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snifflesthemouse · 4 years ago

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This morning, I read an article titled “I went undercover in the sinister world of Meghan Markle hate accounts" posted to Refinery 29. The title gives the impression of a journalist disguising one’s self as a “Meghan Markle hater” for the sake of getting to the bottom of something. However, the content of the article is nothing like its title.

Before I go further, let me stress the importance of perspective. My post isn’t an attack on the article’s author. I’ve never even heard of the author before now, and I’ve no right or reason to attack a perfect stranger because I vehemently disagree with the content of their work. Making assumptions about someone solely on what they write is lazy and sloppy in my opinion. I may be lazy and sloppy, but a hypocrite I try not to be. Therefore, go forward remembering my issues are with content, not creator.

The article starts out explaining the origins of the term “Megxit”. It continues with other hashtags, conspiracy theories, and so on. The article even mentions various media platforms “attacking" the Duchess, as well as crude posts witnessed by the author.

Then the name dropping begins. First with Murky Meg, then Sue Blackhurst, then According2Taz, then Skippyv20 on Tumblr, then Yankee Wally. Eventually, names of Royal Rota journalists are dropped. Then people like Angela Levin and Omid Scobie get mentioned, with interviews from the latter. Instead of an undercover sting, we get a “Who’s Who" of Megxit, a few anonymous Sussex Squad quotations, and Omid trying his best to be fair.

What this article accomplishes is very little when it comes to objectivity. The title is a misconception, and the content essentially paints targets on the backs of the people the author carelessly considers “Meghan Markle Haters". The article reduces anyone who disagrees with Meghan’s behavior as racist, misogynist, conspiracy theorist nutters. So, not only is the content of the article sloppy and lazy, it also lacks originality. We’ve all heard this sad song-and-dance number a million times.

I guess at face value, it becomes very easy, effortless really, for outsiders looking in to reduce an entire group of people with similar views to the basic stereotypes as old as time. It takes very little thought, consideration, or critical analysis, to assume things because they seem to correlate. But correlation is not causation. Just because some people opposing of Meghan Markle’s behavior happen to be racist doesn’t mean every single opposing person is also racist. Again, lazy and sloppy.

Just like assuming every single Meghan Markle fan is also vegan, anti-monarchy, feminist, woke warriors is downright sloppy and lazy. This author has personally interacted with and found common ground with Sussex Squad people many times. Some even became social media friends. They believe what they do, and I believe what I do. We do not agree with most things regarding Harry and Meghan, but we do agree to disagree and be civil.

So, contrary to the article, not all people “hate" Meghan Markle just because they detest her behavior. It’s important to remember extremes exist for all spectrums. Every topic, especially those politicized or made popular by media platforms, have extremes. There is no denying the fact that there are people who hate Meghan Markle because of her ethnicity. Those extremists who hate Meghan for her ethnicity ironically do not discriminate, though. If they hate her for her ethnicity, they hate ALL people of that same ethnicity.

On the flip side of this coin, is the other extreme. The face is the same on each side because the face represents extremism. There is no denying the fact that there are extremists who see anyone opposing Meghan as racists. Extremists who, by default, view every issue in the world through the lens of racism. While racism is a serious problem that deserves no place in society, assuming racism is the root cause of every conflict is also lazy and sloppy. And the same could be said that these extremists do not discriminate, either. If they see race as the only issue for why people “hate" Meghan Markle, they see race as the only issue for most everything.

The problem with both extremes is when everything and everyone is reduced to racial identity, racism only continues to exist. A racist using skin color as a disqualifier perpetuates racism. Assuming racism is the only reason behind disdain for someone only perpetuates racism. Focusing on race or racism allows no room for content of character.

Especially when people defend Meghan Markle being the victim of racism with a racist rule. When opposing critics say “I didn’t even know she was Black" or suggest her physical features, her Hollywood CV, or past involvement with Black causes were nonexistent before she became a duchess or stepped down from being a working royal, the extremists on the other side often resort to the One Drop Rule.

Which means their defense for calling Meghan Markle “haters" racists, even though they might have never knew she was mixed race, is a form of racism. The One Drop Rule was borne from the Reconstruction Era post-Civil War. The “rule" essentially said anyone who appeared to have Black features were considered Black.

The One Drop Rule was the precursor and eventual backbone to Jim Crow Laws of the South. It was used to oppress and segregate Americans based on physical appearance. Considering most people who never heard of Meghan before Harry came along were ignorant to her mixed heritage, it seems grossly negligent to assume race is the real issue. How can one be racist toward Meghan when they didn’t know she was mixed race? This author wasn’t aware of Meghan’s ethnicity prior to it being pointed out (by her and Harry. Repeatedly.), mainly because this author didn’t care.

Like so many, when I first saw Meghan and Harry together for the engagement interview, I was more excited about a fellow American joining the Royal Family. After learning she was biracial, well it was even better. It represented change and progress. Does that mean I saw the Royal Family as racists beforehand? No. It means I saw them as exactly the opposite. Had they been racist, she’d not be a duchess. Her being American and divorced was more a shock to me than being mixed.

The point of all this is there are extremists on every spectrum. For a journalist to say they went undercover, when in fact they did not, to expose the true motives behind Meghan Markle “haters", only to find they did very little to really understand the other side was disappointing. Not surprising, just disappointing. This could’ve been an excellent opportunity for someone to take the reigns and make bridges between two very passionate factions. Instead it became nothing more than a hit piece.

The article fails to acknowledge the possibility – no, the probability – that most people who object to Meghan Markle do so because of how she behaves. The article only considers one possibility behind this “hate". And by calling the objections “hate", the article in turn defines all criticisms as hate speech. Again, unoriginal, sloppy, and lazy.

So here we have it, yet another article grouping and stereotyping anyone who disapproves of Meghan and Harry as racist haters. Yet again, another article name dropping people “deemed racist haters", essentially painting even bigger targets on the backs of those people. Like they didn’t already have enough hate mail. Yet again, another sloppy, lazy, article that never digs below the surface to understand why instead of assuming it.

This isn’t new, it’s just another slop drop from the sensationalism machine that has replaced fair, legitimate journalism. It would be different if there weren’t so many questions surrounding the births. It would be different if Meghan Markle actually lived by the example she so vehemently preaches. It would be different if Meghan Markle would make amends with her own family before telling the world how they should treat people. It would be different if Meghan Markle were a strong woman instead of claiming to be one.

But it’s not different. She hasn’t spoken to her father since two days before her wedding three years ago. She denies the family connections that existed before her fame. She ghosts people once they are no longer of benefit. She preaches equality and universal service while using her title every chance given. She and her husband criticize the “family she never had" while naming their second child after that family’s Matriarch. All of those are behaviors that incite strong emotional responses. Behaviors. And behavior has no racial identity.

A final note… hypocrisy is the main reason people have issues with anything. When one group of people tells another group to stop attacking a public figure, while using assumptions as their crusade call, it’s hypocrisy. One cannot say “if you can’t take the heat, then shut up!” to another without being a hypocrite. When that happens, don’t be surprised when the same exact thing is said back. If Meghan or her fans can’t take the criticism, they shouldn’t participate in it. We all have the right to choose. Just like if I couldn’t handle the criticism, I’d not be writing this.

Life is not fair. The world is a dark, cruel place. When we expect the world to bend to the will of a few, we are setting ourselves above the majority. A strong woman would know this. A strong woman fighting for others would also know that the only person responsible for how one feels is one’s self. External feedback isn’t responsible for internal turmoil. Internal feedback is. That is all.

REFERENCE:

Amoako, A. (2021 June 11). I went undercover in the sinister world of Meghan Markle hate accounts. Refinery29. Retrieved from: https://www.refinery29.com/en-gb/2021/06/10518195/megxit-meghan-markle-anti-fandom

#murky meg #megxit #yankeewally #prince harry #according2taz

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liberty-barnes · 4 years ago

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Just Breathe

Tom Holland x Female!Osterfield!Bisexual!Reader

Summary: Childbirth waits for no one, not even the Oscars.

Warnings: fluuuuuff, pregnant reader, mentions of childbirth, good press articles, BISEXUAL READER WOOOHOOO

Word Count: 1.5k words

Estimated Reading Time: 6 minutes

A/N: heeeeey look @peterspideyy @parkersbliss that crazy idea i ranted to you about like six months ago finally got done! i can’t believe i did it... this feels too good to be true, is the world gonna end or something?

Masterlist

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Me neither."

"Please, just stay here."

You looked up to your brother and husband, frowning as you smoothed your hand over the soft black fabric of your gown.

"I am not missing the Oscars, Tom. I've still got two weeks until I'm due, it'll be fine."

You sat down on the bed and looked dejectedly at your shoes, then proceeded to throw puppy dog eyes your brother's way until Harrison had no choice but to kneel and help you put on your comfortable trainers. There's no way you're putting on your heels at 37 weeks of pregnancy.

"But what if Baby decides to come sooner? You could go into labour at any moment!"

You rolled your eyes and only raised your arms so they could help you out of bed.

"You guys are being over-dramatic. Nothing's gonna happen. We're just going to the Oscars, we'll have a good time, and hopefully, I'll leave with a little statue under my arm."

With that, you waddled out of your hotel room, ready to get into the limo.

---

"(Y/n)! It's so good to see you! You look radiant as always!"

You smiled at Kaitlyn, an interviewer you knew and trusted and rubbed your belly comfortingly.

"Thank you, I feel like a whale, but Baby'll be here soon so it's worth it."

She smiled and asked you a bunch of questions about your movie and how you were feeling about being nominated for Best Actress.

"But anyway, how far along are you now?"

"I'm a little over 37 weeks, they should be coming soon. Tom and Haz were actually really apprehensive about me coming here since I'm so close to my due date."

She smiled and looked over at the two men, obviously on edge.

"Well, I wish you all the best and I sincerely hope you win."

You hugged her goodbye and posed for a few more pictures before being led inside by your husband.

---

"And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for..."

Everyone watched with bated breath as Brie Larson, last year's winner, got ready to announce who would take home the trophy.

"This year's winner, and taking home the Oscar for best actress in a leading role..."

Tom took your hand and you squeezed it tight, ready to applaud one of the other amazing actresses on their win.

