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beeexx · 4 years ago

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TK writes love letters to all his past crushes, these are letters just for him and he has no intention of ever sending them off. Until one day the thing that can't happen does and somehow TK ends up kind of dating Carlos Reyes, star football player, cool, hot and way out of TK's league. His life takes a sudden turn and it will be a year he won't forget anytime soon.

But this is high school, and it's fun and messy and heartbreaking and all over the place all at once, so TK's up for a ride for sure, and he isn't sure it's just the good kind.

The To all the boys I've loved before Tarlos au no one asked for but I wrote anyway.

You can read it here

Here is a snippet:

When Mateo saunters into TK’s room he’s too busy daydreaming to notice it. His walls are full of posters, his desk is overflowing with notebooks and pencils, full of drawings and doodles, clothes are spilling onto the floor everywhere and his bookcase is overfull of everything from trashy romance novels to complex sci fi stories. TK’s at the moment too wrapped up in his own fantasies about hand holding with someone cute and sweet, forbidden kisses and sneaking out at night together to notice anything out of the ordinary. He’s been staring at the same page for a while, he’s read the novel a few times by now, instead he has a distant look in his eyes as he lies on his side, staring into the wall. Mateo rolls his eyes and grabs the nearest pillow and whacks it, hard, straight into TK’s face.

“Hey!” TK almost falls off the bed, Mateo laughing as he leans against the wall, looking way too proud over his achievement.

“Are we hanging out or what?”

“Oh right, yeah I forgot.” He throws a mournful look at his book that has fallen to the floor, picks it up and dusts it off before he gets off the bed.

“You need to stop living inside your head so much. It’s not good for you.”

“Shut up.”

“What? It’s true, you need to start living your life.”

“Sure Dr. Phil, I’ll get right onto it.” Mateo laughs and shrugs, like he knows it’s a losing battle, and then they are both interrupted by the clattering of plates downstairs. Mateo lifts an eyebrow.

“Yeah, we should probably go help him.” TK agrees.

“He doesn’t want the help though.”

“Well, we can set the table.” TK caringly puts his book on the nightstand and then they head downstairs to see if their dad is about to burn the whole house down, which would be ironic since he’s ridiculously thorough when it comes to fire safety.

“Hi, dad, don’t burn the house down please.” TK calls and Mateo glares at him.

“What?”

“Don’t say that, it will hurt his feelings.”

“No, it won’t.”

Owen Strand, fire captain, father of two, and an altogether good person was standing in their infrequently used kitchen, oven mitts on and way on his way to almost drop the big metallic bowl he’s holding as they make their way downstairs.

“Dad, how’s it going, do you want any help?” Mateo asks, and then gives TK a look over his shoulder that says ‘this is how it’s done’ like he thinks TK doesn’t know how to be discreet, which is a lie, TK definitely knows how to be discreet. There’s a knock on their door then and before anyone can even open it Paul and Marjan step inside, like they both live here and have done this numerous times before.

“Hi, fire captain, it smells good.” Paul calls as he steps inside to high five Owen, who delightfully accepts, only to actually drop the bowl on Mateo’s toes. TK snickers meanly into his hands as Mateo jumps up and down, like that will somehow ease the pain. Marjan rolls her eyes but bends down to pick it up, luckily it was empty.

“Thanks Paul.” Owen says proudly and takes the bowl off Marjan, who looks at Owen like he’s hung the moon. TK loves his friends, but Marjan and Paul are both clearly too dumb to be able to see Owen for who he really is, even if TK were to dangle the mess his father can be in front of their eyes. They love his dad, absolutely adore him and when they come around to hang out, TK and Mateo can expect to be left on the sidelines while the pair relentlessly bother Owen with questions about being a fireman and listen like there’s nothing more interesting to do in life than hear Owen’s stories. TK isn’t too bothered by it, but it bugs Mateo, so TK has taken to intervening from time to time and force his dad to leave the room so they can actually hang out like planned.

They come over on Saturdays though, every Saturday since they’ve all been friends, and that day is reserved for only listening to Owen talking about being a firefighter, that’s the standing deal they all have. Mateo and TK have given up on trying to change that by now and most of those evenings usually ends with Mateo being the one to cook the actual dinner while TK tries to help and fails spectacularly. He’s a miniature of his dad in the kitchen for sure.

There was a time when TK used to only refer to Owen as his dad, but since Mateo’s been around ever since TK was 6, Owen is just as much TK’s dad at this point as he is Mateo’s. And Owen is a good dad, in most areas, but not when it comes to cooking or being on time, so Mateo and TK gave up a long time ago trying to change his weird and unbreakable habits. They’ve spent enough time on their own by now to know it’s useless and they are old enough now both to care and to understand that being a fire captain is a serious and very time consuming job. They’ve spent enough time doing homework, and what they used to refer to as sleepovers at the station, which weren’t exactly sleepovers, more like their dad was working night shifts and he couldn’t get Michelle to cover all the time for him during the nights and they were too young to be left on their own, to understand that what their dad does is a very serious job. Michelle who used to babysit them pretty often when they were children are now working with Owen as a paramedic. She’s shown them around the van a few times too and both Mateo and TK are very taken by the whole station and the people working there, but more so Mateo these days than TK.

Long cooked ribs are soon ready to be taken out of the oven, but TK has the chinese takeout place a ten minute drive down the road on speed dial for emergencies, and he knows his dad, this is going to end up being one.

“Paul, Marjan, how’s school? How are your parents?” While Owen has never been on time once in his life, apart from when he’s on call, he’s good at keeping up with all of TK and Mateo’s friends and their respective families though, and always asks and seems to genuinely care about any news. Owen is popular by default, and it’s not his fault he’s likeable by most people, but it does mean that TK and Mateo don’t get a lot of alone time with him, seeing as when he’s off work he gets pulled in all sorts of directions and he’s basically incapable of saying no. TK has definitely not inherited that quality though as his default answer to doing anything that requires him to spend time outside of this house and away from his precious books and characters is always going to be a no. More often than not Mateo is forced to push and pull him out of the house if he’s going to leave it for anything other than school, which he can’t exactly opt out of.

“It’s good, and my parents send their hello.” Marjan says as TK tunes them out and turns to Mateo instead so he can be directed towards what he’s supposed to do. He starts to chop carrots up as his dad distractedly starts to hold a conversation with Marjan and Paul while Mateo takes the bowl off his dad completely and starts putting the mostly already cut up potatoes in there.

-------

“It’s supposed to fall off the bone.” His dad whispers sadly as he tries to shake the meat off in an attempt to try and fix the situation. Paul and Marjan look about ready to protest and eat it anyway but TK refuses to risk anyone getting food poisoning and brings out his phone to order takeout while Mateo offers to help Owen clean up.

“It’s fine dad, I’ll just order some food, okay?” Owen looks disappointed but concedes to Mateo while Marjan and Paul try to cheer him up. TK rolls his eyes and dials.

“It will be ready in 15 minutes.” They’ve done this enough times by now for TK to know everyone’s order by heart and Nigel, the owner of the place, is starting to feel more like a permanent friend of TK’s than someone he just goes to order food from.

“Oh TK, Judd says his grandmother’s car is fixed up by the way and you can come pick it up at his this week.” TK groans and Mateo shouts out his displeasure.

“Why did TK get a car, he's a terrible driver.”

“I’m not, I just don’t like driving.”

“You drive like a grandma, I would feel more safe in a car with an actual grandma than with you.”

“At least I have a driver’s license.” He shoots back.

“Yeah, I don’t even know how the driver’s instructor let you through.”

“Feel free to take the bus!”

“Or I can just drive and then we can switch places real quick if we get pulled over.”

“No!” Both TK and Owen shout and Mateo defleats, it sends a pang of guilt through TK though, because while they joke around about this Mateo is genuinely upset that he failed the driving test and TK didn’t which is a bit of an ironic situation because Mateo is a better driver than TK, he’s just really bad when he’s put under pressure and things tend to go wrong then. TK basically passed because he was driving so slow the instructor got so bored he didn’t want to do this with him again.

“Boys, what I was suggesting was that all you go pick up the food and I stay here and clean up the place.” TK peeks through into the kitchen where Marjan and Paul have started looking through the fridge, the dishes everywhere and the surfaces all full of cutlery, dirty and clean alike looking very much in need of a cleaning.

“Is TK driving?”

“Who else is going to?” Mateo looks at Paul and Marjan, which both are definitely out of the question and then at TK and just grimaces.

“Fine.”

“You don’t have to come, I can go on my own.” He crosses his arms, a little defensively, because while he isn’t the most comfortable driver, he is the only one out of his friends that actually can do it.

“No, we’re coming.” Paul declares and Owen ushers them all to the door and hands TK the keys to his car with a reproachful look which makes TK promise that he will drive carefully.

“Be safe kiddos, and tell Nigel hi from me.”

“Yes dad.” Mateo shouts, already out the door calling for shotgun and rushing up the car with Marjan hot on his heels. When it looks like Mateo is going to make it, Marjan manages to trip him and he falls head first into the car, but just as quickly as he’s hit the side of the door, which doesn’t look to be too painful, he moves to stand in front of Marjan anyway.

“I called it!”

“Kids, settle down.” Paul says, always one for joking around, but definitely more calmer than what either Marjan and Mateo are.

“I called it though.”

“Doesn’t matter, I reached it first.” Marjan says and moves her hands around Mateo’s body to lift him to the side.

“Hey! That is cheating.” Both Paul and TK roll their eyes.

“Because I am the one driving I get to decide who sits beside me, I pick Paul and if anyone objects I won’t pay for your food.” Mateo and Marjan both glare but they get into the back, not before Marjan pushes Mateo again who knocks his shoulder against hers back. TK rolls his eyes again, never fully having gotten on board with their sometimes overly aggressive way of showing affection. He much preferred Paul’s steady presence and occasionally unwanted wisdom and creepy observational skills he forced upon you. But they had all been friends for a long time now, Mateo and TK first, then it had grown into Paul and lastly Marjan who joined their group when they all started high school, for them to even have too many objections about each other by now.

Once in the car another fight over who gets to decide the music starts and TK shuts them out and puts the radio on while they figure it out, it’s a ten minute drive, fifteen tops when TK drives, and it will take them about the same amount of time to figure out whose phone to connect anyway so he lets them be.

“Mateo we listened to yours the other day, it’s definitely my turn.”

“No one wants to hear your emo music about sadness and feelings, it’s bullshit!”

“Shut up, my music taste is great.” Marjan whacks him on the head and Paul sighs before he turns around to whack both of them.

“Shut up, I am deciding.”

“How come it’s always you and TK against me and Marjan?”

“Pftt, as if I am getting roped into your category.”

“It’s not even me and TK against you two, it’s me against the both of you knuckleheads.”

“I’m neutral, don’t even try and drag me into this.” TK protests and slows down at the speed bump in front of him. Then he turns right and then they get to the big crossing that leads into town. He slows and Mateo groans.

“This is going to take ages.”

“Shut up.”

“Man you could have totally gone now.” Paul complains and TK glares at the both of them before he turns right again, finally getting onto the main road.

“No backseat driving.”

“Yeah yeah.” Mateo mutters.

Ten minutes later, without any accidents, they get to the small family owned Chinese place. It was a popular place, beloved by the town, and almost always full of customers. But Nigel was a sweet man, always took the time to talk to people, and ever since Owen had saved most of the place from burning down many many years ago now, when a newbie was closing it down and forgot to turn off the stove, they were always given extra prawn crackers and spring rolls to go with their food. Or maybe it was because they were here way too often when Owen decided to try new recipes that Nigel knew them well enough to send extra food.

“I drove, I’m not going in.”

“Of course you’re going in, you have the money!” Marjan calls.

“Exactly. You two get to sit in the front seat, and TK has the money, I ain't moving.”

“Ugh, fine.” He has no energy to argue and Paul just shrugs and gets out. Typical Paul.

“No one steal my seat while I’m gone.” He warns and Mateo and Marjan nods solmely, both aware that Paul could take on the both of them if he decided.

“Come on, I’m hungry.” TK calls impateniely and Paul jogs to catch up. TK’s phone chimes with a text message and he opens it up, unaware of where he’s really going, doesn’t catch what Paul says and steps straight into what feels like a solid wall, his phone goes flying and so does the person’s takeout in front of him. Paul catches his arm before he also goes flying to the floor and TK looks up and is about to say that he’s sorry only to freeze up, his mouth probably hanging open in shock.

“TK.” Paul shakes his arm and TK almost stumbles again. “What’s wrong with you man?”

What is wrong is that TK is an absolute idiot and the person he just walked into and sent their take out orders and the drinks to the floor, is of bloody course Carlos Reyes.

Carlos Reyes.

Not that he looks angry or anything, instead he looks something between amused and concerned and a bit like he’s waiting for TK to say anything.

“Erm…”

Paul faceplants and bends down to help pick up the stuff from the ground because TK seems to have broken down completely and Paul at least has some sense about him to act human.

“It looks like most of it is fine, sorry man.” Paul says and Carlos’ eyes finally move away from TK, thank fuck, because he can breathe again and watches as Carlos smiles at Paul, sending something like jealousy and relief through him. God, what the fuck?

“Oh, yeah, thanks. That’s good.”

“What happened?” A girl says and TK’s eyes move away from Carlos’ to a girl he knows is called Iris, a jumper that has the The Alder high school’s symbol printed at the front in red bold letters, and a size that’s way too big on her to belong to her at all. TK wonders if it’s Carlos.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t see where I was going.” He finally says and her eyes snap to his, recognition sparking in them. She smiles, nicely, and grabs Carlos by the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I’m sure it wasn’t all your fault. Carlos is a known clutz.” Carlos rolls his eyes and TK highly doubts that someone as athletic and fit as Carlos can be clumsy. He thankfully keeps his mouth shut though. Paul hands Carlos the bags and he smiles thankfully, his face stupidly handsome and TK gulps, he hopes it goes unnoticed.

“Sorry, sorry again.” He stutters out like an idiot and when Carlos looks at him and TK feels the air go out of him.

UGH.

“It’s cool, well we better get going, see you sometime.” He says, trying to sidestep TK who misreads the whole thing and steps to the right at the same time as Carlos does, making Carlos chuckle, before he tries again, only to almost step right into TK. Paul groans and then, not too gently, grabs TK’s shoulders to forcefully remove him from Carlos’ path like TK is at the moment incapable of doing it himself. Carlos chuckles again, a deep sound that vibrates through TK, before he waves and drags Iris with him, her eyes sparkling with mischief and before they cross the street TK hears Carlos shush her. TK groans and pulls at the ends of his hair and is met by Paul raising his eyebrow at him, both judginly and fondly at the same time.

“Don’t say a word.” He warns.

“I wasn’t.” Paul opens the door to the place so they can finally get inside, the place smelling wonderfully and the noise level comforting TK immediately. What can he say, he likes the sound of voices to fill empty spaces.

“Your eyes are saying enough.”

“If they were they would be saying that that was pathetic.”

“Ugh.”

“How long has this crush been going on now? Since middle school?”

“Yeah.” TK lies, because he did meet Carlos ages ago, and he was possibly too young to have a crush then, but then yes, middle school was probably around the time he figured out he was into boys and Carlos was the best looking one he had ever laid eyes on and he was young and dramatic and couldn’t help but latch onto him.

“He’s not so bad for a jock, you know that right?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The line moves further up ahead and it can’t go quick enough TK thinks.

“Why?”

“Because! Because?” He ends. Pauls rolls his eyes.

“Because? These are not reasons.”

“Okay, fine, fine! He’s popular, hot, clever, way out of my league, and, and…”

“These sound like excuses and not reasons.”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” He mutters petulantly and is saved by it being their turn, Nigel knowing exactly what they have ordered, smile bright and happy and TK gets busy answering all his questions instead of Paul’s, which he prefers anyway.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star #911 lone star fan fic #owen strand #tk strand #tk x carlos #carlos reyes #fan fiction

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rileywrites · 4 years ago

Note

If you’re still doing prompts, this is from your prompt list in the random section — nos. 4 or 14, or from the fluff section, no. 12, in yet another of my reluctantly shipped ships, the Book of Nile. *sigh* (I have fulfilled the requirement of the manifesto) 😆

I wanted to give you options just in case someone already asked for any one of these!

Or, if you want, you could go for my original prompt, which would be: Nile has now learned Italian, Ancient Greek, Modern Greek, perfected her Arabic, etc. When Booker returns to the fold, Nile asks him to teach her French, (which Andy, Joe, and Nicky always said would be his job when he came back) but he basically gives her the “Ask your mother” “Ask your father” treatment, passing the responsibility like a hot potato between the other members of the Guard. After some time has passed, Nile catches him quietly singing songs in his old dialect of French, and oddly, only when the two of them are alone in a room. Since his old dialect has basically died out, she can’t exactly google translate. But she begins to suspect something’s up when Quynh stops dead in her tracks after she walks in on Booker singing something while making breakfast, as Nile sits at the table, enjoying everything, which leads to Quynh disappearing, and quiet laughter coming from the bedrooms. After a confrontation, he admits he didn’t want to teach her French, at least not for a while, because he wanted to have the ability to tell her how he feels about her through singing ancient French love songs, without her knowing, promising himself he’d teach her his language, when or if the day ever came that he could tell her in words.

I’m so sorry it’s a bit long, but this just popped in my head, and I know you’ll do wonders with this, if you decide to do it. No hard feelings at all if you don’t!

Thank you so much, you’re an amazing writer, you capture the voices of the TOG characters so well — I always smile when I see your name pop up with a new BoN story on AO3!

Thank you for this wonderful prompt, darling! I have absolutely run with it. I will write the snippet prompts eventually, but this one grabbed me by the throat.

Read on Ao3 Here.

...

After fifteen years with the Guard, Nile has a pretty good handle on just about any language you could think of.

Nile can give a eulogy in Spanish, ask for directions in Pashto, negotiate a weapons deal in Russian, woo a honeypot target in Italian, con a businessman in Greek, and navigate trade in Arabic. She can read, write, and speak Ancient Greek (circa Nicky and Joe's era) and is passable in several dead languages from the Steppe and Southern Asia. She's decent at Mandarin, getting pretty fucking good at Vietnamese, and doing her damnedest to learn Hindi. (It's a struggle.)

The one language she hasn't picked up yet is French.

It isn't for lack of trying. Her grasp at French is enough to not get her killed, but most of her practice has been with Quebecois or the dialects spoken in Morocco. Basically, if she spoke French in France, they would laugh at her, and her comprehension isn't great

"When Booker comes back, he'll teach you," Andy promises. "He has the most modern French between the five of us. It will do you better to learn from him."

"That doesn't do me any good in the interim," Nile points out.

"He'll be back any day now," Andy says. "Trust me, he'll crack soon."

...

Nile gets to their most recent safehouse late after a long night of schmoozing. She hates long cons, hates that some of humanity's evil can only be taken down with espionage and not brute force.

Her feet are killing her. These sky high boots make her ass look amazing, but her leg muscles regret every life choice she's ever made.

The TV is on, even though Joe and Nicky are supposed to be on recon. With Andy and Quyhn in Istanbul following a lead (to keep a grouchy Andy off of desk duty for a weekend), Nile's senses are on high alert.

She enters carefully, gun drawn.

"Don't shoot," Booker says, hands up. He smiles slightly. "I would have messaged, but I don't have your latest code."

"I still have the Nokia you gave me," Nile points out. "Andy could have told you that."

"Maybe I wanted to surprise you."

"You definitely have too much of a death wish for someone who can't die."

Booker doesn't have a comeback for that. Nile holsters her gun.

"Hug me, you sneaky bastard. It's been literal years."

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He crosses the room in two strides and steps into her waiting arms.

When they collide, it knocks the wind out of Nile's lungs. Breathing is irrelevant anyway, when she's in Booker's arms.

"I missed you, asshole," Nile says into his shoulder, probably getting makeup on his dumb denim shirt.

"I missed you too. I'm sorry that I did not visit sooner." Booker rubs one massive hand over her back. "Your feet probably hurt. I should let you get changed."

"One more minute."

Later, when Nile has had time to change into an oversized t-shirt and Nike shorts, her wig back on its mannequin head, Nile sits down with her feet in Booker's lap and grills him for information.

"I got sober about five years ago." Booker rubs her feet without hesitation, well-trained from centuries with Andy. "I haven't had a drop since."

Nile nudges his chest with the foot he isn't massaging.

"I'm proud of you. It can't have been easy."

"It wasn't." Booker bats her foot away. "It was worth it, though. You deserve a better teammate - you all do. Besides, I don't need to spend the rest of my immortality intoxicated. Six thousand years is a long time to be drunk."

"So what have you been doing since?"

"I spent a lot of time Journaling, processing my emotions. I worked in several literacy programs across the world, staying long enough to help but not too long." Booker shrugs. "Safer that way, I guess."

"Did you bring me pictures?"

"Of course. I have no clue how you keep finding film for Polaroid knockoffs though. It's twenty-thirty-five."

"I have my ways." Nile makes grabby hands in his direction. "Pictures. Please tell me there's pictures of you holding cute children you're teaching to read."

"Of course there is." Booker finds the envelope in his bag, careful not to dislodge her.

