ruggie pull off plenty of clever and underhanded tricks.

However, like Leona, Ruggie still has standards: in one of his ceremony robe voice lines, he says that he prefers his lot in life over that of a spoiled, rich person without any problems.

His dorm uniform personal story, where he teams up with Trein’s cat to get magic history help and catch rats, is about using the power of others instead of relying solely on himself.

There were 3 paragraphs of stuff here that I deleted because I was getting absolutely nowhere. I didn’t expect Ruggie to be this hard.

Like, Ruggie's problems kinda seem to stem from just poverty and Leona being an asshole. Well, hm, actually if we combine the moral of his dorm uniform story and Ruggie acting like Leona’s maid, perhaps Ruggie’s problem is something like he keeps taking on burdens? Out of everyone who lives in his slums, he’s likely the only one going to a prestigious school like NRC. He’s likely well-known there because of that and him bringing back food a lot. Are Ruggie’s ambitions for a good job not only his own ambitions, but that of the whole community? I’ve always been a bit confused about why Ruggie helps Leona out outside of the magift tournament stuff. Is he... so used to having to help others and constantly take on jobs that his standards for what’s reasonable work are gone? I just went through the chats and in Jack’s one with Ruggie, Jack is telling him about having to find something to draw for a homework assignment and Ruggie immediately offers to go get his warthog piggy bank. Bruh?? Doesn’t that have your money? Why are you just lending it out like that????

Alright, because Ruggie is a guy who needs to chill and have some me-time, I’m narrowing his class down to rogue, maid, or knight. For aspects, I’m thinking life (energy & luxury), time (action & death), or blood (community & responsibility).

On second thought, I’m kicking out maid and blood. Rogue & knight and life & time seem to fit Ruggie better. And now my best guess is rogue of life. First, he obviously fits the stealing aspect of the class through his skill at stealing. Like how a rogue redistributes things, Ruggie obtains money/food to redistribute to the others in the slums. He also injured the people in chapter 2, basically taking life from them, which resulted in Savanaclaw's chances of winning the tournament getting stronger. For the tendency of rogues to have a hard time coping with having their aspect, Ruggie has a hard time accepting luxury/relaxation time. He funnels all his resources into efficient causes and his community. Also, in Jack’s dorm outfit personal story where Jack tries to help him out with stuff, Ruggie is distrustful of him and goes out of his way to avoid him.

I didn’t have any sort of eureka moment with this one like I had with the twins, so I’m still unsure about it. However, considering that TWST characters obviously weren’t meant to get crammed into the classpect system, it makes sense that some might not fit perfectly. So, with what I do have, I think that Ruggie is a rogue of life.

[Image description: A banner containing a picture of Jack Howl, the symbol for the mind aspect, and the words “Jack Howl: Page of Mind”]

Jack values honor, strength, and hard work. He believes that people should accomplish things through their own efforts rather than lowly tricks.

Therefore, Jack disapproves of Leona and Ruggie's method of doing things.

In contrast to how Leona and Ruggie use others, Jack sometimes refuses help, like in chapter 2 when he claims he can handle his dorm by himself.

Jack is quite intelligent and insightful, as shown by his comments throughout chapter 3 and his scary outfit personal story.

Jack respects social/group hierarchies and takes care not to disturb order, as shown in his dorm outfit personal story.

Also in his dorm outfit personal story, Jack says that he wants to become someone with a single true purpose.

So, I'm already kind of stumped. He doesn't have any big moments in the spotlight during the main story, so there's not much to go off of there.

We have to start somewhere though. So, first off, I’ll eliminate the destruction classes and theft since he doesn’t do much of either. I’ll also eliminate the knowledge classes since I don’t think he holds any special knowledge of anything.

For potential aspects, after eliminating the ones that seem mostly irrelevant to him, I’m left with mind, heart, hope, rage, or blood. The 2 that particularly stick out to me are mind and heart.

Mind is the aspect of logic, unbiasedness, morality, and blending in. For Jack, his strong focus on justice even when it means going against someone he once admired seems very mind-like. His care in not stepping out of line in social situations also relates to blending in. Of course, we should still keep mind’s opposite, heart, in consideration.

Now that I’m pretty confident his aspect is mind or heart, we’re left with 12 possible classpects. I still can’t narrow it down well, let’s go back to Jack’s traits.

What challenges does he face or have to overcome? In the main story, the problem he faces is trying to correct the injustice in his dorm by himself. In his dorm outfit story, the problem he faces is being over zealous about helping Ruggie. Wait, actually, that’s not right. Though that is a problem, it seems like the main growth/realization for Jack is about his motivation for helping Ruggie. When questioned by Ruggie in part 1, he mainly cites the group hierarchy as the reasons for his actions. However, later on, Deuce deduces (haha) that Jack looks up to Ruggie like a big brother. Though Jack denies it, at the end of the story he asks if Ruggie would let him call him big bro.

It’s like he is concerned about justice and social harmony (mind stuff), but in reality he does stuff according to his impulses and emotions (heart stuff). This doesn’t feel like a prince/bard situation though, it isn’t dysfunctional or destructive enough for that. I thought that the pages of the cast might be Epel and/or Sebek, but it seems that Jack may be a page.

Pages, the passive exploitation class, are characterized by a deficit in their aspect that they try to hide and overcome. Like how Jack takes his service of Ruggie too far, pages often overshoot in their efforts to correct their weakness. However, as they grow and learn from their mistakes, pages become masters of their aspect, like in Jack’s scary outfit story where he starts out with a bad idea then at the end develops it into a sound plan to scare the tourists. That also fits well with mind, since smoke and mirrors is another big part of that aspect.

Therefore, with how well this class seems to fit with Jack’s actions and motivations, I think that he is probably a page of mind.

#twst #twisted wonderland #classpect #savanaclaw #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #homestuck #twst analysis

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maxwell-grant · 4 years ago

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Your Top Five Pulp Heroes that you wish were better known? By Pulp Hero fans, I mean. Since pretty much all of them except Conan and Tarzan are fairly unknown.

It’s actually quite hard for me to narrow it down to just five, because I’m having to choose between characters that are my favorites that I wish were more well-known and appreciated (which is all of them), and characters that aren’t quite my favorites but I very much think should have achieved great popularity for a myriad of reasons. So instead I’m going to pick some of each. These are not necessarily ranked by their importance or my personal taste, just 5 characters I felt like highlighting in particular.

Honorable mentions goes to characters I already talked about prior and don’t want to repeat myself on. These aren’t “lesser” picks, just ones that I already talked about: Imaro (who in particular definitely feels like he could, and should be, a pop culture superstar if he was only more well-known), Kapitan Mors (who’s got a lot in common with one of my favorite fictional characters, Captain Nemo, but also has a lot of interesting things going on for him as his own character). Sar Dubnotal (a character that appeals a lot to me and I think should be included much more often in pulp hero team-ups). The Golden Amazon (again, definitely a character that feels like it’s just begging to have a pop culture breakout, even comic books rarely if ever have female supervillains this ruthless and over-the-top), The Mexican Fantomas (who absolutely deserves a better name than what I’m calling him here, because he’s incredibly awesome and leagues ahead of just being a knock-off). And of course my homeboy, The Grey Claw, whom I would consider Number One of the list if it wasn’t for the fact that his obscurity has left him untouched by copyright and I got plans of my own for the character that wouldn’t be possible if he was more well-known, so I guess I’m ultimately glad he’s obscure (even if I’m still bothered by how little he’s known).

Allright let’s go:

Number 5: Sheridan Doome

Sheridan Doome appeared in fifty-four stories and three novels from 1935 to 1943. As chief detective for U.S. Naval Intelligence, Lieutenant Commander Sheridan Doome’s job was a grim one. Whenever an extraordinary mystery or crime occurred in the fleet, on a naval base, or anywhere the navy worked to protect American interests, Doome was immediately dispatched to investigate it. Fear and dread would always precede Doome’s arrival in his special black airplane. For, in an explosion during WWI, he had been monstrously disfigured.

He was six feet two inches tall; had a chalk-white face and head. It appeared as though it had once been seared or burned. For eyes, he had only black blotches; glittering optics, that looked like small chunks of coal. His nose was long, the end of it squared off rudely. He had no lips, just a slit that was his mouth. His neck was long, as white and as bony as his face…. Sheridan Doome looked more like a robot than a human being. He was tall and ghastly; his uniform fitted him in a loose manner. Long arms hung at his sides; his face was a perfect blank. He had no control of his facial muscles; consequently, his countenance was always without expression, chalky and bony.

But behind the ugliness was a brilliant mind. Sheridan Doome always got his man. Before Sheridan Doome became a staple in the pages of The Shadow magazine, two Doome hardcover mysteries were written in the mid-1930’s by acclaimed hard-boiled author Steve Fisher (I Wake Up Screaming) and edited by his wife Edythe Seims (Dime Detective, G-8 and His Battle Aces). Age of Aces now brings you both books in one huge double novel, presented in a retro “flip book” style. This book is currently Out of Print.

I sadly don’t have any more information on the character other than this. The book is unavailable for me to acquire in any capacity, and the text above is taken from the Age of Aces website as well as Jess Nevins’s personal profile for the character. I’m not even sure if any of those 54 stories even exist anymore, since although he was published as a backup in Shadow Magazine, there doesn’t seem to be reprints of them anywhere, at least as far as I can find, and the original Shadow magazines have largely turned to dust by now.

A character who combines aspects of The Phantom of the Opera and The Shadow, whose adventures are set in a backdrop that can easily lead to ocean adventures? That’s like, what, three of my favorite things in the world combined. I really, really wish I could at least read the stories this character stars in, but as is, this description is all I can provide. Again, time really has been cruel to the pulp heroes.

Number 4: Harlan Dyce

This is another character I’ve only been able to learn about through Jess Nevins’s archives and have not been able to attain any further information on, which is sadly the case with a lot of pulp heroes that nowadays only seem to exist as footnotes in his Encyclopedia or records in libraries. I don’t post more about these characters because I really would just be copying the stuff he wrote without much to justify me quoting him verbatim, and I hate the idea of doing that.

I especially hate that in Harlan Dyce’s case though. Here’s his description

“Dyce had brains, taste, money, ambition, and a total lack of physical or spiritual fear. But—

“Dyce was thirty-three inches tall and weighed sixty pounds.

“That was all the world could ever hold against him. That was what had made the world, most of it, in all the countries of the world, stare at Harlan Dyce, billed in the big show as “General Midge.””

Harlan Dyce is a misanthropic and venomous private detective. He has an “amazingly handsome face,” and the aforementioned brains. But all anyone sees is his stature, and he hates that and turns his cold eyes and acid tongue on them.

The only person Dyce likes and gets along with (besides his dwarf wife, a former client) is his assistant, Nick Melchem, a six-foot tall former p.i.’s assistant with bleak eyes and a strong body. Melchem ignores Dyce’s stature and treats Dyce normally, which Dyce responds warmly to.

Dwarfs may be the single most maligned group of people depicted in pulp magazines, even more so than the Japanese in the war years or the Chinese during the peak of the Yellow Peril’s popularity. Evil dwarfs, murderous dwarfs, sexually depraved dwarfs, they are all loathsome, ugly cliches that are, sadly, the only instances you see of dwarf characters being represented at all, with the only ones who are awarded any measure of sympathy are doomed henchmen or tragic villains. Even outside of the pulps, the only other examples of heroic, protagonist dwarfs I can think off the top of my head are Puck from Marvel Comics and Tyrion Lannister from Game of Thrones.

I’m not gonna say Harlan Dyce is great representation because I’m not a little person and can never make that kind of claim for a group I’m not a part of, but Harlan Dyce may be the first time I’ve ever seen a dwarf character in pulp fiction who was not a villain or a murderous goon or a victim, but an actual person and a heroic protagonist, and that definitely counts for something. I’m not sure how popular this character was or could be if someone picked up the concept and ran with it (and I’m pretty sure he’s public domain), but I definitely think this is a character that should exist and should be popular.

Hell, this character has Peter Dinklage written all over it, give it to him. Maybe then he will get to play a smart, fearless, cynical, misanthropic but good-natured and heroic character in something where he actually gets to keep these traits until the show ends.

Number 3: Audaz, O Demolidor

Audaz is a Brazilian character who was created and published by Gazetinha, the same publishers of Grey Claw as well as properties exported from elsewhere like Superman and Popeye, and much like The Grey Claw, he is also completely unknown even here. I’ll get to Audaz more in-depth sometime but here I’m going to provide a quick summary:

Audaz, The Demolisher is a gigantic crime-fighting robot controlled and piloted by the brilliant scientist Dr. Blum, his close friend Gregor and the child prodigy Jacques Ennes, who pilot the giant robot from a massive laboratory inside it's head rather than a cockpit. He takes on a variety of ordinary human criminals, mad scientists, supervillains and invading armies, towering over skyscrapers and grappling with jets.

Audaz was created in 1939 by illustrator Messias de Melo, a year before Quality Comics's Bozo the Iron Man and 5 years before Ryuichi Yokoyama's Kagaku Senshi, and decades before the debut of Mazinger Z. Although he is not the first giant robot of science fiction, he is the first heroic giant robot piloted by human pilots, and thus the first true example of "mecha" fiction.

Number 2: Emilia the Ragdoll

This is another Brazilian character, although nowhere near as obscure as Audaz as even a cursory Google search can show. Although Brazil did not have a “pulp era” in the same way the US had, we’ve long gotten past the point of sticking to it as a definitive rule, and I’m including Emilia as a pulp hero because she’s a 1920s fantasy literature character who was created under a publishing company that released pulp stories, because she doesn’t quite belong in the mold of fantasy literature characters she takes after, and because I like her and if I was putting a bunch of pulp heroes together in the same story, I would definitely include Emilia in it. It’s not like she really has anywhere else to go, now that she’s public domain and she’s outlasted her franchise.

As you can tell by the above image, Emilia’s had a lot of variations over the years and that’s because the work she was created for, Sítio do Picapau Amarelo (Yellow Woodpecker Ranch/Farm), has become a major bedrock of Brazilian fantasy literature, one of the only works created here that you can find substantial information about in English if you go looking for it. Here’s some descriptions of Emilia’s character:

Emília is a rag doll described as "clumsy" or "ugly", resembling a "witch" that was handmade by Aunt Nastácia, the ranch's cook, for the little girl Lúcia, out of an old skirt. After Lucia takes her on an adventure and the doll is given a dose of magic pills, Emília suddenly started talking, and would never stop henceforth.

Emilia has a rough, antagonistic personality, and an independent, free-spirited and anarchist behaviour. She is rogue, rebellious, stubborn, rough and intensely determined at anything she sets her mind on, eager to take off on just about any adventure. She is often immature and behaves like a curious and arrogant child, always wanting to be the center of attention.

She is extremely opinionated even when she constantly and confidently mispronounces words and expressions. Her attitude often gets her into trouble, and she very often has to fight against the villains who attack her home on the Yellow Woodpecker Farm and mistreat her friends.

In the stories, Emilia often takes the role of a heroine who travels through different realms and dimensions, as the books include not only figures from Brazilian and worldwide folklore, but also several characters both real and fictional, such as Hercules, King Arthur, Don Quixote, Thumbelina, Da Vinci, Shirley Temple, Captain Hook, Santos Dumont and Baron von Munchausen.

She's fought scorpions and martians and nymph hordes, her arch-enemy is an alligator witch, she rescued an angel from the Milky Way and tried to teach it how to become a human, and once shrunk the entire population of Earth to try and talk the president of the United States into ending war forever.

To little surprise, she has become the most popular character and the series’s mascot.

It’s a little strange to consider Emilia underrated considering she is one of the most famous original characters of Brazilian literature, but hardly anyone outside of Brazil even knows who she is, and regardless of the quality of the original stories (and Monteiro Lobato’s views on race that tar much of his reputation), Emilia definitely feels to me like a character that should be a lot more popular globally.

She is the only character from Yellow Woodpecker Ranch that has transcended the original stories, since she was always the most popular character and there’s been a couple of stories written about her that usually separate her from the ranch and just set her out on the world by herself. The latest story about this character has been a series called The Return of Emilia, that’s about her stepping out of the books in 2050 and discovering a Brazil that’s been ruined by social and ecological devastation, and traveling back in time via a flying scooter in order to try and prevent this calamity.

Now that she’s public domain, I definitely think there’s some great stories that can be told with the character that just about anyone could get to, and I definitely think she’s a character that deserves more appreciation. Anything goes in stories starring her and it’s that kind of free-for-all freedom that I think can benefit future takes on pulp heroes. I would be very happy to place Emilia among them.

Oh yeah, and there was one time she kicked Popeye's ass by tricking him with a can of mouldy cabbage instead of spinach, making him sick and then beating him, which possibly puts her as one of the all-time badasses of fiction, except she would be pissed at not being number one and likely embark on a quest to beat everyone else just to prove she could, because that’s how Emilia rolls.

Number 1: Luna Bartendale, from The Undying Monster (1922)

Not necessarily my favorite of the bunch, but one who sort of epitomizes what you asked, a character who is both incredibly obscure and incredibly underrated in every sense. Despite the book being somewhat known, mainly thanks to the movie, the character is so obscure that I don’t even have an illustration of her to display here, not even fan art, just one of the book’s covers that I think best conveys it. Luckily, the book is also available freely online, so you can all go check it out here. The movie adaptation does not feature the character of Luna Bartendale which makes it pointless to talk about.

To not spoil it too much, The Undying Monster is a very fascinating book, ahead of it’s time in quite a few ways. You expect it to just be a detective story centered around a werewolf cursed, except the subtitle of the book is “The Fifth Dimension” and then it goes to talk about dimensions of thought and post-WWI trauma and love and hypnotic regression that travels through time and ancient runes and Norse mythology. It’s not exactly an easy book to get through in one setting, but I’d recommend it much the same if only because it’s got supersensitive psychic sleuth Luna Bartendale, literature’s first female occult detective, and she’s an incredible character who absolutely feels like she should have become a literary icon.

She lives in London but is world-renowned for her many good deeds. She is a small, pretty woman, with curly blonde hair, dark eyebrows and a high-bridged nose, and a slight build. She has a voice described as a light soprano that "does not make much noise but carries a long way".

Petite, bedimpled and golden curled, Luna is completely in charge of events, dominating every scene that she appears in with her welcoming disposition and cleverness.

Bartendale has various psychic powers, including mind reading. She is well-versed in psychic and occult lore, is a “supersensitive” psychic, and has a “Sixth Sense” which allows her to trace things and people through both the Fourth and the Fifth Dimension. (The Fifth Dimension is “the Dimension that surrounds and pervades the Fourth–known as the Supernatural”).

Her extensive knowledge of occult rites and practices puts John Silence, Carnacki and Miles Pennoyer to shame, and she beats them all with her "super-sensitive" gift of being able to psychically connect with troubled souls and hypnotize them.

She uses a divining rod for various tasks, including psychic detection and tracking, and distinguishing between benevolent and malevolent forces. She has various (undefined) powerful psychic defenses, can carry on seances, and can even cure a person of “wehrwolfism.” And she can always rely on her massive, intelligent dog Roska for help.

Luna sadly doesn’t show up in the book as often as I’d hoped, but everything about this character is so delightful. In a lot od ways she hardly feels like a pulp hero, at least the ones I usually talk about. She feels like a lost protagonist from an incredibly successful kid’s adventure series where a kind and eccentric detective witch and her giant dog go around solving occult mysteries and encountering all sorts of weird supernatural beings while counseling and helping people, like Ms Frizzle meets Hilda. Like this character is just waiting for Cartoon Saloon to make a film about her.