"(Y/n) Holland, for her brilliant performance in Two Sides of the Same Coin!"

You felt like your heart was gonna beat out of your chest, run to that stage, kiss Brie, then promptly burst to flames out of sheer, unadulterated enthusiasm. Tom was hugging you and whispering how much you deserved it while your brother gently guided you to the podium. None of them would ever allow you to go up there on your own. Always one in front of you in case you trip forward and one behind you to catch you if you fall back.

Overprotective much?

As soon as you reached Brie, you hugged her tight (or as tight as you could with a human baby house separating you), taking the award while the two boys hugged her too.

"Holy Louis Tomlinson in a crop top."

The audience laughed, most of them already familiar with your strange One Direction inspired expressions.

"Wow, I didn't actually think I was gonna win this, everyone had such amazing performances. I-It's an honour, really. Two Sides of the Same Coin was a project very near and dear to my heart, so I'd like to thank the amazing Drew Barrymore, who wrote and directed the movie."

The room erupted in cheers and the woman smiled at you from her place on the front row.

"Bisexual representation is something we don't get very often, and when we do, it's always misjudged. So thank you for showing the world what bisexuality really is, and for giving me a chance to live out my dreams of kissing lots of people. This idiot tied me down too soon."

You pointed behind you at Tom, hearing his appalled squeak along with Harrison's guffaw of a laugh.

In other news, the baby was starting to inconvenience you slightly. Baby had been going crazy since last night (not that you'd tell the boys) and the Braxton-Hicks were killing you, but it only got worse now.

"I'd also like to thank my amazing costars, Zendaya, Bella Thorne, and Owen Patrick Joyner, it was awesome to make out with you all..."

The crowd laughed while you felt something trickle down your legs.

Oh.

OH.

You'll never live this down, that's for sure.

"Uh, before I finish can one of you idiots call the car and get them to come to the exit please and thank you? Now as I was saying-"

"Wait, why?"

You turned to your brother and smiled innocently.

"Oh, my water just broke."

The crowd cheered.

Tom screamed.

Harrison fell to the floor, unconscious.

You sighed.

"New plan, can anyone try to wake my brother while my hus-"

You looked at Tom, frantically doing small back and forths between you and his best friend, unsure of what to do.

"-While someone else calls the car because both of them are apparently useless."

"We need to get you to the hospital!"

His terrified scream could be heard all through the room, even with no mic.

"What? No! I need to finish my acceptance speech, then go back to the hotel to shower and maybe take a little nap and then go to the hospital. My water just broke, Thomas, we have time, calm your tits."

You turned back fully to the mic, facing the hysteric faces of the crowd, very entertained by the exchange.

"Now as I was saying, I want to thank the amazing team that worked on this movie, you're all amazing and it was such a good experience. I'd also like to thank my family for always being there for me and supporting me and Haz in our acting careers. Thank you to my brother, even if he's unconscious right now, he'll just watch it on Youtube later, for literally forcing me to go to the audition. And lastly, I'd like to thank my wonderful husband, who hopefully hasn't passed out yet, for always supporting me and being my biggest rock through everything. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to deliver a baby, you know, just normal Saturday night stuff."

---

An Oscar in hand and another... down her legs?

(Y/n) Holland sure gave the Oscars something to be entertained by on this last Saturday. The wife of fellow actor Tom Holland looked radiant in her custom-made Valentino dress, looking ready for a night of fun.

(Y/n) was nominated for this year's Best Actress in a Leading Role award, alongside Meryl Streep, Margot Robbie, Cate Blanchett, and Tessa Thompson, but the Oscar went to her from her brilliant performance in Two Sides of the Same Coin. But it was during her acceptance speech that things got... slippery.

At 37 weeks of pregnancy, the Holland baby was ready to come at any minute, but apparently, theatrics run in the family. The actress was in the middle of her speech when she felt her water break, pausing in her talking to request a car be called.

You'd think her husband, Tom, and brother Harrison Osterfield, overprotective as they are, would be fully prepared! Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for our entertainment, they were not. Harrison went unconscious after hearing the news, dropping to the floor and earning himself a minor concussion, much to his sister's amusement

[image1-harrison-ice-pack.png]

@ynholland: "Don't worry, when you go into labour, I'll be with you every step of the way." Said Harrison Osterfield, then proceeded to pass out, get a minor concussion, and miss the whole delivery.😂 Good job, little bro👍

And just when you thought she couldn't get any better, she finishes her acceptance speech with: "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to deliver a baby, you know, just normal Saturday night stuff." We have no choice but to stan this iconic queen!

But for the news you've all been waiting for, Oscar Robert Holland (yes, the middle name is a homage to Robert Downey Jr. himself, we're not crying, you are!) was born just twelve hours later. Tom let know through a beautiful Instagram picture that he is in fact "perfectly healthy and loved by everyone already".

[image2-tom-and-oscar.png]

@tomholland2013: I present to you, my best creation to this date: Oscar Robert Holland. Thank you all for your prayers and kind messages, our boy is perfectly healthy and loved by everyone already❤️

But of course, Uncle Haz wouldn't stay behind.

[image3-haz-and-oscar.png]

@hazosterfield: Since I know you've all been worried sick and desperate to know how the baby is... I'm doing just fine, it's just a minor concussion :) Oh and my godson's great too.

And just to prove that the Osterfields are indeed the royal family of comedy, we leave with this wonderful picture posted to the happy mum's very own Instagram.

[image4-yn-and-oscars.png]

@ynholland: Guess I was so good they gave two Oscars instead of one ;)

-Written by Kaitlyn Storm

so anyway, Two Sides of the Same Coin is a movie idea i got a while ago and should maybe try to write one of these days but oh well or something. anyway, i’m not gonna rant about it here cause it’d be too long but i hope you enjoyed this and don’t forget to like/comment/reblog if you feel like it!

-Love, Miah

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you)

PERMA TAG

@adriannajackson123 @theamazingtomholland @inlovewithmobtom @andycanbeemotional @officiallyunofficialperson @lost-in-the-stars03 @jeezkiddo @a-singleboat @wunder-13 @highlydisfunctional1 @ellyseveronica @inthecornerchair @harishaanne @anjalika03 @lozzypoz321 @mendes-marvel @sovereignparker @bubbles-the-powerpuffgurl

MARVEL ACTORS

@sarcasticallywitty15 @agentnataliahofferson @onelovesr @agentnataliahofferson @parkerpetertingle @juliebean247 @frustratingpaperclip @tacobacoyeet

HOLLAND & CO.

@sarcasticallywitty15 @agentnataliahofferson @onelovesr @agentnataliahofferson @zeusmyster @parkerpetertingle @juliebean247 @joyleenl @quaksonhehe @clara-licht @frustratingpaperclip @tutuabby28 @tacobacoyeet

LGBTQ+

@quaksonhehe

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galaxy-lilies · 4 years ago

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Of Bullets and Roses (Karlnapity AU)

Warnings: guns, violence, descriptions of injuries, scars, and such.

A/N: This idea came from the early days of dsmp casino Quackity when we didn’t know much about the lore. There are definitely a lot of typos and grammar mistakes so rip me. I know I posted a link to the google doc a long time ago but I finally made it in tumblr post form :]

The Main Story

Quackity was known as the right hand man of Schlatt and for the longest time it was just the two of them. That is until Schlatt kicked the bucket. After that it went to crap to say the least. His business was doing just fine, he just got into a few...scuffles. He touched the scar across his left eye, a reminder of the power of the SBI and their brute Technoblade. It's a pity their young one had friends related to Quackity's connections, he couldn't get rid of them...yet.

He flipped a coin mindlessly in his hand. He owed a favor to the DreamTeam. After Schlatt died, he lost territory and allies fast. Quackity had come to them crawling on his knees. It wasn't a pretty sight, but he had to do whatever he needed to in order to keep his business alive. One of them felt pity for him, if that counted for anything.

His name was Sapnap. He was the arsonist of the group and the one to do more inside jobs albeit with a fiery twist. They had run into each other a few times, not very often though.

One of his grunts caught his attention and he beckoned them over. "Any news from the big guy?" Quackity asked, pocketing the coin. "Not much yet, Vice. We're expecting them to send in a message at any second though." Quackity hummed thoughtfully, looking at the spinning door leading into the casino.

To say the least he was surprised to see only Sapnap step through along with another man. The man was dressed in a mess of different colors, his smile a little too happy and aloof for someone Sapnap should know.

Quackity raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything about it. "Hello there Sapnap, long time no see." Sapnap smiled although it was a little too sinister for it to be kind. "We just talked two days ago, did you already miss me?"

Quackity scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself." He peered over to the other man who seemed to be enraptured by the decor of the lobby. "And you are?"

The man perked up, holding out a hand. "Karl Jacobs at your service, sir!"

Quackity didn't take the hand. "I see. Well nice to meet you Mr. Jacobs."

Karl awkwardly let his hand fall to his side, but it didn't seem to phase him too much.

Quackity brought the two of them to his suite and they began discussing the current situation: trying to undermine the SBI and increase the profits and territory of both the DreamTeam and Quackity.

Eventually, Quackity pulled Sapnap to the side. "Hey, I don't know why you brought that clown over if all he ever did was goof off and not pay attention to the plan. What was that all about?"

Sapnap chuckled. "Oh, I wouldn't say that if I were you."

Quackity was about to ask when Sapnap made a turn around motion. That’s when he saw multiple red lasers pinpointed on his chest. He looked up to see Karl with a toothy grin and a gun like contraption in his hand.

Turned out Karl was a sniper and he was damn good at it.

Quackity stared at Karl wide-eyed and he nearly jumped out of his skin when Sapnap leaned close to his ear.

"You don't want to get on Karl's bad side much less the other side of that gun," he teased, patting Quackity's shoulder. He headed back to where Karl was sitting, the gun long since stashed away.

Karl's smile didn't seem as friendly as before.

The first mission was simple: try to take out one of the main SBI members, in this case the second eldest Wilbur Soot. If that didn't work, they would try to establish one of the three within the parameters of the organization and try to destroy it from the inside.

“And explain to me why I am being dragged along again?”