The tiny gesture is so fucking heartwarming it hurts.

"I have training in literacy coaching in English and French, so I've worked just about everywhere."

The photos are fucking adorable. Nile flips through them with glee, enjoying the tiny humans and huge Booker sharing textbooks and screens. One little girl in particular pops up in several.

"That's Adelaide," Booker says when Nile holds one up. "I stayed in Port Au Prince for almost a solid year, because I couldn't bear being another to abandon them. When she was adopted by a family in the church, I decided it was time for me to come home myself."

"That reminds me. You're back, which means I finally get to learn proper French."

Booker hesitates.

"Come on, Book, I know you have the qualifications." Nile retrieves her feet so she can kneel by his side on the couch. "You promised. Andy promised. No one else will teach me."

"Nicky hates French," Booker points out.

"I know, and everyone else is too stubborn. They all want you to teach me." Nile fidgets with his rolled-up sleeve. "I want you to teach me."

One good bat of her eyelashes later, and Booker finally agrees.

"Fine, fine, I will teach you French."

"Yes!"

"Eventually. For now, you need rest. Andy will insist on a stupidly early call tomorrow."

...

Six months later, and Booker hasn't said three words to Nile in French. He uses it on jobs, with Joe and Andy, when he talks to himself, but not with her.

They end up in Calais for three days, longer than expected, and Nile bugs him to go out with her.

"Come on, you can teach me in the field. I can practice." Nile pokes him in the arm. "You can laugh at my shitty attempts to use your language, and then you can correct me. Fun and educational!"

"I have too much to do, Nile. I have to make sure this program runs properly, or else we can't get on that plane." Booker waves her off. "Go read something. We have more books than sense here."

"That's not hard, when you're dumb." It's petty, infantile, but it gets Booker to smile and that's enough. "Fine. Don't think it's the end of this, though. You promised to teach me."

"I know, ma cherie, and I will. But for now, entertain yourself."

Nile grumbles. "I am forty-one years old. Don't act like I'm a child."

"I know you aren't a child. However, you are being a brat, so shoo."

"Asshole."

Nile pokes through the books in Booker's latest pile and fishes out something newer and trashy. Brainless. It'll do.

(And if she gets him to throw couch pillows at her by doing dramatic readings of the worst bits, all the better.)

...

Booker has been back in the fold for almost a year.

"Booker, you promised."

A year, and Nile is still just as shit with French - except for the curse words. She knows a whole stable of curse words now.

"Ask Andy."

Nile huffs. "I've been asking Andy for almost sixteen years, Booker. She says you'd be the best one to teach me."

"I don't know about that," Booker says, frowning.

"You're the French one."

"They've spoken French since it was invented."

Nile sighs. "Forget it. I'm going for a run."

She slides her ancient Nokia into her armband and pulls on her sneakers. A run will clear her head.

He doesn't say anything when she leaves. Nile tries not to take it personally.

They're in Istanbul, following up on the lead Andy and Quyhn have been chasing down. They're going to the Hippodrome in the morning, but for now, Nile has the evening to herself.

Why does this whole French thing piss her off so much?

(Nile isn't an idiot. She knows why.)

Maybe she'd be less irritated if he hadn't started singing recently.

It's nothing too obvious, just little snippets of old-sounding songs in a version of French that is either impossible for her to spell, too old for Google Translate, or both.

Nile turns a corner, mentally marking her distance as her feet hit the pavement.

Maybe she wouldn't care as much if Booker sang when the others were around, but he doesn't. It's just when it's the two of them.

Booker is asleep in the armchair by the time Nile gets back. She pokes and prods at him until he's awake enough to shuffle back to the bedroom.

"We've got a long day tomorrow." Nile shakes him gently. "Don't fall asleep in your boots."

"M'good," Booker says, then mumbles something incomprehensible in French.

"Goodnight, Booker."

"Bonne nuit, ma cherie," Booker says.

Nile can figure that much out.

...

The next morning, Nile wakes to singing and the smell of breakfast. She pulls on a hoodie and shuffles out of her room, scarf still on because fuck it.

"G'morning," she says, muffled by a yawn. "Coffee?"

Booker pours her a cup as she sits at the table. Before she's done with the coffee, an omelet appears before her.

"You are the fucking best." Nile digs in, content to enjoy the moment.

Good food, good company, and surprisingly good singing.

Nile is halfway through her omelet, Booker still be-bopping around the kitchen singing, when Quyhn and Andy get in from their morning run.

Both freeze in the doorway before Booker can notice, but Nile watches their minds race.

"Good morning," Nile says.

Quyhn whispers something in Andy's ear, and they walk quickly back to their bedroom.

Booker seems to realize they're there about the moment quiet giggling comes down the halls.

Nile didn't realize Andy could do anything other than chuckle gruffly these days.

Booker blushes bright red and his eyes go wide.

"Booker, your breakfast," Nile points out before it can burn.

"Fuck." Booker rescues his omelet. "I should go talk to them."

Nile stands, hemming him into the kitchen.

"Why are they giggling, Book?"

Booker refuses to make eye contact, but Nile doesn't back down.

She's been a mercenary for a decade and a half. She's faced down gangsters and serial killers and oligarchs. She can handle pinning Booker down with a glare.

"They, ah..." Booker rubs the back of his neck. "They speak French?"

"I know they speak French. Why were they giggling?"

Booker finally makes eye contact.

"They're love songs, Nile. I've been... I've been singing sappy shit from my youth, because I knew you wouldn't understand."

"That's why you wouldn't teach me."

It isn't a question, but Booker nods anyway.

"I was scared," he finally admits. "Scared for you to know."

Nile wants to say something meaningful. Wants to sweep him off his feet, wants to kiss him stupid, wants everything in the world.

Instead, she steps back.

"We have a job to do. Tonight, if you want to, if you're ready, I want you to translate your songs for me. Then we can talk, yeah?"

"I-" Booker nods. "Yeah. Yeah, that works for me."

She turns on her heel to go get ready for the day, leaving Booker in the kitchen staring after her, baffled.

...

Later, blood and mud spattered and healing from a sizeable fall from a horse, Nile limps into her bedroom. She manages to get most of her layers off and into a basket to see if they can be salvaged, but her ribs are still healing so bending too much is out of the question.

Getting her bra off is an Olympic event.

Booker doesn't knock until after she's showered.

"Come in."

"I brought you... well, the translations." Booker holds out a new-feeling leather journal. "I wrote down all the ones I could think of. You can read them, and I'll just-"

"Sit," Nile says before he can escape. "Please, stay."

Nile reads, connecting words to tunes he's been singing for weeks.

They're sappy, fond, romantic, saucy. Nile enjoys peeking up at Booker to see him blush almost as much as the love confession she's holding in her hands.

When she reaches the end of the lyrics, Nile crosses the tiny bedroom and looks Booker in the eyes.

"Booker?"

"Yes?"

"Are you ready to teach me French?"

Booker nods, blushing. "If you would like, ma cherie."

Nile finally kisses him. "I would like that very much."

#rileywrites #asked and answered #prompts #Anonymous #RileyWrites Fanfiction #my work #the old guard #tog fanfiction

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commanders-sole-braincell · 5 years ago

Text

The Commander’s eyes fairly shone in the dark, two glittering orbs that drew you in and offered you no escape. Not that you wanted to, in the end, even as they pull you towards their bed. Their hands were calloused from years of battle and more than a little scarred, but their grip was anything but rough as they cupped your face. Their hands were achingly gentle, and it was all for you.

When they leaned in, you surrendered- to the warmth that they offered, the promise of being saved.

—-

“What.”

Trahearne stares at the book he’s holding with something akin to despair lighting up his grooves and settling between his ribs like poison. A THRILLING ADVENTURE OF RESCUE AND ROMANCE: MEET THE COMMANDER. It read. CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE- YOUR CHOICE DECIDES THE ENDING! It read.

A deep breath, and another, and he averts his eyes from the risque cover in front of him, orange creeping up his skin and settling around his cheeks. This is- bewildering. Ridiculous. And also very embarrassing, seeing his good friend put in this position. He hopes they won’t find out- they have had enough on their shoulders lately.

(He also hopes no one catches him standing here- the last thing he needs is more teasing from Caithe. He shoves the book back onto the shelves with more force than necessary and beats a hasty retreat, face burning.)

—-

He felt his heart thrum in his ears, a low static whine that drove him to wrap his arms around The Commander without even realizing it. It took him a few beats to realize exactly what he was spooning, in this beat down inn that only had one bed for them.

Instinctively, he drew back, praying the Commander was asleep- but then there was fingers wrapping around his, guiding them to their chest and squeezing tightly. They spoke then, words dripping with the bare bones of both an order and a plea.

“No- It’s okay. Just… stay like this, Canach.”

He knew that he should say no. He should pull out of that grip, both unerringly strong and pitifully hesitant, and turn away. He had reasons he should. The Commander was a beacon of light and hope, all strength and power. He was just their bodyguard, he was a former fugitive, he was as sharp and prickly as they came- he couldn’t possibly make them happy.

But the night was cold and The Commander radiated warmth like they were made of it- surely they could lend him some of that warmth, just for a little while?

—-

He stares at the words blurring together in his field of vision before looking up at Countess Anise, who looks like she’s having too much fun at his expense. “People actually write these? Stories about me and the Commander getting together?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” He tries to imagine falling in love with the Commander, and his mind stalls in protest at the idea of being in an intimate relationship with them. He then tries to imagine being in the scenario he just read about and almost retches. They might as well be his younger sibling, some days- he has as much chance of falling in love with them as he has crushing on the Firstborns, which is no chance at all.

“Please, they’ll read everything we do as romantic. It’s the price we have to pay for being in the public eye.” She pats the stack of books she has piled on her mahogany table, and he’s somehow not surprised that she reads about herself and The Commander dating, even if it’s far from the truth. “At least it’s entertaining.”

There’s a small idea beginning to form in the back of his head. It’s a ridiculous idea. A horrible idea. He’s practically inviting grief into his life and telling it to wipe its feet at his door.

“Say we make it more entertaining for us?”

—-

The soulmark on his fur burned whenever he spotted them, curling wings and blazing fire. He loved them, and it burned him- smoke in his breath, coal in his chest. In the future he would stare at a burnt body and wonder if he was responsible, wonder if his mark had been of tragedy after all. But right now he was standing next to The Commander and feeling sparks fly between them, claws flexing, and wondered about nothing at all.

They smiled on him. His mark on them shone- Bright and bold strokes complementing the edge of their smile. He didn’t know what he did to deserve this, honestly. He wasn’t sure he cared.

“Come on Rytlock.” They called out, hand outstretched. He didn’t hesitate to take it, the sun shining overhead painting their soulmarks gold and red.

—-

“Holy shit.”

The words drop from Rytlock’s mouth before he can register it. He’s too busy staring at the familiar face staring up at him from glossy pages, all smooth skin and half lidded gazes and provocative poses. Sometime between the first time he met The Commander and the hundredth time they needed saving from some shenanigans or another they were ruined for him, but damn.

He flips through the book. It’s mostly a trashy story about The Commander (You know, your boss, some part of his mind whispers accusingly. He throws it aside with a strength he usually only reserves for Logan or Canach.) but there are more than a few pictures. One in particular sears itself in his head: The Commander, emerging from a waterfall, eyes smoldering under the curtain of water, dripping wet and their muscles straining as they tipped their head back with a sigh, exposing the nape of their neck-

Alright Rytlock, time out.

This wasn’t what he had expected to see when he walked into the store today. He should probably stop.

He shelves the book, almost reluctantly, and turns his gaze down the corridor. There is nothing but romance novels about The Commander. He continues down the aisle with trepidation, but curiosity keeps him going. He has to know. He can’t see himself sleeping tonight until he does.

And there it is- It’s him. On a cover. It’s a badly drawn recreation of The Commander wearing his stolen shirt last month as they did with everyone, except this time he’s standing by their side with his arms around them like he has never heard of the concept of personal space. “Wild Heart” The book reads. It’s a hardcover.

He stares and takes this all in for a few seconds. He has to wait to truly grasp the magnitude of what he is seeing. He stands there and then he turns around so quickly Sohothin almost catches the shelves aflame, steps echoing like gunshots as he walks. He has books to hunt down.

(On the other side of the world, Logan whistles through his teeth as he fans himself with the pages he had just been flipping through, trying to will away the blush on his face through sheer determination alone. Damn, he wasn’t even offended about being written as a swooning knight in distress- not when they had a scene that would probably make even Eir reach for iced water.)

—

TODAY YOUR BARTENDER IS:

HELLA FUCKING GAY

DESPERATELY SINGLE

FOR YOUR DRINK TODAY, I RECOMMEND:

YOU GIVE ME YOUR NUMBER.

There was a little stick figure doodled on the left hand corner, and the sight of it made Kasmeer smile that adorable smile of hers, her head pillowed on Marjory’s shoulder. It’ was a surprisingly cute message for what looked to be the entrance of a seedy tavern, and from the rapidly forming line the message was well received. Marjory almost found herself intrigued. Almost.

At least, that was what she thought until she pushed open the door and actually saw the bartender, juggling three mugs of ale as if it was nothing. They winked at her and Kasmeer’s direction, their arms coming to a stop as they slid the mugs to the customers and leaned against the counter without missing a beat, showcasing legs that seemed to go on forever.

“Welcome!” They greeted, the crinkles by the corners of their eyes like stars. She suddenly felt uncomfortably warm. Judging by Kasmeer’s own blush, it wasn’t just her.

—

“We should tell them.”

“Mmhm.” She hums, an easy noncommittal sound. She’s thinking a little too hard of pages 305 and 306, paragraphs 150 to 156. Beside her, Kas makes a frustrated noise at the back of her throat as she stubbornly keeps her eyes on the wall instead of looking at the book in her hands. “Of course, you’re right cupcake.”

“Jory.”

“Okay okay, you’re definitely right- But The Commander’s gone for a few days right? What’s the harm in finishing this book waiting for them to come back? It’s pretty good, subject matter aside.” Kasmeer looks redder than an angry hylek. It says something about the two of them that the sight brings not only hilarity but fondness, smooth and sweet like chocolate. “Besides, I heard that we appear in this one.”

“…Fine! Give me some space.”

—

“No, no no- You can’t die on me okay?” He pleaded, keeping his hands on their wound. There was so much blood, painting the ground red. There shouldn’t be this much blood. He didn’t think they had it in them.

The Commander’s eyes was darkening by the second, their lips moving soundlessly. It made a lump build in his throat, and he redoubled his efforts to close the wound, uncaring of the sound of battle happening somewhere in the distance. He didn’t care- not about his grudge, not about the Ice Dragon, not about anything. All he could see was the one person who had tried to always be there for him bleeding out between his fingers.

They were so, so cold.

“Please,” he whispered, bowing his head. A miracle. Anything. “I’m sorry for everything- you were right. I was acting like a Dolyak’s rear, I’m sorry, please.”

“Don’t die.”

—

Taimi feeds the fire she’s making with another book, tamping down the wave of nausea she feels whenever she sees The Commander’s face looking at her from the cover. They’re like a parent to her, and the vast amounts of disgust they feel with each paper they drop into the flames is unsurpassable.

She takes great vindictive pleasure in burning the one with Braham on the cover, almost retching at the idea of… them, together. In the biological sense. Ew. He’s like her big brother, pretty much is in all the ways that matter. She does not want to see him kissing someone. Especially that specific someone.

She throws another book into the fire.

—

“I killed Balthazar.” They said, keeping Grenth’s gaze. They stood out in the darkness of the mists, a single living soul amidst a thousand lost. “You- owe me for that. All of you do.” They continued, their measured steps stirring up dust.

He had to admit, this was an interesting turn of events. He watched them try to mask their desperation and finally spoke. “And so too did Balthazar kill you,” He reminded them. They didn’t flinch. “You escaped death once. You cannot ask me to extend the same blind eye to another.”

The Commander’s shoulders drew back, and they took a deep breath, uncaring of the frost that claimed the very air. The sight intrigued him more than it should. It had been a long time since he had met a living being that did not flinch at the sight of him. “Then I’ll pay it, any price. I’ll do so willingly.”

“You will not.” He said, and for the first time he stood. “But you will pay it nevertheless.”

—

They wonder why the Dragon’s Watch looks so pale. Rytlock’s face is curled up into a snarl, teeth on full display, Canach lips pursued where he stands. There shouldn’t be anything threatening here in Lion’s Arch, but they put a hand on their weapon and begin to advance all the same.

“Commander!” They hear a familiar voice; It’s Logan, a smile on his face as he comes to a stop before them. “Glad you could come. Would you mind coming with me for a moment?”

They look behind them- Their guild seems to have calmed down. From this angle they can’t see what it is that has had them so upset, but it looks to have been resolved. With that in mind, they give Logan a nod and allow themselves to be pulled along.

(They watch The Commander go, led away by Logan, and sigh in poorly concealed relief. A human passes by, dressed as a very familiar Sylvari, complete with the distinctive markings and orange glow. Another passes by- red hair, tall build, armored. Another: A flaming sword and a menacing look. They’re nothing but costumes, actors and fans honoring those they admire and ridiculing those they hate, but that doesn’t make it any better- to be surrounded by constant reminders of those they had lost.)

(The Commander must never find out.)

—

“I have to save everyone.” They said, and you could see their hands shake. You wondered how long it had been since they rested. “I can’t stop. I can’t rest.”

You thought about how much they’ve done for you, for Tyria- the days you felt like giving up, but knowing someone was out there risking themselves day after day, for you, and you just couldn’t do that to them. You tried to put it into words. You tried to tell them how much they were loved, and beloved, by you and everyone- how much it mattered. How sometimes when the days seemed bleak and life bleaker you could remember what they did, see them helping injured refugees and fighting for the weak, how it gave so many people the strength to carry on.

You weren’t good with words though, you never were. So you hugged them, the way you always wished you could.

(Author’s Note: Commander, if you’re reading this- Thank you so much.)

—

They put their head in their hands, laughing softly- laughter that soon turns to choked sobs, shoulders shaking, an ensnared bird beating its wings in their chest. There’s a mountain of emotions pressing onto their back, the ink on the pages smearing with their tears.

They never expected- they never asked for this. They were The Commander because someone had to do it, and it might as well be them. They’ve saved so many lives it’s blurred together, and somewhere down the line everything else got left behind.

They never asked for anything- They never asked to be sent this parcel, and this trashy book written about them, with that author’s note on the bottom and its sincere words of thanks. The idea that they’ve saved people, just by existing… Just by living- It’s a heavy burden, but something in their chest unwinds as saltwater drips down their cheeks like twin waterfalls.

(They think about showing this book to their friends, laughing about how it made them sound surrounded by those they love most. They think about taking a few days leave, leaving everything to others for a while. They think about going home, and listening to familiar sounds and smells. They think about visiting those that had fallen, flowers and offerings in their arms and no ghosts dogging their footsteps.)

“Thank you.” They whisper, and the pages rustle like laughter in the wind.

—————-

Awakening anon how’d you get me to nearly hurt myself from laughter then have me having to go dry my eyes after crying??? How’d you do that what sorcery??

Also omg the AU’S (they had to share a SINGLE BED, SOULMATE AU and the BARTENDER AU, I’m FERAL) I also never considered the emotional impact of cosplays/remembering the dead in such a way and OOF

#Guild wars 2 #GW2 #long post #Awakened Anon #Anon Writings #I'm actually genuinley crying OMG???#Slides money across table how much for a full fic of those AU tho #someone get tyrianlibrary we got the star of the show here #submission

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prissyhalliwell · 5 years ago

Text

A Tradition to Remember

This is my @rumbellechristmasinjuly gift for @jenitosam! This story is inspired by her prompt (cozy, holiday, feast, happy ending) and her adorable Rumbelle fan art!

Summary: A book club is only as good as the book it reads. Belle has no idea how important her choice will become. I Read on AO3

_______________________________________________________________

Storybrooke, Present Day

Mr. Gold stared at the cover of the deep emerald book, the gold embossed print jumping off the cover as if mocking him.

Her Handsome Hero

Gold snorted. What utter rubbish.

He glanced up from his armchair as Belle French, Storybrooke’s irresistible librarian, walked into his living room, bringing with her two steaming cups of tea from the kitchen.

“So,” she said, giving him a warm smile as she passed him a cup and gestured at the book in his hands, “what do you think?”

Gold bit back his first comment, not wanting to insult Belle’s choice of book. It would hardly be the best way to start this new chapter of their friendship.

Pun intended, of course.

When Belle had first asked him to start a book club with her, he’d initially been delighted. They’d had many chats about literature over the years, often while he was checking out new reading material or she was perusing his shop’s antique book collection. The chance to make these interactions more regular was a very agreeable one, especially during Storybrooke’s long winter months. The idea of being cozy and huddled up in front of a fire with Belle - he had insisted on holding these chats at his house instead of her drafty old apartment above the library or worse yet, in the even draftier library itself - was even more appealing.

The only downside so far seemed to be the reading material itself. He’d spent years carefully crafting his reputation as Storybrooke’s resident monster. If word got out that the fearsome Mr. Gold not only attended a book club, but one that was reading a book called “Her Handsome Hero”, he’d be laughed out of town.