Its not so much “this character should/could be popular but it’s clear why that didn’t pan out”, it’s more me being confused as “why the hell isn’t she super popular? This character should have had a franchise ages ago, holy shit put her in everything””

#pulp heroes #pulp fiction #answer tag #sheridan doome #harlan dyce #audaz #boneca emilia #luna bartendale

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jesatria · 3 years ago

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Fic: Simple Pleasures, Chap 10

Title: Simple Pleasures Fandom: Kushiel’s Legacy Characters: Isidore d’Aiglemort, Anne Livet Pairings: Isidore/Anne Word Count: 8,468 Rating: NC-17 Summary: The story of Isidore d’Aiglemort & the gardener’s daughter of Lombelon. WIP. Disclaimer: I do not own Kushiel’s Legacy. This is only for fun & no profit is being made from it.

Previous Chapters:

1. The Visit

2. Desire

3. The Harvest Festival

4. Triumph

5. Gifts

6. The Eagle Unbound

7. Lighting the Candle

8. The Longest Night

9. The Final Parting

Chapter 10: The Sword of Camael

Things had, to put it bluntly, not gone according to plan.

They’d known. Somehow, they’d known. The Royal Army had known my plan and adjusted its position accordingly. They’d hidden it well, too—I’d had no idea until I heard shouts and the sound of steel on steel as the Glory-Seekers fell upon my loyal forces. And it wasn’t just them, oh no—a portion of my own army, Allies of Camlach, men from Camaeline houses owing fealty to me as their sovereign Duc, joined them. Their attack had been enough to halt my plan and throw everything into disarray. Though, I thought bitterly, mayhap that was actually for the best.

I’d been played for a fool.

Selig never meant to honor our agreement.

I cursed myself for a fool for not having seen it coming. He meant to invade; all the intelligence confirmed that. I thought I could use him for my own ends and stave off invasion. How could I have been so blind? We’d have been cut to pieces if the traitors hadn’t kept us busy. As soon as I saw the Skaldi cut them down when they tried to make their escape, I knew. The Skaldi had no way of knowing those men had betrayed me. We made our escape into the mountains, where I could be reasonably certain of our safety. No one knew them like we did, after all.

It was after we retreated safely that the priests came to denounce me. All of them, every priest of Camael left in the army. I’d never been overly close with Camael’s priesthood, not like my father had been. I tolerated them of course—how could I not when I was sovereign Duc of Camlach?—but I was never one to ask for their blessings upon me before battle. Better to rely on my own skill and steel than any aid from the Terre-d’Ange-that-lies-beyond. Nonetheless I never made any protests or barred them from following my armies to battle. It was tradition, after all, and the men took comfort from their presence.

Still, I will not lie and say I didn’t feel deeply uneasy when they made their denunciation. “lsidore d’Aiglemort,” began the most senior of them, “you have betrayed the sacred trust of Elua and his Companions. You have let the Skaldi in the passes, transgressing against the throne of Terre d’Ange. You have turned away from your duty as Camael’s scion. You have shown yourself to be without honor. Camael has withdrawn his favor.” With that, all the assembled priests turned their backs on me and walked away. No one dared hinder them. They’d not betray us to the Skaldi. To the Royal Army, mayhap, but not the Skaldi.

I glanced at the faces of the lords and captains gathered around me. Several of them were clearly uneasy about what had just transpired. Our situation was precarious enough for the proclaimed loss of Camael’s favor to be unsettling. Anne would’ve been horrified, pious as she was.

Anne.

Did she know? With Lombelon lying not far from the main road leading from the war zone to the City, it was likely she did. Word of the invasion and my treason would spread quickly. That thought, that she knew what I’d done, filled me with more shame than anything else. The failure of my plans, being played for a fool by a Skaldi warlord, earning the condemnation of the priests of Camael… all of that paled in comparison. If I were to get myself out of this mess and see her again, what would I say to her? I’d kept all of it from her and in doing so had lied by omission. Hard as it had been, it was necessary. By keeping her ignorant of my plans I kept her safe, and thank Elua I had! From that particular danger, at least.

The other danger was considerably greater.

A Skaldi horde was now on the loose in Terre d’Ange led by a warlord more cunning and charismatic than any in living memory. With the clarity of hindsight I could see now that I’d underestimated Waldemar Selig the exact same way most D’Angelines underestimated me. All Camaelines think with their swords indeed. Such a fool I’d been, not to see it. And now all of Terre d’Ange was in deadly peril. From what intelligence we’d been able to gather, we learned the Royal Army had retreated to the fortress of Troyes-le-Mont and the Skaldi were besieging them. I breathed a small sigh of relief at that, for it meant our situation was less precarious. Selig would be too preoccupied besieging Troyes-le-Mont to take the time to kill me. He’d be hard-pressed finding me anyway, for no one knew the mountains like the Allies of Camlach.

There were no other options. We could do nothing about the Skaldi, not when there were some thirty thousand of them to our four thousand. No, for now we would remain hidden in the mountains while I considered my options.

The situation did not improve after that first day. I wept until I thought I had no more tears to shed. I had been thoroughly shaken to my foundations and could find nothing to grasp to steady myself. Again and again I pondered how well I’d truly known Isidore, that I didn’t think him capable of something like this. There was a whole side to him I’d not seen, and in my worst moments I questioned our entire relationship. Was what passed between us real? Yes, I told myself. If he was faking his feelings, then he missed his calling as a player. The love I saw blazing in his eyes, the raw emotion I heard in his voice when last we parted were proof his feelings weren’t feigned. Mayhap if he’d confided in me, I could’ve convinced him not to go through with it. Mayhap I could’ve gotten him to see that this was folly. I shook my head, dismissing such thoughts from my mind. I would drive myself mad with such thoughts, and I needed clarity of mind more now than ever.

The changes were immediate. As soon as word of Isidore’s treason spread through the manor and village beyond, the stares and whispers began. Conversations would halt when I walked by or else folk would whisper behind their hands, thinking I didn’t hear what they said of me. “That’s the one. Spread her legs for a traitor and let him get a child on her!” became all too familiar. Some of the folk of the village even went so far as to spit at my feet. They clearly thought I was somehow party to Isidore’s treason, or at least guilty through association. I’d shared his bed for years, after all, and now carried his child. Some few shopkeepers in the village even refused to sell to me, turning me away with claims that they didn’t sell to a traitor’s whore.

The mood in the manor was another matter. I was not regarded with as much contempt and suspicion among people I’d lived and worked with for years. Some, such as Thèrese and Marcel, voiced support for me, claiming I’d never stand for treason. I appreciated their words, though it did not escape my notice that they regarded me with greater wariness than before. Innocent of treason I might’ve been, but I was still lover and would-be consort to a traitor. Then there were the others, who regarded me with similar scorn as the folk in the village. It was not quite as blatant, but it was there all the same.

I’d never felt more alone. There was not a single person I could speak to about my troubles, not in the manor anyway. So I paid a visit to the shrine of Elua. It was a place I knew well, having visited it many times. The same priest had tended it too, for as long as I could remember. If anyone could ease my troubled heart, it was him.

I removed my shoes and stockings before approaching the shrine. The grass was a pleasant tickle against my bare feet. I always liked going about barefoot in the warm weather.

“Anne.”

I turned to see a familiar priest of Elua approach. “Hello Brother Michel.”

“Have you come to make an offering?”

“No. I was hoping I might speak with you.”

“Of course.” He gestured to the small house adjoining the shrine. “Shall we go inside?”

“Yes, thank you.” Had I not been so far gone with child, I’d have sat on the grass, but I had trouble rising from such a position in my current state. Once inside, I seated myself in a chair beside Brother Michel’s bookshelf. He sat in the chair opposite mine and spoke.

“I’ve heard the news of the Duc d’Aiglemort. Is that what you wished to speak with me about?”

“Yes,” I replied softly. “Please believe me when I say I knew nothing of his plans. Suspicion has fallen on me, in both the manor and the village.”

“Of course I believe you, Anne,” said Brother Michel. “It is plain to see that your heart is troubled. Had you been party to d’Aiglemort’s treason, I do not think it would be so.”

“Thank you.” I didn’t think I could stand it if our priest of Elua held me in suspicion. “Things have been… difficult since the news reached us. I never had the slightest inkling that he was plotting treason. I’ve been struggling to reconcile that knowledge with the man I know.”

“A common sentiment for someone in your position. It is only natural for you to wonder how well you knew him when you had no idea he was plotting treason,” Brother Michel observed.

“It’s not just that. There have been moments when I’ve wondered whether my love was misplaced, or if his love for me was false,” I confessed. My chest felt tight at the admission—saying it aloud made it more real than it had been inside my head.

“What does your heart tell you?” Brother Michel’s voice was impossibly gentle.

“I…” The words caught in my throat and I had to force them out, “I don’t think his love for me is feigned, and what I feel for him I know to be true.”

“Then you should take some comfort in that. Love is no easy thing, Anne. It is hard, hard and even cruel. We all struggle at times to remain true to Blessed Elua’s precept. If your feelings for the Duc d’Aiglemort were not true, I doubt you would be feeling as you are now.”

“I have always tried my best to follow Blessed Elua’s precept,” I said, “but I’ve never had such trouble before now.”

“Again, you must look to what your heart tells you. All I can say is the course of love does not always run smooth.”

When I left Brother Michel later that day, I felt a bit better about my situation, some of my doubts dissipating. They were not gone entirely, but I felt comforted at the thought that it was Blessed Elua’s will. Our hearts had been joined, and even the knowledge of Isidore’s treason was not enough to completely sunder the bond between us. There was no sense on dwelling on what I now knew about him; best to confront him about it when I saw him again. That I resolved to do, for I had to understand. I had to know if I was to be his consort and the mother of his child.

None of that made it much easier to face the constant suspicion and outright hostility. For the first time in my life I wished I could run away from it all, leave Lombelon for somewhere no one knew who I was and whose child I carried. To the City, mayhap. The problem was that I was hardly fit to travel in my condition with my time nearly upon me and besides that, the thought of leaving behind everything and everyone I knew filled me with fear. No, Lombelon was my home and there I would remain. I couldn’t think of having my child anywhere else. But that didn’t mean I had to remain in the manor for my lying in. Instead, once summer came and the pear trees were in bloom, I took myself to the shrine of Eisheth.

In the days of my youth, my father had me study the geography of Camlach until I knew it like the back of my hand. When I became Duc and formed the Allies of Camlach, I used that knowledge to create a system of pathways through the mountains which allowed us to move quickly through the province when needed. I made use of that knowledge now.

We spent a couple of days at that first campsite, then moved to another deeper in the mountains. The Skaldi had neglected to pursue us, being occupied with the Royal Army, but I thought it best not to take any chances. It was a wide valley ringed by mountains, hard for a horde of Skaldi to find. Our options were limited. Scouts reported that the western passes had been sealed against us. Ysandre and de Somerville were taking no chances. Unfortunately, they also cut off our baggage train. That, needless to say, presented difficulties.

One of the first things I did after we settled into our initial campsite was order an inventory of our supplies. The results were not encouraging: we were limited to what we carried and a small portion of the baggage train quick enough to avoid being cut off with the rest. It wouldn’t last long, even with reduced rations. Of necessity I ordered men with the necessary skills to hunt and forage in the surrounding area. We were very fortunate that it was early summer. I had to hope that would be enough until we could replenish our supplies in full.

I had no idea when that would be.

I had no idea how to get myself out of this mess.

The shrine to Eisheth proved to be the sanctuary I needed in the days leading up to the birth. The priestess and her acolyte welcomed me in and promptly settled me in a small guest room off of the shrine. It was a cozy room, with a comfortable bed and windows looking out on the shrine’s herb gardens. A good place for a lying-in, I thought. Mayhap not the expected choice, but it would do. If the priestesses were surprised at my appearance, they said naught. I didn’t share with them why I’d left the manor, nor did they ask. If was a huge relief to take refuge somewhere no one cared I was Isidore’s consort and carrying his child. I needed that badly after all I’d endured these last weeks. Now all I had to do was endure childbirth.

I had a good idea of what to expect. Women will often speak of such matters before an impending birth and I’d heard plenty throughout my life, usually with those women who never lit the candle chiming in to say they didn’t regret their decision. The others didn’t shy away from describing just how painful giving birth was. “Felt like I’d been run over by a wagon when it was over,” one put it. Thus, I approached the birth with a combination of apprehension and eagerness for it to be over and done with. The priestess examined me and assured me that everything was ordinary and I was due any day now.

Those last days seemed to drag on for an eternity. There was naught for me to do but sit around and wait for the pangs to start. Truth be told I couldn’t complain too much, as I hardly felt up to more than that anyway. Normally I’d be well-occupied with the gardens as summer came. I missed it dearly. Even though I hadn’t worked as a servant for months now, I was still not quite used to idleness. I had plenty of it now, and more time to think than I could’ve possibly wanted. I spent it thinking on the birth to come. Better to keep my mind on that than on anything else.

I’d been staying at the shrine for a little more than two weeks when it finally happened. The priestesses were quick to take me to a different room from the one I’d been staying in and settle me on the bed. At long last, the babe was coming.

We were surrounded.

It was actually rather impressive that they managed it, though I’d not bothered to post more sentries than the minimum, not this deep in the mountains. My first thought was that the Skaldi had come to finish us off after all and I immediately began considering potential routes of escape. There was no way we could make a stand in the valley, not when we were surrounded on all sides. The only option was to fight our way through. Before I could think on that any further, the sound of trumpets rang out in the valley. I looked up to see several banners prominently displayed, too far away for me to make out their devices.

“Isidore d’Aiglemort!” Ghislain de Somerville’s voice rang out from the hills. “We wish to parley. We send our heralds in good faith! Will you honor the concords of war?”

Was there much of a choice? They had us surrounded. If we tried to make an escape, we’d be at a disadvantage attacking uphill while they held the high ground. No, our only option was to treat with them. I knew Ghislain to be an honorable man, not the sort who’d lure us into a trap. It was too difficult to shout up, so I gave an exaggerated bow as a response. A moment later a small group bearing what was unmistakably a white flag of truce made its way to the valley floor. They were immediately surrounded and brought before me. As they approached, I noticed a second banner flying beneath the flag of truce, an unfamiliar device of a jagged circle of red pierced by a golden dart on a black field.

“What is your message?” I greeted them, cutting straight to the point.

“We come bearing an offer of truce, your grace,” said the standard bearer. “Will you agree to treat with us?”

“I don’t see how I have much choice,” I retorted. “Yes, I will treat with you.”

The standard bearer nodded. “We will remain here as a gesture of good faith while you speak with our leaders.”

“Done.”

It did not take long for me to assemble an escort. We went armed, but I elected to leave my helm behind as a gesture of good faith. I’d certainly be in need of that going forward. We followed the path the heralds took until we reached the top of the trail. L’Agnacite archers stood to either side of it, each with an arrow nocked and pointed at my head. I ignored them and made straight for Ghislain de Somerville. “I am here, cousin. You wished to speak with me?” No sense in bothering with excessive courtesy or appealing to friendship—whatever friendly association I had with Ghislain in the past was long gone now.

“The emissary of Ysandre de la Courcel, Queen of Terre d’Ange, wishes to speak with you, your grace,” said Ghislain. I took a moment to scan the forces surrounding me then, looking for the emissary. My eyes widened in shock when I caught sight of a number of warriors with blue whorls tattooed on their faces.

“My lord.”

I turned my attention to a D’Angeline woman who stepped out from the crowd to stand before me. There was somewhat distinctly familiar about her. “You,” I said, frowning as I tried to recall where I’d last seen her. “I know you.”

“Yes, my lord. I gave joie to you at the Midwinter Masque when Baudoin de Trevalion played the Sun Prince. You remembered, when last we met.” It came to me then, the palace, a chance encounter with a Servant of Naamah. “You were fostered among the Shahrizai. They should have taught you to recognize the mark of Kushiel’s Dart, my lord.”

My gaze flicked over to her left eye, taking in the red mote in the brown of the iris. She was right—no one could spend four years fostering with the Shahrizai and befriend Melisande without knowing of anguissettes. “Delaunay’s anguissette. I remember. Melisande begged a favor, for a plan gone awry. I thought you gone, among the Skaldi. But your lord’s death was not of my will, anguissette.”

“So I am given to understand,” said Phèdre nó Delaunay.

I raised my eyebrows. “You are not here for revenge? Then what?” I turned my attention to the many blue tattooed faces clustered around us. “You bring the Picti? Why?” Then it dawned on me. “Delaunay. That’s what he and Quintilius Rousse were about.”

“My lord, this is the army of the Cruarch of Alba and Ghislain de Somerville. And we are here to offer you the choosing of the manner of your death.”

My men did not take kindly to that and reached for their swords. It was hardly what I wanted to hear, but I’d agreed to this meeting. I held up a hand and my men fell back into place. “How do you say?”

“You are a dead man, Kilberhaar,” she stated plainly. The blood left my face at the sound of the Skaldi’s name for me. “Waldemar Selig used you for a fool. He’ll not let you live, if he defeats us; the D’Angelines know you for a traitor, and will not abide it. Selig’s smart enough to clean up after himself, and wise enough to leave no blade aimed at his back. I know, I spent considerable time in his bed, thanks to you. You’re dead, no matter who wins. We can offer you a chance to die with honor.”

There it was, laid plain before me, the reality I had to face. There would be no escaping this alive. I threw my head back and tossed my hair over my shoulders. “What possible reason would I have to take it, anguissette?”

“I am Phèdre nó Delaunay and I can give you a reason, my lord. Because if you do not, and Selig prevails, Melisande Shahrizai will dance upon your grave.”

Her words were a knife to the heart. Melisande, my old friend, who’d befriended me when I was newly come to the Shahrizai and homesick, who’d encouraged my ambitions from the very beginning. A friend. I called her a friend. I thought she felt the same way about me. I could only stare at Phèdre nó Delaunay. “Melisande was in league with Selig?”

“Yes, my lord. I saw a letter, in her own hand. I know it well. I ought to. You would be well-advised to do her no more favors.”

I cursed and turned away from her then, looking out over the valley where my army waited below. That was it then, the truth. Melisande had used me to serve her ends and discarded me once I’d served my purpose. What a fool I’d been, to think her my friend! She’d done the same thing to Baudoin; I was blind to think she wouldn’t do it to me. Her betrayal of Baudoin should’ve been a signal to me of her true nature. She’d played me very well, shaping my ambitions into a tool for her own use, and I’d been too damned blind to see it. Again I cursed myself for a fool. It seemed to be happening with increasing frequency as of late.

Well, if Melisande and Selig thought I would meekly accept the hand they’d dealt me, they were sorely mistaken.

“I am the sword you would plunge into Selig’s heart,” I said, keeping my back to the crowd.

“Yes, your grace. Camael’s sword.” That was Ghislain de Somerville.

I laughed harshly. “The betrayer of the nation turned its savior.” Below, a crowd had formed around the messengers. We’d been starved for news, and they were no doubt at work filling my men in on all that had transpired since our flight. My men, who I’d led into this disaster. I had a responsibility to them too. “Will you feed them?” I asked Ghislain. He would understand. “Ysandre cut off our supply-train, and sealed the doors of Camlach against us.”

“We will,” he promised.

I turned and met his eyes. “What do you propose?”

“I propose that we unite our forces and mount an attack on Selig’s army,” he gave a faint smile, “and strike as hard as we can for Waldemar Selig. No one’s asking you to die alone, cousin.”

“Selig is mine,” I declared with a calm I didn’t quite feel. “Swear it, and I will grant what you ask.”