The three of them stood outside of the main SBI headquarters. They watched as people headed inside and out, waiting to sense a pattern and to scout out who was a guard and who was not.

“We need someone who knows how to talk to people just in case the outfits don’t work. Besides, it’s better to bring in someone just in case things go south,” Sapnap explained. He was dressed in business attire in hopes of blending in if they needed to enter through the entrance of the building. Quackity and Karl were in similar outfits however Karl only had a dress shirt, basic dress pants, and a ridiculously colored tie. Quackity on the other hand wore a navy blue vest-suit combination. He had to put in a colored eye contact and make-up to cover his left eye to avoid any stares or recognition.

Quackity jumped a little when Karl placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be such a worrywart Quackity, everything will be fine.”

He looked at Karl skeptically, but didn’t say anything in response. Sapnap began explaining the plan again. While Sapnap would go in to try and talk to Wilbur, Quackity and Karl would scout out the building and try to find where the main SBI quarters were located.

“This building is a facade after all: basic businesses and employees in the front, a whole other business in the back.”

Sapnap had no problem entering the building, it was only when Quackity ran into someone on the way to the elevators. Quackity almost fell to the ground from the impact and he would have if Karl wasn’t there. He was about to give this person a piece of his mind when he looked up and immediately paled. He recognized that pink hair from anywhere.

“Oh pardon me, I didn’t see you there,” apologized Techno. He was dressed in business attire as well, however his clothes were definitely nicer than the normal employees.

“I-it’s no problem really, I guess I’m used to it,” Quackity said, trying to stay calm. If Techno wanted to say anything about his behavior he didn’t comment on it. The elevators dinged open and he stepped through. He looked at Karl and Quackity raising an eyebrow. “Well? Are you going to come in or not?”

The two quickly shuffle in and the doors close. Techno pressed a floor and Karl pressed a random floor near the top. Techno glanced at the floor number. “Ah, you two are the new business employees aren’t you.”

“Y-yep! First day at the job,” Karl said. Quackity wanted to point out how bad Karl’s acting was, but he couldn’t in the presence of Techno.

There was a good amount of silence before Techno broke it.

“You know, this is the executive elevator, only allowed for important personnel. It’s explained even before the first day on the job.”

Karl and Quackity paled.

“But it’s an honest mistake I suppose,” continued Techno, adjusting the sleeves of his suit. “At least, it would have been if you didn’t happen to remember that the employees are only allowed access to the first twenty floors.”

Quackity barely had time to comprehend what happened, but when he looked Karl and Techno had pulled out a gun at the same time. Thankfully both of them were smart enough not to shoot in such a small space.

“Hello Quackity,” greeted Techno,“long time no see.”

Quackity chuckled although it was somewhat weak. “I could say the same thing, Techno.”

“Wait, you know this guy??” Karl hissed, still focused on Techno. Techno growled. “Enough talk: why are you here.”

Quackity glanced at the floor numbers. They were almost to floor 35 where the doors would open. “Oh you know, I just came here to break up a little family reunion. After all the pain I endured, I feel it’s only right to give back in the same way.”

That’s when the elevator dinged and the doors opened. Without missing a beat, Quackity dragged Karl and the two made a run for it. Techno followed in pursuit, the three on a wild goose chase.

Eventually the two ended up in a random room. They didn’t know what floor they were on and they didn’t want to find out anytime soon.

“You know if you told me we would be running from the Technoblade I would’ve worn better shoes-” Karl panted, trying to look for an exit.

“Tell me about it,” Quackity said, trying to listen to see if he was near. Karl glanced at Quackity. “How do you think Sapnap is holding up?”

“Seeing how badly this is going, probably not so well,” Quackity admitted. And he was right.

Instead of running into Wilbur, Sapnap ran into Tommy. Tommy assumed that Sapnap was a normal employee and he assured Sapnap that he would be able to find one of his brothers to help Sapnap get to the right floor.

“I honestly don’t know where they could be. Usually they’re talking to a bunch of big businessmen you know. Important shit like that.”

“Uh-huh,” said Sapnap mindlessly, half paying attention to what Tommy was saying.

While Tommy filled in the silence, Sapnap was hoping that Karl and Quackity were doing alright. However, his worry only skyrocketed when he saw Technoblade heading their way.

To say the least he looked pissed.

“Hey big guy, what’s going on?” Tommy asked, walking a little bit ahead of Sapnap to reach Techno sooner.

“There are intruders in the building, you need to go to a safe room now.”

Tommy gawked. “Really now? Isn’t the security in here like. Top notch or something?”

Techno sighed. “Tommy, please. Tell Wilbur and Philza to head to safety while I deal with the-”

That’s when Technoblade noticed Sapnap.

Sapnap only waved before making a run for it. He wasn’t even going to try and bluff his way out of that one.

He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, but eventually he managed to run into Quackity and Karl.

“We need to get out of here and fast,” Sapnap said, looking behind him to see if they’re being pursued.

Karl huffed, “You don’t need to tell us that we already had a run in with Technoblade and to say the least it wasn’t good.”

Sapnap’s eyes widened. “Wait, you too-?!”

“Hold it right there!”

The three whip around to see a bunch of men heading their way. Karl didn’t even hesitate and brought out his gun shooting into the mob. The three managed to duck into a hallway as Karl continued to shoot. Sapnap looked around and cursed. The hallway was a dead end. The only thing waiting for them at the end of the hall was a large window overlooking the city.

He was snapped out of his stupor when he heard a yelp and saw Karl crumple to the floor. Quackity managed to hold onto the other preventing Karl from falling in the line of fire. The gunfire increased and the three of them retreated towards the window.

“What do we do now?!” hissed Sapnap, hoisting Karl up and doing a brief look over his injuries. There was a large amount of blood flowing from his head but from the look of it a bullet only skimmed his head.

“I-I don’t know I-?!”

Quackity looked between the window and the start of the hallway. That’s when he realized something. Suddenly he starts unbuttoning his blazer and vest, tossing it to the side only leaving his dress shirt and tie on.

Sapnap flushed. “Geez at least take me on a date first.”

Quackity growled. “Now is not the time to joke around!” He quickly raised his shirt revealing his wings wrapped around his abdomen and bound by a belt. He quickly unclipped it and released his wings, shaking them a little.

He grabbed for Karl’s gun and shot at the window a few times, shattering the glass in the process. The yelling and gunfire behind them increased even more.

Grabbing Karl and Sapnap, he yelled a quick, “Hang on tight!” before jumping out of the window, his wings flaring out and catching the wind.

Even though he's carrying three times the weight his wings can hold, the glide is good enough for them to land onto the roof of a building and run, albeit with Karl on Sapnap's back. Instead of returning to the casino, they end up in one of Sapnap's safe houses located near the edge of the city where there were less people.

It was there they tended to Karl's wounds before Sapnap glanced at Quackity who was preening his wings.

"Care to explain?" Sapnap asked.

To Quackity's surprise Sapnap didn't sound disgusted or afraid. While hybrids were common in this world, they were still treated horribly which led to many hiding their hybrid parts, Quackity included.

Quackity shrugged. "I don't want to talk about it." Sapnap didn't press.

There was more awkward silence until Sapnap glanced over to hear Quackity cursing under his breath. One of his wings was bent weirdly and there were some feathers he couldn't reach.

"I, um. I can help," Sapnap piped up.

Quackitiy scoffed. "You? Helping? You don't have any wings, what would you know."

"That's true," Sapnap said, "but I want to say thank you for saving us today. You’re already loaded and you have more than enough henchmen. Besides, I don't know how long we are going to stay here."

Quackity glared over his shoulder before sighing. "Fine. But if you break my wings, I am personally going to kill you."

To say the least the beginning was rough, but after a few pointers from Quackity, Sapnap easily found rhythm and started to get to work. Soon Quackity was falling in and out of consciousness from how relaxed he was. It's been a long time since someone else had preened his feathers and for someone to be so gentle.

Eventually, Sapnap was done and Quackity was shaken awake. His wings puffed up in defense, but then he remembered where he was.

"So how is it?" Sapnap asked.

Quackity looked at his wings and found them in a pretty good shape. While his wing was still bent weirdly, any feathers he was trying to reach were sorted and his wings were overall better.

Right as he was about to thank Sapnap, Karl began to stir.

Sapnap rushed over, crouching by the couch. "Hey there big guy, how are you feeling?"

"Mmm a little groggy to be honest," Karl mumbled. Sapnap passed him a glass of water and Karl took a sip before pecking Sapnap on the cheek. Quackity flushed at the display of affection and he awkwardly coughed, saying he would be in the other room if they needed him.

Karl glanced at Sapnap and Sapnap only shrugged in response.

The days in the safe house were...boring to say the least. Quackity could only contact his connections to a certain extent without being tracked. While he waited he played around with some playing cards he found in one of the cabinets. He would spend hours on end practicing his throws and just playing games by himself.

Besides, he didn’t want to bother the lovebirds.

He had woken up one morning and found the two having an intimate moment making breakfast together. He didn’t want to disrupt the other two and tried to go back to his room as silently as he could but a squeaky floorboard gave him away. Karl had glanced over and asked if Quackity was alright and the hybrid mumbled a sheepish “yeah...”

He eventually helps out with making breakfast and the three fall back into an easy rhythm. One day Sapnap left early to check in at the DreamTeam base leaving Karl and Quackity by themselves. They converse about a few things before it gets to the topic of Quackity’s scar.

“I know you mentioned that you knew Technoblade before we infiltrated the SBI base but...what exactly happened?”

Quackity grimaced a bit, tracing the scar a little. “I was never skilled with hand to hand combat. Let’s just say he pulled out a knife and managed to slice my face.”

I’ll probably add more to this later however while they stay at the safe house, they start to flirt a little bit more and they start to get closer. Eventually they try to infiltrate the SBI base again, but they ultimately fail and Quackity gets severely injured.

When he wakes up he's met face to face with Dream himself. George is by his side per usual, the assassin with a plethora of guns and knives up his sleeves. Dream congrats Quackity on surviving for so long and that his favor is now paid back. There are some more empty threats exchanged between the two before Sapnap tells him to shove off for a bit. Dream only rolls his eyes and laughs before letting Sapnap and Karl visit Quackity.