“Perhaps we could start with another book?” Gold asked hopefully, as Belle settled into the matching armchair next to his. “I’m sure one of the classics would do nicely. What about Dickens?” At the shake of Belle’s head, he felt a bit of panic creep into his voice. “One of the Brontës? I’d even be open to Austen…”

She placed a reassuring hand on his knee. “You’ll like it. I promise.”

He grunted, ignoring the warmth of her hand as it seeped through his trousers and into his leg, leaving the skin beneath tingling. “Care to make a wager on that?”

She chuckled. “I promise it’s more intriguing once you open the cover.”

“I fail to see how anything with a title like this could be intriguing,” Gold grumbled. “Sounds more like a trashy romance or some horrible made-for-TV movie.”

“It’s not like that!” Belle protested. “I read the first few chapters the other day before I realized it was perfect for us.” She scooted her chair several inches closer to his and dropped her voice conspiratorially. “This book is actually a mystery!”

He looked at the cover doubtfully. “Does the butler kill the handsome hero? That would certainly be an enjoyable twist.”

Belle shook her head. “No, I mean the actual book itself is a mystery! I found it in the middle of the Reference section, wedged between two out-of-date atlases. It’s not in the card catalog or the computer system. I even tried to look it up online. As far as the internet is concerned, this book doesn’t even exist!”

Now that was intriguing. He set his tea down and looked at the book more closely. It was clearly very old, but was still in pristine shape, despite being lost between the stacks for who knows how many years. He had many antique books that he sold for hundreds of dollars each that were in worse shape than this.

The cover’s illustrations were still clear and unfaded, an intricate gold border around the book’s edge and an image of a proud-looking knight with long, flowing locks that irritated Gold for some reason he couldn’t name.

He flipped through the first few pages, but there was nothing there to help him either. No publisher, no date, not even a dedication to some beloved family member. The pages simply jumped straight into the story, starting with the ever so cliche “Once upon a time…”

He was about to comment on this when something Belle had said finally registered to him.

“Does this mean you only have one copy?” he asked, realizing for the first time that she had only brought one book.

Belle’s cheeks turned a fetching color of pink. “I’m afraid so. We’ll have to share and um...take turns reading out loud to each other.”

Now it was Gold’s turn to go a bit pink. He could feel his face heat up and hoped his blush wasn’t as obvious as Belle’s.

Not that there was anything to be embarrassed about, he told himself. It’s not like Belle had suggested anything indecent. But somehow, the idea of reading out loud to each other just sounded rather...intimate.

Gold wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Or how he felt about reading aloud. He wouldn’t mind hearing Belle’s beautiful, lilting Australian accent, but there was nothing appealing about his own accent - not fully Americanized, but no longer truly Scottish after all these years - that Belle could want to hear.

She clearly had not thought this idea all the way through.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he returned to a safer topic. “Well, if it’s not tasteless drivel, then what is it about?” he asked, handing her back the book.

Belle’s eyes lit up. “From what I’ve read already, it’s definitely a fantasy novel, but the main focus is on the values of compassion and forgiveness - the qualities that truly make a hero.” She smiled reassuringly. “So definitely not a trashy romance.”

Gold felt slightly mollified. “I suppose that sounds slightly better. I didn’t really figure you for the type to read cheap romance novels.”

A slight blush colored Belle’s cheeks once again. Gold grinned. “Well, at least not in a book club then.”

“Oh, you!” Belle smacked his leg playfully with the book. “You’re terrible.”

His grin widened. “Perhaps you should kick me out of the club in punishment. Who knows what trouble I’ll cause?”

He gave her his most mischievous smile. Belle didn’t even blink.

“That’s exactly why you have to stay. It’s much easier to keep you out of trouble if I can keep an eye on you.” She flipped open the book. “Now, shall we begin?”

Gold sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.

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

Enchanted Forest, 28 Years Ago

If Rumplestiltskin had thought his Yuletide tradition of stubbornly refusing to celebrate the holiday would be permitted to continue once Belle arrived in his life, he was sorely disappointed.

The Great Hall had been decked in more festivity than it had seen in the last 300 years combined. Candles had been added to every available surface that his interfering maid could reach. Their soft light gave the Great Hall added warmth, and the holly and berries that Belle had festively arranged around them added a bit of color to the room.

Rumplestiltskin hated it.

His entire home had become redecorated for Yuletide, barely resembling the dreary space he had inhabited for so many years. Everything was festive, except for the master of the castle, and he felt woefully out of place in his own home.

He supposed it was his own fault for not putting his foot down when Belle had hung up the very first mistletoe. But how could he have known that it would get this out of control so quickly?

It was the only explanation he could find for why he now found himself staring down at a book that a beaming Belle held out to him excitedly.

“This has been my favorite book since I was a child,” she explained proudly. “My mother and I used to read it together all the time.”

“Ah,” Rumplestiltskin said awkwardly, noticing the title and the picture of the heroic knight etched on the cover. “How...fitting.”

Either Belle didn’t catch the sarcasm in his tone or she chose to ignore it. “I thought we could read it during our Yuletide celebration.” A spot of pink appeared on her cheeks. “You know, to pass the time, especially on these long winter nights…”

“I see.” Rumplestiltskin stared at the title, his imagination already running wild with speculation. “I’m well aware of your love of books, but...well, this seems like it might be a little uh...risque for a young lady.”

Belle’s lips trembled as she tried to keep back a smile. “You’re worried about a book corrupting me?”

“I just think it would be frowned upon for a noblewoman such as yourself - ”

Belle rolled her eyes. “Rumple, if you were worried about my reputation, you probably shouldn’t have whisked me off to live with you in your castle after insinuating that you were well-endowed.”

Rumplestiltskin blanched. “Ah, you understood that, did you?”

“Yes, and it was very wicked of you.” Belle’s tone was reproving but the merriment in her eyes gave her true feelings away.

“Wicked, you say?” Rumplestiltskin scratched his chin. “Well, seems only fair that I should be punished then.”

Belle’s eyes grew as wide as tea saucers. “Punished?” she asked, her voice slightly higher than usual.

“Oh yes. I should go organize my lab immediately in penance.”

Belle let out the breath she had been holding with a laugh. “Oh, Rumple. You really are terrible.” She dropped the book gently into his lap. “But you’re not going anywhere. If you insist on being punished, we have the perfect instrument of torture right here.”

Rumplestiltskin groaned. It was going to be a long Yuletide.

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

Two days into reading the book, Rumplestiltskin’s view had still not changed. If anything, it had gotten worse.

“This is absolutely ridiculous!” he huffed, slamming the book shut.

Belle crossed her arms, openly glaring at him. “What’s so ridiculous about it, may I ask?”

That list was quite long in his opinion, but he decided to start with his biggest complaint. “The hero, for one! This moron is so obsessed with looking brave that he walks straight into danger at every available opportunity.” Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes. “He barely takes a breath after hearing there’s a dragon in a lair before racing off to fight it.”

“Perhaps you’re just jealous that you’ve never slayed a dragon,” Belle said dryly.

He gave her a wide smile, full of teeth. “I am the dragon, dearie.”

Instead of being intimidated as he’d hoped, she merely patted his leg consolingly. “Of course you are, Rumple.” Her eyes danced with amusement. “An extremely grumpy one.”

He pointed a taloned-finger at her. “Don’t be cheeky. Or I might just conjure up the giant spider from your book and feed you to it.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Belle’s eyes grew wide. “You hate spiders even more than I do.”

“What? That’s just...ridiculous,” Rumplestiltskin stammered. “I’ve never even - where’d you get such a silly idea?” He leaned forward, coming nose to nose with her. “Who have you been talking to?”

Belle burst into peals of laughter, throwing her head back in glee. “Oh, if you could see your face right now!” She held her side, her belly continuing to shake with laughter.

Rumplestiltskin glared at her through narrowed eyes. “If you figure out how to control yourself, I’ll be upstairs in my lab.”

Before he could snap his fingers and disappear, Belle reached out a hand to stop him, her giggles slowly subsiding to an occasional hiccup. “No, wait. I’ll behave, I promise. Let’s keep reading.”

Slightly mollified, Rumplestiltskin opened the book and began reading where he had left off earlier.

It was only hours later in his lab, well after Belle had gone to bed for the night, that he realized how easily she had distracted him from his complaints about the book and deftly maneuvered him back into reading it again in mere minutes.

A slight smile curled on his lips. It seemed he had underestimated that maid of his once again.

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

The other mystery, which was why Belle was so insistent on reading the book with him in the first place, finally came to him after several days of intense pondering. In hindsight, he realized how slow he had been to figure it out, since it was clearly the only logical conclusion.

“Ah ha, I’ve got you!” He declared from his seat at his spinning wheel, causing Belle to jump where she had been placing the tea things on the Great Hall’s dining table.

“Wha-what?” she asked, flustered.

He sprang up from the spinning wheel and began to stalk towards her. “I’ve figured out why you wanted to read that book with me.”

Belle blushed. “Oh?”

She was holding her hands together tightly, as if she was nervous about his discovery. But surely Belle knew he wouldn’t hurt her after all this time? Even if he found her joke to be in poor taste. Not that his feelings were hurt, of course. He didn’t care what anyone thought about him, even if he liked Belle more than most people. Knowing what she thought of him was actually very helpful, now that he thought about it. And it’s not like others hadn’t called him far worse.

“Yes, yes, dearie. The parallels are quite obvious, even for an old fool like myself.”

“Parallels?” Belle frowned. “I don’t understand.”

He waved her denial away dismissively. “It’s no use denying it. The sorcerer Gideon met earlier in the book is obviously evil and has been the one pulling the strings all along. Undoubtedly, they’ll face off in a final battle in the end of the story.” He touched his hand to his chest and gave a mocking bow. “I’m sure you couldn’t help but be reminded of him when you met me.”

Belle’s eyes grew wide in understanding. She rushed towards him, catching him off guard as she grabbed his hands in hers.

“You have it all wrong. I’ve never seen you that way.” At his doubtful look, she paused. “Alright, maybe for the first few days...but to be fair, you were purposely trying to be horrible to scare me!”

Rumplestiltskin opened his mouth to argue, but Belle plunged on.

“But I know the real you now, Rumplestiltskin. The sorcerer in that book is nothing like you. He’s pure evil, without any feeling or compassion for anyone or anything else.” She stepped a half step closer towards him. “I know that’s not you.”

His mouth felt dry. He should really snatch his hands away from hers. Her palms were warm where they held his between them and her skin was softer than he could have imagined.

“I’ve done many evil things in my life,” he said, trying to stop her from looking at him the way she was now, her eyes shining with something much brighter than friendship.

“I know,” Belle said, still holding his gaze. “I can’t say I approve of all of the decisions you’ve made, but doing bad things doesn’t mean there’s not good in you too.”

“So you didn’t want me to read the book because I reminded you of the evil sorcerer?” Rumplestiltskin asked stupidly.

Belle smiled up at him shyly. “It’s actually the opposite in fact.”

Now it was his turn to frown. “The opposite? Who else in the book could I remind you of?”

A blush began to spread across Belle’s cheeks. She looked on the verge of saying something, but then changed her mind.

“Tea!” she exclaimed, dropping his hands and turning back to the table. “It’s going to get cold if we don’t drink it.”

“Belle, I have magic. I can always just - ”

But Belle had already walked back to the table and was raising the cup to her lips.

He sighed and walked over to join her, picking up his chipped cup and cradling it in his hand.

Perhaps one day he’d uncover the mystery that was Belle of Avonlea. Until then, the only thing he’d be getting to the bottom of was his tea cup.

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

Despite all his complaints, Rumplestiltskin was actually a little sad when Belle turned to the last page of the book a few evenings later. Not that he was going to admit that to her, of course. The Dark One had his pride, after all.

It was the last night of Yuletide and they had just finished a delicious feast that the Dark Castle had prepared for them. With their stomachs full of roast hen, pork sausages, and bread pudding, they had settled in their now customary spot on the settee in front of the fireplace to read the last chapter of the book.

Rumplestiltskin had opened some of his most prized red wine from his cellars, which Belle had barely touched because she was so caught up in reading the ending.

“With the evil sorcerer defeated at last, Gideon returned home to his village, grateful to be reunited with his family. Confident that his homeland was no longer in danger, he hung up his sword and shield, content to live a simple life with those he loved for the rest of his days.”

“Let me guess,” Rumplestiltskin interrupted. “He lived happily ever after?”

Belle looked up from the book, quelling him with one look. “If you don’t let me finish, you won’t find out, will you?”

He pretended to pout, but did as she said. Despite being fairly certain about the ending, he did want to hear her read it.

Not that he cared about the fate of the brave Gideon. But since he had already put in so much time reading the book, it only made sense to finish it.

Obviously.

“Gideon’s countrymen welcomed him home, throwing a giant feast in his honor. Whenever anyone asked about the qualities that made a hero, Gideon would simply smile and say, with all modesty, ‘Anyone can be a hero. You must only do the brave thing and bravery will follow.’”

Rumplestiltskin pretended to yawn. “Boring.”

Belle ignored him and continued reading.

“With his family by his side and his memories to guide him, our hero Gideon…” She paused, her lips quirking upwards. “...lived happily ever after.”

“I knew it!”

Belle tried to look annoyed at him, but ended up bursting into laughter a moment later. “Yes, you’re very clever, Rumple.”

He tapped his nose knowingly. “It’s the second sight.”

She looked unimpressed. “Or the fact that most stories have a happy ending.”

Rumplestiltskin gave her a wolf-like grin. “Clearly you’ve been reading the unimaginative stories.”

Belle smacked him playfully on the shoulder. “Admit it, you liked the book.”

“I didn’t not like it.”

She giggled, pulling her feet up onto the settee. Drawn in by her laugh as if it was a siren’s call, he leaned closer.

“I suppose that’ll do,” she said. “For now.”

They were close. Closer than they had been since he had held her in his arms that day she’d fallen from the ladder. It hadn’t been that long ago, and yet, so much had changed since then.

Even himself.

“Thank you, Belle,” he said finally.

She looked at him curiously. “For what?”

For being herself. For accepting him. For everything.

“For...bringing a bit of Yuletide spirit into the castle.” He wasn’t willing to admit to her just how much it had meant to have her there, especially during the holiday. It was the first time since Bae had left that he’d had someone to celebrate with. “It’s been many years since I last enjoyed Yuletide this much.”

Belle blushed. “Well, I’m glad I could help. It would be a pity if you couldn’t enjoy yourself a little.” She nodded towards the book. “You’ve been so good to humor me by reading my favorite book with me.”

Now it was Rumplestiltskin’s turn to blush. “It’s no matter. I actually haven’t minded…” Seeing the smirk that began to form on Belle’s lips, he hurriedly added, “...that much.”

His addition didn’t seem to deter Belle’s happiness in the least. Perhaps she had spent enough time around him by now that she could tell his heart wasn’t in the teasing.

“I’m so glad! I was thinking, maybe it could become a new tradition for us?”

Rumplestiltskin fought the urge to roll his eyes. Yuletide wasn’t even over and Belle was already planning for next year!

Then again, he supposed it was nice to think that she was already looking forward to spending another Yuletide with him. He could count the people who had looked forward to spending time with him on one hand. It made him happy that Belle was one of them.

However, that didn’t mean he would miss the opportunity to tease her about it.

“You? Want to make reading at Yuletide a tradition?” He put his hand to his heart and twisted his face into a look of surprise. “I’m shocked.”

“Oh hush.” Belle gave him a playful nudge with her shoulder, trying to suppress a smile and failing miserably. “I actually meant that we should make reading “Her Handsome Hero” at Yuletide our tradition.” Her eyes danced with merriment. “I fully intend to continue making you read most nights with me as well.”

Rumplestiltskin let out a deep sigh, throwing his hand over his face. “My life is only struggle.”

Giggling, she leaned forward and pried his hand away. Suddenly, they were face to face, Belle holding his hand between her two smaller ones. He became aware of the soft skin of her hands pressed against his, and a tingling sensation that was spreading through his fingers.

“I, uh…” Rumplestiltskin seemed at a loss for words. Belle was not magical, yet she had the power to reduce him to a babbling fool. “Your hands are very soft.”

“Are they?” Belle licked her lips, leaning even closer. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Well...they are.” He gulped. “Maybe you should hold them sometime.”

Belle stopped an inch in front of his face, her face wrinkling adorably in confusion.

“Rumple?”

If he leaned even the littlest bit forward, he could capture those delectable lips between his.

“Yes, Belle?”

“Stop talking.”

Before he could argue, Belle closed the space between them herself, pressing her lips against his own.

His eyes fluttered closed automatically, all thought fading away as Belle filled his senses. Everything was heightened: he could smell the rose-scented bath oils she used on her skin, taste the sweet berries she had eaten earlier that evening, hear the soft sounds she made as she sighed against his lips, and feel her skin vibrating against his own body as she leaned into him.

So caught up in the moment, he didn’t notice the new sensation until it was almost too powerful to ignore. The warm, happy feelings that had been building in his chest were almost completely smothered by an overwhelming need to run. Only when he pulled away slightly did he realize what was happening.

Rumplestiltskin wrenched himself away from Belle, knocking himself off the settee in the process and falling to the floor in a jumbled heap.

Belle’s eyes fluttered open. “Wha-what’s wrong?” An embarrassed blush was quickly spreading across her face. Considering his violent reaction, she no doubt believed he was rejecting her. She was right, but not for the reasons she probably thought.

Ignoring her question for the moment, he checked his hands. They were back to their usual green and gold flecked hue, his long fingernails ending once again in black talons. He could feel the magic coursing under his skin, filling him with power and purpose. The Dark One’s curse was intact.

“It’s still here,” he said at last, relief flowing through him. He looked up and saw Belle eyeing him warily, clutching her knees to her chest protectively.

He barely kept back a groan. How in the world was he going to explain this?

Picking himself up off the floor, he cautiously perched on the end of the settee again, not wanting to spook Belle further.

Avoiding her eyes, he began to tell her his story. His sentences were clumsy at first, full of halting, half-finished thoughts, but soon he felt the truth pouring out of him, as he explained to her the nature of his curse, his mission to find Bae, and why - despite the proof that they were True Love - he couldn’t be with her until he was reunited with his son.

Risking a glance at her face, he was relieved to see nothing but compassion there.

“Oh, Rumple,” Belle cried, taking his hand in hers and pulling it into her lap. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.” Once again, Rumplestiltskin marveled at Belle’s loving nature. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve her love, but he would spend every day from now on proving himself worthy of it to her.

“If there’s anything I can do...to help you find your son…”

It took every ounce of restraint for him not to gather her up in his arms and kiss her again.

Since he couldn’t do that, he settled for leaning his forehead against hers.

“Belle, there’s something else I need to tell you. I have a plan to find Bae, but it involves another curse - ”

As if on cue, the doors to the Great Hall flew open and his long-time rival and apprentice, the Evil Queen, strode briskly into the room, stopping abruptly as her eyes fell upon them.

Her expression grew into a malicious grin as she watched them leap apart from each other.

“Excuse me, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin drawled, trying to get the situation back under his control, “but we’re in the middle of - ”

Regina chuckled darkly. “Oh, I can see that.”

“...a feast,” Rumplestiltskin finished.

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Regina looked down at her nails. “I must be behind on the current slang.”

Before he could come up with a suitable denial, Regina waved a dismissive hand. “But no matter. I’ve come for the Dark Curse.”

Rumplestiltskin blanched. He had thought he had more time, but he supposed he had gotten sidetracked with everything happening with Belle recently. He should have known Regina would move swiftly in his absence.

Unfortunately, this left him in a bit of a quandary. He had arranged for his own comfort during the curse, but no provision had been made for Belle. Regina would no doubt create a nasty cursed fate for his True Love, for no reason other than to spite him, if he did not intervene.

“About our deal, Regina,” he began slowly. “I’m going to need to make sure that Belle is included in our little arrangement. You see, I’ve grown quite used to having a housekeeper and…”

Regina wasn’t fooled in the least. “No deal, Rumple dear. I can ensure that you’re both fairly comfortable, but not together. Take it or leave it.”

Rumplestiltskin's eyes narrowed as he weighed his options. Regina wasn’t likely to budge on this. He’d taught her too well for his own good.

“I don’t have all day,” she said, tapping the toe of her high-heeled boot in feigned annoyance. “Do we have a deal or not?”

He bared his teeth at her. “I suppose you’ll be wanting this in writing?”

Regina’s face broke into a wide grin. “Of course. The pen is mightier than the sword after all.”

Her words broke through Rumplestiltskin’s frustration and he nearly rocked back on his heels. He barely stopped himself from reacting, as his brain raced wildly with an idea.

It could work. It had to.

“Fine,” he growled at her, summoning a parchment and quill. He began to write hurriedly, ignoring Regina as she stalked over to him to peer over his shoulder.

“Don’t forget the - ”

“I think I can handle it,” Rumplestiltskin snapped. “I do this for a living you know.”

Regina looked rather pleased with herself and he took the opportunity to enact his plan.

He made a point of looking over his shoulder at Belle, who was sitting on the settee with her chin held high in spite of the gravity of the situation. If anyone embodied the virtues of Gideon, it was her.