“I swear.” Ghislain’s expression grew stern. “Do you pledge your fealty to Ysandre de la Courcel, on Camael’s honor, and in the name of Blessed Elua?”

“I’ll pledge my loyalty to the destruction of Melisande Shahrizai.” Ghislain glanced over at Phèdre, who gave a slight nod. That was enough for them, it seemed.

With an agreement reached, the army made its slow descent into the valley. It was quite fortunate that we were encamped in a valley large enough to accommodate another army roughly the same size as my own. We’d not be remaining long in any case. I rode beside Ghislain and the others as we made our way down.

“You were the Cassiline, weren’t you?” I asked the stone-faced Cassiline Brother who rode beside Phèdre nó Delaunay. “I remember. Melisande’s favor.”

“Yes, my lord,” he replied with bitterness in his voice. “I was the Cassiline. Joscelin Verreuil formerly of the Cassiline Brotherhood.”

“You’re better off. Steel and faith are an unnatural mix. I’m impressed, though. I’d have thought slavery would kill a Cassiline. I’ll want to hear, later, all you know of Waldemar Selig.” With that I left them, for I had other matters requiring my immediate attention. There would be time to speak of such matters during our war meeting.

The meeting took place as soon as the army was settled and the logistical matters were seen to. The sight of the Albans with their blue tattooed faces and unwieldy war chariots caused quite a stir in the camp. An Alban army crossing to D’Angeline shores. No one would’ve believed such a thing possible, yet it had been done. Mayhap our own mission was not entirely a reckless gamble.

All but the absolute necessities I carried with me were lost with our baggage train, and Ghislain’s command tent had been left behind in Azzalle, so we had to improvise. We did have maps, which were updated to include the current positions of the various armies. The discussion went on for some time. The Albans had no concept of battle formations, which meant time had to be taken to explain it to them. Once that was seen to, the planning moved more swiftly. The final plan we settled on was relatively simple: the Camaeline infantry would form the front line of assault against the Skaldi. I knew well how disciplined my own men were and there was no one else I’d rather have holding the line. When the Skaldi rallied from the initial attack, the Albans would swoop in from the wings and engage them. Then the infantry would split and my cavalry would ride through to meet the Skaldi. Both Phèdre and Messire Verreuil were certain Selig would be on the front lines. We would have to fight our way through a horde of Skaldi to get to him.

“How good is he?” I asked once the planning was done. “Do you know, Cassiline?”

“He disarmed me,” he answered. “In the heat of battle. He is that good, my lord.”

I studied the Cassiline for a moment, taking his measure. Their discipline was not like what we were taught in Camlach, and Camaeline boys almost never joined the Cassiline Brotherhood. Still, I knew enough to have respect for their fighting prowess. “Then I shall have to be better,” I said quietly, hand on the hilt of my sword.

There was silence while my words sunk in, then Joscelin Verreuil spoke again. “Don’t wait to engage him. He’ll move inside your guard if you do. He fights without thinking, the way you or I breathe. And don’t be fooled by his size. He’s faster than you think.”

I nodded, acknowledging his words. “Thank you.”

All my life I heard stories of the agonies of childbirth. It was a common enough complaint among women that it was a topic of conversation when we worked together in the kitchen or at other chores. Going into this, I thought I had a good idea of what to expect. I was wrong.

No amount of previous knowledge could’ve prepared me for this.

It was agony, mayhap a hundred times worse than the strongest pain I’d previously experienced. The priestesses of Eisheth, who had plenty of experience of midwifery, told me to take deep breaths and exhale slowly. This was meant to give me somewhat to focus on besides the pain, and it did for a time.

The room they took me to was commonly used for patients, including women giving birth. The bed was laid out with clean sheets and piled with pillows. They propped me up on the pillows after stripping me down to my shift. I hadn’t been at it for long before I was asking myself why exactly I’d chosen to do this of my own free will. I could’ve lived my entire life without knowing such horrible pain, but I just had to light the candle. At least those were my thoughts before the pain wiped away anything else.

I couldn’t have even begun to guess how long it went on. Every minute felt like an hour. I cried out until my throat was raw and my face was wet with tears. Then—finally—it ended. I was so exhausted and out of it that it took me until I heard the sound of an infant crying to comprehend what had just happened.

“You have a son, Anne,” said one of the priestesses.

A son.

I had a son.

Isidore and I, we had a son.

Later, when I lay on clean sheets with my son sleeping soundly in my arms, I could not stop marveling at him, this new life I had brought into the world. Such a miraculous thing, that I should carry him inside my womb for nine months and now I was seeing and holding him for the first time. After so much anticipation it was almost hard to believe he was finally here, but he was. He was wonderfully real. I studied his tiny face. Sometimes babes come out of the womb strongly resembling one parent or the other. I couldn’t see that now. Mayhap it would become apparent in time. For now I was content to delight in this new life we created together. He was perfect. I’d always hoped to have a child, and now I had one. Looking at him, I knew that I would do absolutely anything for him. My love for him was absolute. “I hope you have silver hair like your father,” I whispered, then pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, “Maslin.”

The name we’d chosen for him. His grandfather’s name.

There is a certain calm in facing one’s impending death.

It came with the absence of doubt. All uncertainty lies stripped away and the hand of fate presses down. One knows, in that moment, all hopes of struggle and escape are futile. There will be no clever stratagems at the last minute, no daring escape from the scaffold. All one can do is accept fate and walk calmly toward it.

I had only one full day left. One day. There was enough to do with the preparations for the battle that I had little time to dwell on that realization. I did not think of how my plans had gone wrong and what might’ve been. I did not think of all those places I wished I could see, things I could do, people I could see one last time before the end.

All but one.

Anne, I’m so, so sorry. The woman I loved, who I’d wronged in my folly. I would never see her again. Our child would grow up fatherless. Everything I promised—consort status for her, an inheritance for our child—would never come to pass. That was my fault. Both of them would bear the taint of association with me, being the lover and child of a traitor. If I succeeded in what I meant to do and killed Selig, at least I could give them somewhat to be proud of.

When I had a moment to spare, I wrote one last letter to Anne. I owed her that. I didn’t bother trying to explain or justify my actions—what was the point of that now? I only hoped she could find it in her heart to forgive me and not raise our child to hate me. Just before we were set to march, I entrusted the letter a courier. By the time it arrived at Lombelon, I’d be dead.

We left early the next day. Just before we broke camp, word came that the siege defenses had fallen and the Skaldi were at the gates of Troyes-le-Mont. We would be just in time, it seemed. The march out of Camlach and into Namarre took most of the day—it was sunset when we arrived in sight of the besieged fortress. The Skaldi surrounded it completely, a vast horde larger than any seen in Terre d’Ange in a very long time. Siege towers could be seen here and there, corroborating what Ghislain told us. We made camp in the foothills, far enough back that the Skaldi scouts wouldn’t detect us but close enough that we could see the area clearly.

“We’ll wait for daybreak,” said Ghislain once we were encamped, “and pray they know us for allies in the fortress. The sooner they counterattack the Skaldi rear, the better our chances.”

“You think they’ll flock to aid the d’Aiglemort eagle?” I inquired. “Don’t count on their being quick, cousin.”

“My father is no fool. Drustan’s men are flying the Cullach Gorrym. He’ll know,” Ghislain assured me.

“If he can even see the Black Pig, over thirty thousand howling Skaldi.” I shrugged. “We’ll do as much damage as we can, and pray it’s enough to break the siege. But for every minute your father hesitates, and for every minute it takes for them to marshal a counterattack, we’ll die by the hundreds.”

Our discussion was interrupted by one of the chevaliers sworn to Phèdre nó Delaunay, who cried out and pointed to a line of prisoners just visible in the distance. Horror and revulsion rose within me as I saw they were all women. I knew the Skaldi had a fondness for D’Angeline women, had even freed women they took captive in raids. But knowing and seeing are different things. This was in part my doing. This might well be the fate that awaited Anne if we failed. I felt sick at the thought of her being brutalized and violated by the Skaldi. I glanced over at Phèdre, who was visibly shaken by the sight. Her face was pressed into her Cassiline’s chest and she was shuddering. I had done that to her.

“I am sorry,” I said softly. “For what was done to you both. For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

It felt good to say it. Joscelin Verreuil met my eyes and nodded.

“Daybreak,” said Ghislain, voice filled with grim determination.

We returned to the camp shortly after that, to see to the final preparations. The sense of calm I’d felt since accepting my fate was still with me, now pared with a greater sense of urgency after seeing the Skaldi at the gates of Troyes-le-Mont. We could not fail.

That will not happen, I reassured myself. We will not fail.

I will not fail.

When night fell, I retired early. I wanted to be sure I was well-rested for the battle to come. It was surprising, how easily sleep came. I slept soundly, until I felt someone kneel down beside me. My hand instantly went to my sword and in a moment it was pointed at the visitor’s throat. “You,” I said as I recognized Phèdre nó Delaunay, “what is it?”

“My lord,” she replied softly, “the fortress will be ready for your attack.”

I sheathed my sword and stared at her. “You’ll be captured.”

“Not before I gain the wall.” She shivered, despite her cloak. “The Skaldi camp is full of D’Angeline women. I can get close enough. And I can give a warning Ysandre will understand.”

I shook my head. “Do you not understand? Selig will make you talk. You’ll give us all up for dead.”

“No. No, my lord. I am the one person who will not.”

Reflexively my gaze went to her left eye. It was too dark to make out the mote. I pushed my hair back from my face and asked, “Why are you telling me?”

“Because you, my lord, are the one person who won’t try to stop me,” she replied. “Help me get past our sentries. A hundred lives for every minute, you said. I can save a thousand, at least; mayhap three times that many. I gave you the choice of your death. The least you can do is honor mine.”

I couldn’t argue with that. Instead I gave a curt nod and rose from my position. Together we walked to the edge of the camp where one of my men was posted as a sentry. I called him aside and he turned his attention to me. I did not watch as Phèdre nó Delaunay slipped past and made her way to the fortress, trusting instead that she knew what she was about. There had been no doubt or hesitation in her words to me and I wondered if it was Kushiel who’d set her to do this. She was his Chosen, after all.

Kushiel, who I would be meeting soon.

Before long, the first rays of the sun broke over the horizon. Every preparation that could be made had been made. I checked my armor, weapons, and horse as I did before every battle. It would not do for any mistakes in that area today. Beneath my armor and padding I wore one of the shirts Anne made me. Her handkerchief was tucked into my pocket. Mayhap I was being sentimental, but there was somewhat comforting in having the gifts she’d given me on my person when I went to my death. I wondered what she was doing now, if she hated me for what I’d done. I wondered if our child had been born, the child I would never see. Maslin for a boy; Louise for a girl, we’d decided.

Forgive me.

All around me, D’Angeline soldiers prayed to Camael. Normally the priests would make offerings and lead the prayer, but of course we had none. To my surprise I found myself kneeling to join them. “Camael,” I murmured, “I know that I have disgraced myself and betrayed your sacred trust. I ask not for your forgiveness, only that you let me wield your sword in defense of Terre d’Ange one last time.”

There was no answer. I hadn’t expected one.

Ghislain de Somerville and I positioned ourselves on one of the hills just past the camp, a good vantage point to survey the battle. My cavalry waited in position nearby. It was in truth a beautiful early summer day, with the sun shining and nary a cloud to be seen. All in all, not a bad day to die.

As I watched my infantry march forward and engage the Skaldi, the calm I’d felt deepened and the focus I always had during battle came upon me. It was familiar, yet also sharper. The world narrowed to the field of battle and everything else vanished. The Skaldi broke upon the Camaeline shieldwall like water on rocks. The L’Agnacite archers positioned behind the shieldwall fired volley after volley of arrows into the mass of Skaldi. Whatever discipline Selig managed to instill in them was starting to unravel as they charged the shieldwall again and again. If the numbers were more evenly matched, I daresay they might’ve held for quite some time. Instead, the tide of Skaldi was moving forward to flank them.

I met Ghislain’s eyes and could tell without asking he had the same thought I did. We exchanged brief nods and I signaled for the Albans to attack. They charged forward, cavalry on the right and war chariots on the left with infantry swarming behind both. The sight of them sent a wave of shock through the Skaldi; I suspect it was the blue faces that did it. Whatever it was, the Skaldi were entirely unprepared for a horde of Albans. Thus far, the battle was going as we’d hoped it would. My time was coming soon. I parted from Ghislain and joined my cavalry, taking my place at their head. We moved into position, ready to charge as soon as I gave the command. I watched closely as the infantry dug in and held their position against the onslaught.

The time was now.

I signaled the charge and spurred my horse forward. A horn sounded the call and as one, the line of infantry broke in two. We charged forward into the breach and struck the Skaldi with the force of a hammer. I did not need to look back to know the infantry had reformed behind us. Swords singing, we laid into the Skaldi.

. Yes, this is what I was meant for, to wield a sword in battle, I thought as I slew. My blood was up, as it always was during battle. Scions of Camael were made for this. I was relentless as I drove forward to my goal. Those Skaldi foolish enough to get in my way fell to my sword and did not rise again. “Kilberhaar!” they shouted at the sight of me. Many of them fled. “Kilberhaar!”

Good, I thought. I want them to know. I hadn’t bothered tying my hair back for that reason. I wanted him to know.

Pain blossomed in several places; I ignored it, only registering that I’d been wounded. Camael’s battle fire was in me now, and I wondered if he’d forgiven me enough to give me his favor one last time. Ahead, a large Skaldi man shouted orders from atop a tall horse. Selig. It had to be. He turned to see the charge heading straight for him. In response he raised his sword in the air and shouted, “Kilberhaar!” A moment later he was charging toward me.

Excellent. Come at me and we will see who proves the better!

The waves of Skaldi parted to let Selig through. No doubt they were filled with excitement at the prospect of a duel to the death between us. Ahead, feu d’Hellas fell from the trebuchets atop the fortress wall. It was quickly followed by the drawbridge being lowered into place. The D’Angeline forces were across it a moment later and fell upon the Skaldi with all the pent-up rage and frustration of an army that had endured a siege for many weeks. I allowed myself a small sigh of relief—Phèdre nó Delaunay had gotten her message through.

Men fell all around me, D’Angeline and Skaldi both. I did not pause for a moment to note who among my men they were, only noting that the line of cavalry was growing steadily thinner. I took notice when my standard bearer went down, aware now that I’d been separated from the rest of my cavalry and fought on alone.

A spear thrust got my horse in the neck; I jumped free as he fell. Selig was nearly upon me now, and I did not like my odds on foot against a skilled mounted opponent. Best to even the odds. I slew the nearest Skaldi warrior and grabbed his battle axe. As Selig approached, I threw it left-handed. It hit his horse in the neck and it went down with a mighty crash. Selig was on his feet a moment later.

The stories did not exaggerate. Selig was a large man, mayhap a few inches taller than me and a fair bit broader. He was also fresh, or at least fresher than I was. As I looked upon my enemy, the man I’d sworn to kill, Camael’s battle fire burned hot within me. Lend your strength to my sword arm one last time, I prayed. With that, I stepped forward to engage Selig.

Joscelin Verreuil had not been inaccurate in his assessment—it was immediately apparent that Selig was a natural-born swordsman. He was quick for such a big man too. Any wrong move, any faltering on my part would almost certainly prove fatal. The noise and commotion of the battle around me faded until the world might’ve consisted of only the two of us. I kept on the offensive, not wanting to give him any opportunity to press an advantage. I managed to score a few hits on him, though nothing fatal. Unfortunately, he was able to do the same to me.

I pushed the pain of my wounds aside. In Camlach, we learn from a young age how to deal with pain, not to find pleasure in it as an anguissette would but to build tolerance for it. I’d been practicing weapons and riding in all kinds of weather since I was a child. We endure the cold and fight no matter how sore or exhausted we are. If Selig thought to wear me down this way, he would be sorely disappointed.

I studied him as we traded blows. He was good. He was very good.

I was better.

Even now, with me wounded in several places and hardly fresh, my Camaeline reflexes, honed over years of practicing the sword relentlessly, were just that little bit faster than his. He faltered for just a moment and I saw an opening. My sword found a gap in his armor.

Selig sank to his knees, gazing up at me in disbelief. Did he actually believe the tales that he was proof against weapons? If so, he went to his death disappointed. My strength at last gave way and I sank to my knees beside him, both hands gripping the hilt of my sword as I thrust it home.

It was done.

I was avenged. Terre d’Ange was saved. Anne and the child would be safe.

My hands lost their grip on the hilt of my sword and I collapsed. The end was near now. There was no more denying or postponing it. I would soon be in Kushiel’s realm, where I’d face the One God’s punisher and whatever justice he sought to serve me. And for the first time since I’d accepted my fate, I was afraid. I knew enough of Kushiel from my time with the Shahrizai to feel certain I was unlikely to receive much mercy from him. I tried to take comfort knowing my loved ones would not die at the hands of the Skaldi.

They would know I’d died a hero.

A nearby woman’s voice startled me out of my thoughts. “We are all alike, in the end, and none of us to be had merely for the taking.”

It took me a moment to place the voice, but when I did I couldn’t help but laugh. Here I was contemplating Kushiel as I lay dying, and his Chosen should appear before me. “Phèdre nó Delaunay,” I whispered, clutching at her hand, “I am afraid of your lord’s revenge.”

Confusion flashed over her face before realization dawned. She held a waterskin to my lips. “You have paid, my lord, and paid in full. And Kushiel sends no punishment we are not fit to bear.”

Her words were strangely comforting. I felt some of my fear dissipate and in the distance I heard the beating of bronze wings.

I drank the water she offered and took my last breath, surrendering my soul into Kushiel’s keeping.

Dear Anne,

By the time this letter reaches you, I will be dead. I can only hope that when you receive it you will also hear the news that I gave my life in service to Terre d’Ange. I go to my death with the knowledge that my sacrifice might serve to wash away my sins and that you and our child will live in a Terre d’Ange that is free and safe.

I know I have hurt you deeply and you are owed an explanation for my actions. A letter is an inadequate medium for such a thing. If I could see you one last time, I would try my best to offer an explanation. Since I am denied that, this letter will have to suffice. I was a fool, and allowed myself to be played for a fool by those I should’ve known better than to trust.

I owe you several apologies. To begin with, I should’ve kept you better than I did. Had I not been so occupied with my foolish plans, I’d have made you my official consort sooner. It pains me to know I’ve left both of you without the support you will need. I should have named our child heir to Lombelon. Mayhap it is pointless to dwell on such mistakes now, but I feel you should know how deeply I regret those mistakes and the consequences they will have for you.

Here at the end I find myself thinking on all the time we spent together. What we had I cherish with all my heart and there is no part to me that does not regret how my own deeds have cut our time short. Never doubt that I loved you, and our child too, with all my heart. I hope you too will look upon our time together fondly. I hope you might in time share some of those memories with our child.

I hope someday both of you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.

With all my love to you both,

Isidore

#kushiel's legacy #jesatriafic #simple pleasures #isidore d'aiglemort #anne livet #just the epilogue to go #i started this fic like 7 yrs ago & i can't believe i'm almost done with it

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scarabbai · 4 years ago

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For your role reversal au, what happens after Yuu and Grim are booted out of the dorm? Do Azul and co still help them? Or does Yuu think of a way to get back inside and help?

ANON I HAVE FINALLY (somewhat) WORKED OUT THIS PART SO I CAN NOW ANSWER YOUR QUESTION!