Beforehand Quackity was freaking out about breaking the two up but then they were like "my guy we like you too. Also uh. your casino kinda got raided and it's not safe sooo...wanna room with us?"

Of course he says yes.

How Sapnap and Quackity Met

When Schlatt kicked the bucket, the Sleepy Bois and other groups immediately targeted Quackity and the original base Schlatt and Quackity shared. He was knocked out by the pain of technoblade slicing his left eye and gouging his cheek.

Somehow he survived. He woke up in the burning building and stumbled his way out, hiding in the alleyways and barely making it with all of his injuries. The closest "allies" Quackity knew of were the Dreamteam so he headed in what hoped was the general direction of their base. He passed out before he could even get there. Somehow he was close enough to the base and with the recent news of the city being on fire the trio had a feeling Quackity would stop by soon.

Quackity woke up feverish and with gauze over his cheek and eye. In front of him stood Dream, Sapnap and George standing by his side. George had a neutral face while Sapnap couldn't help and cringe at the injuries.

"Good to see you're finally awake, Quackity,” said Dream, smiling. “We were worried that you were dead...which wouldn't be much of a problem."

Quackity glared (at least with his good eye) at Dream. "What do you want." Knowing the man Dream would want something back in return for saving Quackity. Dream grinned. "Oh you know me all too well Quackity. I simply ask for you to pay back. Your medical bills were quite pricey and the cost of your little fire has destroyed a good portion of my city."

"Not to mention I will be oh so generous as to give you a new building and enough money to start your business again." Quackity opened his mouth to ask about the catch but Dream held up a hand. "You have no allies, Quackity. Everyone wants you dead. Do you really think there's someone out there who is willing to help you?" Dream grinned. "Besides, you're already in debt to me."

Quackity closed his mouth. There really was no other option. Swallowing his pride, he glanced up and stared straight at Dream. "Fine," he spat. "I accept your offer."

Dream clapped his hands. "Excellent! What a wise decision."

While Dream and George left, Sapnap stayed behind. Quackity slightly bristled asking what the heck Sapnap wanted and Sapnap glared at him.

"I just wanted to see if you were ok. I was the one who found you and you were not only burned, but bleeding from your eye."

Quackity calmed a bit but he did admit with all of this new information he's been on edge. Sapnap hummed and explained that Dream would probably let Quackity off the hook a little easier after a while but Quackity didn't believe him. George eventually came into the medical room looking for Sapnap and the two took their leave.

The next time Sapnap and Quackity run into each other is when Quackity is trying to make a deal with the Badlands, meeting with the infamous Badboyhalo.

They were at a fancy venue with plenty of guests and Quackity was sitting at the bar nursing a drink mindlessly. He checked his watch and when he looked up he saw someone sitting in front of him.

"Didn't expect to see you here," Sapnap admitted placing his drink down on the bar Quackity almost spat out his drink. "Sapnap?? What are you doing here?"

Sapnap shrugged. "Oh nothing much just checking out the area and checking in on our connections. How about you?"

"I could say the same thing," Quackity mumbled, taking a sip of his drink

Eventually, Quackity excused himself only to run into Bad himself. "Ah hello there. Quackity was it?" Bad asked.

The two talk a little and Quackity tries to pitch his deal but Bad isn't having it. It starts to get a little violent until Sapnap pops out of nowhere and goes like "hey there dad uuuuuuh cool off a bit. Meanwhile Quackity I think it's time for you to go--"

Quackity was about to protest until he saw Antfrost in the back making a b-line for him. Quackity gives a strained smile before dipping, leaving Sapnap to do the fixing.

How Karl and Sapnap Met

Everyone knew about Techno's and Dream's bad history with each other and today was the day everyone was going to witness who was better than the other

Sapnap had locked eyes with Karl when Mr. Beast went on to explain the rules of the shoot off. Karl had only grinned and Sapnap could feel himself flush. George had elbowed him, teasing him and Sapnap only sputtered in response.

Finally Mr. Beast explained that there was not going to be any sabotage from anybody from either the Dreamteam or SBI. Sapnap had gone to leave, the tension between the three groups getting a little too much. he was stopped in his tracks by Karl.

"I'm sorry Sapnap but you have to turn around. No one is allowed to leave the premises until after the shoot off."

Sapnap raised an eyebrow, about to ask why until he saw the gun in Karl’s hand. "We don't want any problems, right?" Karl giggled, adjusting the hold on his gun. Sapnap glared at the other but proceeded to turn back around. Maybe he turned to hide his blush. Could have been a possibility

The tournament went smoothly, Techno becoming the victor by a single point. While the SBI cheered, the Dreamteam left the premises.

"Are you even listening to me Sapnap?" Dream asked, a bit pissed from the loss. "Hm? I'm sorry Dream I didn't hear you, what did you say?"

George snickered. "Don't worry about Sapnap, Dream, he's still caught up on the sniper Mr. Beast has hired- OW!" Sapnap had elbowed George quite harshly in the ribs.

Dream raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, proceeding to rant about the duel instead.

#ooc #indiewrites #of bullets and roses #karlnapity #sapnap #karl jacobs #quackity #jschlatt (mentioned)#dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #sbi #tw violence #tw guns

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fandom-sheep · 3 years ago

Text

MCC 18 SEP 21

Yellow Yacks and Cyan Coyotes with a little Aqua Axolotls. Part 1/1

The only reason I didn’t forget MCC was because I got the notification for Eret.

I have Wilbur on my TV. I’m going to watch Eret on my phone. And I’ll have Tommy on my iPad probably.

Wilbur throwing a tantrum and saying he won’t play.

I feel like a true Gen Z member with my multiple screens of minecraft.

I’m only just getting the Wilbur notification.

I love watching everyone run around before MCC and scale things.

Griefing the thumbnail. 😂

Wilbur just causes problems on purpose when it comes to group photos doesn’t he.

He just loves finding ways to cause problems.

Wilbur got a coconut!?!

I didn’t mean to type the question mark originally. But I am a bit confused.

Wilbur just stocking up on coconuts

True friendship is a quote book. I have several.

Baby banana boo.

Wait. I heard the word tumblr

Scott what did you do with tumblr?

I’m scared. Only Eret permitted on tumblr.

I remember watching hole in the wall as a tv show as a kid.

Wilbur’s glasses that don’t do anything.

There are September discounts for subbing?

Neato.

The conversations in my work discord are something else.

Not surprised that Wilbur is going for top swearer of MCC

But my residents are going to walk by my door and judge me.

Alright I apparently wasn’t signed in to twitch on my iPad and it took me entirely too long to learn to remember it.

Tommy looks like he’s really concentrating. Oh wait never mind.

Wow the yaks are in first currently. I might be cheering for a winning team for once.

Alright I have my iPad split screen between Tommy and the MCC website.

Everyone break the elevator!

In the game, not in the building I work. I don’t want that paperwork.

Stick together and place many block.

I’ve been in Wilburs position. “I’ll be captain” “yeah let’s let Wilbur be captain”

Not a single POV I have up is synced. But that’s life.

Oh not starting out strong.

Just keep going. Ignore the falling people just like ranboo last time.

We are at the absolute bottom for this game.

Where’s a bag of popcorn or something?

“Stay down there. That’s how I won that one time” -Ranboo

Down they go.

They didn’t have anywhere to run.

Second round!

Oh that wasn’t their best idea. It was fun seeing Erets POV of that.

Go Teams.

Turning down the volume on yellow yacks to listen to aqua axolotls.

Aqua please. You have so much potential.

Nope.

Switching audio again.

Yellow back at the bottom.

Ranboo ranboo ranboo ranboo

Down he goes. 😂 the timing of that was funny.

Please. Don’t die

Wilbur. Scott. Please.

Scott uncovering the creeper.

Their plan is literally just sit and be.

To be fair that’s my plan for everything I do.

Oh cobwebs are smart.

I’m eating very salty Chick-fil-A chips and need water.

We are still doing ok. Wow.

Cobwebs man. The real MVP.

They are still in 10th

COBWEBS!!! And Wilbur standing on the edge of a block.

THEY WON THAT?!?!!!!

It moved them from last to eight. But still. Wow.

Holy cow. How did that happen.

I always forget what the acronym game is.

Oh yeah. Wilbur snuck and found this. I remember.

Go team!

Oh the website updates faster than the game. But we’re starting off decent.

I’m going to have to take back that statement aren’t I?

Go go go go

Fly fly fly fly

Build build build build

Go Wilbur!

Rafter strat.

Wilbur found the rafters and everyone else loved it.

Blocking his own jump. 😂

I really should do the inside joke chair emoji thing for laughing. But I don’t care.

Tiktok is nice. Depends on the side you are on, but it’s nice.

We are doing halfway decent. I’m proud of us.

Wilbur is struggling and I think he might cry.

Not bad. I don’t think.

Power sweater.

This game in MCC has rainbow road vibes

I’ll have to make that it’s own post since I feel that’ll be popular ish.

Holy cow we hit first on the website!! How?

Ranboo sweet one.

They said no peaking to Wilbur.

Wilbur making them block stuff off and the like is so funny.

Run yaks run!

I missed the moment Wilbur just mentioned. Oh well I’m sure I’ll see the clip.

First last first.

Hey 4th overall. Look at em.

Wilbur switching to full screen to show us his M&Ms.

Let me balance my water bottle on the bedpost above my head. No way this could possibly go wrong in multiple ways.

Double coins. Gorgeous.

Chickens are being sniped.

What’s going to work? TEAM WORK!

I don’t think I have ever watched a game of grid runners in my life?

Alright game should start any second because it started on the website.

Alright stream is delayed about 13 seconds.

Go teams go!

Wilbur just sniping targets.

We’re doing ok.

All this dirt.

Go go go

We’re completing things first.

Cake!

Wilbur got in!

Now they eat

Oh but they are falling.

Oh wow the painting is complicated. My friends and I would fail to communicate so fast.

Is this lever thing just find the button but complicated?

Go you got the levers!

Items grab!

My friends and I would seriously struggle unless I was allowed the lead. But I would lead us off a cliff.

Everyone get ready to go in as soon as the cake is done.

Exit! You guys are so close! Please!