Heaving a deliberately weary sigh, he looked back at Regina, gesturing helplessly at Belle. “Can’t you do anything for her?” he asked, letting himself sound just the tiniest bit desperate. If Regina thought him a lovesick old fool, then he might as well use that to his advantage.

“I already said she’d be comfortable. What more do you want?”

“I don’t know. I just...well, she loves her books.”

Regina blinked at him. “Books?”

“Yes, they’re these reams of paper bound together -”

“I know what a book is, Rumplestiltskin!” She let out a growl of frustration. “Are you actually asking me to let her take her little book collection along?”

“She really does love them,” he said, knowing how pathetic he sounded.

He exchanged a look with Belle, who seemed to understand, at least on some level, what he was trying to accomplish.

“Books are my true passion,” Belle said suddenly, watching his face for confirmation. “I’d be miserable without them.”

Regina looked to be reaching the limits of her patience. “I’m not wasting magic to transport a castle full of books to the Land Without Magic.”

“More like a library, really.” At Regina’s glare, he backpedaled. “Fine, fine. Can she just keep that one?” He waved a hand at “Her Handsome Hero”, which Belle was clutching tightly. “It’s her favorite. She never shuts up about it. At least give her that much.”

Regina mulled it over for a moment or two before slowly nodding. “Fine, she can keep the book. If only so you’ll shut up about it.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Now, can we get this curse on the road?”

Rumplestiltskin fought back a smile as he finished scribbling out their deal on the parchment. It would be enough.

------------ Storybrooke, Present Day

Gold didn’t often admit to being wrong - not that he was often wrong in the first place - but the book club had ended up being one of the best things to ever happen to him.

More specifically, it was Belle rather than the book club itself that was wonderful, but as the book club was an excuse to spend several hours a week with Belle’s undivided attention, it also was quite nice.

The book had grown on him as well over the past month. Though the characters lived in a fantastical world of magic and dragons, they also felt familiar to him somehow. He’d become invested in their triumphs and failures almost as if they were his own.

Perhaps Belle’s kindness was finally rubbing off on him. Or perhaps this was merely more proof that he needed to get out of the pawnshop more.

Even stranger were the moments when he’d felt certain he’d read the book before. It was a fairly standard fantasy with a heroic protagonist that triumphed over impossible odds, so it was hardly breaking new territory in the literary market. Yet something about it seemed like an old friend to him, bringing him comfort and nostalgia all at the same time.

He wasn’t the only one who experienced these odd moments of déjà vu. Belle swore on the book itself that she had never read it, yet she too admitted that she felt a sense of familiarity with the story that she couldn’t explain.

“Perhaps it’s the company,” she said one day, when they both experienced one of these moments.

He snorted, twirling his cane between his fingers. “I’m sure my company is intellectually stimulating, but I doubt it’s given you magical insight into the book.”

She shook her head in amusement. “No, silly. I meant the sense of familiarity and comfort it brings us. Maybe we’re so content together during our reading sessions that we’re projecting those feelings onto the book.”

No one had every described their interactions with him as bringing them comfort. Normally, it was the exact opposite.

But hearing Belle describe his company in that way sent a shiver of pleasure from his toes to his brain, causing the latter to short circuit temporarily.

“That’s...a possibility,” he said finally.

Thankfully, Belle hadn’t pressed the issue and they had gone back to discussing the latest chapters.

That had been several weeks ago however and they were now nearly finished with the book. They had decided to do something special for the last chapter and had decided to mark the occasion by cracking open a bottle of one of his best vintage wines.

There was an anticipation in the air that Gold was unsure of, but that he felt all the way down to his bones. Belle seemed to feel it too, her eyes flicking back and forth between his face and the pages before her.

“Do you, uh, want to read first?” she asked, her tongue darting out to lick her lips in a way that prevented Gold from responding right away.

“Uh, yes. I can...do that,” he said, still hypnotized by the moisture on her lips. “Read, I mean. This book.”

Belle tried to hide her smile. “Well, I’m glad we’ve established you can read. Especially since it’s the final chapter.”

“Aye,” Gold replied, wishing he had just kept his damn mouth shut. He cleared his throat, taking the book from Belle and opening it to the last chapter.

Time flew by as they were swept up into the action of the story. The epic conclusion of the hero Gideon’s final battle with the evil sorcerer - who in many ways was more familiar to Gold than the protagonist - kept them both enthralled, neither relaxing until Gideon finally defeated his enemy with one final swing of his enchanted sword.

As Gold continued to read of the hero’s warm homecoming, a strange sense of anticipation began welling up inside him. He ignored it, trying to focus on the resolution of the story. There was no reason for him to feel any excitement at this point; all the action had finished and the story was winding down, most likely ending in some trite moral lesson.

“Gideon’s countrymen welcomed him home, throwing a giant feast in his honor,” Gold read, his eyes glancing up to see Belle as captivated as himself, sitting on the edge of her seat.

“Whenever anyone asked about the qualities that made a hero, Gideon would simply smile and say, with all modesty, ‘Anyone can be a hero. You must only do the brave thing and’…” Gold’s vision began to blur, but he fought through it, determined to finish the last page, “...‘bravery will follow.’”

The moment he finished speaking a hot flash of pain ripped through his brain, making him clutch at his forehead in shock. Something was squeezing its way inside his head, worming into his mind. His other hand gripped the book like a lifeline; the sturdy binding the only solid thing he could feel at that moment.

He heard a sharp cry from Belle and he longed to reach out to her, but his vision had not returned. He grasped blindingly towards her, his hand finally finding her shoulder. Her hand came up to cover his, squeezing tightly.

He saw flashes of images: a caste high up in the snow-covered mountains, a spinning wheel near a fireplace, a young woman humming as she bent over a table pouring tea. The glimpses kept coming and going too fast for him to process, yet they somehow felt familiar to him.

Eventually the flashes began to slow, settling on one image in particular. It was the young woman again, but this time she was bent over a book. His heart leapt as he recognized it as the same one he held clutched in his hand. The woman looked up, a beautiful smile spreading across a face he knew all too well.

“Belle?” he whispered.

And just as quickly as they had come, the memories began to recede, quietly settling into the background of his mind as his sight began to return.

He blinked, glancing up at Belle to see her looking at him with the same awe and bewilderment that he felt.

“Rumple?” she asked softly, squeezing his hand even tighter.

“Belle!” He leapt forward, already forgetting about his unhealed leg, and ended up sprawled at her feet. “It worked! The words woke us from the curse!”

A giggle of pure joy escaped Belle’s lips. Instead of helping him up, she plopped down onto the floor beside him, cupping his cheek gently with her palm.

“I knew you could do it, Rumple.”

Feeling lighter than he had in 330 years, he sat up and pulled Belle into his lap, kissing her soundly. They didn’t have to worry about breaking the Dark One’s curse here, which meant he could kiss her to his heart’s delight. In which case, they might not be getting off this floor anytime soon.

Eventually they had to surface for air, but they stayed wrapped in each other’s embrace, neither ready to let go.

Belle let out another giggle from where her head lay on his shoulder. “Aren’t you glad I asked you to join another book club?”

He snorted. “It’s not so much ‘ask’ as ‘force’, my dear.”

She pretended to pout, her lower lip sticking out adorably. Rumplestiltskin decided he had no choice but to kiss the expression right off of her.

Several minutes later and out of breath again, they finally settled down enough to talk through their next moves. They couldn’t let Regina know they were awake so they would have to be careful.

Now that his plans were finally coming together, his old anxiety began to well up within him. He’d come so far to find Bae - but what if, after everything, it still wasn’t enough?

Before his thoughts could go too far down that old road, Belle - her smile soft and gentle - met his gaze firmly with her own.

“Everything is going to be fine. You’re going to find Bae and we’re going to be a family.” She gave him a quick peck on the lips, as if punctuating her point. When he still looked unconvinced, she gave him a hard stare. “We will find your son, Rumplestiltskin,” she repeated emphatically. “And then you’re going to start making up for what you’ve done to the town.”

Rumplestiltskin’s brain took a second to catch up. “Wh-what do you mean ‘make up’?” he sputtered indignantly.

Belle’s smile was warm, but he could see the steel-like determination in her eyes. Whatever she wanted from him, he wasn’t going to like it, but neither was he going to get out of it.

“Well, since you essentially evicted everyone from their homeland, you’ll start by giving people free rent on their homes - ”

“Free rent?” Rumplestiltskin almost choked. “Are you mad?”

“Don’t interrupt,” she scolded. “Yes, I think it’s only fair that you give them free rent - at least until you can find a way to reverse the Dark Curse and take everyone back home. I also think - ”

Rumplestiltskin wanted to laugh. Or cry. He wasn’t sure which. Too much had happened in the last twenty minutes to process.

“Do you think defeating Regina is going to be that simple?” he asked, exasperated. “This is real life - not some fairy tale with a handsome hero who swoops in and saves the day!” He picked the book off the floor where it had fallen and waved it at her. “I’m not Gideon, Belle.”

Belle laid a hand on his, gripping it tightly. “I know you’re not, Rumple. But do you know what you are?”

“In big trouble?” he asked, hazarding a guess.

A startled laugh erupted from Belle. Sensing that perhaps things weren’t so bad as he had thought, Rumplestiltskin let out a small chuckle as well.

The laughter broke a little of the tension between them and allowed him a moment to think objectively. After almost thirty years, he had regained his memory, found Belle, and was on the cusp of locating Bae after 300 years of waiting. If the worst thing he had to do was make reparations to the people of the Storybrooke for what he’d done, was that so bad? As far as karma went, it seemed like a pretty fair deal for being reunited with the two people he loved most in the world.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Belle said, letting out another chuckle. “And I know you’re not Gideon.”

“Then what makes you think I can fix things?” he asked, drawn in by the way Belle’s eyes held his. Perhaps if she - and Baelfire - believed in him, he could eventually become all the things they always wanted him to be.

“Because,” Belle whispered softly, gently stroking his cheek with her hand, a beautiful smile forming on her lips, “you’re my handsome hero.”

#Rumbelle Christmas in July #Jenitosam #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #prissy writes #A Tradition to Remember

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tabithacarlisle · 6 years ago

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*OFF THE RECORD Pairing: Maxwell x Tabitha (TRR MC) | (Liam x Tabitha & Drake x Liam are mentioned)

Word Count: 4392 (pour yourself a drink and settle in ;)

Warnings: 18+ NS*W, 🍋, marital angst, smut, extramarital affairs, pregnancy, swearing

bonus warning: this is my first fic in a long, long time! It’s probably super messy, but this story has been bouncing around in my head ever since I first read TRR Book 3’s Vegas Fling with Maxwell & it blew my mind!! ;) Glad to finally put it out there in print.

*OFF THE RECORD PREQUEL <<< click here!*

*Author’s Note: any time you see text underlined, it’s a link to screenshots from Pixelberry’s Choices TRR scenes, or other chapters referenced from *OTR- click them!! :) Notes: Pixelberry Studios owns these characters, not me! I just have fun playing with them :) Also a short snippet of dialogue quoted from Choices TRR 3 Chapter 16 “What Happens in Vegas...” is used as a flashback. This chapter takes place about 4 months after the Royal Wedding in TRR Book 3 Off The Record (OTR)by Jo (“@tabithacarlisle” :) Maxwell got the Caller ID notification on his iWatch:

‘Tabitha 👑🌸’.

He answered it right away on his cell,“Hey, ‘Your Majesty!’ Glad you called! I was just thinking about calling you, actually, I—“

(Crying, she cut him off) “Oh Maxwell...”::sob:: “Hey-heyhey hey, shhhhh, it’s ok. It’s ok! What’s going on- what happened?”

“I had to reschedule my sonogram appointment that was supposed to be for tomorrow. Bastien called. He said Liam’s one-on-one meetings at the Davos Summit are running late, and he’ll need to stay out there for another week. But, Liam wants us to find out the baby’s sex together, so I’ll just... have to keep waiting! Again! Oh my fucking gawd, Max! He’s always in ‘meetings!’ He’s always gone! I was just looking forward to us sharing that moment together to see our new baby, so much. How could Liam put off such an important milestone for his first child? It’s not fair. No— I shouldn’t say that. I mean,I know —He warned me what I was getting into when I married him, how he’d have to split his loyalties between me and his duties as King. But, Maxwell, I don’t think I’m cut out to be the sole parent while he galavants around the globe all the time! Our first sonogram! Is nothing sacred? For fuck’s-sake?!” Another loud sob escaped her throat. “I’m sorry, I’m hormonal hot-mess right now and more upset by this than I probably should be, but... I could really use a friend to distract me right now. I —“ “Say no more! I’m only a quick jet-ride away. I’ll be there a-sap.” She sniffed on the other end. “Omigod, I don’t know what I did to deserve a best friend like you, Max. Thank you.” Her statement caught Maxwell off guard. He felt his breath catch in his throat & his heart take a small leap in his chest. After that beat, he spoke, “Stop it. You deserve everything good, Tabitha. And, I feel the same about you, too.” ...

Tabitha had cared for Maxwell more than anyone in his had ever cared for him in his whole life, besides his late mother, and the thought of her being sad tugged at his heartstrings like no other. He’d do anything to make her smile and take her pain away

...... Maxwell fast-walked to keep up with Mara as she led him down the long, gilded hallway to the master bedroom doors. Even with his lanky, athletic legs and naturally speedy gait, his hurried strides still kept him about half a pace behind hers. Mara spoke to him over her shoulder, “Between the two of us, OTR? I’m thankful you came, Lord Maxwell. Her Majesty has been holed up in her room all day.” He gave a solemn nod and waited at the door as Mara rapped her knuckles on the frame “Lord Maxwell to see you, your Majesty.”

The sound of urgent steps grew louder before the door opened . Tabitha covered her sob with the back of her hand. “Oh Maxwell!”

They hugged, clinging to each other as if their bodies were buoys in the middle of a vast ocean. Maxwell placed a chaste kiss on her head as she burrowed it into his chest. After a few moments Tabitha pulled away from him long enough to address her bodyguard,

“Thank you, Mara. We’ll be fine.”

Mara gave a curt bow and left the room closing the door behind her. Maxwell gripped her hands to space their bodies apart as to get a better look at her. Tears were rolling down her cheeks and Tabitha shuddered as she felt his barely calloused thumb pad wipe them away.

“It has been way too long, Tabz! I’m sorry I’ve gotten so wrapped up in my book tour. And I haven’t seen you since you and Liam announced the news. Look at you!” His eyes shone with emotion as he looked her up and down, seeing the small growing bump underneath her shift dress. “You’re going to be a mom!”

Tabitha’s sobs resumed with a heave in her chest, her hands still holding on to his. She looked down and sighed. “But Liam’s not here.” She let go to dab the corner of her eye with the back of her thumb. “This was supposed to be a big milestone. It was so important to me. It should have been important for him, too! This whole pregnancy, becoming a parent in the next few months, it doesn’t even feel real yet, y’know? I just want to see this baby so badly to prove that to myself, to hear its heartbeat again. And, I wanted this for Liam, too! He needs that affirmation just as much as I do. I want him to feel that this is real. For us. For the family we’re about to create.”

“Psssh. Of course it’s real, Tabitha! Look at me, look. This? Right here? This was always the ‘end game’ for us. Getting Liam to fall in love with you, getting the two of you married and secure your place on throne for Cordonia with an heir, it’s all real! You have no idea how proud of you I am.”

“Really?”

“You know it.” Maxwell clicked his tongue mischievously as he squatted down low, hovering his cupped palms over her belly. He looked up at her with wide, adoring eyes. “May I?”Tabitha smiled softly and nodded, touched by his reverence for her condition.Having permission, he placed both hands down over her stomach and turned his head as he spoke animatedly to it “Hello in there, Little One! Guess what? Gender reveal parties are so basic! Definitely too passé for a future celebrity trend-setter like you!”Tabitha giggled.He looked up to give her a subtle wink, then continued talking to her belly in a more of a whisper, but loud enough for Tabitha to hear him, “You are destined for so. much. more! And your favorite Uncle Maxwell is going to spoil you rotten, no matter what.”

Tabitha put her hands over his as she looked at him with happy tears beginning to well in her eyes, “I can’t wait for that to happen.”Maxwell beamed up at Tabitha and gave her belly an adoring quick kiss before he sprung up from his crouching position to a stand. He began to tear up too, seeing so much emotion stirring in her. There was so much he wanted to say, but now that she was the Queen he felt as if it was no longer his place quite like before, to be so free with his words with her. So instead, he stared intensely into her eyes and beamed at her, wishing to convey all he felt in his heart at that moment through his smile.

“Maxwell,” she began with a tentative shake to her voice “there’s somethi—“ “No, no.” he interrupted, “You asked me to be your distraction from all of this, and I promised I’d come through for you.” “When Maxwell Percival Beaumont makes a promise, he delivers!” Maxwell pulled a small thumb drive out of his pocket. “Ahem. OK, check . this . out. My buddy, Spencer, just gave me some bootleg pre-theatrical releases of ‘John Wick 3,’ ‘Avengers Endgame,’ and ‘The Curse of La Llorna’. Siiiiiick, right?! I’m so stoked! I’ll call the kitchen downstairs for popcorn and drinks, and we’re in business!“ “Ugh, no,” she groaned, turning away and shutting him down, “no action or horror movies tonight. You know how they put me to sleep.” He scoffed in mock disappointments at her, chuckling.”I still don’t get it. How the hell does anyone fall asleep during action movies?! What‘s wrong with you?” Tabitha shrugged, “I told you, without character development or drama to pull me in, it all just becomes too much overstimulation and I just, tune it out. The loud sound effects just start to sound like a white noise machine.” Yawning through her words, she continued, “But, now that you mention it, maybe that’s just what I need to cure my insomnia?” “No, nononono. I did not come all the way from Ramsford to have my bestie fall asleep on me tonight, Tabz!” Rubbing and patting her shoulders and crouching slightly to look directly into her eyes he said, “Here’s what we’re gonna do: I’m going order up sundaes to the room and we’re going to stay up hate-watching trashy reality shows. Whatever it takes for you to have the fun night that you deserve, ok?” She smirked in agreement, “Ice cream & trashy tv? Now you’re speaking my language.” Maxwell triumphantly gave his fist aquick air pump “Yes! I’ll call the kitchen up right now.” ...........

Within moments they were sitting sprawled on the oversized chaise loungers in the adjoining theater room, watching “Real Housewives of Cordonia” on the drop down projection screen and spooning mouthfuls of mutiflavored ice cream sundaes into their mouths. Maxwell had consumed enough wine for the both of them which warmed him plenty afterwards but Tabitha had to abstain. Brrrr!” She shivered “Omigod I’m freezing now!” Maxwell chuckled & shook his head, bouncing up right away to fetch a large plush throw blanket to drape over her with a dramatic flourish. He knew the drill. “Your wish, is my command.” “Thank you!” she gushed, her teeth were still chattering, “You’re so good to me, Maxwell.” “Mind if I stretch out here? I need to put my feet up.” Maxwell found her adorable when she was cold and pouty. “Of course!” He winked and motioned for her to cuddle up against him, “C’mere,” and as she placed her head on his lap he ruffled her hair playfully. In this moment, they were just Tabitha & Maxwell, ‘best friends.’ She was his first real best friend. Isn’t this what all best friends do? “She’s like the sister I never had” he’d tell his other guy friends when they had teased him about her. They didn’t believe him. Was that it though? They were about the same age but he felt an impulse to comfort and guard her from any one or anything that could make her sad. Like an older brother? No, it was much more complex than that. Maxwell draped his arm over Tabitha protectively and she snuggled up against him, her eyes closed for a brief moment, full of contentment. As the night wore on, several episodes later, Maxwell found himself laughing at a commercial and looked down at Tabitha to see why she wasn’t laughing too. She was sound asleep. “Geez, I should have known,” he whispered, “you always fall asleep when you lie down to watch tv,”

Maxwell felt a surge of warm appreciation for how much she still trusted him, after all this time, even after marrying Liam, to let down her guard enough to fall asleep on him. He found her breathtaking when she slept, watching her long lashes flutter softly over her cheeks. Pregnancy suited Tabitha; she was even more radiant than usual, and her hair was long and lush, spread out and falling over both her shoulders and his knees. Her lips were swollen and parted, and as he watched the rise and fall of her body, he fell in a sort of trance watching sleepy breaths escaping softly from her mouth every few seconds. Maxwell felt the urge to touch her. He gently combed his fingers through her hair, tracing over the braided bags that always crowned her forehead, and in doing this he began to recall the bachelorette party, the after party, “a free pass”

....... ~(flashback to Tabitha and Maxwell lying naked together in The Vegas hotel penthouse suite bed, Maxwell playing with her hair)~

“I’m going to wake up tomorrow and wonder if any of this was real...”

“What happens in Vegas...”

“Can happen anywhere else in the world?”

“Maxwell.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

~...