Important (and new/previously unmentioned) context and details behind when MC and Grim are thrown out of the dorm:

(YET ANOTHER “INFO UNDER THE CUT” POST BC I HAVE NO SELF CONTROL AND TALK A LOT)

In order to keep MC and Grim entertained during their stay at Scarabia (and to keep the dorm members busy so they can’t ask MC for further help/explain their situation in more detail) Kalim has the dorm put together preparations for a grand Winter Break banquet to “celebrate the arrival of [their] guests.” This puts the dorm members to work without it being too obvious/them being too upset since Kalim already tends to plan and throw parties pretty often in order to boost morale. While the bulk of the work is done by the dorm members, Kalim himself plays the role of an excellent host and entertainer by accompanying MC and Grim everywhere around the dorm and showing them all the wonderful things about Scarabia, subtly assuring them that everything is fine and wonderful in the process. After all, how can there possibly be anything wrong when the dorm members are all smiling, laughing, and having fun while putting up decorations, when the dorm is alive with music and dance practice, when Kalim gives MC and Grim all the best that Scarabia has to offer?

Sure, the actual dorm leader doesn’t make many appearances during MC and Grim’s visit, but when he does, he’s kind! Civil! Polite! A generous host, don’t you agree? Don’t pay any mind to the way the dorm members get a little quiet when he shows up! They’re just very focused on their tasks in order to impress their dorm leader, you see. That’s not fear in their eyes, it’s respect! The dorm leader is incredibly responsible, brave, and intelligent after all. He’ll never let anything bad happen under his watchful eye! Disregard any rumors you’ve heard about Scarabia and Jamil...everything is fine. Kalim says so, and his sunny personality and bright smiles feel so genuine, it’s hard not to believe him. Something about the way he speaks, the enthusiasm and warmth in his words, it draws you in, makes you trust him.

Something still doesn’t seem quite right though, so MC and Grim stay at Scarabia for a few nights to wait and see. For a while, it seems like Kalim’s telling the truth. Everything does appear fine...up until their third day at Scarabia, when the banquet is finally fully prepared. Everyone is having fun, chatting and laughing while eating lunch together, but everything gets quiet when Jamil takes a seat at the head of the table, Kalim loyally at his side. For context, prior to MC’s arrival at Scarabia, Jamil threatened all the dorm members into silence and as a result is currently ruling by fear instead of true leadership. Therefore, everyone is afraid to say anything that might even vaguely hint at rebellion or discontent, and the banquet takes on a very tense and uncomfortable air.

Grim, fed up with this sudden nosedive in atmosphere, snaps at Jamil. Since it was his presence that brought on this sudden fearful energy, it’s clear that the rumors are true. The dorm members were telling the truth when they said Scarabia was a nightmare, Jamil’s a lying snake, and Grim and MC were right to come in and investigate. The sudden accusations and questioning of Jamil’s authority do not sit well with him, and he basically loses his shit bc not only did Grim admitting they came to the dorm to investigate and not to just “see how great Scarabia is” mean that they snuck in under false pretenses (BAD move) and thus are a threat to “the security of the dorm,” but also this is a surefire sign that Jamil’s control of the dorm isn’t absolute and there are little rebels in his midst. Given Jamil’s past experiences with rebels and traitors in his family, it’s not surprising that he lashes out at Grim and ends up exposing his tyrannical/controlling nature. Before Jamil can do anything serious though, Kalim holds him back and very strongly “advises” Grim and MC to go back to their guest room.

Effectively banished to their room for the rest of the day, Grim complains and stews over the confrontation for hours, getting more and more upset that not only are he and MC getting ignored by everyone now (nobody comes to visit them or tell them what happened afterward) but also that Jamil is an asshole who’s been mistreating his dorm members. It becomes very obvious Grim didn’t learn his lesson from the lunch incident when late that night, he takes it upon himself to leave the guest room and rush toward Jamil’s room with the intention of barging in and giving him a piece of his mind. MC, in an attempt to stop Grim, chases after him. However, neither of them get very far—when Grim is just a few leaps away from Jamil’s door, he gets snapped up and completely immobilized in a sticky magic webbing that comes flying out of nowhere. MC, who is only a few steps behind, also gets stopped in their tracks by an arm around their neck and a blade at their back.

Kalim, his protective nature and moderate guard training having taken over, doesn’t even bother to put up a cheery or delightful front as he questions (read: interrogates) both MC and Grim on what they’re doing. It’s in the middle of the night, they were practically charging directly at Jamil’s room while he was sleeping, they’ve lied and caused trouble already, and both of them joined the school under odd circumstances. Who’s to say MC and Grim aren’t secretly after Jamil’s life? Under Kalim’s intense scrutiny, they very quickly explain themselves, and though the smile Kalim gives them doesn’t reach his eyes at all, he seems to accept their answer. However, this doesn’t stop them from being kicked out of Scarabia. After pocketing the blade (it practically vanishes when Kalim puts it away, did he have it on him the whole time?) and grabbing Grim by the scruff of his neck, Kalim personally escorts MC to the dorm’s exit mirror. On their way there, a rather panicked looking dorm member runs up to Kalim, asking when they’ll finally go through with “The Plan” and rambling about how they’re “worried Jamil will find out.” Kalim quickly shushes the student before shoving MC and Grim through the mirror.

Now fully aware that Something Is Up, MC and Grim decide not to head back to Ramshackle immediately and instead think of who might still be on campus to assist them. Considering the Octavinelle trio are at NRC for the holiday and that they kinda lowkey owe MC gang for resolving the events of Ch3, they decide to go directly to their dorm despite it being in the middle of the night. Floyd’s happy to see MC gang, Jade is curious as to why they’re here so late at night, and Azul is interested in the strange situation they claim to need help for. After MC explains everything they’ve seen and heard, the fish are most definitely intrigued, and Azul, who never passes up an opportunity to get on Jamil’s nerves, declares that they’ll assist in the investigation. This is a side to his classmate (and classmate’s close friend) he’s never seen before, and he simply must know all the juicy details. Thus, MC and Grim spend the rest of the night at Octavinelle, and the following morning they all go to Scarabia. Unfortunately, due to Grim’s stunt the night before, MC is no longer welcome in Scarabia and the dorm itself is on high alert per Jamil’s orders and Kalim’s strict enforcement—not a single outsider is making it in.

So, what now? The group brainstorms for a bit back at Octavinelle before they realize there’s a loose end they might still be able to investigate despite not being allowed into Scarabia: the mysterious plan mentioned by the student. Jade asks MC to recall what the student looked like, and they’re able to give an accurate enough description that the fish now have a target. They spend the rest of the day going from place to place to find said student, and when they do, the tweels corner them. Jade uses Shock The Heart to find out the details of this plan and when it will take place, revealing that the plan will be executed tonight and that it’s a covert operation to sneak students with urgent financial/health/family/etc situations out of the school and back home for winter break. Knowing the student won’t remember giving up the secret, they let them go and plan a stakeout. If they get footage of the students’ escape, they can use it as leverage/a reason to be let into Scarabia for further investigation. That night, they do manage to record what happens:

A small group of students slipping out of the Scarabia dorm mirror, assisted by none other than Kalim himself. Any whispers are too hushed to make out what’s being said, but all in all it’s very clear that Kalim is the leader of the operation and the one guiding the students to the main magic mirror. Each of the students thank Kalim before disappearing home, most with tears in their eyes and some even taking Kalim’s hands into their own in grattitude. Kalim gives each of them a kind smile before they go. It’s a very sweet moment.

A true shame that this very moment is the catalyst for the disaster to come.

#twisted wonderland #twst #kalim al asim #twst kalim #jamil viper #twst jamil #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #jade leech #twst jade #floyd leech #twst floyd #twst grim #role reversed au #my stuff #responses

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songzhong · 4 years ago

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How does a God fall in love ?

Although he was given many titles which would put him in people’s mind above mortals, the man known as Rex Lapis was still a man. Before he was called such a name. Before he was called Morax. As he ascended the mountains of Liyue with his dearest friend at his side, he was called Zhongli. And certain plains were proof of that. And, above all else, he was a man.

Zhongli’s knowledge of mortals’ emotions is mostly learned. Analytical, as he has a hard time relating to them. This, however, doesn’t mean that he himself cannot live those emotions, although in the way of an adepti. This conflict, this aspect of him that is out-of-touch, is simply due to the gap between adepti and human perception... a bridge Zhongli is more than willing to cross, for he yearns to finally live for himself the life she wanted to protect, and kept singing of their beauty and fragile nature.

Ch―no, Ajax, was never seen, initially, for Zhongli, as more than Tartaglia Childe. Not that he didn’t know about the young harbinger―part of his good relationship with the Tsaritsa was the polite yet open communication between the two of them, and their mutual understanding of one another. Zhongli was quick to know about the young man who would be coming to Liyue, and the praise she’d speak of him.

A brash young adult, who smelled of the depths of Khaenri’ah he hadn’t felt since 500 years ago, hiding his weaknesses behind oozing charisma and cunning choice of words. A talented warrior and capable leader, easily misunderstood by how tightly compartmentalize the aspects of him were.

Zhongli was always one to be professional before anything else. And any show of friendliness Childe showed was taken as simply a quirk of his personality, as the man was quite expressive, never dared to be too serious in his conversations. This was only his attitude towards work, or so the archon thought. The truth was, despite having an acceptable diplomatic relationship with the Tsaritsa, the Northern Bank was abusing the people of Liyue with their loans, and the Tsaritsa wished to raise hell as Zhongli could only protect his home per their contract. The weight behind their affiliation, to the consultant, didn’t give any place for anything more than two men who understood one another’s position and obligations, even if they were to clash.

There was no place for anything personal.

Or so Zhongli thought. Never did Zhongli expect the year they had spent together to have meant so much more to Childe, as he expressed through his anger and frustration after the discovery that the consul was, in fact, the Geo archon. ... Childe didn’t only surprise him by his raw skills and versatility, despite being a handful, now he was surprising him with what looked like... genuine feelings ? It felt impossible for Zhongli. How could their silent agreement be more if... nothing had been said about it ? He was so confused, and his surprise kept being refreshed over and over again as he pondered upon it. If Childe truly thought they were friends, without the arm’s length distance of their profession... how could he handle such tension between the two of them and not fall apart ? Once more... this young man kept breaking his expectations apart, doing as he pleased... the Tsaritsa may have not said how much of a handful he would be.

The two of them continued to spend time together. Even Zhongli’s subsequent crushing of a whole rebel faction of the treasure hoarders didn’t phase him, much less the bloodbath of their fighting. Even as Childe showed something akin to despair and ecstasy, the archon only saw a child throwing a tantrum, irrational emotions which were only on the short term, as this rascal could never start to think about the long term of most matters, their consequences. It looked like that, whenever he could, he would do as he pleased. What got under Zhongli’s skin the most... is that he knew that this young man brimming with potential could do so much, had the absolute intelligence and abilities to do so much... and yet, his emotions would take over, and his impatience and brashness would mostly guide his decisions. Truly, the very definition of trouble.

The archon’s opinion wouldn’t change, although by his learned knowledge on emotions, he wouldn’t be insensitive, and consider Childe’s feelings as being partly genuine―validate them, support him and do his best to bring out the best outcome. They did spend a significant amount of time together, and shared certain personal details on one another, atop of their mutual respect―such diplomatic friendship held their own weight in mora.

And Zhongli was willing to humor the thought of it. Have some bits of friendly rapports here and there, as men. Part of showing his dragon form to Childe was alongside this line of thought. To let the young man indulge, see where he would take it. And, constantly so, test if those feelings Childe claimed to have for him were real.

But have him be a true friend ? The way he did his old companions ? The traveler ? There was no place for anything personal.

... or so he thought.

He didn’t expect a kiss at all. Because of what it meant. What it would mean for someone of Childe’s age, position and situation. Kissing was intimate, romantic, meaningful. And given the harbinger’s inexperience, Zhongli didn’t see him as one to play around with others in this aspect―on the contrary, it added even more to the surprise because the man looked more like the type to be looking for a sparring partner than a romantic one.

He was deciding between respecting Childe’s desires and reply in kind of his own or gently push him back and remind him of their positions, but before the consultant who normally could make a decision so easily in any situation could remotely pick, the younger was gone. And Zhongli was only left with a thousand questions, towards both this person and himself.

Thinking that Childe was leaving as the only explanation for such rash behavior was stupid. Blinded by his own confusion, and yet his mortal heart couldn’t find anything else, clouding his rational thoughts. If he was able to shed any tears, he might have upon learning that Childe was not leaving Liyue for good. The flood of relief had been like one he hadn’t felt since he had witnessed how Liyue could handle itself without him. But it was Zhongli we were talking about. He didn’t dare show the extent of his feelings, and would only process them on his own. During and after the confrontation.

And just like that, for days and days afterwards, there was only one person in his thoughts.

Maybe Childe didn’t mean any feelings towards him, but the evidence kept piling up against it. Before he knew it, the archon’s heart was trapped, feeling the emotions he hypothesized were in the harbinger, and no sight of him was remotely the same. It didn’t help how, since their bloodied duel after he had given away his gnosis, the two of them had grown noticeably closer. The lack of the usual distance between them was enough to have the consultant suddenly unsure of anything, constantly questioning what he or Childe was remotely feeling.

And the way he felt at the eventuality that this man’s loyalty fell onto a future of violence and death, atop of Liyue being the place he didn’t belong to never left him since that day. The words of 5th Harbinger still echoing in Zhongli’s mind at such a time :

“One can trust him, but one ought not get too attached. He has unusual tastes when it comes to combat ― the encounters he craves the most being those that bring him closest to his own demise.”

Those words kept stacking again and again on this rainy day where in the midst of adrenaline, he was so angered at him, and the way this young man kissed him like one would to someone they wanted to spend a significant amount of their lives with.

But those were only suppositions, why did he kept pondering on it ? How could this person smile and cherish so much yet be so careless about their own safety ? ... how could a single mortal be so full of love for so many things, so many people, and yet have such strength as to not be scared of their own mortality ? It didn’t make sense...

... why was this dread towards this type of selfless, yet individualistically driven by their own wants person so incredibly familiar ? The same ideal to take over the world and reshape it, with this incredible force of will fueling from the ones they cared for most ?

Zhongli’s fingers stopped fiddling with the puzzle in his hand, hovering above his hand as he still tried to open it, the dumbbell softly glowing from his geo manipulations, the scent of glaze lilies still subtly emanating from it after all these years, even as this particular kind had been gone for millennia.

... what would her wisdom tell him to do ? He knew the answer... and, somehow, for a man who didn’t hold any grudge, he hated it. Because, in the horizon, the same pain was to come. And yet, with it, the potential of the happiest he could ever be.

Would he ever have the chance to show this mortal what he would have done if he hadn’t walked away while he was too struck with doubt to follow the very mortal doctrines of the heart he had told himself to follow ?

And people said he was a wise man. When he couldn’t even express properly to someone he had fallen for them.

#narvvhal #.songzhong ( ic )#.songzhong ( drabble )#here we go my very gay thing here welcome to chili land may I take your order #so the context was to have a drabble directly about Zhongli #s feeling for narvvhal childe #which have been between the lines and not stated directly #have fun apparently this is cute #long post #ive been on this for like 3 days trying to find the word #and im like Zhongli i dont think i covered half of it

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harryspet · 5 years ago

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his to keep | j.jk

[WARNINGS] dark jungkook x named oc, toxic/abusive relationship, pregnancy, kidnapping, panic attack, super angsty, jungkook being a piece of crap, basically yandere jungkook

A/N: I just wrote this because I was feeling angsty. I also like to imagine Jungkook as if he wasn’t an adorable human lol. If you are triggered by the things about PLEASE DO NOT READ. Most of my fics are smutty but this one isn’t as much and I still like it. I might be able to do a part two with this one if people like it.

In which she finds out she’s pregnant and decides it’s time to escape her toxic relationship but Jungkook decides he’ll do everything to keep his family together.

Please like, reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 3k

Everyone wished they were her. Even if the world didn’t even know she existed, people all around the world love to have what she had with Jungkook. Not the love they say they have for all their fans but passionate and romantic love. Obsessive love.

Eun-sun had met Jungkook because of a chance encounter. She worked at the counter of the tattoo shop he randomly stopped by one day. He was with a small group of friends and, dressed down, she didn’t immediately recognize him. It wasn’t until one of his friends had said his name that she realized one of the most famous men in the world was standing in the same room as her.

She played it cool, of course, or at least she tried to. Her heart pounded as she went to retrieve the artist that they had requested.

He seemed to single her out though and he only looked at her as his friends flipped through a book of designs. He leaned against the counter and asked her coolly, “You don’t have any tattoos?” It was the summer and her arms were completely bare so he could tell.

She shook her head, her eyes a bit wide, “Not your thing?” He continued and, for a moment. Eunsun thought he was actually interested in her.

“The permanence … it kind of scares me,” She admitted, trying not to sound nervous, “I suppose that’s not what you want to hear from a person who works at a place like this.”

Jungkook smiled at that and, like the whole world, she was entranced by it.

She worked here in order to help out her family who were struggling to make it in the city. They owned a small convenience store where she usually worked later at night.

“No, you make a good point. There has to be some voice of reason here to keep people from getting stupid tattoos,” Eunsun blushed and one of Jungkook’s friends called for him.

He smiled at me one more time before walking back over to his friends.

Eunsun didn’t know it but, in that short moment, Jungkook had decided she was worth it. Worth letting her enter his crazy world.

She initially said no and that it was a crazy idea for her to come with him around the world. She insisted she’d only be a burden to him and that she had responsibilities back in Korea that she couldn’t leave. He only insisted, deciding to make a deal with her, he’d help out with finances if she agreed to give him company on the road.

She explained that she wasn’t a prostitute and he only laughed, “Of course you aren’t, just trust me, please.”

And she agreed because he was so damn convincing but she insisted he not give her more than the money she was already earning. Jungkook never told her that he had given her parents way more than that.

Although he didn’t really present himself to the world as powerful, Jungkook was practically a prince. Every moment of his day was planned and his every wish was granted. It had become normal to him at that point but she noticed the craziness of it all.

Eun-sun had never been on a plane before but now she was traveling everywhere on a private one. She had to wear a mask constantly and soon learned she wasn’t allowed to walk with Jungkook in public. He introduced her to one of his personal assistants and she was to simply act like she was a part of their entourage. All though she became friends with his assistant, she never really felt like she belonged in his world.

It wasn’t like he could claim her publicly and she wasn’t his girlfriend anyways.

When Jungkook wasn’t working, he was with her. They talked so much that some of the makeup artists grew frustrated with her because Jungkook could never sit still anymore.

She met all the members of the famous boy group and it amazed her how naturally they tried to include her in their family. Some of the boys had their own partners and some didn’t seem like they dated at all.

Things were exciting constantly and Eun-sun loved the workings of his complicated world but there was a moment where things shifted.

A panic attack.

She had never seen someone have one and, honestly, she wasn’t sure what to do when she entered his room one night and found him on the floor trembling. His hand clutched his heart and for a moment she thought he was having a heart attack. She ran to him kneeling beside him, “Jungkook-” He was breathing so hard, hyperventilating.

“Jungkook, please tell me what’s wrong,” She whispered, her voice shaky.

He was crying, choking on his own sobs as he started to roughly grab at his hair. She grabbed his hands, pulling them away from his face, “Jungkook, it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay,” She spoke calmly, trying to get him to look in her eyes. She was holding back her own tears after seeing him like this, “Breath, breathe.”

He was still crying but his eyes finally met hers, and he started to breathe. It seemed he would lose his progress every now and then as he remembered whatever was freaking him out. As he began breathing again she said, “You’re doing such a good job. You’re so strong. Just breathe, please. Tell me what you need.”