Woohoo!

Go Ranboo! Go Scott!

Come on guys. Come on. Good communication.

I think I like watching Wilbur with MCC because he had a similar strategy to what I would do.

Wilbur why did you try to act cool!!!

They keep saying they are miles ahead but not according to that scoreboard.

You placed 3rd. Good job y’all.

I’m excited for bonuses.

They have another minute until the others run out of time.

Good soup.

Oh wow. Ranboo and Wilbur really are always totgehe.

We are doing well. I see the board changing on the website so much.

Where will they land.

Looks like 2nd or 3rd

Fourth overall. Not bad.

Lap time is logical.

Audience vote?

Look at me redownloading twitter.

Can you not see how others have voted on twitter?

Oh there it is. It only showed mine for a sec there.

Battle box looks close. I voted ace race.

Oh it all looks close right now.

Long break my beloved.

I don’t have time to start my laundry but still. My beloved.

Game 5/8 so MCC won’t be too much longer.

I look up and Wilbur is shaking his ass at George. I’m not surprised.

Phil and Sneeg judging Wilbur.

Wilbur twerking on Phil and Sneeg joining.

Poor Phil.

Wilbur just having visited so many random places with so many random words just gathered.

Oh wow parkour tag is low. But so is sands.

Oh wow it was a tie. Between Sands and Parkour

“Wilbur is Sand Daddy” -Scott and then all the agreement noises.

Sands of Time is my favorite practical game

Maybe because Wilbur is really good at it. And Ranboo had been trained by him.

This is just good.

I swear Sand daddy is going to kill me during this.

I am just going to pass away.

My stream delay though.

Wilbur who says he stays very quiet as he makes circus music noises.

Minecraft Rhinos. Because I can’t spell their real name.

I don’t quite understand sand of time. But I like watching. It’s like college football.

I am missing the only college football game I care about for MCC.

Go Team.

No blue yet.

All the mobs.

“You better not die” sung to the tune of Santa clause is coming yo town. -Wilbur

Keep it up guys.

Oh no. They lost the key.

Oh good they found the key.

You can tell Wilbur had a musicians brain. He just hears something vaguely lyrical and starts singing a song.

Gotta promote your band whenever you can I guess.

I listened to the last Ep for like an hour and a half yesterday while I went about my day.

I wonder how we’re doing?

Only a few seconds.

I could warm a heating pad in the amount fo time they have left.

Ranboo doing these puzzles so amazingly.

Quit caring about what others think. Just do your thing.

I swear the sand daddy thing.

I love the cage of shame for not tracking your sand.

I zoned out. Red cyan orange?

We’re almost 15 minutes into sands.

I want to play Minecraft on my iPad right now.

Wait the website updated. We were 6th?

Yikes. I thought they did better.

3rd overall though!

Wait what was that about most influential improv thingy? Good for them.

Build mart!

Oh Ace Race. Wilbur calling Ace Race his girlfriend now.

I want to see the enemies to lovers fan fictions of Ace race and Wilbur.

Oh wait I can do that. I can verbally tell one like I have others in the past.

I’m excited to watch this.

Wilbur flirt with the race.

I’m not mentally prepared for this.

Everyone just joined because they don’t want to miss Wilbur x Ace Race.

Oh no. He’s not doing so well.

Oh Wilbur is giving us more.

Complicated history…

Whispering to Ace Race and Solidarity.

You’ve got it Wilbur.

Keep on talking. Keep your brain busy while you play.

Mommmm Wilbur is flirting with Ace Race again!

He’s whispering though so I can’t quite hear it and will have to find a clip channel that added subtitles.

Oh teams are changing on the website.

“What are you doing in my women Philza?” -Wilbur

“I will end your bloodline which is canonically also me.” -Wilbur

I can not track all the quotes from this. That’s beyond my abilities.

Wilbur did halfway decent, but it still uncomfortable.

Ace Race is a person now. Also the fact that Wilbur compliments Ace Race so much.

Sally v. Ace Race.

I want to find that fanart now.

Scott honey. Confirmed cannon is everyone fancies the fish.

4th. Not bad.

We’re still talking Ace Race x Wilbur

Build mart! My dearest buildmart!

I miss them sliding around in the sleds.

Grab da flowers!

We’re in 1st at the minute.

Come on yaks!

No coyotes!

Hurry hurry hurry.

Work discord going it’s thing again.

Oh we’re dropping fast.

Move the redstone! Thank you

Alright back on top. Keep it up.

Nevermind.

I love the way the build spaces for the different teams work.

Who is the person on the build?

Oh first again? Nevermind.

Oh we popped up to second. We’re so behind. Come on.

Duck!

Good soup energy. Now all I can think is the bi wide energy song.

Time is running out.

Yeah we aren’t catching up to first. Just hold second.

Where is granite?

Game over.

Third overall now. Not bad. Last game time they can possibly pull it into dodge bolt.

I need to go get a picture with the President of the university for a game with my work.

Good Soup.

I’m sitting here making popcat noises while waiting.

Game time! Go team! Survive!

Wait where did the steamer go? I wasn’t paying attention.

He’s back.

He’s swearing for his points on the swearing list.

Is pee a soup? No. I don’t think it’s think enough under normal circumstances.

Karl is apparently swearing according to Twitter. Good for him. He deserves to swear some as a treat.

Everyone running and leaving shubble.

Oh good they are all together.

Just keep running.

4th so far.

Cars. Beep beep.

Ranboo breath child.

Calling Wilbur like some kind of golden retriever.

Bow boy

Scott is leader now. Because otherwise they are arguing.

We are playing the don’t die strategy.

Come on team.

Did I put my cut in this post? I did.

Ranboo having stolen the airdrop. And he has a thing!

Oh the boarder is right behind them.

They are fighting Dream?

Nice Will.

We’re in fourth.

Boarder is right there.

Sapnap? Nope.

Pink attack and they book it.

Oh no. There goes Wilbur.

Is it just Scott?

Scott vs the world.

Just Organe and pink. They came third.

GO ORANGE!

Please. Please let us do it.

Overall third. Pink overtook yellow.

Sadness.

Ranboo has achieved: Found Hated Game

Ranboo has been hit by Survival games so many times now.

If they had just lasted a tiny bit longer they would have come second.

Cheering Orange I suppose.

I have no skill at picking winner POVs.

I have 3 teams I was at least kinda watching. And none of them are in dodgebolt.

Gosh can hear Ranboo tweaking.

Wow. Yellow yaks just as a team twerking.

What is Wilbur chewing on? Wilbur don’t chew on things that probably aren’t meant to be chewed on.

I can hear the band outside of my window. I think my campuses football game is starting.

The drum line practiced outside my window all the beginning of the semester so it’s fun seeing them march to the stadium.

Oh and there are the cheerleaders.

Oh right I was watching MCC! Who’s winning?

Come on Orange. So close.

Wait I looked out my window. Why is the band walking back to where they were?

Along the sidewalk?

I thought it was game time for a minute.

Oh dodgebolt could go either way.

Distracted by Jesus.

Grian! You got this!

Nice Grian.

Oh Grian has a chance!

Oh!

It’s so close!

Ooo ooo!

I’m so invested.

I SEE THE CONFETTI IN THE SITE! But I don’t want to miss the shot.

Come on Grian.

I know you do it. But you’ve got this

YESSSSS

Woo hoo!!

That was a good MCC. Now to do the chores and homework I originally planned to do today.

That was a nice stream.

Scott is separating Ranboo and Wilbur?

Please. Scott.

Don’t separate the beings.

You know. Twitter needs to politely bully Scott into keeping Ranboo and Will together.

Oop and that’s Wilbur done. That was fun.

See y’all next time!

#mcc #wilbur soot #ranboo #Scott #dangthatsalongname #shubble #yellow yaks #delayed liveblogging

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dragonfiremage · 5 years ago

Text

Destiny - Chapter Two

Author’s Note: First off, thank you so much for the wonderful likes, reblogs, and interest in this story. I honestly didn’t think much of it when I wrote this and published it on Tumblr. This was just in head bothering me and I needed to write it down. So I’m glad some of you are enjoying it!

Some of you have asked to be in a taglist, and to be honest, I really don’t know how to make one? LOL I stopped using Tumblr like five years ago and this is kinda new to me again so if you’re interested in a taglist and can message me on how to create one, please do so!

Again, please let me know what you think. I tried editing this as best as I could so if you see anything off, please let me know :)

Enjoy! <3 <3

[Previous - Chapter One]

[Next - Chapter Three]

Chapter Preview:

Sneering, you whisper lowly, "Don't you dare use your fire on me."

Zuko eyes were fixed on the horizon, his hold on the ostrich horse's reins tighten slightly as he could feel his Uncle start to lean toward one side, a tell-tale sign that he was starting to drift asleep.They've been traveling all day, making their way towards the Misty Palms Oasis, but the sudden attack from the Rough Rhinos had set them back a couple of hours.

As the continued on their trek, Zuko started to wonder why they were going to the Misty Palms Oasis in the first place, but his Uncle had insisted. When pressing him further, all he got was some meaningless metaphor, that he was pretty sure that his Uncle made up on the spot, and some tea advice.

The skies were starting to darken, the temperature cooling down significantly as well. Zuko looked above him at the vast expanse of the sky, the stars starting to twinkle even more.

Zuko grunts in reply, nodding his head towards a village ahead before urgijg the ostrich horse to pick up some speed. “No - I think we still have a day and half’s worth of journey by the looks of it. We need to set up camp and get some more food.”

Scanning the horizon once again, Zuko's gaze lands on some twinkling lights from a nearby village and he nudges his Uncle awake. Iroh jerks suddenly and clears his throat as if to cover the fact he was snoring just a second ago.

“Are we at the Misty Palms already?” Iroh asks.

Iroh perked up at the idea of food. “Food sounds delicious right now. I could really go for some tea right now too. And music!"

Zuko grumbled, Ugh, what now? I just want some peace and quiet. Why is it never JUST peace and quiet...

Zuko nodded in agreement. They’ve been traveling all day under the hot sun and some needed refreshments to cool off sounded nice. The thought of an actual bed and some real food had him urging the ostrich horse to go faster. He was tired of scavenging desert critters for food. As they got closer to the village, both Zuko and Iroh were surprised to see a crowd of people entering the village. The sound of music and cheers also started to become louder.