He remembered that night, the way she made him feel like the luckiest guy on earth. Why me? The future queen of Cordonia could have had any one that night for her ‘last premarital fling,’ sanctioned & blessed by none other than the her future husband, the King of Cordonia himself. And she picked Maxwell Beaumont? He remembered how out of character it was for her to seem nervous talking to him when she had brought it up at the hotel bar at the end of the night. The way she blushed and seemed just slightly and uncharacteristically nervous, she had never smiled at him like that before. He remembered she shivered when he kissed her neck, her collar bone, the swell of her breast, He remembered how she smelled, how she tasted, the soft, beautiful and otherworldly sounds she made as he went down on her on the window seat overlooking the Vegas Strip, how effortlessly he had fit into her, and how easy it had been for them to find their shared rhythm as they came together...

Coming to and snapping out of his flashback, Maxwell audibly whelped as he realized how close Tabitha’s face was to his crotch and his growing erection aching against the fly of his pants. The noise that escaped from the back of his throat caused her to stir, and he cursed himself under his breath for waking Tabitha up. “Err, sorry Sleeping Beauty but I... gotta—‘xcuse me!” he started to get up

Tabitha started to sit up herself, drowsily, with her eyes squinting against the glow of the projection screen in the semi dark room. Her line of vision came into focus onto Maxwell’s lap as he hastily tried to move from under her, and just as suddenly, she became aware of what must have been the source of his need to get away. “Maxwell! Omigod I’m so sorry- what happened?” Was that - was I touching you in my sleep? Liam says I—“ Hearing Liam’s name made his flight response kick into overdrive. This was wrong, this was so, so wrong and he had really fucked up, again. Maxwell blurted out “No! No no, it’s not— I just... had to—“ “Oh gawd” she realized he was leaving to go ‘rub one out’ in the bathroom, and the thought of him doing that had made her surprisingly horny, “Wait, Maxwell...” her hungry eyes begged him, looking him over up and down and resting at his girth. Then she sat up and did that thing Maxwell loved so when she bit the corner of her bottom lip, “You don’t need to take care of that alone. I can help you.” Oh shit. He couldn’t. She was married now. To Liam. King Liam. Maxwell began to really sweat now. fuck, is this really happening? I can’t let her do this I can’t— “No!” He pleaded, unconvincingly “I can just go—mmmphf!” His words of objection were silenced when her lips crashed into his and she them with the tip of her tongue. He lost himself, momentarily suspended in disbelief and letting go, groans escaping into her mouth as his hand moved to cup her jaw. But just as suddenly as the kiss had happened he remembered where they were, who was missing, and he let her go. “No, Tabitha,... what about Liam. You can’t. We can’t” “He’s not here.” she protested, wiping off her mouth. “He won’t be back for days. Bastien said this summit goes on for—” “But” he looked down at her baby-bump, asking his head. “I can’t, I don’t want to hurt the baby” Tabitha laughed “omigod, Maxwell! do you realize how often pregnant women have sex? It’s completely safe, nothing bad will happen to the baby” “...Really?” “Doctor approved. My hormones are raging, I’ve got no more morning sickness so now I’m horny all the time! Which is unfortunate because Liam has been.. distant, and busy.. And you know about, him and Drake, right? The real reason why Drake is always coming along on these international business trips with him?” “I mean yeah, I know... I know what used to go on” he nods, “but, I thought they would have stopped that by now, now that you’re married, I mean?“ “I had thought the same thing, but Mara & Bastien & Liam have placed so many restrictions on my travel. I feel like a princess stuck in a tower! I mean I get why they’re being overprotective, I’m carrying the future heir to the throne. But now that means I can’t be there for Liam when he gets he needs to be fulfilled. Drake is there, I’m not, so... I get it, I do. We’ve talked about it and we have an understanding. But, I get so emotional and lonely now, I just wish.... Liam has needs but, so do I...” she looked up through her lashes at him pleadingly and then back down her thin fingers ghosting over his belt. He gulped. “Yeah, ::pant:: ‘needs’, I know about those...” he could feel his dick stiffening again, aching for her. She kissed her way up Maxwell’s jawline and nipped at his ear, tenderly moaning into it.“Mmhmm.” Maxwell shivered. Tabitha’s hands went straight for his belt buckle. Like Houdini breaking out of a straightjacket she expertly freed his erection. When she pulled down the elastic from his boxer briefs his cock sprung out and bobbed up against his shirt. Tabitha grabbed his shaft and took him into her mouth in one swift motion. Maxwell’s hips instinctively thrust forward and he closed his eyes, grunting “jesusFUCK that’s good. ahhh!-“ he could now feel her canines lightly grazing his skin, her pointed tongue scribbling lines on him, and though his eyes were closed he could feel her smiling with satisfaction at how easy he was to please with each moan of pleasure he made. Maxwell’s hands grabbed her hair to pull her closer as her checks once again hollowed out to take all of him in. It was hard, really hard, for Maxwell to remember to have inhibitions and to mind the Royal protocol with his dick deep in her mouth. He knew he should stop, but then again, if he should stop, why would it feel so natural and so fucking good to be like this with her? “Tabitha...” She let the tip of his shaft roll out of her mouth and rest on her pursed lips while taking the length in one hand and his balls in the other, cupping him while circling the underside of the velvety head with the tip of her tongue. Licking him down and up, she traced the sinewy underside of the shaft, her fingers massaged tight circles on the sensitive spot just underneath his sac. “Nghhnn!” Maxwell saw how the lust in her eyes made her pupils flood them with black, darkening with desire. That look from her made his cock convulse and beads of precum began leaking at the tip. Tabitha moaned with him inside her mouth causing tantalizing vibrations on his member... but Maxwell’s trance was interrupted by a sudden and inconvenient thought invaded his mind. “Wait!”He pulled away from her. Tabitha looked up at him, confused “What?” she pouted. “I can’t cum in your mouth!” he almost whispered motioning to her stomach: “The b—.” Tabitha covered her mouth in horror “shit, you’re right” She blushed furiously.

Tabitha started to get up but her eyes darted to the side as a solution presented itself to her. She looked back at him with a Cheshire Cat grin and raked her fingers up his abdomen to his chest. “Well then, Lord Beaumont,” she purred “it looks like you’re just going to have to cum inside me.” Maxwell opened his mouth to protest, but soon forgot his objections when she came back down to meet his lips again. He smiled against her mouth and deepened the kiss as they raced and fumbled to finish undressing each other. Maxwell’s teeth playfully nipped and sucked at the exposed hollow of her neck and she gasped at the sensation. “Oh god, Tabitha. I want you so bad” he murmured in his soft, husky voice at her ear before he bit at the cartilage. “I need you now, Max.” she gasped. Maxwell’s hands palmed her breasts once he had sprung them from their confines and the heat of arousal blooming from her core at his touch was almost enough to send her over the edge. He lowered his head to take them in his mouth and stopped, his lips agape and his eyes widened, at how she had changed since the last time he had seen her naked. “They’re...so...big now!” A rakish smile crept on his face from ear to ear. He bent his neck again, meaning to tease her by biting her nipple, but it had the opposite effect and Tabitha whimpered. “ahhhAahh! More sensitive now, too!” Maxwell looked up apologetically at her “Sorry! I’ll be gentle.” Taking precious care now to avoid being so rough he swirled slow circles around her nipples with his tongue before taking her breast into his mouth to suck it. She moaned in the way that let him know he was doing it just right now and she could feel him smiling on her again.Tracing the faint raised lines of his hippo tattoo on his chest with deep longing she implored, him “I need you Max, right now.”

“Yes m’am!” He scooped her up into his arms and she squealed with surprised delight as he carried her over to the bed. Maxwell set her down dotingly on the pillows and kissed her again as he maneuvered himself on his knees between her legs. He allowed his shaft to slide against her folds, slick with arousal, rubbing back and forth on her clit. Tabitha grabbed the sheets and arched her back mewling with pleasure. “Now, Maxwell!” He guided himself into her and they connected at last. Tabitha’s ankles wrapped around his hips and he audibly groaned at how good it felt to be inside her again. His hips rolled into her rhythmically and she rose her pelvis up to meet them at his speed. She closed her eyes and reached down to rub her clit, but had made the mistake of forgetting how much Maxwell had liked to be the one in charge. He smirked and playfully slapped her hand away, replacing it with his own. “Nuh-unh, your Majesty, that’s my job.” This dominance in the bedroom was completely different than the dynamic she had with Liam and it was such a turn on. She whelped at the new waves of pleasure that coursed through her now, completely at the mercy of his touch. Grabbing one hand onto his bicep and the other at the nape of his neck, she anchored herself to him. Maxwell lowered himself to crush his lips against hers again, groaning and all the while never losing the tempo of his thrust. Tabitha pulled back to take a sharp breath and he pushed her wrists down to hold them against the bed and as he planked himself above her. Maxwell’s biceps flexed to hover over her just so as to not crush her with his weight. They stared deep into each others eyes, both a deep sapphire blue mirroring each-other’s intensity with pupils ever growing and darkening their depths, “Max- I’m gonna... nnhhh”

Her words came as he felt her walls begin to throb around him, and it set every nerve in his body alight. With ever quickening pace his breaths and hip gyrations intensified. He could sense that familiar feeling of his sac tightening, and from her shallow breathing he knew they were both almost there. Maxwell closed his eyelids as he gave over to the delicious pressure boiling over in him, and they climaxed together, groaning into each other’s necks to muffle their sounds of wanton euphoria

......

He turned over and collapsed sweaty and spent onto the pillow top mattress. There was a smattering of lazy breathless kisses and pets shared between them, but no words of consequence spoken. Staring at the ceiling, Maxwell took a deep breath and collected his thoughts. His mind was wrestling with the two warring impulses. One: get out of bed right away, get dressed and leave. She was not his & he was not hers, that was the standard procedure for all of his other one night stands. The second one was to wrap his arms around her and stay that way till morning in that beautiful postcoital bliss that he had only ever felt with her. Maxwell was relieved when Tabitha made the decision for him, nuzzling her head into the crook of his shoulder and tenderly draping her arms around him. He combed her hair with his fingers, staring at the ceiling until his heavy eyelids began to give way to sleep. They stayed that way for many moments, silent and breathing slowly with their chests rising and falling in alternation. “I love you” he whispered under his breath, meaning only for himself to hear it, just before drifting off. But then, he heard her, murmuring in her sleep, “The... baby... might be yours” Was he dreaming already? She couldn’t have really said that. Tabitha said she was on the pill during the unity tour, surely there was... no way that— but he couldn’t finish the thought before falling into a deep & dreamless sleep

...................

To Be Continued......? <<< click for *OTR Part 2

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn @itsbrindleybinch @silversparrow02

also tagging some of my favorite bloggers who’ve tagged me before on their fanfics ;) : @tmarie82 @boneandfur @ritachacha @breaumonts @fullbeaumonty@scgdoeswhat @ludextruction @littlecrookedheart @jovialyouthmusic @queen-among-writers @choiceslife

#maxwell beaumont #maxwell x mc #trr fanfic #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic #off the record #maxwell x tabitha #thirsty thursday #ns*fw #maxwell's vegas fling #lemon #tabithacarlisle #otr part 1 #liam x mc #drake x liam #playchoices fanfic

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believingbrook · 6 years ago

Text

taakitz hanahaki, 2

warnings/tags for fic series: terminal illness, angst with a happy ending (yes he’ll be fine), grief. please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with these concepts, take care of yourself!

“How do you not have cumin?”

“I’m a bachelor, Taako!”

“That’s not an excuse to keep a pathetic pantry!”

“Pathetic — ” Kravitz sputters, but Taako raps his knuckles with a wooden spoon and points the butt toward the door, not bothering to look over the bowl of spices he’s crafting.

“You. Cumin.”

“It’s cold outside.”

Taako snorts. “You’re a big boy, and also freezing eighty percent of the time. It’ll hardly register.” He uncaps the cinnamon, sprinkles in a liberal dose. “Besides, the corner store is a two-minute walk. Make yourself useful.”

Grinning, Kravitz obliges, shrugs on a coat and a scarf and his boots and complains the whole way out the door. He shuts it behind him with a parting jab about how he’s going to get hypothermia and die and Taako’s resulting snort.

It is indeed a six-minute excursion to buy cumin. When he returns, purchased goods in hand, he passes them to Taako, the top of Taako’s braid brushing beneath his chin. He’s a good head taller than Taako and always thought that, if he were to kiss him, his hands would nestle perfectly in the small of Taako’s back.

“I realize, in retrospect, that sending someone out to get ingredients when they’ve got, uh, pneumonia, is — that’s probably a bad look.”

Kravitz blinks, then waves an airy hand through the air. “Like you said. I’m a big boy.”

“Yeah,” Taako says, as close to an apology as Kravitz is going to get. “Like I said. Hey, preheat the oven, will you? 350.”

Kravitz obliges. “Celsius or Fahrenheit?”

He laughs as Taako swats at him with the spoon again, dancing out of Taako’s reach with his tongue stuck out. “Disgusting,” Taako mutters, and sticks out his tongue to match.

Kravitz settles himself in his armchair, flipping idly through an old tome while Taako cooks. It’s a pleasant backdrop while he absorbs this new story (and yes, it’s one of those trashy romance novels that Taako hates but Kravitz refuses to abandon), the sizzling and splashing and decadent aroma wafting through their apartment.

Finally Taako clanks whatever he’s prepared into the oven — Kravitz isn’t even totally sure what, exactly, Taako is making, except that his kitchen smells faintly of garlic and he’d tugged two breasts of chicken out of Kravitz’s freezer, jabbing him on how he couldn’t even freeze chicken right, because he’d stored them too close to the icebox — and slumps onto the sofa with a huff.

That’s Taako’s corner of the sofa, or at least Kravitz thinks of it that way; it’s where he always sits, and in his more fanciful moments Kravitz can make out a Taako-shaped dip in the mattress. As is his custom Taako gathers all the pillows and blankets within reach and shuffles them over his lap, laying his head dramatically on the armrest.

“Hey, uh, your sister back this weekend?’

“Yeah.” Kravitz sets his book aside. Taako and Raven got along fine in the beginning, but since — well, since Kravitz’s affliction, she’s turned colder toward him. He jokes that she hates anyone who isn’t goth, and Taako ribs him about adoring Gerard Way and the t-shirts emblazoned with Amy Lee’s face still hanging in his closet, and they don’t talk about it. “Just in time for the party.”

“Natch.” Taako sprawls along the couch cushions, head resting on one crooked elbow. His hair spills in a golden weave over the threads of Kravitz’s couch and for one impulsive moment Kravitz wants to reach out, thread his fingers through that hair, find out how soft it really is.

“She saved my life, you know,” Kravitz says.

“Huh?”

“Raven. When we were kids.” He hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t truly thought it out, but Kravitz hates that his sister and Taako don’t get along. That they don’t get along because of him. Out of everyone in their little family, Taako and Raven’s icy relationship is surpassed only by his and Lucretia’s. “I used to love swimming.”

“I could deffo get behind you in Spandex.”

Kravitz’s heart clenches. “I was eleven, Taako.”

Taako rolls over, quirks an eyebrow at him upside-down. “When’s the last time you went swimming, Krav?”

“Thirteen years ago.”

There’s a pause as Taako does the math. His eyes widen briefly, before narrowing again. Kravitz clears his throat. “I jumped in the river because there was something shiny at the bottom. And I was pretty good at swimming — this was back when I was a kid, and Raven was just a teenager, she took me to the river sometimes because she knew I loved it.” Kravitz drums his fingers against his thigh. “There was a current beneath the river. I almost drowned, but Raven — she pulled me out.”

Taako studies him. “Touching,” he says dryly. “Why are you telling me this?”

“It’s been ten years,” Kravitz says. “There’s little you don’t know about me already.” Kravitz stills his anxious hands. “Also I know you don’t like my sister and I hate it.”

“Shit, me too.” Taako looks toward the ceiling and crosses his legs. “We got along just fine until junior year, then she got all weird.”

Kravitz bites his lip. “Yeah, I know.”

There’s silence for a beat, then Taako rolls his head toward Kravitz and sits up. “Kravitz,” he says dangerously.

“What?”

“Give me that.”

He’s looking at Kravitz’s book. He snatches it up and holds it to his chest. “No.”

“Do not make me come over there and get it, Kravitz.”

“You’re gonna make fun of it!”

“Oh you know I am,” Taako says, hefting himself to his feet. He perches on one arm of the sofa and stares Kravitz down. “Hand it over, I just wanna read the back.”

Kravitz holds it tighter to his chest. “Don’t you have cooking to be doing?”

Taako snatches for it, but Kravitz twists out of the way. “It’s in the oven, bubbeleh, it’s not my problem for at least another fifteen minutes. Plenty of time to do some investigating.” He shuffles onto Kravitz’s lap and grabs again, but Kravitz holds the book tighter.

“This is awfully rude, Taako.”

Taako grins a sharp shark’s grin. “That’s me,” he says, pleased, and digs his fingers into Kravitz’s sides. “Rude and uncivilized.”

Kravitz lets out an extremely undignified squeak. “Oh come on — !” Kravitz snickers, trying to squirm away from Taako’s fingers and failing. “This isn’t fair, we aren’t fifteen — ha — oh come on, this isn’t fair — ”

He breaks away to snort, curling in on himself in a last-ditch defensive attempt. “Oh no you don’t,” Taako says, and even though Kravitz is currently occupied resisting the urge to throw Taako off his lap (he could and they both know it — Taako never was athletic, ‘too much effort’), he can hear the smile in Taako’s voice. “C’mon, Bones, I just wanna read it — ”

“You’re gonna make fun of me!”

“Perish the thought,” Taako says, and finds a sensitive spot along Kravitz’s sides and digs his fingers in. Kravitz rears backward, trying to wriggle away, but Taako snatches the book from his hands.

Kravitz laughs breathlessly, recomposing himself. The air brushes along the petals in his throat and he coughs once, twice, before clearing his throat and declaring, “I hate you.”

“You could never,” Taako says smugly, still perched atop Kravitz’s knees.

“I hate that my tickle spots are the same after ten years,” Kravitz grumbles, burying his face in Taako’s chest. “I’m an adult now, those shouldn’t still work!”

“Not how biology works, homeslice,” Taako says absently, pinching Kravitz’s nose with the hand not occupied holding the back cover in front of his face. Kravitz shakes his head to dislodge Taako’s fingers, smacks Taako’s hand away. “Oh my god, Kravitz.”

Kravitz groans, low and defeated.

“This is awful. This is awful, how do you — a horse? Why is this — is this a gay cowboy story?” Taako tucks two fingers beneath his chin and tugs his face up, brandishing the book at him with the other. “Are you reading a — a fuckin’ homosexual Western?”

“It’s a good genre,” Kravitz defends, blushing furiously. He snatches for the book, but Taako dances out of the way. He’s always been faster than Kravitz. “I don’t need you critiquing my taste in literature.”

“Listen — okay, no, first of all, you definitely do, because this is unacceptable and second, literature? This cannot be called literature, Kravitz! Literature has the word “lit” in and therefore by default cannot be applied to anything you read!”

“I’ve read the draft of your cookbook.”

Taako freezes, then hits him lightly in the chest with his own book. “Take your trash back,” he sulks. “Can’t sully my hands with it anymore.”

“You know I’m right, Taako!”

“I will confess to no such thing.”

“You don’t need to,” Kravitz sing-songs, leaning forward, bracing his elbows on Taako’s knees. “I already know everything I need to.”

Taako stares him dead in the eyes, then pokes his nose. “False. I — I don’t have anything better than false, and also fuck you.”

Kravitz goes to lick his finger and Taako yanks it back, retching. “You’re disgusting!”

“Learned it from Lup,” Kravitz shrugs, grinning unabashedly up at him. “Your sister, your fault.”

“No, that’s not even — you are so far off,” Taako says, disentangling himself from Kravitz’s lap and going to check on the kitchen. “By that logic that means you also gotta blame me for trying to set you up with Barold during freshman year and I want no part of that.”

“I think that worked out for Lup in the end, though,” Kravitz says, standing and stretching. “Chicken done?”

“Almost,” Taako says, putting the oven mitts back. It’d taken Kravitz four years to drill organization into Taako’s head — in this flat everything has a place and will be returned there, thank you. “Five minutes or so.”

“How long until people arrive?”

“You have a clock on your wrist.”

Kravitz sprawls out over the couch and grins cheekily at him. “Too far away.”

“You’re awful,” Taako says, rolling his eyes where Kravitz can see him. “We’ve got half an hour.”

“Cool.” He sits back, studies the ceiling, then picks his head up again. “Hey, could you grab Angus’s present? It’s in my closet.”

“Are you trying to put me back in the closet?”

“And you say my gay jokes are awful.”

Taako pauses, considering. “Okay, yeah, that one was pretty bad. What will you give me in return?”

Kravitz shrugs. “My undying love and affection?”

Taako snorts. “Disgusting,” he says, but tromps obligingly into Kravitz’s room. “Your room’s a mess!”

“Is not!”

“Your bed isn’t made, and there’s dust on the windowsill!”

Kravitz rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry I don’t dust my bedroom often enough for your tastes!”

He hears a muttered “you should be,” then silence. Kravitz closes his eyes, the delicious scent of garlic and rosemary wafting around the kitchen, and waits for Taako’s returning footsteps.

They return, far slower than they should. Kravitz sits up, and when he looks toward the entryway, Taako is carrying a jar of rose petals.

Ice chills in Kravitz’s veins.

“Taako?”