He looked over to a black bag across the room and she understood. She crossed the room and began to look through the bag. She found a prescription bottle and began reading until she realized it was anti-anxiety medicine.

She emptied the correct amount onto her hand and found a bottle of water in the mini-fridge. She hurried back to him and got him to put the pills into his mouth. She held the water bottle as he began to sip from it.

He was still shaking and sweating all over but she held him as he started to calm down, “You’re okay, Jungkook. I know it’s scary but it’s just a feeling. You’re doing such a good job,” They sat on the floor in front of his bed and he rested his head on her lap as he tried to control his breathing.

She ran her fingers through his hair and he finally got some well-deserved sleep.

When the doctor came in the morning, he refused to let Eun-sun leave despite the advice of his managers. She was already there for him and he didn’t want to hide this from her. The constant pressure of having to do his best to impress his fans had caused the panic attack. Eun-sun was the one who convinced him to sit out for the next two tour dates.

She slept in his room from that day on and their bond only grew from there.

Eunsun liked baking, she was actually great at it. Jin had even said that he wanted to open a bakery with her one day. Knowing Jin, that could be a very real thing to happen. She enjoyed when they stayed in houses and not hotels because she could utilize the kitchens.

She had perfected her Japanese mochi ice cream and she was ready to serve it to the boys for their dinner. Most of them were out on the terrace, having finished their dinners, and were sitting around the fire. She was delicately placing the desserts on a plate when she felt someone brush behind her.

She was about to lean back into the person until she realized it was Minho, their personal trainer, and she immediately blushed and bowed her head in apology, “I’m sorry, I thought you were Jungkook,” she laughed nervously.

The muscular man only smirked, leaning against the counter with crossed arms, “You’re very smitten with each other, aren’t you?”

“Uhm,” She opened her mouth, trying to find something intelligent to say, “You could say that.” She felt his eyes burning into her and she moved quicker, trying to get the food onto the platter.

“Wait, did you check with the nutritionist about those? The boys are on strict diets.”

She turned around to face him, her mouth in the form of an ‘o’. “Oh, I didn’t mean to interfere. It’s fine, I can just-”

“I’m kidding,” His lips pulled into a smile, “They eat whatever they want most of the time.”

It seemed he expected her to laugh so that’s what she did, trying not to create an awkward silence. She lifted the platter and said, “Would you like to try one?” He nodded, plucking one off.

“Eun-sun,” She turned to see Jungkook staring at them from the screen door that led outside. She had never seen that look before, disgust, and it not was not only directed at Minho but at her, “Everyone’s waiting.”

“Sorry,” She apologized though she wasn’t sure what she had done wrong. She didn’t give Minho another glance as she walked towards Jungkook, “I didn’t know everyone was waiting.”

Jungkook closed the door behind them, that dark look in his eyes. That night, as she shared her treats with all the boys, Jungkook didn’t say a word. She only noticed how his arm was always snaked around her, like he had to be touching her or she might flow away somehow.

He began drinking too, something that often helped with his anxiety. She noticed that he usually just melted into his own world when he was drunk and that’s what happened that night.

They stayed up talking and laughing until the fire burnt out and they all realized they had a plane to catch in the morning. Eunsun tried to help Jungkook up to his room but he responded harshly to her, “I can do it, I’m not drunk.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line and she tried not to seem hurt. She watched him stumble up the rest of the steps, “Jungkook, I’m gonna get you some water,” He mumbled some curse word and she turned away from him.

She retrieved a glass for him and returned upstairs to their room. She sat the glass down on his nightstand and turned out the light. Jungkook had already plopped onto the bed tiredly. She went into the bathroom and prepared for bed, putting on a pair of pajamas. He was still wearing his jeans when she walked out of the bathroom, “Don’t you want to change your pants?” She asked as she slipped in the bed.

He groaned as if she had woken him up, and then he began to undo his belt. She was silent, unsure of what to do because he had never undressed in front of her. She was sure he didn’t care because he was drunk and simply looked away, pulling the comforter over her.

Minutes later, the bed dipped beside her and she felt his body warmth against her. He pressed his front into her back, wrapping his arms around her. He still smelt of soju and it was starting to make her feel nauseous, “Jungkook, go take a shower if you’re going to do that.”

He ignored her and that’s when she felt the soft kisses on her shoulder blade. She flinched, the feeling so foreign, and pretty much nailed him in the nose in the process, “Aigoo,” he cursed, laying back.

Eun-sun turned quickly, hoping it wasn’t bleeding, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry-” She didn’t have time to worry anymore because he leaned up to kiss her. And she kissed him back.

He craved more, his fingers beginning to lift the fabric of her nightshirt, “Jungkook . . . you’re drunk and I’ve never even-”

He shushed her, “Let’s make each other feel good, okay? I need that and you’re the only thing that makes me feel happy these days.”

He pressed his lips to hers and, that night, she gave herself to him.

Despite the special night they had, Jungkook was hungover in the morning. They all sat at the breakfast table but Jungkook had his head down. Eunsun tried to encourage him to eat something greasy but he ignored her.

She was picking at her plate, talking to the boys, when she noticed someone was missing, “Where’s Minho?”

They seemed to go silent at that and all of them looked at Jungkook and then back at me, “I think he’s going home for the rest of the tour,” Namjoon spoke up though he seemed unsure of his words.

Jungkook lifted his head, grabbing his water, before saying to no one, “I fired him.”

Eunsun stared at him with wide eyes, “What do you mean?”

Jungkook sipped his water, leaning on the table, “I mean that I hope he never works another day in his life.” And the silence in the room was deadly.

Eunsun gave him an incredulous look but Jungkook didn’t even meet her eyes, “This is because of yesterday?”

“I saw the way he looked at you,” Jungkook sneered, “He should’ve known better, fucking creep.”

“No,” Jungkook snapped his head toward her and she shifted uncomfortably, “Y-You should no better. All he did was talk to me and you’re acting like a child who had his favorite toy stolen.” Eunsun stood suddenly, not wanting to argue anymore in front of everyone.

She walked away from the dining room, “Eunsun, come back here!” She didn’t and it wasn’t long before she heard glass shattering against the wall.

“Eunsun, please open the door. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for getting so angry.”

“You don’t understand, Eunsun, it’s because I love you. And I’m just stressed from the tour.”

“Please, can we just be alone together and talk?”

“I know it was wrong what I did. You have to forgive me. You have to let me make it up to you . . . I don’t think I’ll make it through this without you”

She stayed for happy moments. For getting to watch him perform in front of thousands of people. For seeing him laugh so much in all his American interviews. For the nights spent watching movies. For the photos taken while sightseeing. For the sex when he was sober. For being known as Jungkook’s girl to everyone on the team.

But it only lasted two months.

Because of the night he got into a physical altercation with a staff member who had made a snide remark about Eunsun being a whore. The man’s face was unrecognizable after Jungkook released all his anger into him. He defended her but he became a monster when he did.

He had to be taken to the hospital because of how bad he bruised his knuckles. Eunsun didn’t go with him and he almost started another fight trying to get to her. Luckily, his members convinced him to go without her. She returned to the hotel with a test given to her by one of the makeup artists.

She took three and each one had those two double lines.

By the time Jungkook got back to the hotel, she was on a plane back to South Korea. And she and her family had plans to disappear as soon as she landed.

“You always do this. You’re overreacting. Answer your phone. I love you.”

“This isn’t funny. You’re supposed to be my girlfriend. I love you.”

“I’m just trying to protect you, Eunsun. It’s because I love you.”

She didn’t want him, at first. But as her stomach grew rounder and she felt his kick, she fell in love. Even after she first saw him in the hospital and realized how much he looked like Jungkook.

Her Junghoon.

The small town they moved to had a bakery and Eunsun made her living in the day by making deliveries. She hoped one day they’d consider giving her a spot in the kitchen, even if it was for washing dishes. Her mother stayed home to watch Junghoon and her father worked most nights.

She returned home one night with a cake to celebrate Junghoon already being five months old, but, as soon as she walked through the door, the cake fell right to the floor. Her mother was standing in the kitchen weeping, one of his bodyguards’ keeping on her, and Jungkook was sitting in the small living room. Junghoon was in his hands being rocked.

The baby was silent as if he knew who Jungkook was.

Eunsun stepped into the dim light of the living room and Jungkook looked up at her, “He’s beautiful. He looks just like his Mommy,” Two of his bodyguards were in the small room too. They seemed to have dark intentions just like their boss.

“Let me hold him,” Eunsun spoke and then a gun cocked. She eyed the bodyguard across the room and there was a gun in his hand. Jungkook raised a hand to the man as if to say calm down. “Jungkook, let me hold him.”

Her lips were trembling now.

“I was going to let you go. I was. And then I found out you took a pregnancy test the day you left,” She was so close. So close. “I didn’t know until a month ago. You robbed me of knowing I had a son. I didn’t get to name my own sun. Didn’t get to see him take his first breath. And you were okay with that.”

His voice was laced with venom but he didn’t yell, only because his son was in his arms, “Why would I want him raised by a monster?” She spoke through gritted teeth.

“That’s what you think of me?” She nodded and tears began to swell around his eyes, “All I ever did was love you, Eunsun, and I will be in his life. We’re all going to be a family.”

Her heart stopped, “It’s too late for that.”

“If you want your parents alive then you’ll come with me. And you won’t fight it.”

“You sick fuck-”

“You stole Junghoon away from me, it’s only fair,” Jungkook moved closer to her. They were both crying but Jungkook’s were happy tears, “I’m sorry, Eunsun. We start fresh now. We’ll be a family.”

And they’d be as broken as families come.

My request are open! This is my first jungkook fic but I few more works so check out my # masterlist :)

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 4 years ago

Text

What if (Construction worker/ high school sweetheart AU)

Summary: Life leads Y/N and Grayson in different directions after high school and they meet years later, rehashing the past. But life has its own plans for old lovers who just wanted one another.

Warnings: angst, fluff, death

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N - This was in my drafts for a long time, so if you guys like it and want more, let me know.

* *** * *** *

Two hearts, one valve, pumpin' the blood, we were the flood, we were the body. Two lives, one life, stickin' it out, lettin' you down and makin' it right.

Seasons, they will change, life will make you grow, dreams will make you cry because everything is temporary, everything will slide, our love will never die.

I know that birds fly in different directions, but I hope to see you again.

Sunsets, sunrises, livin' the dream, watchin' the leaves, changin' the seasons. Some nights I think of you, relivin' the past, wishing it'd last, wishing and dreaming.

Imagine Dragons - Birds

* *** * *** *

There are few big moments that make a person. Moments that bear the weight of a thousand suns that claim pieces of your soul. Some are love, a goodbye or a tragedy. For me, it was all three, all at the same time.

I left New Jersey six years ago soon after a tragedy claimed the lives of both my parents. I was only seventeen at the time, still a stupid teenager with a conviction everything my parents say is useless and only there as punishment. We were on our way home from my grandparents, arguing about a party I wanted to attend when a car swerved into our lane and dad had no chance of avoiding it.

I remember every detail of the crash, every single moment in slow motion, including the moment I realized I would be an orphan before darkness took me too.

After that, my life changed irrevocably. The only comfort I had was my high school sweetheart, Grayson Dolan and his big bear hugs I melted into.

We meet very few people who can shake up your world and still keep you steady. Grayson Dolan was all that and more. My heart always felt comfortable and safe in his hands. I believe we all encounter three different loves in our lives – your soulmate, the love of your life and eventually the one you settle for. Some people get to meet only one, some two, while others meet all three.

I don’t know which one of these is Grayson, after all, our story had an abrupt ending.

The funeral came and went. My grandparents moved to our house to take care of me, but I felt suffocated. Every inch of that house represented them and it haunted me. Survival guilt ruined me. The guilt was like gasoline in my guts. My insides died slowly in the toxicity, needing no more than a spark to set it ablaze. The fire burnt me out so badly there was nothing left but a shell, an outline of a person. Staying in New Jersey would have killed me, I just knew it.

The moment I turned eighteen, I set off to a new beginning.

I begged him to come with me. He begged me to stay. Things were said and that night I had to say goodbye to the only person that anchored me.

Alas, I said goodbye to Grayson Dolan too.

So here I am, six years later in the big city with my very own company. I never self-medicated with alcohol or drugs, rather worked harder to reach my goals. More work you put in, less time you have to think about what hurts you.

And this distance hurt me. Leaving Grayson destroyed me.

I never stopped thinking about what I left behind, about what could have been. But I learned to live with my choices. I had to.

Some people are meant to leave a mark in your life, but they don’t have to stay. No one ever does. People always leave, some willingly and some are forced to, but the end result is the same – you can only ever count on yourself.

"Your meeting at 2 is pushed back. Now you have the time to meet with the construction team that's gonna stand in for Fred." Lily, my assistant informed and I nod, sipping on my tea before rushing out the door. My company deals with architecture, building and interior designing and my usual construction crew bailed in the last minute, forcing me to look for another.

"You also have to meet the new architect. It took me two weeks to find him and we will not cancel!" Lily ordered, making me giggle. “I mean it. He comes highly recommended and his work so far matches your vision so perfectly.”

"I'll do it. Just point me in the right direction." Hands raised in mock surrender, I follow her index finger to the conference room and I nearly gasp at the beautiful man waiting inside.

With my head held high and back straight, I walk into the room, ready to meet this exquisite specimen.

"Sorry for the wait." I start with an apology, immediately offering a hand to shake which he gladly accepts.

"I'm Y/N Y/L/N, the owner and acting CEO of this company." I finish the introduction, noticing the man's smile growing which only accentuates his naturally handsome features.

"Pleasure is all mine." Bowing his head, angling my hand up ever so slightly, he presses his lips to the back of it like a proper gentleman. It’s almost impossible not to swoon over the gesture or the British accent I noted immediately when he spoke.

"Although, I must say I'm disappointed you do not remember me." He feigns hurt, letting my hand go slowly, reluctantly.

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, wetting my lips and take a second look at the man. “Pardon?”

His dark blonde hair is perfectly curly, long enough for them to form but not to fall to his forehead as it would make it seem unkempt. His large, deep-set blue eyes bore into mine almost as if he’s looking for something he cared for dearly but lost along the way. A spark hiding behind his heavy look reminds me of a flame I once lost myself. The color is different, but the emotion remains the same.

His lips are set in a confident smirk, aware of my hungry, shameless gaze. His lips are rosy instead of pink, small instead of plush. His cheekbones are set high and defined, just as is his sharp jawline that could cut glass like a diamond.

He's tall. Much taller than I am. The broad shoulders give enough definition to his muscles so one can easily conclude he works out, but doesn't kill himself in the gym.

He is the epitome of beauty. Perfection. I can't deny that.

"I'm sorry. I don't believe we've met." I apologize again, wanting to keep this man around. For business purposes.

"It's Troy Lahey. We met when I was just an assistant. I suppose I didn't leave a lasting impression." Quirking an eyebrow, Troy brushes the awkwardness away as he helps me take my seat like a gentleman would.

Grayson used to do that for me as well. Opening the door, taking out the chair, even carrying my bag no matter how pink or flowery it is. A rare quality in men these days. Even after all these years, I compare everyone to Grayson. It’s involuntary, almost like a compulsive need.

"I'll make sure I remember you now." I muss, steering the conversation business wise. It didn't take long for us to reach an agreement as he is an agreeable man, very open minded and open to adventure.

"Have you ever hear about Rosie's?" He stops to ask just as I stand to take my leave. I turn around with lips part, possibly some worry passing my features. No matter how hard I’ve worked on my poker face, I still can’t hide my surprise. I can’t remember the last time a man as attractive like him paid any attention to me. More likely, I can’t remember the last time I paid any attention to a man, any man.

"Please don't tell me they're closing. It's my favorite restaurant." I frown, seeing his face light up as he stands as well.

"Nothing like that. I was just wondering if I could buy you dinner this Friday. Or any day you please?" He proposes and I nearly choke on my saliva. He's handsome. He's intelligent. He's everything I searched for and everything I avoided to find.

My heart is still bleeding. My heart still needs time. Six years isn't enough. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.

"Since we've just agreed to work together on a project, I cannot in good conscience agree to that. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to get to." I say politely, noting his smile grow as if he took my rejection as a challenge and although I'm sure it bruised his ego, he won't just stop. He knows I like him and he seems like a man who fights for what he wants.

"I'm a determined man and I think you know that."

"Arrogant." I challenge, fueling the fire.

"Mhmm...I'd say confident." His charming accent can stop a women's heart and while I'd usually find the persistence annoying, he doesn't annoy me. If anything, he amuses me.

But I walk out the door regardless, waving over my shoulder.

Rushing halfway across town, I manage to get to my second meeting just in time. Still in a frenzy, I walk into the meeting only to find someone I never thought I'd see again.

Dropping my files, I feel my legs wobble as I stumble forward and lose footing.

Strong arms wrap around me, catching me in the nick of time and I open my eyes to find myself in a warm embrace of my first love.

"Grayson?" I breathe out his name, my hand instinctively cupping his cheek like I did all those years ago.

"It's really you." He says slowly, his eyes taking me in like I'm a mirage. His earthly hues glaze over with tears as I swallow my own.

Six years of distance between us. Six years of silence, of thinking what he must be doing and how he’s doing. Six years of picking up the phone to call him just to hear his voice. Six years and now he's here with me, holding me tightly like his life depends on it.

"Hi." I smile, feeling him slowly steady my body, but on the inside I'm fireworks and tsunamis, hurricanes catching on fire.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, not meaning to be rude, just curious. Leaning back on the desk as his hold relents, I interlock my fingers to stop my hands from shaking.

Grayson rubs the back of his neck nervously as he always did, shyly looking to his feet first before allowing himself to truly look at me.

He's scanning my body, looking for something that remained the same, something to cling to. I find myself doing the same.

His hair is no longer floppy nor falling in his eyes, making it seem darker, cropped almost. His eyebrows are a little less bushy and I can't help but wonder if he has someone plucking the extra hair like I used to do whenever I managed to overpower him long enough or bribe him with a tasty treat...or myself. His lips are the same plushy pink, perfectly smooth and kissable.

Instead of smooth skin, he bears a stubble, adding age onto his once young looks. His eyes remain the same, the understanding, and kind, gentle soul shining through and he still has the wing shaped earring I bought him. It was a gift for our first month anniversary where I promised I'd be his angel, one to keep him safe as long as the earring remains in its place.

Holding my breath at that realization, I swallow thickly, allowing the need for tears to wither away.

He's grown wider, there are more muscles and definitely more tattoos. I wonder if he had our matching tattoo removed.

“It’s going to be fine.” Grayson speaks slowly, his hands clutching mine as a grin replaces his smirk. “I’ll hold your hand and everything.”

Rolling my eyes at him, I raise an eyebrow. “My parents will kill me. This isn’t even legal, Gray.” Biting my lower lip, I cast my gaze down to his thigh and the unmistakable ink etched into his skin.

“I won’t force you, but I really think it would be cute, ya know? Couple goals and all that? Imagine telling this story to our kids!” The excitement in his eyes is overpowering, entirely enchanting and I’m not sure if he’s even aware of the effect he has on people. His smile, his happiness is positively infectious. He’s incredibly charismatic and charming, turning heads without even trying.

Sighing, I nod. “As long as I get a kiss every time it hurts.”

Pecking my lips, Grayson nods too. “You have yourself a deal, my angel.”

I look at him and still see my Grayson, just a little bigger and stronger, teensy bit older but incredibly beautiful.

Does he still see me as me? Have I changed? Does he find me attractive now? Did I ever even cross his mind?

"I, uh...I was just supposed to deliver some papers. I didn't know I was delivering them to you." He puts his hands on his hips, licking his lips. His gaze wanders, scared to make eye contact.