They tie up their ostrich horse at nearby barn where they paid for extra feed for the poor ostrich horse. As soon as the animal was in the barn, it collapsed out of exhaustion and Zuko was glad that he could at least give the poor beast some rest. He hesitated...Did he just get sentimental over an ostrich horse?

“Come on, Zuko. There seems to be an event going on in the village. From what I smell, there seems to be lots of tasty food as well.” Iroh wore a warm smile on his face as he rubbed his round belly in hunger. Zuko’s own stomach grumbled as if on cue, and he placed a hand over it. He looks at his uncle with a sharp nod.

“Ok, uncle. But we should also find a place to stay for the night.”

A group of kids ran past him, making him stumble towards a vendor who was selling hats. “Hey watch it! You’re going to flatten my them!”

Iroh nods and turns to the village entrance where Zuko could see kids and other villagers happily run around. As they walk through the market, the sights of roasted pig chickens, roasted ducks, and much to Zuko’s disgust, roasted scorpions and beetles were also everywhere. He looked warily at the roasted critters and shivered in disgust. His Uncle, however, was happily munching away on anything he could put his hands on. The music was lively and it made Zuko almost miss home - the festivals that he used to go to, the markets that he and his Mom would visit…

“Sorry..”

The vendor glares at Zuko and shakes his head, pointing at the kids that had just ran past, “The event must be starting soon.”

The vendor’s glare deepened, if that was possible. He waved a hat at their faces, “You guys foreigners or somethin’? This event is FAMOUS around these parts. Fighters from neighboring villagers train all year for this. On the second Tuesday of every month during this time of the year, these fighters go head to head at a chance to win the winning pot. Only catch is…no bending! It makes it more of even playing field, if you will. It's what we call entertainment around here. Tonight is the preliminaries so there should be lots of entertainment!”

Zuko raises a curious brow. That definitely piqued his Uncle's interest. “Event?”

Zuko nods and thanks the vendor. Iroh looks at Zuko with excitement, his hands up in a fighting stance. “We should watch a couple of matches while we’re here, nephew. Participating in other cultures opens your mind to new opportunities and learnings!”

Zuko couldn’t help but chuckle. "Let's go and watch then. But only a couple!... since we need to find a place tonight if we want to leave early tomorrow."

Iroh nods in response, a gleeful expression on his face as he points at a crowd going to a large tent just outside of the market.

Zuko would never admit it to his Uncle, but he was actually excited. It would be good to watch some entertainment. It would be a nice change of pace - traveling all day and all night, seeing nothing but sky and sand was becoming mundane. There had been already countless nights where he would just stare up at the night sky and watch the stars for entertainment. Watching sweaty people beat up each other sounded entertaining.

The first few matches were boring, much to Zuko’s disappointment. It was either a quick match where one of the fighters would just overpower the other in strength or size, or it would drag on until the one of them collapsed in exhaustion. He thought about how easily he could defeat these any of these fighters with swing of fire bending, but then remembered that it wasn’t allowed. He grunted and crossed his arms, he thought this was going to be more exciting but all he was doing was sitting with a bunch of sweaty men who had been working under the hot sun all day.

“Let’s go.”

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

The lights dimmed and the crowded began to murmur in excitement. Zuko looks around, curious at the added drama effects.

“Alright folks! This should be a good one. Introducing…your last year’s champion - the Blue Dragon!”

The lights dimmed and the crowded began to murmur in excitement. Zuko looks around, curious at the added drama effects.

From one end of the ring, a figure appeared and walked up to the stage, a blue dragon mask covering the fighter’s face. When the figure came into view, the crowd went wild. There were hoots and whistles all around the crowd, while others clapped.

“And the formidable opponent - the Striking Scorpion!”

The crowd becomes even wilder. Zuko sees more commotion at the front and notices people doubling their bets with coins. A crowd of women at the front all swooned and fanned themselves as the Striking Scorpio flexed his arms to them, his white shirt straining against the muscles. Zuko rolls his eyes and looks over at the other fighter again, who was a lot calmer and stiller than the opponent.

“I guess he’s the fan favorite?” Iroh whispers to Zuko who just nods in agreement. Zuko became more intrigued, this was the first fighter who wore a mask on stage and he wondered why. He strained his neck to get a good look at the him, but was completely blocked when the announcer brought out the next fighter which brought more people to their feet.

“Wait…she’s the reining champion!? How in the hog monkeys is she going to win? The Striking Scorpion’s biceps is twice as big as her head! She has no chance.” The men in front of him shook their heads while they expressed their disbelief, continuing to dismiss the Blue Dragon.

Zuko’s eyes snapped back to look at the fighter. Wait...She?! How did he miss that?

Under the twinkling lets of the tent, he could faintly see her but he could definitely tell that the Blue Dragon was girl. Zuko pursed his lips. Even though she was the champion, she was a lot smaller than the Scorpion. Though if Zuko knew anything, it was to never underestimate your opponent. After all, he did get beat by the young Avatar.

Suddenly, he was very interested in watching this match, his back stiffer as he sat back down. He looked over at Iroh who appeared to be swooning a lady to his right who was laughing and nodding at everything he was saying. His uncle can be such a ladies man.

Zuko shook his head in exasperation and took a bite from his roasted pig chicken skewer, his gaze going back to the stage as the two fighters took their position as they stood on opposite sides of the ring.

The two fighters faced each other, the Blue Dragon bowing in respect before going into a fighting stance. Immediately, Zuko takes note of the her stance. It was very similar to stance for fire-bending. The squared shoulders, strong footing. Zuko’s eyes narrow even more as he wonders if this fighter was a fire-bender.

Interesting.

The bell goes off and the Scorpion wastes no time by leaping high into the air with his arm drawn back, using his weight and gravity to land a hard hitting punch down to the ground where the Blue Dragon stood. Immediately, the fighters were surrounded by smoke and debris, not clear to the crowd if the Scorpion had indeed landed his punch.

"Told ya the Blue Dragon didn't stand a chance!” The men in front of Zuko chortled with amusement as his friend smacks his own forehead in defeat.

"Yay the Scorpion!!” Suddenly someone in the crowd yelled in victory and then the crowd erupted with cheers. It soon faded, however, when the dust settled, and crowd gasps in disbelief when they realize there was nothing there. Zuko’s brows raise in question. The Blue Dragon wasn’t there! Not even a body laid on the ground, unconscious.

The Scorpion ignores it and continues to shake his hands together in victory before flexing for the crowd of women at the front who all swooned. The crowd became surprisingly quiet, murmuring to each other about the Blue Dragon’s short demise.

The crowd gasps again and points towards the corner edge of the ring. She had managed to avoid the punch altogether and was now just sitting on the ring's outer railing as if she had been there the whole time.

"You're slow for someone who's supposed to be striking."

Zuko choked on his piece of roasted pig chicken meat. How did she escape that?

“What in the hogmonkeys?!" The scorpion screeches. "Nobody avoids the Striking Scorpion!” The opponent ran towards the Blue Dragon as she took her stance again and when Striking Scorpion lunged forward, this time the Blue Dragon didn’t avoid it but remained rooted in her spot. When he got near, she shifted her foot to the left and she evaded his right hook. She dropped low and delivered an uppercut to the scorpion's ribcage.

It must have been some punch because now the scorpion was stumbling back and heaving, as if out of breath. He snarled at her, frustrated, and lunged at her again, his arm extending to deliver a punch. She ducked under his arm, grabbing it before spinning to get behind him and pinning his arm to his back. She used her momentum and her weight to let fall forward, bringing the Scorpion down as he lands face first onto the ground with one hand pinned behind him.

The Scorpion groaned and yelped, trying to strike at her while pinned. He swung his free arm around, trying to grab at her and she was straining to hold him back properly. He managed to grab her arm and tugged, throwing her off a balance and making her roll forward.

The Blue Dragon took an offensive and lunged forward. Before the Scorpion could even stand on both feet, an uppercut to his jaw sent him stumbling backwards and the crowd cheers.

The Scorpion growls, fuming at her. With renewed strength, he ran forward again, but this time, he seemed more tactical now that he realized that his opponent was playing smart. The Scorpion threw a right hook like last time, and just as he expected, the Blue Dragon shifted her weight so as to shuffle to the left, but the Scorpion quickly readjusted and swings his arm for a right hook.

The Scorpion snarls at her. “You! No one gets to push me to ground."

The crowd gasps as his fist lands across the cheek and she stumbled backwards, fall to one knee. The impact caused a crack on her mask and the Scorpion grins toothily.

She barely had time to roll from her kneeling position to move before he was lunging at her again. She rolled to the side, evading a kick and flipping back to avoid another kick. It was like for few seconds - the Scorpion would continue to deliver blow after blow while the Blue Dragon continued to evade it. Zuko could feel the end of the match coming. One wrong footing, one miscalculation, and she could be off the ring.

"Let's take a look at behind the mask!"

Before she could flip out of the way again however, the Scorpion managed to grab hold of her foot and pulled hard. She stumbled forward right into another hook. Zuko grimaced when he heard the contact, but gasped when the crack on the mask deepened until it cracked all the way and split. The pieces falling to the ground with a clack.

Zuko's eyes travels from the blue mask on the ground and then upwards, finally getting a look at the Blue Dragon’s face. And when he did, his eyes widens. A pair of amber eyes, just like his, gleamed under the lights of the tent. Those eyes…they were so familiar. He shook from his stupor. That was stupid. Just because she has eyes like his doesn't mean she was from fire nation or that he knew her.

The crowd goes silent.

But it was the slight curl of your lips and the small dimple on the right cheek that had him go rigid next to Iroh. An image of a young servant girl grinning over a fruit pastry covered in flour flashes behind his eyes and he blinks back.

His Uncle must felt his change because Iroh whispers, “Is everything ok?"

Zuko shakes his head. It couldn't be. "She look familiar to you Uncle?"

Iroh's gaze move from him to the now unmasked fighter. He strokes his beard, deep in thought. "Hmmm…she looks like a regular fighter to me!" Iroh laughs after some thought, but paused. "Though, her stance and movement is very similar to a fire bender. That might just be a coincidence, no?"