Taako doesn’t say anything as he crosses the room. Kravitz stiffens, scoots over to make room, and Taako sits, face eerily blank. This time, Taako doesn’t bother with his nest of blankets.

“What are these?”

“Petals,” Kravitz says, and in an attempt at lightheartedness says “I’d have thought you’d know that, Taako, your father is a gardener — ”

“Kravitz.”

Kravitz’s heart plummets to his stomach. Taako looks at him and Kravitz can’t hold his gaze, so he looks away, looks to the table still scuffed with bootprints from Taako’s uncaring kicked-up legs.

“Why do you keep them?”

His voice is perfectly even. Taako’s voice is never even. “I like them,” he shrugs. “I know that sounds, uh, fucked up, but — they remind me what I’m — ” He swallows, cuts himself off. “Are you angry?”

Taako ignores his last question. “Yeah, that’s pretty fucked up,” he says. He sets the jar on the table, lips pressed firmly together, eyes still shadowed with something Kravitz can’t quite understand. “You know, I don’t think I’ll ever understand you, Kravitz.”

“Taako, you still know me.”

“He’s a lucky guy.” This time, he’s the one who won’t meet Kravitz’s gaze. “Whoever he is.”

Kravitz blinks. “Taako, it isn’t — it isn’t some guy, it’s — ”

“Don’t.”

“Taako— ”

Taako’s voice is harsh with warning. “Don’t, Kravitz.”

Taako sits up, shoulders tense and gaze fixed rigid on the unlit fireplace in the wall. His jaw is locked tight and Kravitz feels like he can’t breathe and for once, it isn’t the damned garden coating his windpipe.

“Okay,” Kravitz says softly. “Okay, I won’t. Are you all right?”

Taako barks out a laugh, hands fisting in his jeans. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

It doesn’t sound like a compliment.

“I’ve been told,” Kravitz murmurs. He looks toward the fireplace as well. “The chicken’s probably done.”

Taako blinks. “Right,” he says, and stands. “Right. Yeah, it probably is.”

He stands. Kravitz hears the oven door open, shut, metal clanking against metal. There’s a beep of an interior thermometer; a pause, then the rhythmic sound of chopping.

Kravitz’s chest is tight now, too, something uncomfortably heavy pressing on his sternum. This is why he hadn’t said anything. He knew this was going to happen, knew that when Taako found out he would get scared, and he would leave.

Kravitz wants to run, badly. Wants to flee his own flat, take refuge with Hurley and Sloane. Maybe call Julia and see if her dining room table has room for one more, if she’s got tea steeping.

But too many people have left Taako already and if Kravitz leaves now he’ll smash the last of the wooden slats he hasn’t already burned. Instead he forces himself to stand, walk over to his own counter. He — he needs Taako to know this, at least.

“This isn’t your fault, Taako.”

His back is turned toward Kravitz and it stiffens at the words. There’s a pause in the rhythm of his chopping and it lulls, just for a moment; then Taako says, with a voice so unaffected Kravitz startles to hear it, “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, my man.”

His heart drops. “Ah,” Kravitz says. In the end, he tells himself, it’s better than it could be — he could have lost Taako entirely. He can keep pretending nothing’s wrong. He — he wouldn’t mind.

Inside his throat, the roses bloom, stretching their petals a bit farther. The prickling feeling of seeds taking root trickles farther up his windpipe and he fights the urge to retch, balling a fist against his mouth and blinking back involuntary tears.

“I think Lup bought Ango trick candles,” Taako says after a while. He slides the diced carrots off the chopping board, drops them in the bowl with a brisk flick of his wrist. “I don’t even think — don’t think she needs them, to be honest. She could just relight ‘em as soon as they go out.”

“He’d realize though,” Kravitz says carefully. “He’s very intelligent.”

“He’ll figure out they’re trick candles pretty fast too,” Taako says sharply. “But yeah. Don’t freak when they keep burning.”

“I won’t.”

Taako hums absently. His back is still turned. He pulls three full tomatoes out of his bag and sets about slicing those. “How long do we have?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Cool cool.”

“Do you need help?”

Taako snorts. “Not from you, my man.”

Kravitz bites his lip. He doesn’t know what to say, and that’s what gets him more than anything else — he doesn’t know what to do. He’s never had to dance around Taako. The sort of easy honesty that grew between them was present from the very start, and Kravitz has uprooted it. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to smooth things out into the easy camaraderie of before.

“Still got Magnus’s ducks?”

“Yeah,” Kravitz says. “Those were in the closet, too. Did you — did you grab Angus’s — ”

“Nah, got a little sidetracked.” Taako brushes a lock of hair out of his face with one shoulder. “Just be warned, I think he’s bringing some more. Takes every chance he can get to, uh, fuckin’ frisbee them at people he knows.”

“I’ll clear more space then,” Kravitz says, and leaves.

He means to grab the present and head back to the kitchen, he really does; but alone, the full weight of Taako’s stubborn denial weighs on him and he sinks to his knees on the patchwork carpet of his closet. He fights to keep his breathing even, he can’t afford to cry because then he’ll start coughing, and that —

He retches. One hand flies to his mouth and the other scrambles for the closet door, pulling it shut. The light spilling in from his bedroom ceases, leaving him in the dark, and Kravitz struggles to keep his coughs as quiet as possible.

It’s different now, this — the petals he’s coughing up seem larger, fuller somehow, and Kravitz’s eyes sting. Gods, he doesn’t want to deal with anyone right now, doesn’t want to deal with Taako. He hopes he’s not audible from the kitchen.

After several minutes the fit passes and Kravitz, now able to breathe easier, slumps back against the wall. He stares into the darkness, the faint halo of light around his door, and buries his head in his hands. Crying is out of the question, he’s too drained — he couldn’t muster tears even if he wanted them — so he dashes a hand across his eyes, his lips, reaching shakily for the water bottle Raven keeps tucked in the back corner. He unscrews it, hands still trembling, and takes a large drink to calm himself.

Kravitz counts thirty seconds, slumped against the wall, hands shaking where he’s folded them in his lap, eyes closed despite the darkness around him. Then he shuts the water bottle, replaces it, and opens the closet door, present in hand.

Scattered around him are full roses’ heads.

Kravitz doesn’t breathe, for several moments. Nothing blocking his windpipe; just shock.

It can get worse, he knows. Progress from petals to full flowers, when love is unrequited. This is what most experts call the point of no return; he probably couldn’t get surgery now, even if he wanted.

His only thought is how upset Raven will be. He hates when she worries.

He kneels, touches the head of one gently. There are at least ten, a dozen petals on each head, and scattered around him are no less than six. He thinks, I’m going to need a larger jar.

For now the smaller ones will have to do. He uncaps one — he and Raven keep them on the top shelf — and shovels them in, careful to leave their heads undamaged. He looks to the windowsill where he kept his jars, looks toward the kitchen where he can hear Taako still chopping, rhythm undaunted, then places this new jar on the sill.

“Find it?” Taako asks, when Kravitz reenters the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Kravitz rasps. One of Taako’s ears flick back toward him, though he himself does not move. Kravitz clears his throat and tries again, voice far more pleasantly full this time.

Five minutes pass in silence before the doorbell rings. Just before Kravitz opens it he hears Taako take a deep breath and glances over to find him arched over his cutting board, knuckles white around the knife.

Kravitz opens the door, a bright smile already in place.

#taakitz #taako #kravitz #taz #hanahaki

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mazojo · 6 years ago

Text

Monday Chapters!

Finished Monday chapterss ~~ Boy today was an emotional rollercoaster and I am just so-... Spoilers ahead soo beware if you haven't read todays chapters!

High School Story: Class Act - Chapter 14

Booyyy today was honestly redeeming for the past 2-3 chapters of pure deceptions. I adored everything and I had so many feels, it was quite a r i d e.

So it starts off by the play day arriving. We have some encouraging words for the crew and we kind of go to speak with Skye, Rory and Ajay (he didn't quite apologize but he got me whipped so ill forgive him this time). Everyone is super excited but we realize we didn't get Ajay a present as a director so we of course pay the diamonds to do him a card becouse he deSERves it <333 The scene is cute and then finally the play starts. It all goes great and we kiss Rory (that was a bit meh as I really thought we would have our first kiss before going on stage but whatever, ill let it pass becouse next chapter we confessinggg)... The play is over and we all go see our parents and we find out Rory’s mom came and the money for the treatment was reunited and AHhHH. Danielle also kinda helped by asking the girl our twin used to date (I Honest to god she was so irrelevant and annoying I can't remember her name) to donate her money instead of building ice sculpture so yay redemption arc?. We also find out that although Skye resereved two seats for her parents they didn't come and it broke my heart but Mrs. Silva being the awesome mother she is, took Skye under her wing and it was adorable. We then go home and start preparing for the cast party we will host and the chapter is over.

You can't even begin to imagine how hyped I am for next monday like oUR little baby mc will finally confess and I will even give out all my diamonds if it meant being with Ajay and ahHHHH... The chapter was amazing, I love everyone (except Trevor) and goodnight.

Desire and Decorum Book 2 - Chapter 4

Aghhhh I loved this chapter so much?? All the quality time we got with our gang and my boy Mr. Sinclaire was so amazing??

The chapter starts with us arriving to Grovershire and we see Briar’s mom. We then write a letter to all our friends informing them of the situation and a few days later we find out they all came?? for mc?? and I just love them all so much?? We then play around a bit while showing them the town and we get a diamond option over there but nah... We then go to our old house were we find a letter form our mother and its quite sad. As we exit the house we find mr. Sinclaire <333 and we have the option of a diamond scene to go visit the river bank and of freaking course I took it and it was amazing. We got to be all showy and seeing Mr. Sinclaire flustered is a win win in all the ways possible. As we head back we find a paper crane of the same guy prince thingy trying to rally people to turn against him and be free?? and we just shrug it off but I think maybe the Duke is the one trying to start a turmoil... Anyways the chapter ends with Briars mom telling us that a festival would be tomorrow so be prepared.

I believe next weeks chapter will probably end with lady grandmother or the duke finding us and some consequences would be involve... I dunno... I just wanna be happy with my grumpy and flustered Mr. Sinclaire ;w;

The Heist: Monaco - Chapter 6

In todays chapters we finally got to complete our crew! ahhhh I am so excite of whats to comee!!

The chapter basically starts with our safe-house on flames thanks to Ansel -.-, we get the diamond options to upgrade to this luxurious places but I ain’t wasting my diamonds sooo I got the trashy one.

Anyways, we realize we kind of need to up our acting game, so we are going to find our last member, a grifter. We go see this man going by the name of Peter Graves who is pulling a con acting as a bad actor (if that makes any sense? lol) and although he is kind of a lot pompous he is good at acting and wants to become a Hollywood star. Then we go see this girl named Miranda Moreau who is kind of related to the royalty pulling some cons at a charity event and she is also kind of meh. In the end I choose Peter as he was free but I didn't specifically liked one more than the other, maybe later when we get to know them more lol. We go back to our trash house and Anton (my baby meme lorddd) informs us that its gonna be even harder to infiltrate to the event because of this super security thingy Ansel prepared so yeah that should be fun.

I honestly though Sonia was going to be our last member? Kinda disappointed but its alright, she will definitely turn on Ansel (maybe that depends on the heist points? hmmm...). Anyways here is the picture of my crew and I love them all ~

So thats it for todays chapters and I am very excited for next week, specially High School Story: Class Act which Ill probably write a two thousand words essay on if I finally get to kiss ajay lol I am not even kidding

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icarusatmidnight · 6 years ago

Note

Oleander, Thyme, and Daed? :D

Absolutely!! :D Sorry, this took a few days too! I had many words, heh.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Full Name: Oleander Everclear Wormwood.

Gender & Sexuality: Agender + Grey-aromantic pansexual.

Pronouns: He/Him or They/Them

Ethnicity/Species: Child of the Inbetween?? is his best guess??

Birthplace: Northern Iceland.

Guilty Pleasures: Ha, Oleander doesn’t do guilty pleasures. He likes what he likes and what he likes is nunya business~ :P

Phobias: Water in the sense of being wet; not being able to breathe.

What They Would Be Famous For: He’s pretty infamous as Lund’s former apprentice (har har) and for being an Archmage at a terribly young age, at least in the sense people know of him in a really vague sense.

What They Would Get Arrested For: He can be so lazy at times, I’m going to go with just plain ole trespassing or being Daed’s accomplice.

OC You Ship Them With: Thyme!! Kingcup too in that good brotp way, but Thyme’s the only person I ship him with ~*romantically*~.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Hahahahahahahaha!! Best of luck ‘cause you won’t succeed. Lund has the most motivation to do so though, just out of pure spite, but he’d never get close enough.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Horror, horror, horror! From classic and shitty, he loves bingein’ on horror films. Reading is basically a chore though so he doesn’t have a favorite there.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Mhm. I don’t think Oleander is well-versed in the language of cliches enough to know what his least favorite is. He doesn’t like it when the hidden big bad is revealed to be an Inbetweener (so so lazy and overdone!) or when people just split up. He’s always gonna death-glare while muttering to himself ‘why do you want to die?’. It’s just madness.

Talents and Powers: He’s absurdly talented with Anima Magic for his age and there’s …other… things… too… :)

Why Someone Might Love Them: He’s sturdy like a rock! That’s definitely a huge reason both Kingcup and Thyme like him. It’s really hard to honestly rattle him and that’s kinda nice to have in a friend, you know? He’s also a massively sarcastic little dipshit with a sharp but not cruel tongue and a love of truly bad things. He knows how to have a good time, you know? :P

Why Someone Might Hate Them: I wanna say the massive sarcastic little dipshit thing sarcasm (and it’s definitely a possibility) but I honestly feel the monotony of his voice would probably get to people first. In high doses, I imagine it grates real easy.

How They Change: Out of the three mains, Oleander probably changes the least. He starts as a deadpan snarky kid who goes to support club to basically shut up his roommate and at the end, he’s still really similar to that person. But~! That’s okay. He ends knowing more about himself and what happened to him in his past and he’s on a much healthier path for healing because of that knowledge and that kinda overjoys me a lot. c:

Why You Love Them: !!! I love his silliness! I love his bluntness!! I love his monotone sarcasm and his love of ugly awful things that he sincerely feels are wondrous!! He’s been such an old character of mine for years and years now and I still just love learning new things about him and seeing how far he’s come from his original pissy protective edgelord beginning and I’m so so so happy I finally wised up and made him the main character of Icarus. It works so much better now. Just! /love love love

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Full Name: Thyme René Oxeye!

Gender & Sexuality: Cisguy and bisexual!

Pronouns: He/Him

Ethnicity/Species: He’s from a werewolf clan, though not technically one himself. He’s a junk wolf and has a bit of fae in him too. \m/!!

Birthplace & Birthdate: Romneya Backwoods and March 20th!

Guilty Pleasures: Tabletop RPGs. He needs to run a game for Oleander and Kingcup one day, needs!!

Phobias: He has a lot of general anxieties and a nasty habit of internally catastrophizing most of his actions but as for actual phobias, not really.

What They Would Be Famous For: Raising the Dead? Unfortunately??

What They Would Get Arrested For: I’ve mentioned it before but stealing dogs, for sure! He hates seeing them neglected and he has no qualms stealing them to give them some joy~ 💕

OC You Ship Them With: OLEANDER! 😭💕💕 I love them together so much but for less obvious choices though, him and Deacon are my strictly fwb guilty pleasure and I think him and Volkamenia would be good together too. They’re both just so cute and dopey.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: I wanna say Kingcup just because but she’s really not the type to murder. So Thyme’s roommate Deacon is gonna be my choice! They have a fun relationship. :’D

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Thyme loves documentaries so damn much, that nerd!! 😭! He knows so much useless and stupid info because of them, especially given how many bad ones he watches it. It’s ridiculous. Like Olea too, he’s not a huge reader but he likes …absurd queer adventures like River of Teeth? He’d love that kind of book.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Mhm. He’s really bored by gritty grimdark cynicism? Just, no.

Talents and Powers: He has his death empathy thing and Thyme totally does the Elle Woods ‘What, like it’s hard?’ thing when it comes to natural magic too, lol.

Why Someone Might Love Them: Despite his anxieties and insecurities, he’s a very outwardly bright and compassionate young man who does honestly try his best to bring some more warmth and happiness into the world.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: Oh ho ho. Outside of his anxieties and insecurities which feel like unfair hits, Thyme comes off as a little goody two-shoes at times and someone who is more nice than he is kind. It’ll rub people that wrong way for sure but honestly? Kingcup is screaming that Thyme is far too reckless when it comes to his magic!! He took a miles width chuck of the Backwoods into the Inbetween, raised a rabbit from the dead, got burned and took none of that to heart!! What the Fuck, Thyme!! Any one of those things would be bad but all of them combined?! What were you thinking!!

How They Change: 😭😭😭💕💕💕 Thyme starts off treading through a sea of guilt while spiraling downwards in anxieties and chipperly trying to pretend ‘Everything Is A-Okay! :)’ It’s not, at all. I love seeing him grow the most of out of the three, coming to terms with his connection to death and what happened in the Backwoods and actually accepting kingcup isn’t wrong about him being a reckless little shit either thyme what the fuck. By the end, I’m basically rolling on the ground in glee and pride about how far he comes in maturing into and working towards that better version of himself that’s still uniquely Thyme and It’s Wonderful!

Why You Love Them: I love his sincerity! I love his anxieties! I love his compassion and I love his recklessness, oh my god! He is my darling bisexual disaster of bisexual and the type of character I’d fell over heels for as a teen. His journey is so so much fun and while he’s no longer my main character for Icarus, I still have a massive soft spot for him (clearly). His family back in Romneya is also extremely dear to my heart, lol. I adore puppy-like werewolves who just adopt every misfit in sight because ‘we’re your family now!! :D’. Sue me.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Full Name: Ira Myrrh Young Daedalus York

Gender & Sexuality: Cisguy & Aro Ace!

Pronouns: He/Him

Ethnicity/Species: He’s pretty human.

Birthplace & Birthdate: In the woods and he’s pretty sure it was like July 25th. Probably.

Guilty Pleasures: See his favorite genres except like Olea, he ain’t that guilty over it. :P He really loves living domestic life too.

Phobias: Having his horror rub off and fuck up Oleander is kinda high up there. Also, he doesn’t like insects or iguanas.

What They Would Be Famous For: He’s pretty famous for his ability to break things and his vague detective skills too actually!

What They Would Get Arrested For: ….everything. Grand Theft Auto is real high on the list though.

OC You Ship Them With: No one, not his thing! I do think him and Thyme’s mother Dahlia would bond (and drink) over their mutual aro-ness and their delinquent children though! FRIENDSHIP! FRIENDSHIP! FRIENDSHIP!

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: Lund? His folks? Other Knights of Pandora? There’s plenty of options.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Trashy Romance Novels and Rom-Coms until he dies!!! \m/!!

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Blood-Family is Absolute. Some people you need to cut out of your life and cut them out viciously. Also, just badly written love triangles?? You can do so much better than ‘x loves y and likes z and can’t choose between them’.

Talents and Powers: He has a natural talent for breaking things. \m/

Why Someone Might Love Them: He’s an effortlessly kind soul who tries his best to put some good back into the world. After all the Hell his folks have tried to raise, it’s the least he can do, you know? He’s also a great drinking buddy and the type of person who won’t ever leave you to feel sorry for yourself. He probably won’t actually help much but he’ll be there for you.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: People who figure out he’s a (former) Knight of Pandora tend to avoid him like a plague. Like there’s no need to get involve with them, and Daed doesn’t blame any of them any one bit. And while he is honestly very kind, he’s still blunt as fuck and doesn’t have the best handle of how to socialize politely.

How They Change: In the story, not much. He’s already dealt with his demons the best he’s ever gonna by then start so he doesn’t have much of journey. He’s actually more the mentor type to the three leads and I love him being the figurative dad/uncle type to them all. :’)

Why You Love Them: Daed’s Daed!! Oh my gosh, he’s a frickin snake in the best way. You see him and just thinks he’s a drunk idiot weasel and he kinda is but he’s also using that as a cover to map out your whole life and motivations and plans and figuring out if he needs to Deal With You or not.

But, you know, just for fun! :D

He’s just a strange character that you wouldn’t think sincerely wants to be a dad and dreams of having a cliche as fuck family but he does?? So so much?? Living in Dead Leaves with Oleander is like his dream come true and he’s so ready to help him be the very best Oleander that he wants to be! He’s also so ready to Beat The Ever-Loving Shit Out Of Anyone Who Dares to Hurt Oleander too. He knows Oleander can handle himself but he’s been through enough already. No more, no more.