"Construction crew?" I inquire, unsure what to do when all I want is for him to hold me like we're teenagers again and tell me all he's done or seen since we parted.

"Yeah. Ethan and I started our own little business. This was actually his idea." Grayson frowns, suspecting Ethan had organized this meeting behind his back, but I don't think so. I would have known, would I not?

"It’s really good to see you." He focuses on me once more and my heart jumps. "I missed you." He adds and I know it's over for me. All my what ifs are standing before me, incorporated into one man I had never stopped loving and no matter how hard I fight it, I want to be around him longer.

"And I you. Is it possible for you to stay? Have dinner with me while you're here?" I offer courageously, terrified he might say no.

"I'd love that!" He claps his hands together, a wide smile taking over his face and I see his eyes light up.

Smiling too, I let my heart guide me for the night. If nothing else, I should at the very least have the courage to spend a few more hours with him. After all this time, it will either offer us a second chance or give me closure.

“I have a car waiting for me, it can take us to Rosie’s.” Without thinking, I take his hand only to pause, questioning if it’s alright.

In my moment of doubt, Grayson interlocks our fingers and I let out a relieved sigh. “Rosie’s? Is it your favorite restaurant?”

Giggling, I nod. “Yeah. I always have my faves, but you knew that already.”

Once outside, Grayson steps before me, releasing my hand and just as I’m about to protest, I find he did it so he’d open the car door for me. Fighting the urge to smile, I pray my cheeks aren’t blushing at the gesture, but my eyes are flooded with emotions regardless.

“Are you okay?” Grayson’s hand rests on my hip and I hold my breath, nodding vehemently.

“Yeah, the wind is cold.” I point at my eyes, forcing a smile. “Cold winds are ruthless to my eyes.” Sniffling, I sit inside and send Lily a quick text to get me a seat at Rosie’s. Leaving my phone aside, I tuck my shaky hands under my thighs.

“It’s been so long since I came to New York. I didn’t even know you’re here now.” Grayson moves a little closer, his hand nearly brushing my thigh and I couldn’t help but glance at it every so often.

“I moved back last year. Los Angeles was beautiful and I loved the climate, but New York…It’s the closest to home.” Licking my lips, I shrug. “I guess I needed a change of scenery.”

“Miss, Lily wanted you to know Rosie’s closed for the day, but she made a reservation down in that new restaurant she mentioned. She said you’d know which.” The driver explains and I nod, grateful for the interruption. The last thing I need now is to overwhelm Grayson with all the reasons why I wanted to be in New York.

“That’s fine. Take us there.” Glancing at Grayson, I swallow thickly. His eyes never left me. Though I could sense he wanted to ask me something more, something that would likely bring up the past, Grayson remains quiet for the next few minutes. Luckily the restaurant isn’t far.

“Wait up.” Grayson runs out, circling the car before opening the door, offering his hand.

Reluctant, I look up only to meet his gaze. He’s uneasy, just as I am. So, I place my hand in his and let him help me out.

Sitting, ordering, it all happened so quickly, clouded with awkward silence neither of us could break. But he does. After all, he was always the outgoing one, speaking his mind with no restrain.

“Why didn’t you come back?” The uncertainty in his voice grips me as does my guilt, my heart sinking. “I always thought you’d come back after you finished college and I…I really thought you’d come back to me.”

Rubbing my forehead, I break eye contact. He’s pulling on my heartstrings, each of them breaking as he insists on answers I can’t be sure of.

“I can’t go home. I can’t be there. I don’t feel sane in New Jersey. It’s too much.” I sigh, hating the tears rimming my eyes. “I always thought you’d come after me”, I chuckle with a slight shake of my head. “Every day, for years, I expected you to show up on my doorstep and tell me you never meant to let me go.”

“I’m here now.” Reaching out, Grayson places his hand upon mine and I tense up. I don’t know why.

“But you’ll be gone by tomorrow. You said you’d never leave New Jersey. You said that and I hoped you’d change your mind, but you didn’t.” Cocking my head to the right, I glance at his quivering bottom lip. “Did you?”

“No.” Grayson draws a deep breath before leaning back, taking his hand with him. “I didn’t. I didn’t even know you’d want me to after that night.”

“I can’t breathe here! Everywhere I look, I see them! How can you not understand that?!” My voice is raw from all the shouting, the argument seemingly never-ending.

“Why can’t you stay for me? Am I not important enough? You know my family is here! My twin, my mother and father! My whole damn family, it’s not my fault”, I interject, stopping his thought.

“That I don’t have a family anymore? Is that it? You’re really going that route?” I croak, shaking my head. Running my hands through my hair, I turn away from him.

“You know that’s now what I meant.” Grayson sighs loudly, annoyed. “You’re making me out to be a monster because you need a reason to leave and not look back, but I’m not going to make it easy on you. I won’t.” He steps closer, his presence undeniable. “I will not be a punching bag for you. I love you. I want to marry you some day. I want to have kids with you. But I don’t want to leave my life here. I don’t want to follow you across the country just for you to look at me the way you just did.” Exhaling, his hand rests on my shoulder and I step away, needing my space.

“I’m not pushing you away.” I turn back, wrapping my arms around me. I feel cold, not on the outside but the inside of my body. I’m freezing and I’m burning, just the air here is toxic and I can’t live here. I can’t spend my whole life constantly being reminded of the worst thing that ever happened to me. If I stay, I’ll be trapped in misery.

“It sure as hell feels like it.” Grayson spat and I understand. I understand he doesn’t know how to handle this, because we never had to deal with this before. It’s new and strange and scary and it changed me in ways we can’t still fully smooth over.

“I’m not pushing you away, I’m holding on for dear life!” I choke up, shaking my head as I struggle to inhale. The pressure in my chest is crushing my heart and lungs and I can’t breathe, I can’t think. It’s too much. “I’m asking you to come with me. I’m begging you to, but you won’t.” Wiping my tears I step away from him once again as I notice him reach for me. “You’re giving up on us. You. Not me.”

I walked away that night, left New Jersey the next day as planned.

“Of course I wanted you.” A small smile appears on my lips as I notice his eyes are swimming in unshed tears as well. “I’ve always wanted you.” I add, letting out a heavy sigh. “But I couldn’t stay there. It would have killed me.”

“I could have helped you. I could have been there for you.” Grayson insists, his tone sharp and yet it’s laced with regret.

Does he wish he went with me?

“No one could have helped me back then. The only cure was to leave and I did it to protect my sanity.”

“I could have tried.” Slamming his fist on the table, Grayson stood abruptly, walking toward the exit.

Putting a hundred on the table, I rush after him, my purse in hand. “Wait!” I shout after him, catching him on the street as he tried to hail a cab. “Grayson.” I breathe out, taking his hand in mine.

“Go back to your perfect life, Y/N.” He remarks, hurt written in every line of his tearstained face. He’s crying. Is that why he left?

“It’s not perfect,” I croak. “Not nearly as perfect as it could have been.”

Cupping my left cheek, Grayson’s thumb runs from the corner of my lips to my cheek and back, drawing a gentle smile on my behalf. Leaning down, his forehead rests upon mine, his nose brushing against the tip of mine. His warm breath is tickling my skin, my lips parting and eyes closing in anticipation of his.

“I really want to kiss you right now.” He whispers and I open my eyes. His brown hues are closed, his lips are quivering. Tears are still running down his cheeks.

Letting go of his hand, I cup his face too, breathing heavily. “So kiss me.”

He licks his lips, hesitantly brushing my cold ones. We have feelings that are not visible, we do things to prevent ourselves from being miserable. Being honest is all we have left. Our need to have a taste of the comfort the other one offers is undeniable.

Grayson is the first to end the wait. He kissed me and the world fell away. It’s slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rests below my ear, his thumb caressing my left cheek as our breaths mingle. Running my fingers down his back, I pull him closer until there is no space left between us and I could feel the beating of his heart against my chest.

It’s perfect. It’s mind-blowing and sensual, forming worlds where we weren’t torn apart six years ago, where we could have made it. There’s no tears in those worlds, no aching desire and longing for one last look.

I never want it to end. But it does. It has to. Everything ends eventually. For us, the end began with a phone ringing.

“Fuck.” He grunts under his breath, looking at me with newfound uncertainty as he picks up his phone, taking a few steps away for privacy.

Wordless, I stand to the side, breathless even now. All I thought I lost before is right before me and it feels like a dream. I’ve been in pieces and with a single kiss, Grayson made me feel whole.

“I, uh, I’m so sorry.” Grayson mumbles, typing something on his phone. “I really have to go. It was really great seeing you again.” He manages a smile as he hails a cab, successfully so.

“Oh.” It’s all I can say, feeling dejected by the sudden change in atmosphere. A part of me expected for him to come home with me, for us to take tomorrow off and stay in bed, talking and making love. I wanted more time. Is it wrong I hoped we’d get back together too?

“I’ll tell Ethan you said hi.” He adds before pecking my cheek. In a moment, he was gone once more.

I couldn’t sleep that night. The moments we spent together kept replaying in my head over and over again and I tried to figure out where I went wrong. Did I do something to make him leave?

Dragging myself out of bed, I arrive at work looking like a hot mess.

“You look like a hot mess.” Lily reminds me and I groan, ignoring her as I enter my office.

“Oh, good morning.” Troy’s chipper tone makes me flinch and I stop, wide-eyed as I realize he’s standing in my office, a cup of coffee in hand and a dazzling smile to go with it.

“I didn’t realize we have a meeting.” I admit, looking around to make sure I didn’t walk into someone else’s office.

“We don’t, but I like to be proactive. I’ve made the initial sketches and left them on your desk.” With a smile as bright as the sun, he passes by me only to stop right next to me. “You look beautiful.”

Glancing his way, all I catch is his back as he leaves me alone in the room. Just me, the coffee he bought me, a stack of papers and…a bouquet?

Wild flowers bring some color to my rather old-fashioned office, breathing some life into the room. I smile, stepping closer only to find a single rose in the center of the bouquet as well as a note. It’s typed, not handwritten and there’s no signature.

“Lily?” I call out for her while opening the note with a hint of a smile adorning my lips.

She appreciated the beauty of a rose, the symbolism. But she never liked roses. No. Her love was always reserved for lilacs, violets and other wild flowers that painted the very essence of her soul.

“Yes?” Lily enters and I turn to her with a wide smile.

“Who sent this?” Was it Grayson? Did he want to tell me something? The words are so beautiful, and just right. I’ve never liked to receive roses, but wild flowers made my heart go crazy. Who else could know this but him?

“I don’t know. I didn’t see them delivered.” Lily frowns, stepping closer. “Must have been delivered when I was in the bathroom or something.” She shrugs, still a little troubled.

“Oh.” I furrow my eyebrows, biting my lower lip.

“Why, what does the note say?” Lily narrows her eyes as I smile. “What’s that smile for?”

“Lily, book me a ticked.” I decide right then and there. My what if’s will no longer dictate my future. Whether these came from Grayson or not, I have to see him again. “I’m going home.”

* *** * *** *

A/N - If you’ve made it this far, let me know if you like it and want more. It’s an old draft I polished a little which is why it’s written in the reader’s POV, something I haven’t done in quite some time.

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan imagine #grayson dolan angst #grayson dolan fluff #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan fic #grayson dolan fanfiction #dolan twins

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ravnicaforgoblins · 4 years ago

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Ravnica for Goblins

Goals

Ravnica is a big city. Ravnica is the Big City. The biggest, craziest, strangest, wildest, most awe-inspiring city ever built. It yields to no one, not even the Living Guildpact. They have power, yes, and their words carry with them the most powerful magic on this plane; but only within the written laws that have been in place for thousands of years. Ravnica is not a sandbox for Jace to mold to his will; it is a living, breathing organism that Jace is charged with looking after. Not to keep bullying the Mind Mage, but he has a pretty poor track record of doing a job that effectively boils down to “stay in one place and read books”.

At its core, Ravnica will always do what Ravnica has done for millennia. Mainly claw and scratch for any advantage in the ten-way Tug-Of-War that has been raging since the Guilds first found the end of a rope. The game never ends and never will. Temporary alliances can cause certain Guilds to pull together against other Guilds for a time, but the game always goes back to every Guild making snarky comments about the others eventually. In desperate situations against seemingly all-powerful new threats, the Guilds can put aside their differences to pull together for a time, but always with the understanding that once the threat is over they will all take their places again and resume where they left off. This can be frustrating for players used to or even enthralled by the idea of becoming the Savior(s) of the World.

Ravnica is not something that can be fixed because it doesn’t need to be. Barely-constrained chaos is and will always be the natural order of things. The Azorius Senate will come up with new laws. The Boros Legion will fight. House Dimir will poke its head into other people’s business. The Izzet League will invent. The Gruul Clans will resist. The Golgari Swarm will farm. The Simic Combine will experiment. The Orzhov Syndicate will scheme. The Selesnya Conclave will grow. The Cult of Rakdos will party. Your characters are never going to change any of these things, and that’s all right. Your goals should never be to change this world into something besides what it already is. Doing so would take away the fun of this crazy world.

So let’s talk about what kind of goals you, your characters, and your campaign should shoot for.

Short-Term Goals

If you’re just doing a Ravnica One Shot, or even if you just don’t know how much people are going to able to commit, Ravnica is full to the brim with possibilities. Literally, you can just draw Ravnica-themed MTG cards into a hand and piece together a story from whatever you get.

In these circumstances, your goals can be fairly short-term. Find someone/something, retrieve someone/something, stop someone/something, fight someone/something, do it, have a drink & celebrate. Your character goals can be as simple as just doing their jobs (Azorius maintaining order, Dimir finding information, Selesnya preserving life, Gruul rebelling against authority, Rakdos having a good time, etc). If you want something more personal, finding a connection between each of the party’s Guilds and the target is not only easy but fun to write.

The thing that makes Ravnica such a fun campaign atmosphere is the same thing that can make it frustrating; constant conflict. Any two Guilds can have a thousand reasons not to like each other, or, alternatively, a thousand reasons to work together. It can be differing Guild lifestyles, differences in opinion, shared interests, shared passions, old debts, past favors, or just trust/distrust in an individual. No two Guilds are required to get along, but at the same time, no two Guilds are required to hate each other. If your party has an Azorius Lawmage and a Rakdos Blood Witch, they can be at each other’s throats or they can be old friends who took different paths somewhere down the line. Your Guild is a choice, not a fate. Jace the Mind Mage was raised by Gruul. To this day, he still wears their tattoos.

*Be warned, once you’ve realized the unlimited possibilities this affords your character, you’re gonna want more.

Mid-Range Goals

If your group wants to commit to a longer stay in Ravnica, then it’s time to really flesh out your character and where they stand. It may even be necessary to retcon your characters into another Guild at this point, or begin a storyline to switch over. Anything can be fun short-term, but if you’re determined to go 6-12 levels in a Guild, you’ll want to be sure they are a good fit with your character. All ten of Ravnica’s Guilds come from Magic The Gathering’s 5-color wheel, coinciding with each possible two-color combination, meaning each Guild has common ground with others, but also important distinctions.

The Azorius, Boros, and Orzhov all have law & order as a central theme, but very different interpretations for it. The Azorius Senate write laws and prioritize order, whereas the Boros Legion enforce the laws but prioritize justice. The Orzhov Syndicate value neither and work to subvert each to their own ends.

Both the Simic Combine and Izzet League are built around creativity and invention. However, the Simic are much more rooted in biological (aka, walking, breathing) science, such as the Krasis iconic to their Guild. The Izzet are much more theoretical in their experimenting, endlessly curious to try something to see what will happen. They like playing with elements and physics. Simic experiments are long-term commitments, Izzet are spontaneous bursts of inspiration.

The Gruul, Golgari, Simic, and Selesnya Guilds all have a foundation in the natural world. Their interpretations of such are where the differences come out. Selesnyans build their lives around nurturing and revitalizing nature, while the Combine seeks to improve upon it. The Golgari apply the natural order to everything, including themselves, becoming a walking (possibly shambling) depiction of the plant life cycle in action. Life & death intertwined in an almost infinite cycle. And the Gruul Clans, while once the caretakers and preservers of Ravnica’s natural environments, have over time had those duties diverted from them into the Simic and Selesnya Guilds, leaving them to ferociously preserve the few untamed wilds Ravnica has left after 10,000 years of urbanization and to oppose any attempted encroachment on it from ambitious developers.

The Cult of Rakdos and Gruul Clans are both chaotic, violent, and revel in opposing authority. The Gruul do it out of anger and fairly justified resentment towards the city while the Cult does it literally for shits & giggles. Strangely enough, the savage rock-smashers can have more complexity to them than the daredevil street artists.

House Dimir and the Orzhov Syndicate both thrive on their dealings outside the law and under the table. Strangely enough, while both claim it’s just business, only House Dimir really stick by that code. They are the true embodiment of Neutral Evil, willing to stealing from anyone (including their own Guild members) for the right price. The Orzhov Syndicate, on the other hand, will exploit any loophole they can devise to avoid doing anything they don’t want. While the Dimir know to never be found near the scene of a crime, the Orzhov’s preferred method is to negotiate, lawyer, or bribe their way out of any & all consequences, and call themselves innocent. They are the literal worst.

Orzhov, Golgari, Rakdos, and Dimir all offer assassination services. The distinction comes from whether you want to send a message, erase an undesirable, make a spectacle, or never get caught; respectively.

For new players still learning about Ravnica, a distinct adventure focusing on each Guild is a great way to get comfortable with the setting. It helps how distinctive each Guild is from all the others; your players will quickly learn the differences between a Selesnyan Healer, a Simic Healer, and a Golgari Healer (Hint: one’s organic, one’s bioengineering, and one’s necromancy). By the time you’ve hit all ten, you should have a good foundation for the state of the city worked out for the campaign. Keeping all ten Guilds in line is an adventure all its own, just ask Jace Beleren. There’s always something going on.

Alternatively, you can aim for stopping plans originating from a single Guild. This city has a group for everyone, no matter how strange their beliefs, and the winds of change stop for no one, so taking down one problem is extremely unlikely to stop the higher purpose. There will always be another, bigger, problem. Bring in a spy, his handler steps in. Stop the handler, the cell leader gets involved. Defeat the cell leader, a cleaner gets called. Expose the cleaner, Assassins riding Nazgul descend upon thee. Kill that, and you become a problem for the entire organization.

The BBEG for a mid-range campaign can include a Guildmaster. Depending on which Guildmaster that is, the amount of preparation that will be required to triumph can range from “a shit ton” to “a fucking deus ex machina”. Regardless of Challenge Rating, they are going to be hard. If you think Zegana, Prime Speaker is going to battle without her personal entourage of gigantic Krasis, you are dead in the water. If you think Lazav the Multifarious will be a pushover once he has nowhere left to hide, you are falling right into his trap. If you think you can beat Borborygmos, Mightiest of the Mighty, by flying out of his range and chucking spells at his low AC, there’s a rock with your name on it. If you think Trostani, Chorus of the Conclave, are just a trio of singing tree-worshippers, they live inside the biggest sentient tree in existence.

If you think Niv-Mizzet is just a Dragon or Rakdos is just a Demon; you deserve the humiliating death they bestow you. Honestly, you want to do everything you can do avoid fighting those two if your campaign isn’t planning on going all the way. They are both top-tier monsters; manipulative, intelligent, durable, moody, and terrifyingly powerful. Even worse, they’re smug and masters of gloating. Beating a smug bastard feels awesome, but getting wrecked by them SUCKS.