Zuko's eyes narrows, he could tell Iroh knew something by the slight twinkle in his uncle’s eyes before dismissing it as a trick of light and returns his gaze back to the fighter. The prince couldn’t shake off this feeling though, like he knew her. It didn’t add up though, why would you be in the Earth Kingdom? The last time he heard of you, you were sent off to another palace to serve a high ranking general. He crossed his arms, deep in thought.

He sees your grit your teeth, snarling at the Scorpion who was laughing and lapping up all the cheers from the crowd.

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

No, no, no, noooo! My mask...

The Scorpion was starting to make you mad. That mask took weeks to put together! "That was my favorite mask, you bozo! And now, you're going to pay."

You run towards the Scorpion, and at the last second, you duck and spin to the right to avoid his jab and you deliver a blow right under his left ribcage, mirroring the one you delivered earlier.

The Scorpion huffs and gasps for air. He barely had time to avoid a kick before he scrambled away from your quick advances.

Your opponent took a misstep as he stumbled backwards, giving you the opportunity to shuffle to your right and swing your arm for a right hook. You manage to connect your fist to his jaw as falls backwards at the impact, falling to the floor with a groan. Smirking at your small victory, and as you scan the crowd, your eyes connect to pair of amber eyes like your own, his left eye surrounded by a scar. His eyes seem to shine under the lights and it roots you to your spot. The noise of the crowd disappears and it feels like your breath is stuck in your throat.

It was him.

No one else has amber eyes that fierce with a scar like that. You knew of only one person who fit that description.

Zuko.

You couldn’t rip your eyes away from his, the sound of the crowd fading as you stood frozen on the ring as you stared at each other. Zuko had grown a lot from the young boy you used to know. His looks had matured and the scowl in his face was enough to tell you that things have definitely changed. But you couldn’t see passed the boy prince you used to know...the innocence in his eyes, the carefree way he would laugh. But this wasn’t him. He was different.

The Scorpion uses your hesitance to lunge forward again, swinging for a right hook. It catches you off guard and you react too late. You could see Zuko’s eyes widen right before you saw stars. The hit makes you stumble backwards, the sound of the crowd coming back as as you taste the familiar copper tang coating your mouth.

No more distractions.

Wiping the blood that dribbled down your chin with the back of your hand, you narrowed your eyes at the Scorpion who was grinning smugly.

You both lunge at each other at the same time, and at the last second, you notice that his cloth belt had become loose sometime during the fine. A smirk tugged at your lips and with a shuffle to the left and a duck to miss a swing, you did a quick maneuver with his belt and you were able to pull it free from its loops. You grabbed his wrists and spun to move behind him, tying his wrists together and pushing him forward towards the edge of the ring, letting gravity do the rest of the work.

Without the Scorpion’s belt holding up his pants, it dropped to his ankles, and with his momentum pulling him forward, he steps on his on one of his loose pant leg and trips. Unable to steady himself without the aid of his hands, the Scorpion tumbles straight over the ring’s edge and falls over, disqualified.

You smirk as the crowd erupts in laughter and cheers, some coins being thrown your way. You pick up your broken mask on the way down the steps, but not before catching his eyes again.

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

It had to be you. When their eyes met briefly, it was as if Zuko was transported back to when he first met you - in the kitchens with you covered in flour. You still had that annoying sideways grin that you had when you were both younger, framed by the small dimple on your right cheek.

And now, Zuko was unable to tear his eyes away from you. He reels back at the stark contrast between that eight year old servant girl that he used to know and the girl he sees in the arena. Here you were now, standing your ground against a man twice as big as you.

He knew that you knew that it was him. The stare down made it obvious…otherwise, you wouldn’t have hesitated like that and moved out of the way before getting punched in the face. He actually felt bad for that.

But the way you quickly out-maneuvered the Scorpion, using nothing but a cloth belt and momentum to win the fight made him oddly proud, the feeling swelling in his chest. You were a fighter, that much he could tell.

But question started racing through his mind.

Why were you here? Why were you fighting? Did you leave the Fire Nation on your own? What happened to your family?

“You look deep in thought, nephew.”

Iroh’s low voice cut through Zuko’s brooding. Zuko sighed before replying, “I…I can’t be sure, but I think that fighter - the Blue Dragon - I think I know her. Her mother used to be my mother’s right hand maid so I would see her at the palace from time to time. But..I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since I was eight...”

He looked over at his uncle who watched as you leave the arena. “I remember your friend. I remember meeting a sweet little servant girl before I left for Ba Sing Se. She invited us for her tea party, if I remember correctly. Why don’t we stop by after and say hello?"

Zuko looks over at the arena again, just as you leave the main stage and enter a separate tent that he assumed to house all the fighters. The rest of the night was dull compared to your fight, and especially since Zuko couldn’t sit still. His thought kept going over his childhood memories, straining to remember anything he might have missed that would indicate why you were here.

Did you defect and become an enemy of the Fire Nation? Or did you just abandon your home to live here?

Or maybe you just...vacationing here…? Zuko shook his head, that would just be ridiculous.

Whatever it was, he was going to find out.

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

Tonight’s matches were finally over and you sigh with relief at the the thought of finally going home and getting some rest. Your stomach grumbles loudly and you silently hope to the Spirits that a few vendors were still open. Some meat skewers sounded amazing right now.

As you start to unravel your wraps, you glance up just as the Scorpion enters the tent and make eye contact with you before glaring and grumbling as he walk away, embarrassed at being bested by a belt.

As you unravel the cloth, you could already start to feel the soreness already and you already started seeing the bruises blooming over parts of your wrists and all over your knuckles. A nice warm bath would do wonders right -

"(Yn)!"

Just as you were finishing unraveling the last bit of cloth, you hear your name, your real name, and you stiffen. Feigning deafness you continue to haphazardly unravel the cloth, your gaze to the floor. If you don’t see him, he doesn’t see you, you amusedly thought.

A shadow looms behind you and, with a defeated sigh, you turn with an irritated tick on your brow. It took all your willpower not to squeal when you realize how much closer Zuko actually was to you. His stare was intense, holding so much heat that your couldn't help but turn away.

You shrugs nonchalantly and turning back to your wraps as you removed the rest before proceeding to stuff it down your small bag. “I think you got the wrong person. My name isn’t (YN).”

“What’s your name then?” Zuko asks, quickly losing his patience. He felt anger bubbling inside him, getting hotter and hotter as each second passed. He knew you were lying.

Zuko releases a low growl, now even more impatient and angry. His eyes narrowing dangerously as he start to feel the familiar heat in his palm igniting slightly. "Answer my question!"

You pack the rest of your stuff away in a small bag before swinging it over your shoulders. You reply curtly, "I will if you ask me nicely."

A defeated sigh came that didn’t come from Zuko catches your attention as you turn and look past the fuming Prince to see a familiar face. Your glare morphs into a puzzled look before a smile breaking across your face.

"Iroh?"

Zuko turns to his uncle, confused. He forgot you knew his uncle, it’s been so long. Zuko's eyes flits between you and his Uncle squinted at you before his eyes widen with recognition as a smile tugs at his Uncle’s mouth.

"(Yn)! " You walk pass by Zuko, completely disregarding him and wrap your arms around the former general, who just laughs warmly and pats your back. He moves away to take a better look at you, “It’s been so long. You’ve gotten so big! And, dare I say, more beautiful than I remember?”

You laugh, the carefree sound has Zuko’s chest tightening.

Zuko’s rant was cut short when you lean over and flick his forehead, the impact causing a slight sting that makes Zuko hiss. "Can you stop acting like a brat? I said if you asked nicely I would give you my name. But you don't get to talk to me like that and expect something from me."

But as Iroh and you continued to catch up, Zuko’s anger bubbles over and he lets out a angry huff, crossing his arms across his chest. He was close to hitting his head on the wall out of frustration. “You know, you could just have just that was your name instead of ignoring my question. How dare you ignore -"

“So what brings you guys to the middle of nowhere?” You move towards the tent’s exit, Iroh falling in step to your right as Zuko glared at both of your backs, both of you continuing to ignore him as if he wasn’t there. He could feel the anger stirring inside him and he took several deep breaths to calm down.

Glaring, you look back at Iroh who has an amused smile on his face. His gentle demeanor calms you a little, especially with Zuko’s temper flaring wildly.

Begrudgingly, Zuko followed the two of you out of the tent where you and Iroh were still deep in conversation as you head walk towards the direction of the market. “We are on our way to the Misty Palms Oasis. I think I know someone there who can help us with our journey.”

Zuko immediately quieted, Iroh never mentioned that to him before. Why did he say that now, especially in front of you?

Nodding your head, “That’s at least another day’s worth of journey. I hope you get some good food and ample rest tonight.”

Iroh nudges your arm gently and your attention returns back to him. “Which reminds me… (YN), what are you doing in the middle of nowhere?”

You glance behind you, your eyes meeting Zuko’s briefly and he feels his heart jump slightly and he immediately hates the feeling which only adds to his scowl.

Zuko perks up, noting the slight falter in your steps and the way your back stiffens for a brief second. He narrowed his eyes. Were you hiding something?

Instead of directly answering Iroh, however, you pause mid-step, and turn to face them both. With a strained smile, you offer, “If you guys don’t have a place to stay for the night, my place is just down the street. It’s a bit small, but there should be enough room for all of us. I can make us some food? I’m starving..”

Iroh smiles warmly at you before turning to address Zuko. “I’m sure we don’t mind, right nephew?”

Before Zuko could interject and point out the obvious way you deflected his Uncle’s question, you dug into your small bag, smiling when you find what you were looking for. It’s been so long since you've seen Iroh and the last time you saw him, he taught you how to play his favorite game.

You opened your palm out to Iroh, whose brows rose with surprise. There in the middle of your palm was a small, wooden Lotus tile. “And then perhaps, after dinner, we can play some Pai Sho?”

Iroh laughs, his hand on his belly. "Let's see if you've gotten any better since the last time we played.”