#indecentpause #thank you!!#this is a little crash course into these lovely fools #i'll probably do kingcup too later just to have the complete set so to speak~#thyme oxeye #daed york #icarus at midnight #oleander wormwood

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aresaphrodites · 6 years ago

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Hey but sorry to bother u but could give me those book recs? Relying on u girl

of course!! sorry bout the long wait, dear x

you said you preferred trilogies or series’ (which i don’t read much of tbh) so here are a few of my favorites: (( some of these will have full on summaries and some… not so much, i got lazy lol ))

The Lux Series by Jennifer L. Armentrout : Meet Katy and Daemon! Katy is a funny, down-to-earth book blogger who has just moved to West Virginia. And Daemon? Well, he’s her hot and arrogant next-door neighbor. He’s also an alien. This one is cheesy, yeah, but it’s so FUN! Follow along as Katy and Daemon try to figure out what they mean to each other while trying not to get killed by the Arum; the Lumen’s enemy. In this world, the DOD is well aware that aliens exist and that they live on Earth. However, they are unaware that the aliens known as Luxen actually possess powers that make them.. well… powerful beyond means. This isn’t just a romance story; it focuses on family and friendships and it has a bunch of kick ass action and the entire plot with the DOD is so interesting.

The Pine Deep Series by Jonathan Maberry ; I’m only on the first book but this one is a bit more mature in terms of horror and things like that. If you like scary books or feel like being spooky in time for Halloween, you should definitely check this one out!

The Mortal Instruments Series by Cassandra Clare : I’m sure you know about this one, but if you don’t! Angels, demons, warlocks, vampires, faeries, werewolves? What more could you want? When Clary Fray discovers she’s actually a Shadowhunter; an appointed warrior of the Angel Raziel and has angel blood coursing through her veins, her life is about to change forever. Join her and the rest of the Shadowhunter gang (and even a few others) as they team up to rescue her mom and stop an all out war from happening.

The Darkest Minds Series by Alexandra Bracken ; I’m only on the first book but I absolutely love it! It’s an intense read that has me on the edge of my seat constantly. I adore Ruby and she’s easily become one of my favorite female characters of all time.

Dorothy Must Die Series by Danielle Paige ; Okay. I know, I know. Really? Dorothy Must Die? Hear me out! This book is FUN. Trashy? Perhaps, but fun! The first book is really fast paced and honestly? I am living for a world where Dorothy is evil. So basically our main character is named Amy and she is the other girl from Kansas. She’s sent to Oz to save it from Dorothy Gale who has become power hungry and is now pure evil along with the Tin-Man, the Lion, and the Scarecrow. The rest of the series doesn’t really live up to the first book, but I would say you should read the first one anyway. It’s a lot of fun.

Did I Mention I Love You Series by Estelle Maskame: Sixteen-year-old Eden Munro decides to spend the summer with her father in Santa Monica as her parents are divorced now. Once there, she meets her father’s new family and that includes Tyler Bruce; her new asshole step brother with a short temper and a huge ego but as she gets to learn more about him, she finds herself falling for him. This trope isn’t for everyone and I know the whole step sibling thing is super taboo but this series is awesome and I read it during a huge reading slump and it really helped me get though it.

Perfect Chemistry Series by Simone Elkeles: When Brittany Ellis walks into chemistry class on the first day of senior year, she has no clue that her carefully created “perfect” life is about to unravel before her eyes. She’s forced to be lab partners with Alex Fuentes, a gang member from the other side of town, and he is about to threaten everything she’s worked so hard for―her flawless reputation, her relationship with her boyfriend, and the secret that her home life is anything but perfect. Alex is a bad boy and he knows it. So when he makes a bet with his friends to lure Brittany into his life, he thinks nothing of it. But soon Alex realizes Brittany is a real person with real problems, and suddenly the bet he made in arrogance turns into something much more. (Each book in this series focuses on a different Fuentes brother.)

Fighting to Be Free Series by Kirsty Moseley: Jamie Cole has just been released from juvenile detention. Determined to go straight, he tries to cut ties with crime boss Brett Reyes - but Brett has no intention of letting him go. Jamie’s life is already more complicated than it needs to be, yet it’s when he meets a beautiful stranger at a bar that Jamie knows he’s really in over his head. Ellie Pearce has just come out of a terrible relationship and isn’t looking for anything serious; until she meets Jamie. Their attraction is overwhelming and intense - she can’t seem to shake her growing feelings for him, even though she’s trying to keep it casual. But when fate goes horribly wrong and Jamie’s family is faced with ruin, he’s forced to strike a deal with Brett. Despite his struggles, he wants nothing more than a future with Ellie. That’s until Ellie finds out that he’s been hiding more from her than she could ever imagine.

Mind if I drop in a few stand alone’s? I’m trying to read more series’ but I’ve always been more of a stand alone kind of girl, so here are some of my current favs:

#MurderTrending by Gretchen McNeil : WELCOME TO THE NEAR FUTURE, where good and honest citizens can enjoy watching the executions of society’s most infamous convicted felons, streaming live on The Postman app from the suburbanized prison island Alcatraz 2.0. When seventeen-year-old Dee Guerrera wakes up in a haze, lying on the ground of a dimly lit warehouse, she realizes she’s about to be the next victim of the app. Knowing hardened criminals are getting a taste of their own medicine in this place is one thing, but Dee refuses to roll over and die for a heinous crime she didn’t commit. Can Dee and her newly formed posse, the Death Row Breakfast Club, prove she’s innocent before she ends up wrongfully murdered for the world to see? Or will The Postman’s cast of executioners kill them off one by one?

One Small Thing by Erin Watt : Meet Beth and Chase. Beth is entering her senior year and is still trying to move on from the death of her older sister three years ago. In a small town with parents who have suddenly become her wardens; that seems nearly impossible. And then she meets the mysterious and hot Chase who immediately draws her in. Their attraction is instant and he’s the first person who makes her feel like Beth Jones and not Lizzie; the young girl who lost a sister and is somehow broken by it. But as she falls harder for Chase, she’s hit with the reality of the part he played in her sister’s death. It’s about forgiveness, love, and moving on. It’s sad and sweet and such a fun, quick read. Definitely good for trying to get out of a slump!

Autoboyography by Christina Lauren : Fangirl meets Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda in this funny and poignant coming-of-age novel from New York Times bestselling author Christina Lauren about two boys who fall in love in a writing class—one from a progressive family and the other from a conservative religious community. If you read one book off of this list, PLEASE let it be this one. This book is so… amazing. It’s been months and I still think about it constantly.

Fault Line by C. Desir : Trigger WARNING: THIS BOOK CONTAINS A RAPE. It is not shown, but it’s the main conflict in the book. Over the years I have struggled with if I liked this book because it was good or if I liked it because of how much it fucked me up. I read this book in one sitting and when I finished, I sat in my bed for a good hour and just…. didn’t move or do anything. You will NOT be rooting for the main couple. The narrator is unlikable and you will HATE all the characters in this book. The ending is NOT happy and I don’t know why I’m recommending this but GOD. This book, after so many years, just stuck with me because of how fucked up it was. It deals with the whole “recovery” process in such a dark way that we normally don’t see in YA fiction and I think that’s what makes it stand out so much. If you want something darker, read this. But read it with caution. If this isn’t something you like then please, don’t bother reading it. It’s not happy and it’s sure as shit not fluffy. Summary : Ben could date anyone he wants, but he only has eyes for the new girl—sarcastic free-spirit Ani. Luckily for Ben, Ani wants him too. She’s everything Ben could ever imagine. Everything he could ever want. But that all changes after the party. The one Ben misses. The one Ani goes to alone. Now Ani isn’t the girl she used to be, and Ben can’t sort out the truth from the lies. What really happened, and who is to blame? Ben wants to help her, but she refuses to be helped. The more she pushes Ben away, the more he wonders if there’s anything he can do to save the girl he loves.

Meddling Kids by Edgar Cantero : If you like Scooby-Doo or Archie’s Weird Mysteries this book is probably for you. 1990. The teen detectives once known as the Blyton Summer Detective Club are all grown up and haven’t seen each other since their fateful, final case in 1977. Andy, the tomboy, is twenty-five and on the run, wanted in at least two states. Kerri, one-time kid genius and budding biologist, is bartending in New York, working on a serious drinking problem. At least she’s got Tim, an excitable Weimaraner descended from the original canine member of the team. Nate, the horror nerd, has spent the last thirteen years in and out of mental health institutions, and currently resides in an asylum in Arhkam, Massachusetts. The only friend he still sees is Peter, the handsome jock turned movie star. The problem is, Peter’s been dead for years.The time has come to uncover the source of their nightmares and return to where it all began in 1977. This time, it better not be a man in a mask. The real monsters are waiting.

Fatal Throne by Candace Fleming ; A book about Henry VIII and his six wives. If you like historical fiction then this book might be for you! It’s told through the perspective of his six wives (and even Henry himself) and it’s a really fascinating read.

Okay, I think I’m going to stop here. Let me know if none of these speak to you and I’ll give you some more recs! I didn’t know what kind of genres you liked, so I tried to throw in a little bit of everything.

#books n tings

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vinnymauro-chenzomauro · 7 years ago

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P.S. You’re Mine

Word Count: 3,803

Warnings: Mature content and themes

Rating: Teen audiences and up

Summary: Saul "Slash" Hudson has a big secret. He's not meant to be a part of this time line. On a bad acid trip, he was sent into the future where he is now residing. He's been trying to stay low-key as his older self. the one from a different timeline where Slash never went on this drug trip, can't know about his other self as that would cause a paradox. But, he falls in love with someone very close to his older self. Someone that can't know his secret. Vinny also has a huge secret. He's a prince spending his senior year in America. He wants to experience life as a normal American teenager. Vinny also falls in love with someone who can't know his secret. He wants to find a normal love as a normal American teenager. Max is in the middle of this all. He is just a normal teenage. Well, normal in the fact that the situation he is in is normal to him. He's an aspiring photographer with a father and mother he will never know. Max is the man who both Slash and Vinny have fallen in love with. He has a big decision to make when all of this comes crashing down.

Main pairing: Undecided

I really do enjoy a happy ending, to an extent. The whole idea of getting a love is just an amazing thing to ponder when I’m all alone. It would make me so happy to get my own. But I loved dreaming and seeing happy endings play out. When the man finally finds his soulmate. When all of his hard work paid off in the end. When he finally gets to rush into the arms of his love and get swept off of his feet. They would kiss each other and the wonderful lovely sun would begin to set. They would maybe even be on the beach. Then they walk off into the sunset with a smile on their faces. They would go off to live the American dream. Two and a half kids and a white picket fence. Though, I knew that was kind of unrealistic. Not many people really got to do that. To walk off into the sunset and marry their soulmate. It was adorable to watch though, seeing all of the happy couples together. The thought of having a love like the stories in the books is all I ever wanted. But I knew that never happens and if it does, the people involved tended to fall out of love very quickly.

I smiled to myself and began working on dinner. It was my mom’s favorite, tomato soup. This would definitely be after all of the homework I had and the ACT prep. She loved to make me do the dinner but she liked me doing my homework more. She always say that I would be the breadwinner of the family. I was meant to make all the money in the family. I need to make sure I got into all the Ivy League schools. I needed to do everything I could to be successful but I wanted to become a traveling photographer or a writer, maybe even do both. But she tended to beat me when I expressed my interests in the arts. She would sit on her ass all day and watch whatever she wanted on the internet. Or gamble all of her money away. Though she was still mooch off of my dad’s will and his insurance money, so the money she gambled away wasn’t hers, technically. It was supposed to be mine. No one knew I was the son of this famous musician. He wanted me to live a normal life but he died before I was born and my mom had just married him after his previous wife (my mom) divorced him. She had me the day before my dad died then she died not too long after. No one would know that I was the kid of a junkie and a rockstar musician. Their names weren’t even put onto my birth certificate because they didn’t want me associated with them. Custody went to my stepmom when she adopted me to probably make money off of my name and my father’s name since a good chunk of the estate went to the male heir of my father. Luckily for me, I was born before he died and was a male heir to his throne. She knew this and she made me do everything around the house. If I didn’t do all of this, I would be beat up by my mom. “Well, she was a pretty girl, but there was so much more to her. She seemed like a total skank, in my opinion. Her hair was all full of extensions and shit. Any real hair on her head was damaged by whatever drugstore silver hair dye she used on it. She was all full of these trashy ass tattoos and he dress was tighter than her skin and it barely passed her ass. All I can say is that she will never be working any type of job with all of those tattoos.” My mom walked in and side eyed me before she sat down at the kitchen table. She nodded lightly before I finished up what I was doing, making her some tomato soup out of the can. I hoped she didn’t notice, but I’m sure she would. I listened in on their conversation, my eyes were down as I avoided eye contact with her, and sighed a bit as she tasted the soup. Her face screwed up as she spat it out. The bowl lifted up a bit as her hands came down onto the table, her fists making a loud banging sound that I am sure the neighbors heard. Some of the hot soup hit my face, burning me. I picked up the bowl and sighed a bit as I looked at her. The anger she had was now turned towards me. I knew what was coming next. She would stand up and she would hit me. I cringed in horror as I prepared myself for the pain. But it never came. I never felt the sting of her hand on mine. I sighed lightly as I gave her a look. She was angered and her hand was raised but someone on the phone seemed to stop her. I sighed lightly and smiled, breathing a sigh of relief. There was a moment were everything hung in the air. It was as if someone had pressed the pause button on the television. The world was frozen around us. My mom didn’t move her hand. It was still raised above her head in anger. I was still in my position of terror, my hands up as I tried to cover my face from the impending doom that was her hand. Nothing moved a centimeter and we barely breathed. No one said anything. Not even the person on the phone said anything. We just stayed there, silent and unmoving. Then the man spoke, breaking up our moment of silence. My mom turned her face back to the phone and broke whatever amount of peace we had in the house. She walked over to the couch and sat down, turning on the television. She was out of my eyesight as soon as she sat down and I was out of hers as the couch faced away from the the kitchen. I sighed and started to clean up the mess she had made. She hadn’t spilled much but it was enough to where most of the table had at least a drop of soup on it. Once I was done with that, I grabbed myself my bowl and headed up to the attic, my room, with some of the soup. It wasn’t enough to fill me but it was enough that she wouldn’t notice that any was gone from the pot if she went in for seconds. I laid on my bed looking up at the ceiling as I tried to let the soup cool a little bit. I turned, grabbing some bread out of the drawer next to me. I smiled and looked down as the soft bread touched my bed. I had bought this, and hid it, all on my own with the money I made from taking photos. It was mostly all I could afford because I didn’t make much from these photos. They were mostly from parties friends held and all that good stuff. It wasn’t much but it meant food. I sighed and looked over at the steaming bowl of soup. It had cooled down a bit and I was able to pick it up without much pain. I began sopping up the soup with the bread. I smiled as the warm bread went down my throat. I smiled and curled around the bowl. The heat from it warmed up my lap and hands. “Maxwell Andrew! Did you steal some soup?” My mom called angrily from the first floor. I jumped, immediately hiding the bowl and bread in my nightstand drawer. I could hear her coming up the stairs. I straightened up and got on my laptop. I was on a random educational website before she burst open the door. “No mother, I did not steal any of the soup.” I said calmly even though my heart was pounding in my chest. “Then why is some of it missing?” She asked, her voice eerily clam as she moved to stand at the foot of my bed. “Because I gave some of it to you to eat but you slammed your fist on the table and it spilled everywhere. I cleaned it up and I came up here.” I smiled lightly as I sort of told the truth. A growl left her mouth as she stood up, heading out of my room. She somehow accepted the partial truth for once. She never did that. I normally had to tell her a lie and then the partial truth. Then the whole truth then she would still not believe me. But she actually allowed me to go with the partial truth. I slowly pulled the soup and finished it up quickly. A random number popped up on my phone along with a text, “Are you down for a photoshoot tonight?” “Who is this? If you don’t mind me asking.” I texted back and almost immediately got a text back from them. “The name is Saul Hudson and I would like to make sure I look good for some social media posts I want to make. I also want to make sure I get my name out there along with some talented photographers. I found you through a really good friend and I really want to get my photos taken by you. They said to got to your Instagram page and I found your phone number there and I know this is probably really creepy but I really do want to work with you. Are you interested?” I smiled lightly and looked him up on Instagram, which thankfully he had. I screenshotted the page and sent it to him. “Is this you?” I asked, looking at the handsome man in the photos. I scrolled through them and smiled. He had thick curly hair that was almost always pulled back into a bun and dark tanned skin. He was ethnically ambiguous and if he hadn’t put that he was mixed (half black and half white), I wouldn’t know what race he was. A small smattering of freckles went across his cheeks and nose. He smiled lightly in almost every photo. When the sun hit his eyes, the color was a beautiful golden brown. “Yeah, that’s me. Are you interested in doing a photoshoot with me?” He asked and I smiled lightly. I nodded to myself and smiled lightly. “Yes, I am very interested in doing a photoshoot with you.” Ideas were already running through my head with what I could do. “What’s your hourly rate?” He asked and I didn’t know how to respond to that. I never worked for an hourly rate before. I just got whatever people could pay. They weren’t as rich as what my photos told and I know my photos made it seem that way. “I don’t really have one, to be honest. People just tend to pay me whatever they can pay me.” My hands shook as I looked at the texts coming through to my phone. “I’ll pay you around fifty for the first hour and then one hundred for every hour after that. How does that sound?” He asked and I smiled lightly. “Of course. What day and time do you want to meet?” I asked as I looked at the phone in front of me. “How about this Saturday at noon?” He asked and I went to check my calendar, a Guns N’ Roses one that featured photos of them from their glam era. I was definitely free and I would be for awhile. “Yep, I am free this Saturday. We’ll meet at Elementary Park. The lighting is really good down there.” “Sounds amazing. I’ll see you then.” The texts stopped and I smiled to myself. I had a high paying job for once. I mean, meals were amazing and all but money allowed me to purchase my own shit. Save it up and be able to love this life a bit more because it’s one more step towards freedom. One more step towards a life away from the person I called a mom. I really don’t even know why I called her my mom. She just raised me and she did a pretty shitty job at it. I was so detached from her and she never seemed to really care for me. She had her own kids that she never really cared for. The kids’ fathers actually had custody of the. She only saw them once a week. I never seemed to think that I was going to be all that cared for but I wanted a mother and a father figure. I blindly put that love into her but she never returned it. She always hit me and downed me. I moved and looked down at myself, heading over to the mirror in my room. I began doing my hair which was thick, brown and curly. It took a bit to actually do my hair. A lot of product went into my hair. Not as much as people with kinky hair but it still took a bit. I washed and dried my hair with shampoo, doing a hot oil treatment afterwords. It was similar to the man who asked me for pictures today. I slowly brushed my hair and looked at myself. The same smattering of freckles went across my cheeks and nose that was the same as the man. We shared the same green eyes and I looked at the photos again. We did look similar but I chalked it up to that we were both mixed. At least, one of us was mixed. I didn’t know what race I was. I finished my hair and twisted it out before heading into the shower. I brushed across some tattoos and a few scars on my body. Some I didn’t want to go away. They were more like battle scars than anything. Bits and pieces of my life that I never wanted to forget. The ones from abuse and the ones from a bit of violence against me. Some from surgeries that I had. It was like a story of what happened to me. What was once a terrible story happened to turn into a lovely story. A story I wanted to tell with other people. Ones I had already shared through my ‘I Am Human’ series with my photography. I kind of told it because I wanted people to be able to tell their stories. Or tell the stories of the ones who’s voices who were not heard. It was either because of abuse or that they weren’t out of the closet yet. My heart actually broke for those who had to hide who they were. It made me want to do more for them. To help them out but I really couldn’t. I had no money to really help them at all. I vowed to help them out as soon as I got money. They were always getting hurt and there were terrible stories coming out every day. I saw the photos of people after getting their faces bashed in. It really broke me down to the bone. But no one seemed to care about my community. No one seemed to want to help the gay community out. All these people cared about was taking selfies and getting boob jobs to care for the community that was fighting for their rights and lives almost every day since Stonewall. All we really wanted was to live in equality. I felt like I had to be strong for these people and weak all at the same time. I wanted to show them that I was also a bit in between. Not all the way strong and not all the way weak. Just neutral. I wanted them to be proud of who they were just like me. That I was human to all of those bigoted people out there. I wanted to show that I was a bit of a freak and weirdo sometimes. That it was okay sometimes to call yourself a weirdo and a freak. I was different and weirdly unique. I loved who I was and who I loved. I wanted to be able to love who I pleased because I was just like another human being out there. I had faith in the fact that people would see my work and take faith in the fact that there was someone out there showing their story. That the story I was telling was a lot better than fearing the other side. We could just open our minds and we could see this world as beautiful and wonderful. There had to be some truth into both sides of the argument. I allowed people to tell their story and then judge them. That we had to open out minds and hearts before we could even judge people. Before I said anything I wondered how it would hurt the person if I ever said anything. My silence could not be bought and that’s why I started this project. Nor did I want to shout this from the rooftops. I didn’t want to take anything away from the project. My project was lowkey both and that was okay with me. The whole project had to speak for itself. It made me feel so good to be telling this story. I got out of the shower and smiled lightly as I moved into my room. The room as a bit messy but it wasn’t to the point where I needed to actually clean it. It made me feel a bit bad for not doing it earlier. My mom actually kept saying that I needed to clean it before she beat my ass but I kept pushing that boundary further and further. I wanted to know how far I could push this test before I actually got my ass beat. I stepped over some clothes and picked up a pair of boxers. I set it next to me as I dried my hair with a shirt. I put my phone on my nightstand and put it on its charger. It was getting pretty late and I needed to be at school early for a photography project. I pulled on my boxers and smiled, laying down in bed. ~ As soon as I woke up the next morning, I took the bread out of my nightstand. I snuck downstairs and grabbed some food. I grabbed some of the extra tomato soup. I smiled lightly and headed out. My mom was passed out on the couch. She cuddled into her boyfriend. He was watching some late night television. I don’t think he heard me. Though he seemed to move a bit when I saw him. I smiled as I watched a bit of the show he was watching. It seemed to be one of those super dramatic police shows. I smiled and looked at him. He didn’t seem to see me either. Which was a good thing. He probably would have beat me for being up this early. Say I was disturbing his peace or whatever. He could’ve easily noticed me. He wasn’t making any attempt to actually notice me. I backed out of the room and smiled, heading outside. I mounted my bike, an old motorcycle that my dad fixed up. He left it to me in his will for me. It was said that he fixed it up for me. He wanted his kid to have a ‘sick ass ride’ to get on their sixteenth birthday. I wasn’t really that mad about it. I loved this piece of my dad. It was the one of the only things I had left of him. I had this motorcycle and the entirety of his closet, which I tended to where on the daily. I loved the slightly baggy clothes and the eighties vibe it gave off. Even some of his more recent clothing, the shirts and pants he had gotten for his ‘business trip’ before he died, were very lowkey and comfy. Mom wanted it to be throw away. She hated being reminded of my dad. She said that she wanted to move on with her life. Mom didn’t care that I wore his clothes. She was just aggravated that I was still using the motorcycle. I knew it was a ‘death trap’ and she reminded me of that every chance she got. I walked down the lone hallway, not a single human being in sight. I mean, there would be another human soon. The janitor waiting to opening the art studio door for me. But when I stopped at the door, she wasn’t there yet. I waited for a few minutes before she came, hobbling down the hallway unhappily. She didn’t even have a hint of a smile on her face. I smiled awkwardly as she fumbled with the keys. Once she finally got ahold of the right key, she opened the door, letting me. I walked into the studio and smiled lightly. My teacher had actually left the keys for me. He wanted me to get this project done. There were a few paint splatters on the wooden tables. I smiled lightly as I brushed against them, dragging my fingertips across the tables lightly. The air was a bit cold as the heat hadn’t kicked in just yet. Teachers won’t even be here for another hour. I walked to the teacher’s dead at the front of the room. I sat down and pulled out the middle drawer. The keys to the darkroom sat in the middle of the room. I smiled and looked down lightly as I took the keys. I stepped across the room and opened the darkroom up. This was where I lived and spent most of my time. Lunch and most days after school were spent here. I sometimes spent early mornings and weekends here. But that was only if the school allowed me here. That was very rare and I tended not to get access. So each chance I got to get in here early was a gift. My teacher tended to back me up on these early morning trips. Everyone knew most of my works decorated the halls and that I was supposed to be on my way to the best school in the United States for art, the California Institute of the Arts. Which I was ecstatic to actually try and get in. Which is why I was here so early. I had to finish up my portfolio before the deadline to apply.