Long-Haul Goals

If your party is determined to see a full campaign through start to finish, the stakes get bigger. To maintain conflict and challenge all the way to level 20, the threats reflect the amount of power you will be wielding. The Big Bads you are facing will be attempting to upset the chaotic status quo that has existed in Ravnica since its creation. If the Living Guildpact is around, someone is probably trying or has succeeded in killing/replacing them. If the Living Guildpact isn’t around, war has likely broken out in the streets. One Guild may be making a vie for power that will finally give them a conclusive edge over the other Guilds in the endless tug-of-war. Two or more Guilds may be pushing to eradicate several other Guilds whose antics and constant interference has been getting in their way for too long. Or an outside invading force may be materializing on Ravnica’s doorstep with the goal of either subjugating or erasing Ravnica itself. It’s the end of the world as we know it, and that’s not fine. Anything strong enough to challenge a planet-sized city of ten armies on their home turf is going to be, by necessity, seriously nasty.

The Living Guildpact makes for a good MacGuffin. It’s something supremely powerful but also complex enough to develop over a long period of time. They are the most powerful being on Ravnica, but becoming the LG is not as simple as poisoning Jace Beleren’s tea and taking unlimited power from his corpse. Going by the lore, losing one Guildpact will likely necessitate another Maze Run to choose the next. If you want to homebrew another method of transferring the power to an usurper, other problems present themselves. A rogue LG means nothing if the other Guilds refuse to comply. The power of the LG comes directly from Ravnica’s laws. They do not make the laws, they are the force that makes specific laws unbreakable. The process of putting new laws into effect requires the compliance of a recognized representative from every single Guild. Any would-be LG will need powerful influence within each of the other Guilds to make any creative changes to the Guildpact. They can’t just grab a Tom, Dick, or Sue from every Guild and make them say “you’re the Guildpact, Big Bad”. You’re looking for lieutenants powerful enough to be problematic on their own.

If your Big Bad is one or more Guilds going rogue, something will need to happen to upset the stalemate that’s existed among the Guilds for 10,000 years. If the angels of the Boros Legion could just kill Rakdos the Defiler, they would have done it 10,000 years ago, believe me. But not only have they failed to kill the Demon Lord of Riots, they have signed into an agreement with him & his in the name of actual peace. Some Guilds may be more inclined towards Big Bad behavior than others, but every Guild has the capacity to be the Big Bad.

A Big Bad Azorius will basically look like the Roman Empire.

A Big Bad Boros will basically be the Rapture. And/or the Crusades.

A Big Bad Dimir will look like 1984.

A Big Bad Golgari is a zombie apocalypse, plus Medusa.

A Big Bad Gruul is a Mad Max Thunderdome post-apocalypse.

A Big Bad Izzet is whatever Niv-Mizzet has been plotting towards for the last 16,768 years. Think The Matrix, but instead of machines, a Giant Ancient Dragon Wizard.

A Big Bad Orzhov is basically the Spanish Inquisition.

A Big Bad Rakdos is Rakdos actually acting like a Demon Lord.

A Big Bad Selesnya is the armies of the Elves & Ents from Lord of the Rings, and you’re the orcs at Saruman’s tower.

A Big Bad Simic is literally Godzilla.

Taking on something of this scale is going to require your character(s) to draw on every relationship they’ve built within every Guild. Whatever personal goals you might have started with are likely resolved; now you fight for Ravnica’s survival. You are fighting to restore this pain-in-the-ass city of constant conflict to the same barely-functioning status quo it started with. Because by now, you’ve kinda grown attached to it. The thing that makes Ravnica so good at drawing new players in is the fantastic variety of philosophies, lifestyles, and personalities that make up the city. It’s confusing to start, yes, but once you’ve been around long enough, a sort of natural order starts to become apparent. You stop seeing any Guild as good or evil and start seeing them as just different paths for people to take. As crazy as it might seem sometimes, the city works. It may not be perfect, but it will never be boring.

#ravnica for goblins #goblins #ravnica #dnd #D&D #dungeons and dragons #roleplaying #campaign #goals #guilds #living guildpact

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vampiresuns · 4 years ago

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The Best Way To Predict The Future, Is To Invent It

For @arcana-echoes‘ day 14: In Another Life. While the prompt description is “What would have happened if they never went to Vesuvia? If they didn’t die from the plague, or if they had left when Asra asked them to? Who would they be?” I realise that this wouldn’t materially change anything that my OCs did.

Anatole would simply not leave Vesuvia. Unless he never decides to take the Consulship after Valerius, there’s very little way he wouldn’t end up where he is. He would’ve end up in Vesuvia either way. As for Amparo and Milenko they were both born in the City, and even if they left during the Plague, they would come back to resume their careers afterwards.

However, this is what we know, in the Cassanoverse:

1. In Absence of the Count, the Consul rules.

2. The Cassano have held the Consulship for 500 years.

3. What if the former Consul didn’t give the city to Lucio, what if he handed it over to Anatole’s grandfather instead?

4. What if it wasn’t Anatole’s/Amparo’s/Milenko’s choices that changed, materially speaking, but substantially, because history before them changed?

This is the story of the Cassano of Vesuvia, an old, wealthy family, whose distinctive characteristic is being that which stands between Vesuvia and whatever wishes to bring it harm. This is the story of how an old family with no titles and no claims of Nobility became the family who ruled Vesuvia.

* Lore masterlist coming soon.

Vitale Cassano was a smart man; whatever intelligence he didn’t naturally possess, he had trained himself to have. He had excellent guides along his way and he was nothing if not resourceful. More so than the current Count, for example. The Countess before him had been his friend, but her successor gave Vitale the feeling he would gamble the city away, one day, if left unsupervised. He was too fond of his mercenaries, too fond of the ways of the sword, and not enough of the ways that would actually position Vesuvia as untouchable, when standing against Cities, Nations and Empires which bigger forces and more resources than them.

He could not let that happen: the Count might outlive him, but when Vitale is gone (and he will be gone one day) his family will remain.

He revised the letter he’s been writing once more, paged of his inking going through them, reflecting years of work unravelling the mysteries of Vesuvia, of the origins of the City and its Canals. Because Vitale Cassano, son of Mirabel Cassano, grandson of Agripina Cassano, great grandson of Stelarius Cassano, one day would be gone, but the Cassano would remain.

He thinks of the words engraved in the gate of the Palazzo, inscribed in old Vesuvian, old enough to now become a quirky dialect of those who have seen the city live and die, over and over again. For The Road To Glory is Steep and Hard, Rise Vesuvia and Feed On Those Who Subdue Us.

When the letter was finally done, he wrote on the envelope: For my successors, if they are even in need. This will give you back your City.

Vitale Cassano will die at 95, with his son, Iovanus Cassano having already replaced him as the Consul 17 years prior. He will die, inevitably, but the Cassano and his beloved Vesvuia would live on. He had made sure of that, through whatever means necessary.

That letter would be studied by historians, centuries later, as the first attempt to record the actual origin of Vesuvia, once the knowledge was fully undisclosed to the public. It wouldn’t remain unopened for that long, however. It would only do so until a condottiero named Lucio, and his mercenaries tried to take the City, as the Count in seat, to the Cassano dismay had taken a liking to his mercenary — he was old, and had no appointed successors. It seemed as easy as ABC.

Iovanus Cassano did not negotiate with such folk. Political and administrative talent could come for anywhere, origin did not determine it. However, the Cassano thought Lucio had no such talent, and Iovanus, poked by Agrippina, decided he was not going to give him the benefit of doubt. The stake of maintaining peace was too high.

The Count’s decision to make Lucio his successor weren’t hazard, it was something he had been ruminating on for years. When Iovanus first knew, some years prior, he did not want to open the letter yet, unsure of whether or not the contents of it would help them. But Lucio, while having great fighting capacities and indeed some organisational and leadership skills, was no politician, and was definitely not very careful.

Grandiose met a big mouth with a bragging complex. He was easy to anger, and when he was angry, he ran his mouth even more.

Iovanus had plans for the City, and little wish for unpredictable people, with their interest above anything else, to meddle with them. It didn’t matter what this Lucio person claimed, or how certain circles of Vesuvian High-Society, or wealthy merchants, were easy to convince (also for their self-interest). Brute force could vanquish, but doubt could poison. If he had anything in his favour, it was that he knew the Count better than Lucio ever would. All Iovanus and Agrippina needed was to find the right people, enough support, and wait.

“You heard him talking to Lucio about the City’s origins, didn’t you?”

“More or less yes— I’ve also heard him talk his fair share with the Quaestor.”

“The Eastern ends do not really like him, nor does Goldgrave, apparently. The Centre City is undecided. Apparently he’s already parading himself. He causes as much fear as he does fascination, it’s very peculiar to see.”

“Do you think the letter will help, then?”

“I know Papa’s letter will help. After all,” Agrippina smiled, “unluckily for him, we’ve been the City’s champions for centuries.”

“That we have been.”

Together they opened the letter, together they followed the instructions. They had waited years for this, secretly campaigning against the Count wishes — rumours spread doubt, and doubt poisoned. They decided to confront Lucio directly, which didn’t end up as well as they expected — not that they expected it to go well, but they did not expect the complete riot the City would turn itself into.

Doubt, still, did its job. When Lucio said apply more force, Iovanus said “but they will resent you.” When Lucio advised the transition to happen earlier, he said “but they will not trust you, they do not know you beyond what you’ve showed them and—”

“What, what has he shown them?” The Count asked.

When the City saw unrest, Iovanus calmed and soothed, and when Lucio (smarter than the Cassano siblings were willing to admit) caught on, accusing them of wanting to take the Count’s seat for themselves, it was the Count who looked at him confused.

“Lucio, my boy, everyone knows that in the absence of the Count, the Consul rules. If they wanted to take this from me, they would’ve done so years before. My mother and his father were friends, and their parents were friends. Tell him the saying, Iovanus.”

“Vesuvians say that Counts who are prosperous have the Consul as their friend, and Consuls who are memorable have a happy marriage in their beds.”

“Besides, Lucio, you know what it is needed to be the Count—”

“Right, right of course I know it!”

“No,” Iovanus said, “no you don’t.”

Because Vitale died, but the Cassano would remain, Iovanus trusted his father one more time and did what he was instructed to do. He lied, or at least he lied to the Count. It was true that the former Countess feared her son would have bad counsellors, so she entrusted him to Vitale, however it wasn’t true that said Countess had ever given Vitale any information about the origin of Vesuvia — that had been Vitale’s own digging, not out of distrust of his friend and boss, but because it had been a long project, handed down from Cassano to Cassano, to find out the true origin of the City, not even for the sake of political power, but for the unglamorous purpose of city chronicling.

The Library in the Palazzo was of public access, and many intellectuals had come to it, all of them disappointed to find out little was known of Vesuvia as it existed before every given set amount of centuries. The Cassano simply dig, and Vitale — unknowingly — hit the jackpot.

Iovanus lied, handed him a letter from Vitale to himself, about taking good care of the Count, and beware malicious advisors, written vaguely enough to suggest sedition and a long running conspiracy. An apologetic Vitale wishing the best to the Counte and his own son, and with an outrageous suggestion, as only old Vitale could ever make them: what if the City stopped belonging to the entity roaming the Palace, but it belonged to itself? What if the Death and Rebirth of Vesuvia did not destroy their people, but lived on in it’s people. Magic embodied in each and every single Vesuvian to ever live. The Count prayed to the Gods this was not Hubris but a service to the City.

After an expulsion, a battle, and three minor canal changes to rewrite the Glyph upon which the City dying and being born again laid, Vesuvia had a new Count and a new Consul: both of them Cassanos.

#arcana eotp #my writing #the arcana #the radosevic-cassano #echoes of the past: amparo #echoes of the past: anatole #echoes of the past: milenko

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nutty1005 · 5 years ago

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Xiao Zhan: Heart of a Youth – Serenity, Ingenuous and Principled

Translator’s Note: I take a break from the acting analysis articles and bring you something more current... I hope all of us can draw strength from this!

Original Article:https://www.weibo.com/ttarticle/p/show?id=2309404480985398902834#_0 Original Author: 雪色烟波里

“He is but a child of 30 years old.”

Quite frequently, the phrase “He is just a child” had been used as an excuse by fans, and I am not sure since when this has changed to become a way of mockery. Even before fans uttered anything on this, “bystanders” would have started going crazy with “although he made a mistake, he is still a child! So we should not let this go!”. I agreed very much with this statement – no one should use the identity of a child to absolve his responsibilities as an adult, an adult should act as one. However, when they started using this phrase on Xiao Zhan, and added his age as a form of mockery, this started to stink…

I felt as though I was personally insulted, since I am a self-claimed young girl nearing the age of 30. Using someone’s age as an insult is very impolite, since no one escapes the fate of becoming a 30 year old.

Always realistic about his age, and his self-deprecating laugh when he speaks of his entry to entertainment business

To me, being of a certain age and yet having a heart of a youth is not conflicting. Some 18 year old could be methodical, sleek and boring, while others could be 80 and still retain their heart of a child, innocent and unblemished. As for Xiao Zhan, he had always positioned himself as an adult, and never used any excuses to shrink from his responsibilities, and therefore when his age was used as a weapon against him, and calling him a “30 year old child”, is definitely inappropriate. However, in the current darkness, I was able to see his heart of youth and his simplicity. And I would put this across with the following phrase.

A poem is always hard to translate, and therefore I give you the caption words instead. Serenity, ingenuous and principled.

SERENITY

“I always reminded myself, for many things, there is no need to openly display that on the screen, but you should just quietly do, and your efforts would always be seen. There is no need to fight for everything, and fighting for screen time would definitely be something not needed.” —- Xiao Zhan

The clip below was shot on 1 Feb 2016, when Xiao Zhan just debuted. Not vying or fighting might sound ridiculous in the world of adult, but this encompassed the entirety of Xiao Zhan’s acting career. No matter whether he was a side character, a supporting character or the lead character, he had always been quiet and low-key.

Moving automatically to the side for ”Joy of Life“ announcement press conference

In his group, he is willing to be on the sides and become part of the background, always all smiles but never speaking much, always wanting to do his personal best, but never looking for any rewards. In most of the concerts, he would be in the corner, running across the stage to get into position, but never skimping on his dance moves.

Xiao Zhan when his group was still active

Xiao Zhan during the Talent Show, as bright as the sun

I liked to watch Xiao Zhan’s stage performances very much. From a technical perspective, his dance skills were way off from that of a professional’s, but you could definitely feel his enthusiasm no matter how far off to the side he was. Instead of admirable skills, he utilized more of his ability to inject emotions into his performances, creating an atmosphere of joy and passion. He enjoyed every single of his performances with passion. No matter whether there were flowers or applause for him, he always gave his 100% to the stage. For one to understand his dancing style, gifs are not enough; I would recommend watching his fan focused videos to understand better.

Enjoying the stage with all of him

That infectious smile

As a group vocal, Xiao Zhan is quite decent – his high notes are clear, his tone clean and warm, and generally very unique. Personally, I enjoy many of his China themed songs, never tiring from songs such as Qu Jin Chen Qing [曲尽陈情] (Wei Wuxian OST from the Untamed) and the cover of A Laugh over the Blue Sea [沧海一声笑] (OST from the The Smiling, Proud Wanderer movie).

Recently, there were many who mocked at him for being an idol vocal but not knowing how to use an in-ear monitor, but they never thought about whether a vocal of a relatively unknown idol group would have the right to his own personal in-ear monitor. He had to borrow for his performances, and if he was not able to adjust in time, he would just have to bear with it, because he had no right to complain. After he attained some fame, he was able to finally get his own in-ear monitor, and he immediately started learning from his mentors, so what is there to mock? I only saw a person who was able to practice patience in adversity, work hard and progress in good times. By watching the entire series of “Our Song”, you would have a better understanding of his vocal skills.

Xiao Zhan during the rehearsal of Our Song

Xiao Zhan singing “My China Heart” on CCTV

After attaining some level of fame, Xiao Zhan did not let that get to his head, but instead clearly understood his current position, and that popularity could be temporary, only his works would be the basis of his career. Many of his colleagues would describe him as “hardworking and down-to-earth”. In terms of his career, he never slacked off any of his jobs, always prepared and went all out. In interpersonal relations, he was always polite and restrained, and treated everyone around him modesty and warmth. His attitude towards his acting was that he always had to do better than what he did previously. His sense of serenity was not limited to just himself or to his future, and this instead created endless possibilities for his future.

Always grateful

He never liked to claim credit, never cared about having commendations – when the host said that the Summer of 2019 belonged to Wei Wuxian, he replied that the Summer of 2019 belonged to The Untamed. When the fans were looking forward to his undubbed performances, he instead pointed out that the voice actors did plenty of value add. When the host asked him about that famous clip of him tearing up during script reading, he instead pointed out Xuan Lu and said that she was also tearing up but it was not captured on screen. You can understand how emotionally intelligent and humble he was just from a few interviews.

Humble, kind and sincere

Detailed and polite

He believed that hard work could change his fate, his faith almost like that of a fresh-faced youth – he did not care about everything else, except that if he did well enough he would be eventually rewarded. However, is the world really like this? He opened a path with his stubborn simplicity, and forced his way out, but now he has tripped and fallen. While everyone else is cheering and trying to add fuel to the flames, looking at this “entertainment business oddity” paying the price for not keeping to the “rules”, there may be just a handful of us reflecting on why it would be so difficult for a normal person to succeed. Does it mean that eking out a path on your own with just courage would only result in failure? This is something I refuse to believe. I will wait, and wait for him to stand again, to prove to the world that a person can create his own path with hard work, and we can follow every of his steps and not be defeated easily!

We will not be easily defeated

INGENUOUS

On why he did not change his Weibo account after joining the entertainment business:

“I did not change because there was no need to. There is nothing to hide from the others. In those times, in 2010, that was exactly how I felt, I’m very open, I feel that there’s really nothing. In fact, this proves that my personality is not what everyone thinks as “super nice”, I’m just a living person, I feel that no one is perfect, and I don’t want to be a perfect doll.” —- Xiao Zhan

Ingenuous

He did not change his Weibo account after 5 years in the entertainment business, he had always been a candid person. However, he overestimated the world’s tolerance and kindness, and all his personal inside jokes from his commoner days had been used to smear his and his friends’ reputation. Now, if you open Weibo, you would can see all the cyber-bullying against him, as though he had done a heinous crime, but the basis of all these were just some vulgarities he said 10 years ago. Is not the world ridiculous? Based on this, I could have been the most evil girl online, if whatever I said in Baidu Forums were ever exposed, since not only I used vulgarities, I also mocked posters who made a fool of themselves, but these history does not stop me from choosing to be a kind and upright person today. A person is ever-changing, and if we had to gauge a person’s current state on what he did 10 years ago, wouldn’t that be narrow minded? In fact, the Weibo environment 10 years ago is different from that of today, and it is ridiculous to impose current rules on something that was done 10 years ago. I respect all who are candid about themselves, and I would want to be such a person as well, and face the world with an open mind.

The cyber-bullying could be seen everywhere

This is overboard… and also something I rather not translate

Xiao Zhan did not deliberately create any persona, and his candid nature in handling himself is very obvious. He did not pretend to be someone he was not, did not shy away from showing his anxiety, and always used his true self to face everything:

During his Milan interview, he said excitedly that this was his first time to Europe.

During his time in X-Fire, on his first high speed rail trip, he was so excited that he recorded a vlog on it.

During one of their group activities, the organizers arranged for them to stay in an luxurious hotel, and he was so excited that he recorded another vlog on it, showing off the hotel as well as the huge bathtub.

When faced with a cat, he would smile in spite of himself. And he would play with random cats, be accidentally scratched by one and had to go for jabs.

His phone wallpaper had always been of “The God of Fortune”

His eyes would brighten up when he speaks or hears of money.

In fact, if you study him long enough, you would know that he is not perfect, but just a vivid, living person like each and everyone of us.

“This is my first time to Europe” “I just felt, wow, this is amazing!”

His excited face on his way to the high speed rail

His excitement introducing his hotel room, and whoever used this to spread rumors is just plain evil

An ingenuous gentleman, his heart pure and clear, he does not need to be secretive about himself, nor does it need to disguise himself. This is the Xiao Zhan I know, and I accept every of his imperfections, and I am willing to work with him to become a better person. I hope that when I am nearing 30 years old, I would still be exuberant when I encounter the first snows of that year.

And I hope that your heart will always remain clear, and your eyes forever starry

PRINCIPLED

“I feel that youth is that strength, just that strength, undaunted, undefeated by fate and fearless.” —- Xiao Zhan

In Everlasting Classics, Xiao Zhan sang “Bamboo in the Rock”. To be a person, one would strive to be a gentleman. To be a gentleman, one would strive to be like bamboo – unwavering against strong winds, and upright between the heaven and earth.

Relentlessly holding onto the mossy hill The roots buried within broken rocks Tough and strong despite endless erosion and assault Firmly against winds from all directions

Xiao Zhan said that his inner self is like bamboo, firm and tenacious. Many would scoff at this, and say that he did not do enough to control his fans. But is this really the issue of him not providing guidance for his fans? In fact, he has always been telling his fans, but this had been hijacked by the racket of public opinion.

“I can see that you say that studying is difficult, or work makes you unhappy, but growth is like climbing a mountain, the bigger it is, the harder it is, leave your grouses in your heart, when you look back at these problems again, you will realize that they were not difficult.” —- Xiao Zhan

“Actually, I want to tell everyone that no matter whether schooling or working, don’t forget to love life, to experience life and notice everything around you, love it!” —- Xiao Zhan

“There are both sides to everything, there are people who likes you and there will definitely be people who doesn’t like you, you don’t have to care too much about it. As long as we have good momentum, there will be more who will like us, and I will fight hard for those who likes us.” —- Xiao Zhan

Did anyone hear those?

“Idol and fans are actually symbiotic, we support each other and move forward together. When we live our respective lives well and continue to become better selves.” —- Xiao Zhan

“Hence I would say that my fans, I feel that you must first live your lives well so that you have spare time to like and follow the idol you like.” —- Xiao Zhan

Did anyone remember those?

“I am actually very careful, because now I represent not just Xiao Zhan, but my team as well, and if not for myself, there is no need to create unnecessary trouble. Frankly speaking, I haven’t met anything I can’t quite solve myself. But for many problems, others could only provide some opinions, give some directions, cheer you on, but they can’t really solve it for you. How to persist, how to endure, still all depends on myself, because only I know what really happened.” —- Xiao Zhan

“I feel that the ideal status is not changed by regrets. What is most important about life is making sure we live in the present and live well, and not regret the past. The present and future are the most important.” —- Xiao Zhan

Did anyone understand these?

He never stopped his guidance, but many were blind to them. Xiao Zhan’s firm attitude comes from being strict with himself, instead of becoming a nagging teacher disciplining his countless fans. A person could choose the person to like, but the person could not choose who would like him. Some people could not even be disciplined by their parents, how could this burden be instead placed on Xiao Zhan, who even has problems finding time to sleep? Is this not being difficult? If he had this ability, he might as well not be an actor, but become a professional educator.

He had always been providing guidance, but he definitely cannot control everyone

When large groups of anti fans overtook the “Secret Garden” in Sept 2019, spamming that post with the bad comments, his fans quickly counter spammed the post in fear that he might discover and read those bad comments. The unnatural spike in comments obviously alerted him, and he posted “I’m here, goodnight”. Those who took this out of context to claim that he was inciting more verbal war obviously did not see the entire comment.

The “shhhhh” emoticon is often left out when pointing this out.

In the storm of cyber-bullying, the only target is Xiao Zhan, because his Weibo account is the only one attached to a real name.

His personality is 100% firm and tenacious. His tenacity is in how he insisted to his doctor that he would continue to practice his dance steps despite inflammation in his knees; when his toenail fell off, he only asked if it would regrow. His tenacity is in how he would wear thick layers of period drama costume in the height of summer, and wear tattered rags in the deep freezing cold of winter. His tenacity is in shooting period dramas for straight 2 years, not knowing if they would actually be allowed to air. His tenacity is in how he would be fighting a lawsuit against his management, saying “Don’t look back, ever!”, while at the same time managing his endorsement deals by himself and plotting his own future. His tenacity is in how he would not give up despite not earning enough to support himself, and having to go to events by himself without any assistants.

He had survived one of the toughest period, so why should he admit defeat this time round? He would not, and his fans also have no reason to abandon him as well. He is faultless in this, and perhaps causing envy is his only fault here. Time will prove his innocence, falsehoods will not withstand the test of time.

Biting his air tickets, so that he has spare hands to carry his own luggage. We will not give up no matter how tough it gets.

We will accompany you through thick and thin

We will become better people together

And I will end this article with another poem from Zheng Ban Qiao (the poet for Bamboo in the Rock):

A bamboo, an orchid and a rock, with integrity, discipline and fortitude

In a room these oozes gentlemanliness, evergreen against the test of time

A bamboo, an orchid and a rock, with integrity, discipline and fortitude

Firmly against gales and snowstorm, they will bring the news of the spring breeze

#xiao zhan #sean xiao #xiaozhan #肖战

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screamingatanemptyroom · 5 years ago

Text

I Can’t Eat Love pt 16

Here’s the next part. This involves quite a bit of a time skip.

Next part marks the halfway point of the story, bringing us back to the very first scene between Ronan and Lenora. Things are definitely going to change!

Master Post Link here

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The Duchy flourished.

We trained our new officials and solidified checks and balances to keep things honest and efficient. The school expanded to multiple trades, and soon I was cooperating with other nobles to open up similar establishments across the kingdom. Through it all, Armeny led the way, becoming a center for trade, skilled workers and culture.

Another year had passed, I was seventeen, and coming up on the last year before the big scandal that had ruined my life the first time around. I knew that I needed to move out of the spotlight, so that my fall from grace would have as little as an effect as possible of the work I had already accomplished.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to worry about the business “Prosperity.” No one seemed to realize that I was in charge, and simply seemed to think I was one of their most loyal customers. I would be able to continue to run things from behind the scenes.

But the Duchy was a different story. Most of the nobility knew by this point that I was the one actually in charge. At first, some of the older men had protested to my father, decrying it as “unnatural” and “harmful.” Fortunately the Duke’s laziness was not to be underestimated. After getting a chance to live a life free of the responsibilities he hated, my father was not going to be coerced into taking them on again. He simply told them he couldn’t be bothered, and that everything would work out in the end. In the face of his never faltering, if vaguely directed optimism, they were forced to give up.

I had been left in relative peace since then, but that would change once my reputation and status were ruined. To prepare for that, I needed a figurehead. Someone who could help to run the Duchy instead of me, but wouldn’t try to change too many things whenever I wasn’t looking.

And so, I sent for Henry.

A distant cousin on my father’s side, Henry was officially the heir of the title.

Traditionally he should have been at my father’s side, learning to take over from the time he was young, but that seemed that it had been too much effort for the Duke. I had met him only a few times over the years, he was always quiet, intelligent… if a little boring to talk to, and a hard worker. He spent most of his time studying the different uses of plants, and publishing his findings.

He had never inherited the title in my previous life. After my family fell from grace, the Duchy had been absorbed by its neighbors, and as far as I knew he lived his life either unaware or not caring that his inheritance had disappeared. He seemed to find joy in scientific study rather than money and the company of others.

He was perfect.

__________________________________

“So I am to take over the Duchy?” Henry sat across from me, drinking tea, his gaze more on the floor than on me.

“In part. You’ll be taking on some of the workload, but I’ll still have a hand in making sure things stay on track.”

He thought that over for a few moments, sighing. “What’s in it for me?”

THAT caught me off guard.

“You’ll have to be the Duke eventually, and this is part of the job. Also, you get to live in a nice house, you won’t have to worry about money…”

“But I really don’t want the title! I have everything I need at my home.” He shook his head. “I may not have money or a big house… but my plants…

“I’ll build you a greenhouse, and move your plants here so you can continue your studies. I’ll even buy you more plants if you like…”

“I’ll move in next week.” I couldn’t help but laugh at his immediate agreement once plants were involved.

__________________________________

We built a greenhouse, and Henry moved in without causing much fuss. He took to the administrative work naturally. I found to my delight that not only was he easy to work with, but when we had time he would take me through the greenhouse, teaching me the various uses of different herbs and plants.

“And this is winterblue…” He pointed out a leafy green plant without flowers. On looking closer I noticed that the edges of the leaves were tinged with a light blue.

“What does it do?” I felt the leaf between my fingers, noting how soft it was.

“Nothing too amazing. If you brew tea with it, it can boost the body’s health. So if someone is showing early signs of illness, this can be a good thing to give them.”

“Anything poisonous in here?” I was mostly joking, but Henry nodded seriously, pointing at the far corner of the greenhouse.

“The more you know about these kinds of things, the better.” He grimaced. “I study a few of these poisons in hopes of understanding how to negate or treat them.”

“Just keep a close eye on them, please.” It made me nervous to have poisonous plants on the grounds, but after a few months of working with Henry I knew better than to try to persuade him to get rid of a plant. “I’d hate to see them fall into the wrong hands.”

__________________________________

My etiquette lessons completed a year earlier than they had in my previous life, having covered a great amount more of material.

Mrs. Rendler pronounced me a natural genius and claimed I was the best student she had ever trained. I was slightly uncomfortable with the title, given the extra three years advantage that I had, but it wasn’t as if I could set the record straight. I had hoped as the lessons were over I could be excused from visiting the palace, but found myself spending the designated days with the Queen, instead.

The reason given was that I would follow her around, “to get a feel for the work the Queen has to do.” And for perhaps a single week she stuck to this, but it almost immediately evolved into “all the mother-daughter activities Queen Amerande has wanted to do but couldn’t find an excuse to before.”

We visited other families together, went shopping, walked through various gardens and public sites. I meant to beg off in the beginning, to make excuses and miss the less than useful meetings, but… She was so excited each time. She smiled when she saw me, asking about my week. We would talk for hours, and although I tried to keep as much back as I could, she somehow would manage to get me to talk about whatever was going on.

It was painful, sometimes. She acted every bit the mother I had always wanted, but I remained aware that it had to be a simple charade. Something that would end once the engagement was broken. And she must have sensed my concern about this to some extent, because although she continued to treat me as she always had, if not closer, the necklace I had refused remained in her jewelry box, likely waiting to be given to Edith once the prince chose her.

It was what I had told her to do, but it still made me uncomfortable to think about.

__________________________________

Through the next years Nate and I continued to write each other. He seemed to be doing well back in his home country, and was implementing many of the changes we had tried in my duchy back there. His letters were always long, filled with excited rambling that made me smile. It reminded me of how enthusiastic he always was during classes to come up with ideas for the Duchy.

I missed the time we had all spent together. I still visited the royal treasury once a month but it was more to help Jim teach his newer students than anything else. If I ran into a complex problem I either wrote to Nate for advice or visited Jim on a free day to talk it out. I appreciated still having their support… but it was just not the same as it had been.

The letters were often awkwardly worded, as Nate struggled desperately to not reveal his identity through them. He slipped frequently, but I refused to think about it, or consider any obvious clues. I didn’t want to care anything about him… the less I knew about him, the better.

And if I was always happy to receive a letter from him… it was because I valued his expertise in economics… not because I cared at all.

__________________________________

I slowly paid off the family debt, and between the now three stores I owned with Maline, we were both wealthier than I had ever expected to be. We had even opened a branch store geared towards the average person, with well made clothes sold at affordable cost, and soon had to hire more and more people. I was funding my father and mother, as well as Henry’s expenses, but still had plenty more. I put more into the food charity and schools, not forgetting what it was like to not have a job or regular food.

The Duchy was thriving. The family was wealthy. I had prepared everything I could.

The future would be different this time.

__________________________________

“Miss?” Hallers opened the door, finding me sitting in my office despite the fact that it was well before dawn. “Is everything all right? Why aren’t you in bed?”

I sighed, looking at him with a sad smile. “I’m sorry if I woke you, Hallers. I couldn’t sleep. Just trying to mentally prepare for the future.”

Today was the day before Ronan’s eighteenth birthday. It was the day of my last “lesson” with the Queen, my last tea with the prince.

The day that had ruined my life was tomorrow.

“I beg your pardon, Miss, but if anyone had prepared for the future, it’s you.You can’t predict everything, but you’ve worked hard and helped those around you.” He smiled, startling me. “ You’ll be a wonderful queen one day, if you don’t mind me saying.”

I laughed at that, not able to explain the irony of his words. He would understand tomorrow. “Try not to put too much faith in me, Hallers, you’ll only be disappointed.”

He leaned over and squeezed my hand, his eyes kind. “I normally would never disagree with you, it’s not a butler’s place, but I will now: You could never disappoint me. I have never been so proud of someone, as I have been with you.”

“…” I stared at him in shock, as he slowly stood back up, resuming his professional stance.

“Now, you can go back to your room and have a short nap. We’ll bring you some breakfast and send you off to the palace once you’re ready.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is that clear?”

I stood up, chuckling. “What would I do without you, Hallers?”

“Don’t worry, Miss. You won’t ever have to find out.”

__________________________________

My last tea with the Prince was as boring as ever. I hadn’t been able to bring Edith today, as I was able to most weeks, her mother had wanted her to stay home for a dress fitting. Edith had been annoyed, Ronan was irritated once he realized she wasn’t going to be there, and I wasn’t too happy either. Normally I let them chat together, reading a book as they ignored my existence, him bragging and her complimenting.

But today...

“How are your birthday preparations coming along?”

“…” He stared down at the table, refusing to talk. I sipped at my tea, silently glad as I always was that I never let Hallers come along for these outings. I wasn’t sure if the butler had ever killed anyone before, and I wasn’t about to let the Prince be his first victim.

I kept talking, pretending this was a cordial conversation. “I heard your mother hired some of the best musicians around, so the music should be lovely. Of course food will be wonderful…”

This WAS the one thing I had been looking forward to. The royal chef was amazing, and I had missed out on the food at the party last time as I had left in tears after he broke the engagement. This time around I was determined to get to try some.

“…” He nodded silently, pretending I didn’t exist. I reached the end of my patience.

“Well, this has been wonderful, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave early. I need to say goodbye to your mother before I leave, and then finish preparations for the party.” I stood up, relieved I wouldn’t have to pretend enjoy his presence after tomorrow, as I turned to walk away, however, he called out, stopping me.

“Lenora?

“Yes?” I looked back at him. He seemed uncomfortable, but forced himself to speak.

“We’ll need to talk tomorrow, come find me as soon as you arrive at the party.”

Before I even get to eat? “Sure.”

I walked away, wondering how I could hide from him long enough to eat the food before he broke off the engagement, in case I had to leave the party.

__________________________________

“We need to talk tomorrow.” The prince’s face was serious.

“Of course!” I smiled, hoping he thought I looked pretty. “However long you need!”

I walked away, feeling excited. Perhaps the time we were spending together was finally taking effect! Maybe he wants to tell me he loves me! With this and other fanciful imaginings, I thought of little else for the rest of the day

__________________________________

“The tea ended so early, did it not go well?” Queen Amerande asked me with a frown as I approached to say goodbye.

“He really wasn’t in the mood to talk.” Especially not to me.

She reached out, hugging me tightly. “Dear, I appreciate you giving as much time as you have to this, I’m sorry he… he’s like this.”

“It’s fine.”

And it was.

I cared little for his personality, habits, or lack of etiquette. It was amazing how freeing realizing that he and I were never going to be married was in how I viewed him. I had always worried I wasn’t good enough, wasn’t pretty or clever or graceful enough to catch his eye. But now, it didn’t matter. I didn’t want him to notice me.

“No, it’s not. He shouldn’t treat you so poorly.” She sighed. “He’s my son, I love him… but that doesn’t mean I wish I could shake some sense into him sometimes.”

“You can’t force these things.” I smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As I spoke the words I realized: it was the last time we would get to see each other in such a casual setting. My stomach started hurting. I would need to ask Henry to see if he could brew me tea for stomachaches.

Which reminded me…

“I brought you something.” I reached into my pockets, pulling out a packet of dried winterblue leaves. “I was worried you were sounding ill, so if you brew this into your tea, it should help you feel better.

In truth, she didn’t sound sick at all, but I knew she would be soon.

__________________________________

“Where’s the Queen?” It was my first question on arriving to the party. I was nervous, curious about what the prince wanted to talk to me about. I had wanted to see the Queen first, but looking around the ballroom, I didn’t see her anywhere.

“I heard she was too ill this morning to attend.” Edith smiled at me as she spoke. She was dressed much nicer than normal, and seemed… excited, almost. I wondered what was going on, but dismissed the question as soon as I thought of it.

“I hope she feels better soon.” I murmured, making plans to visit the next day.

Edith’s smile widened. “I’m sure she will.”

__________________________________

I had never gotten a chance to visit her after the engagement had been broken, but I remembered hearing that it had taken her quite a few days to recover.

Of course… it might have all been an excuse to avoid me after her son broke our engagement.

Even as that dark thought crossed my mind, I handed her the tea. If she truly did get sick in the past life, maybe the tea would help, and if not… well, the tea wouldn’t hurt.

Queen Amerande took the tea, looking slightly confused. “You know, I must look more sick than I realized. I feel fine, but this is the second time someone has given me tea today.”

That caught my attention, “Someone else brought you tea?”

“Yes, your friend Edith brought me some tea leaves earlier today. She said it would help ‘calm my nerves.’” She shrugged. “I wasn’t feeling stressed, but since she was a close friend of yours I was planning on trying it tonight to be polite. But now I’m afraid I won’t.” She clutched the tea I had handed her, looking extremely happy. “My daughter gave me something better so of course I have to use that instead!”

Dancing around, you would have thought I had given her jewels or gold rather than a simple bag of died leaves. “It will be the best tea I’ve ever had!”

I laughed at that. “You haven’t even tried it yet!”

“You gave it to me! So it’s the best!” She pretended to frown for a moment and then gave me a hug.

I hugged her back, and then made my goodbyes, preparing to leave. The Queen stopped me, handing me a different tea bag. “Here. This is the tea Edith gave me. It’s not the most polite thing I’ve ever done, but I don’t really drink medicinal tea all that often.” She grinned. “Unless of course it’s been given to me by family. You’ve had a lot going on lately, though, so maybe it can help with your stress.”

Shrugging, I took the bag. I would likely throw it away, I wasn’t very eager to try anything from Edith. I was curious that she had made the trip up earlier without me to see the queen, but on closer thought, it made sense. Edith was going to be engaged to the prince soon. She was probably trying to make a good impression on her future mother in law.

It was funny… I had no issues with the thought of her marrying Ronan, my fiancé… but the idea of her being Queen Amerande’s daughter in law made me want to scream in frustration.

I must just be tired.

__________________________________

I headed home, feeling determined. Tomorrow was the day I had been preparing for ever since I had been reborn. So much was different, but still this day always had loomed ahead, a reminder of the terrible ending I had once faced.

It would be different this time.

I was different this time.

I was ready.

#writing #i can't eat love #second life #fantasy #didn't want to stay in the first three yea

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