#vinny mauro #vinchenzo mauro #chenzo mauro #my fanfic

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maybeleas · 7 years ago

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Movie Review: The Handmaiden

General review of The Handmaiden:

Two words to describe this stunning work of art. It is an erotic elegance. It is a beautiful work of art, that most people would not appreciate. This move is subtle and brash, at the same time. This movie tells the story of three people, Hideko, a mistress of a very rich heirloom, Tamako/Sook Hee her handmaiden, and a deceitful conman. This story plays and twists the plots in a very aggressive way, turning the story a complete 360 degrees the moment that the viewer thinks they know the story of the movie. What you think you know in the first hour of the movie, is drastically changed in 5 minutes. It takes the mind of a genius to be able to figure out what happens before the movie ends, and I was absolutely blown away by the end. It is a story of two unexpected lovers, the greed for money, and the unsettling fear of sexual abuse. A mindful warning to those planning on reading this blogpost and watching the movie, this movie is an 18+ movie with a handful of sex scenes, so watch with your own caution.

What I liked most about the movie was the contrast between the soft, subtle and naïve characters with the strong, psychotic, and dark plot. The strong plot pushes these naïve characters into the ground, breaking their insides and exposing them raw on the floor. It was an amazing sight to see how these characters slowly changed from their gentle selves into hard characters, but the scary thing is that they only seem soft on the outside, but on closer inspection they were left completely dead inside from all the mental and physical torture they had to endure.

The production of the film was exquisite. The gorgeous gowns and kimonos of Hideko were fit for a mistress of riches, the living quarters that incorporated Japanese and American living cultures, the scenery of the entire film. Everything was flawlessly placed to awaken a sense of beauty in the viewer. Also, Hideko is a very beautiful and awe-inspiring woman, with pale skin, full lips and big eyes. Her beauty matched the beauty of the scenery very much. This movie also portrayed both Japanese and Korean languages alongside their culture. This film is not merely a film of 2 hours and a half, but it is a stunning work of art, perfect for movie enthusiast to delve into. It’s dark and twisty turn of events only made the ending more enjoyable to watch. A complete 5/5!

The actors & actresses

Hideko, the mistress is portrayed by South Korean actress, Kim Min Hee. Firstly, I truly applaud Kim Min Hee’s amazing and powerful acting into bringing life into Hideko’s living corpse of a character. Hideko is very subtle in her movements, often looking up with her wide and strong gaze that often leaves men and women alike weak in the knees. Kim Min Hee manages to make her character seem cold and lifeless, but alive with passion in certain scenes. You can see how Hideko is truly broken from all those years of the sexual and mental abuse her uncle gave her, running her into the ground with everything that pervert had. The actress did a beautiful and splendid job at holding up Hideko’s china doll demeanour but she allowed a little window for observant viewers to see the living dead of her character. It was truly overwhelming seeing her go from being a naïve and soft character, that even Tamako said ‘she wouldn’t even notice if someone pulled her nipple,’ to a strong and rebellious woman that took the things she wanted, unapologetically.

Hideko should’ve been a very difficult character to portray. She is a victim of long mental and sexual abuse, with a twisted childhood. She grew up with a blank mind, only following the orders and needs of her disgusting uncle. She was a beautiful yet completely dishevelled corpse, only nodding when asked. To be able to portray such a fragile character would require amazing skill, and that is exactly what Kim Min Hee did! Just like Tamako, I was blown away within 5 minutes of seeing her on the screen. Her subtle movements of her body accentuated the words she spoke, and made her look more & more innocent. As she spoke, she would look up into the eyes of Tamako, her hand would push away her long hair, and her body would slightly move into her. Kim Min Hee is definitely an outstanding actress, who did more than enough to make Hideko an iconic character. She deserves an award for being brave enough to take on such a scandalous and risky role, but her acting, without a doubt played an incredible part in the movie’s beauty.

Moving on, the role of her handmaiden, Tamako was portrayed by Kim Tae Ri, a South Korean actress. Her baby faced demeanour and small frame captivated me very much, it was puzzling how she was one of the main characters when I was first watching it. As the movie continues on, I could definitely see why. Although Kim Tae Ri is just a small framed person, she manages to bring Tamako’s daring personality alive. Also, Kim Tae Ri is a beautiful woman, with almond eyes and an adorable baby face. Paired with Min Hee, they were an iconic lesbian duo. (Yes, a lesbian duo. Deal with it.) I loved how Tamako went from being a person who only wanted to put Hideko into a mental asylum to take away all her possessions to becoming Hideko’s lover who cared so much for her. Her refusal to participate with the Count’s plans was the final confirmation I needed, Tamako was in love with Hideko, and she only wanted her, and no one else.

Tamako is a bright and confusing character, with plenty constantly going around in her head. She thinks of the plan, Hideko, herself, all in one breath. Kim Tae Ri manages to bring up both sides of Tamako, her submissive side towards Hideko to her stubborn personality facing the Count. She was definitely the ideal contrast to Hideko’s graceful movements. She was clumsy and instinctive, yet Kim Tae Ri balanced it all perfectly. I truly loved her role as Tamako, and truly believe she wasn’t just Hideko’s handmaiden, but she was Hideko’s right hand, beside her, and not behind her. She stood equally as her, and Hideko appreciated that very much. Tamako’s support and protectiveness towards Hideko was beautiful to see, and Kim Tae Ri was just as a good of an actress as Min Hee. They both completed each other marvellously, and matched each other very well. The casting of these two in the film was perfect.

Count Fujiwara was the deceitful and money greedy Korean conman, who was a man full of tricks. He only wanted Min Hee for her money, and didn’t have an ounce of shame to try to hide it. He was played by Ha Jung Woo, also a South Korean actor. He isn’t only an actor, but is also a film director, screenwriter, and film producer. Seeing all these roles he plays, it isn’t completely baffling to know why he definitely aced Count Fujiwara’s character in the movie. Count Fujiwara was a plain character who didn’t have anything to hide, he just had bad things up his sleeves, and he planned on seeing them through, no matter the consequences. What he wanted, he would get. He didn’t take no as an answer, and manipulation and tricks were his ultimate weapons. His character was sly and a complete bastard. He tried cheating BOTH of them?! Like hello?! He spoke lies like it was completely normal, and didn’t even flinch. He was a strong and annoying presence, and Jung Woo played this character extremely well. He managed to be a conman, a seducer, a businessman, and a genius in 2 hours and 47 minutes. Unfortunately, he also became dead in 2 hours and 47 minutes.

I will not touch on Hideko’s uncle, as his character is truly sickening. I can’t even and won’t even begin with him. He is as soul as the blank ink on his tongue, and he deserves nothing but death.

Iconic scenes...

1) The scene where Tamako destroys Hideko’ s uncle’s library. This scene was a powerful tribute, because that was something Hideko wanted to do so badly. Tamako threw and ripped the books that contained Count Fujiwara’s imitation art, and tore the entire library apart. She splashed red paint/ink on the books and art, and threw them into the water well inside the room. If you could notice, Hideko is the one who dunks the remaining red ink onto the books inside the water well and she timidly pushes a stack of books into the water as well. Before that, she only followed Tamako around the library, doing nothing to stop her as Tamako destroyed every inch of her uncle’s beloved library. At the end, Tamako destroys the ‘snake’ guarding the door, and they leave the destroyed library, laughing together, running off into the distance.

2) The scene where Hideko is reciting poetry inside the library. Okay, the perverted men listening were disgusting to look at. But what I really liked about this scene was Kim Min Hee ‘s acting. Again she proves her brilliant acting. Hideko has to read erotic poetry, yet Hideko sounded perfectly innocent and pure reading it out loud. She gazed out at the men with big eyes, and read each page slowly with grace. Kim Min Hee did a breathtaking job at this particular scene. I had to rewind to watch this scene again, taking it all in. She really did THAT.

3) The sex scenes. Firstly, this was labelled as a mature movie. But, although this wasn’t my first mature film, I can assure you that the Handmaiden has done a completely amazing job at every sex scene, especially between Hideko and Tamako. The sex scenes were tasteful and sophisticated, it was nothing hasty or messy. It was delicated and erotic, but with complete elegance. It wasn’t trashy or porn-ish in any sense, but it was very tastefully played out. It was gentle and sexy, without an aura of heat. It was more of a passionate, love affair compared to a mess. A personal favourite is the scene at the end, where Hideko and Tamako uses the Lover Bells.

4) The scene where Count Fujiwara gets tortured by Hideko’s uncle. He deserved every piece of suffering and pain. I was disappointed to see that the uncle did not unleash the octopus onto the Count. But seeing his fingers getting cut off and hand being drilled was good enough for a fun time, I guess. Also, not only did he die, the disgusting uncle also die. Double yay! The scene was short, but just perfect enough for you to be happy to see them both suffer, painfully.

Overall, this movie was very carefully crafted into becoming a very iconic movie. I would suggest this movie to people who are not afraid to stumble into something a bit more darker and mature than what they’re used too, but it’s worth the watch. Goodluck to everyone watching!

#the handmaiden #movie reveiw #korean handmaiden #hideko #tamako #count fujiwara

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dramallamadingdang · 7 years ago

Text

Lotsa replies

Figured I’d better do ‘em before I get absorbed in writing up this tutorial thing...

These go back a ways because I’ve been, as usual, lazy/preoccupied. :) They’re for @esotheria-sims, @maybesomethingdunno, @nerianasims, @penig, @holleyberry, @plumbobsquareface (who has an awesome username), @immerso-sims, @eulaliasims, @lisac-h, @mustluvcatz-reloaded, @sim-boo, @acquiresimoleons, @pensblr, @didilysims, annnnnnnnd @mrningbrd...

Geez, I need to not put off doing these like this... And I should probably split this up, but...meh.

esotheria-sims replied to your post “So, um....”

Well, with an introduction like this, even if I *weren't* interested in the stuff you have to offer (spoiler alert: I am), I'd still be curious to see what it is at the very least. :) Some of those old Pandorasims sets (if those are what you were referring to here) could definitely use better textures.

Yup, some of the stuff is from Pandorasims, indeed. And from xxxsims. Slig did some nice recolors of some of the latter’s stuff, at least, but I want to high-res ‘em a bit and do some different colors for my own uses. The Pandora stuff, though? Needs serious help. I mean, I get that the textures for these items were probably not the main attraction and all, but...well, such things are important to me. :) I want my game to look nice even if no one sees this particular aspect of it but me. And I imagine storytellers would want better-looking textures, too, for pics/videos.

maybesomethingdunno replied to your post “So, um....”

Generally speaking, I feel like if you want to create something (whether it's Sims content, a story, or a goofy sketch), then create it. When it comes to Sims content, there's always someone who'll download and appreciate the content. Simmers are a diverse breed with a wild assortment of stories, hoods, and gameplay needs/desires. So on the heels of "If you want to make it, make it" is "If you want to share what you've made, share it." Kinky Sims for all! :D

*high five* Yeah, I know what you mean and that’s generally my attitude, too. This stuff, however, was going to be just for me, but then I got to thinking about how there’s a dearth of nice-looking stuff of this type and...Well, I can do something about that. I think, anyway. We’ll see, with some of the stuff. But, due to the more sensitive nature of this kind of stuff...Well, I second-guess. :)

nerianasims replied to your post “So, um....”

I'm interested and have no need to be anon about it. (Also grr 50 Shades times a million, such a horrible example and SO badly written to boot.)

OMG, don’t even get me started. I mean, OK, yeah, the whole thing sort of normalized mine and my husband’s lifestyle a little bit which on the one hand might be a good thing....but on the other hand, it didn’t do it right. Even if it was well-written (which it totally isn’t; it was a bad Twilight fanfic that was obviously written by someone who’d never had even remotely kinky sex, much less any contact with real people who practice BDSM), it portrayed an abusive relationship, not the sort of thing real people who are into this sort of thing practice. Just...ugh. Awful, awful thing. >:(

penig replied to your photo “Owen has…interesting…jammies. And, like Aaron when he was a kid, Owen...”

What pervert even made those in a kid's size?

Skell, I think. I think it’s part of her repository project. I don’t think it’s necessarily perverted, though, especially not in game context. I mean, if you go by the speech bubbles, kids regularly talk about sex with their parents/siblings at the dinner table in the game. :) But even if that wasn’t the case...Well, kids will wear or have or do inappropriate things that they don’t know are inappropriate. They just think it’s pretty or something. Like, in this case, I imagine Owen likes those jammie pants just because they have purple hearts on them. He’s purple, so he likes purple things. :) He has no idea what they mean, and his parents probably think it’s funny. Because they’re that way.

holleyberry replied to your photo “Do you think she adores him? I think she adores him. He, of course, is...”

What's a Gilsbruty to do?

Not much, apparently. *grumble* CERTAINLY NOT PROCREATE! *glares at Simon and wills him to pass on his genes, dammit!*

plumbobsquareface replied to your post “Were-Klingons! Actually, wouldn't that be a nice idea for a default...”

i'm so glad to see other simers that are also into star trek :')

Ohhhhh, I’m a big huge honking dorky Trek nerd. Even published a fanzine, back in the day, was heavily involved in Usenet newsgroups in the early days of the internet and was staff on one of the big-at-the-time forums when such things came to be. I’m not in the fandom per se anymore at all for various reasons, but I’ll always watch the shows and read fanfic and that sort of thing. (DS9 is my fave. TOS will always have a special place in my heart, of course, but most of my Trekker heart belongs to DS9. :) )

immerso-sims replied to your photo “Aaron GilsCarbo, dancing like the nerd he is.”

Dem pink sandals tho ;)

Aren’t they precious? He actually aged into the outfit all by his little self and the pink sandals just sort of define him. That and the surfer hair. :)

maybesomethingdunno replied to your photo “This is Josephine. Young, pregnant with an unknown number of babies,...”

Next she will become addicted to Sim cat nip :P

...And then she’ll be in and out of rehab for the rest of her life. Such a sad, sad tale of woe. :)

lisac-h replied to your photo “Aaron rolled up a want for that “I was abducted by aliens”...”

Mark Twain saw Worf and said, "Werewolf!"

He did, didn’t he? HAH! :D God, it’s been forever since I’ve watched TNG. It’s not my favorite of the shows, but I should give it a rewatch one of these days...

eulaliasims replied to your post “Oh, God, it’s the 10 questions meme again!”

I would add an evil laughter gif here, but Tumblr won't let me, so you'll have to imagine it. :P Yeah, it can be surprisingly hard to find historical fiction that isn't focused on romance sometimes. I don't mind some, but when it seems to take over the rest of the story... meh. That's what I read fanfic for. And now I have the Ride of the Valkyries in my head too, but at least it's not Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer again.

It’s not that I can’t deal with ANY romance in historical fiction. I can if it makes sense within the story and the real history because, hey, these were real people and they fell in love and had relationships and all that. One of my favorite books (The Sunne in Splendour, by Sharon Kay Penman) is about Richard III, and a chunk of the 1000-page plot is about the relationship between him and his eventual wife and what impact that had on him as a person which in turn affected what kind of king he was, and that’s all good. But then there are those that are set in, say, Henry VIII’s court and it’s all thinly-veiled trashy romance novel tripe. (Yes, Philippa Gregory, I’m looking at you.) If I want that, I’ll sit and watch The Tudors, for God’s sake because ooh! Really hot men, gayness, AND boobies, yay! :) I’d rather read about about how that court really was. I mean, it was intriguing enough without having to pruriently sex it up. :p

Geez, this is my “ragging on popular books” post, apparently. :) And you’re welcome for Ride of the Valkyries. *evil* It is now, thankfully out of my head.

mustluvcatz-reloaded replied to your post “Oh, God, it’s the 10 questions meme again!”

I'm half tempted to answer your questions just because they're so NOT about the sims, but I may be too lazy to right now, lol.

You should do it! I want to know what brand of TP you use! :)

acquiresimoleons replied to your photo “Aaron got his wish to grow up, ‘cuz, y’know, it’s not like it’s...”

I never could work out how to make a restaurant run properly either.

The “secret” is to run them with as few employees as possible. Especially at first. Because they will suck out all the money you make and more. So, you either have to have the owner do all the functions (Host(ess), cook, waitstaff) -- which you can do at first because you won’t have a lot of customers until the place levels up to at least Level 3 -- OR you have to use slave labor family members to fill the roles.

Also, having a limited menu of items that don’t require a lot of cooking skill is necessary, unless/until your cook levels up. Otherwise customers will end up with a lot of burnt meals, which lowers loyalty and makes it harder to get stars and level-ups and all that.

acquiresimoleons replied to your photo “And Owen, Arcadia’s other alien sprog, grew up, too. He looks like a...”

His face kinda scares me ��

It’s the eyes. They’re creepy. But it’s what the PT who spawned him has, so...

sim-boo replied to your photo “Simon being macho… …and, afterwards, not so macho. :) And that’s it...”

R u saying bubble baths arent macho?

Well, anything that a macho man does becomes macho, right? :) But, traditionally? Not so much, no. :)

didilysims replied to your photoset “Simon taught Suzy to roll over….and then cleaned up an ocean of dog...”

Wow, that's more pee than I'd think would fit inside that little dog!

*laugh* Well, it is two dogs’ worth of pee. :) And one of them is a big dog. They just both chose the same pee spot. Right by the front door, of course. *eye roll*

pensblr replied to your photo “Nekkid treadmilling. Saves on laundry.”

*laughs* Just imagine how unfortunate it would be if sims experienced the real life pain of falling on a treadmill...while naked.

I know! I have visions of dangly bits caught in the mechanism, and OW! :) That’s totally a bad kind of ow, too.

mrningbrd replied to your photo “Oh, Benny. Benny, Benny, Benny… Of course, it happened right after...”

tell simon i can relate. this happened the other night at 4 am. my condolences

Oh, God, you poor thing. My dogs at home in Colorado are constantly having skunk encounters lately, apparently. (I’m not there, at the moment, but the ranch hands report in regularly. :) ) It didn’t used to be so bad, but apparently there’s a skunk population explosion in the nearby area...

#esotheria-sims #maybesomethingdunno #nerianasims #penig #holleyberry #plumbobsquareface #immerso-sims #lisac-h #eulaliasims #mustluvcatz-reloaded #acquiresimoleons #sim-boo #didilysims #pensblr #mrningbrd #replies

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