You know Pai Sho? …’Since the last time’ what did that mean?! Was Iroh hiding something from him? Zuko looks back and forth between you and Iroh, confused before throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Hold up. I don’t see you or hear from you for over five years and we're all going to pretend that everything’s ok and that we’re all friends?! Why does it seem like you guys are hiding something from me? Nothing is making sense and both of you are just ignoring me!” Zuko’s eyes flash, his jaw clenching when he saw his uncle look at him with exasperation, eyes pleading him to calm down.

You sharply turn to face Zuko, your eyes narrowing and, immediately, Zuko shrinks back under your gaze. “You need to keep your anger in check. You’re being utterly insufferable right now, and I can’t deal with it. Either calm down or take a walk.”

Behind you, Iroh tries to keep his amusement down. No one had every stood up to Zuko the way you just did. Everyone else was just too afraid to make his nephew more hot angry so they usually just give in to whatever request he has, but you had met him straight on without even flinching. This should get interesting.

Calm down?!

Zuko growled - that was the last straw! He's had enough of being treated this way, his anger finally simmering over. How dare you treat him like that?! You have some nerve to talk down to the prince and for this, you needed to taught a lesson in showing respect. He felt the heat in his body rise as licks of flame started to come alive in his palm.

“Agh! I’ve had enough of you!” Zuko draws his hand outward his hand, his palm open and ready to shoot a ball of fire. But right as he felt the fire ignite from the palm of his hand, you lunge forward and enclose your hand tightly over his. You felt the heat radiate from his palm, his fire mingling with yours as you cover his hand to smother it. Zuko's fire extinguishes almost immediately and instead, a cloud of smoke seeped through your clasped hands.

You moved too fast for him to react and, as Zuko blinks back in surprise, just now realizing how close you were to him. He was close enough able trace to your features more thoroughly with his eyes and feel your warmth radiate off of you. He stares down at you, your amber eyes meeting his with the same fervor.

Sneering, you whisper lowly, "Don't you dare use your fire on me."

Zuko's eyes widen at your icy tone, it was enough make a shiver go down his spine. Gone were the days of the pastry-loving, flour covered girl that he used to imagine you as and instead, the image of you standing defiantly in front of him with enough boldness to go toe-to-toe against him replaced it.

Finally realizing that you had just snuffed out his fire with your own hand, Zuko stutterers in disbelief, “Y-you're a fire bender?!"

You roll your eyes in response, releasing his hand and ignoring the shock feeling in your fingertips as it brushes against his rough palm. You mumble a reply, avoiding his stare. “Yes. I learned that I could fire bend when I was ten."

Picking up your bag from the ground, you brush off some of the excess sand and swung the bag around your shoulders. As you walk pass Iroh, who was smiling innocently as if nothing had just happened, you glance over your shoulder and meet Zuko’s heated gaze. “You coming or what? You can sleep with the desert critters for all I care.”

Iroh’s smile wavers slightly when he sees Zuko’s scowl. Iroh places arms across his stomach and with an incline of his head, he calls his nephew over. “Come on Zuko.”

Zuko releases a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding, a low headache starting to bloom around his temples. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he takes several deep breaths of air and recounts the last few minutes. Your fire bending surprised him, but now he understands that some of your boldness might have come from the fact you were able to learn fire bending. After all, he was taught that anger and passion was the source of energy for fire bending.

As he watches you converse with his uncle with such ease, Zuko realizes he has more questions now than he started with, and they need to be answered.

@cirtruss

#avatar: the last airbender #zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #atla zuko x reader #destinydragonfiremage

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alrunemara · 4 years ago

Text

Perpendicular

Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/vivid imagery— reader discretion is advised.All characters & Ikemen Sengoku owned by Cybird Description: Kyubei and MC (You!) finally find a way to each other. This was inspired by a beautiful work of art done by my most sweet friend Rui. Her Tumblr can be found here: Work By Rui Art links are under the cut:

The art that spoke to me is here: My Favorite Vassal And the NSFW version is here: Holy Cats

Part 1: Parallel

Only one more day of traveling and they would be back in Azuchi. They had shared stories, laughter and comfortable silence. He looked down at the woman who now napped, her head gently upon his chest. Sleeping without a care in the world. He knew there was another inn they would happen upon soon, and he decided that now was as good time as any to stop so he could get some rest before the final stretch to get home. He pulled on the reins to stop the horse in front of the doors of the inn and looked down at MC. “My lady? I hate to wake you, but we must stop for awhile.”

Sleepy eyes fluttered open from the woman before abruptly sitting up. She blinked and took in the unfamiliar surroundings. “I guess I fell asleep. Are we very close to home?”

His soft smile and quiet voice affirmed that they were close, but that both the horse and he needed to rest after being on the path for hours. The door to the inn slid open and a youthful boy bounded out. After introductions, Kyubei helped MC off the horse, and handed the reins over to have the horse taken care of while the pair went inside. “I only have one room left,” the innkeeper said, bowing apologetically.

“That’s fine. We’ll take it,” brazenly the HC haired woman spoke before she innocently looked up at the man who was stunned into silence.

Handing over coin, the pair followed the innkeeper to a room in the middle of the inn. “My lady, if you’ll allow me to check everything out first please.” He slid the door open and stepped inside to do a thorough check of the room. Satisfied, he drew back the door and gestured to HC. “It’s safe Princess.”

She stepped into the room and looked around and noted that the bedding was folded in the corner. MC crossed the room and picked it up when a knock interrupted the quiet. The innkeeper announced she had brought tea, as Kyubei opened the door to humbly accept the tray, MC set out the bedding.

“Oh let me please!” MC sat across the dark-haired man as he set the tray down. She gracefully poured him a cup and handed it to him before serving herself. “It’s the least I can do for you.” The refreshing liquid warmed her, and she closed her eyes, savoring the taste. “Princess, I take it you like the tea?” Her face blushed pink as EC orbs flew open and Kyubei’s met hers with a smile. MC put her cup down and gestured to the futon, “Yes. I want you to go ahead and sleep. I’ve had a nap, so I’m not even tired. There’s still light out, so I’ll probably read one of the books I see in the corner over there. I can wake you when dinner is served.”

“Oh but my lady, I really shouldn’t-“

“You should and you will. You’re exhausted. I promise I won’t leave this room while you are here. Think of it as me guarding you as you sleep for once.”

He eyed her carefully, not wanting to put her in the position of having to guard him. It was such a foreign concept: someone looking out for him, especially since he was so used to being the one doing the protecting. But they did stop so he could rest, and his body was begging him to do so. Slowly, he nodded his head. “Alright, my lady. But I am going to keep my sword at my side just in case.”

He didn’t undress, nor did he lay on the futon, but beside it. Understandably she was confused and looked at him as she held one of the books in her hand. “I want you to be able to rest comfortably on a clean futon tonight, Princess. I will be fine here.” He turned over and slept then, his sword perched next to his frame. MC took the book and silently crossed the room to be closer to the light.

There she stayed, lost in the book and to time, when a very soft knock came to the door, startling her from her page. Silently, she crossed the room, slid the door open and accepted the tray. After the door shut behind her, she set it down and looked over the simple meal. She looked to the Kyubei, who had stirred out of his slumber and sat up. “Princess?”

“Behind you, Kyubei. Come eat.” MC poured the fresh tea into a cup and offered it to him, and then poured her own. They ate in silence, a comfort to them both, occasionally catching each other’s eyes, with MC blushing and looking to her bowl of rice. Night fell, and she looked at the futon, suddenly self-conscious of the situation. Sensing her apprehensiveness, Kyubei excused himself to do a check of the perimeter of the inn. MC knew he partly did this as a courtesy to her. Dressing down to her yukata, she slipped under the blanket and pulled it to her chin. The silence was deafening. She was uncomfortable being alone when she was always comfortable before. What is this? She wondered. Was it because of this instance of him having to accompany her to the festival? Or was it the number of times she shared in his company? She wasn’t sure. She only knew the room was smaller and dimmer without him in it.

Her thoughts led to when she watched him sleep earlier. Her eyes peeked over the book, and saw his hair gathered over his neck, spilling onto the floor. She wanted to comb her fingers through the dark locks. To caress his cheek. To run her fingers down his chest. Tempting thoughts sent signals tingling through her body, and her hands sought to grab onto a breast while the other parted her yukata to push against the sensitivity of her pearl. A gasp and a moan lifted from her lips, and she drew her thighs tight to attempt to stave off the want of pleasure. Yet she could not hold herself back as she pushed and rubbed her finger lightly over herself, exhaling, while the blanket rubbed along her skin

The shoji slid open, and inside stepped Kyubei. As the screen shut, he watched the lady, tucked into the futon, move her legs slowly, the blanket crawling with the outline of her. He needed to leave. He was interrupting. He turned-

“Kyubei,” her breathy voice broke the air. “Please, I need… you.”

His head swiveled, and his eyes caught hers. The desperation written on her face and the hand reaching out to him was all he needed. This woman he fantasized about called out to him. Mesmerized, he reached out and took her hand, pulling her to sit up. He brought his large hands tenderly to her face. He studied her, his thumbs running over the smoothness of her cheeks. He leaned towards her and touched his lips to hers. Gentle, yet urgently, he touched his tongue between her lips, coaxing them to open for him. MC obliged Kyubei, a moan muffled by their kiss.

She pulled away first. Reflections of him swam in her pools of vision. She brought her hand up to his hair and paused. Boldly, she slowly weaved her fingers into the darkness of it, her eyes flitting from his and to her hand while his finger trailed along her jawline. Pausing, he took her chin in his hand tilting her head toward him. "I apologize my dear lady, but I could not help myself." Eyes glazed over with lust, she gave no answer, instead taking his hand into hers kissing along his fingers and gently wrapping her tongue around one and brought it into her mouth. The erotic act made him hiss. MC smiled to hear his satisfaction.

Slipping his finger from her tongue, his warm hand took ahold of the back of her head and tilted it, while the other tugged on the lady’s yukata to bear her shoulder. His warm lips tenderly kissed just under her earlobe and down to linger on her collarbone, sending an uncontrollable shiver down her spine. “Ah!”

She hungrily pulled at his haori. Kyubei pulled back with a chuckle and swiftly removed the clothing that constrained him. He has the smile of a thousand suns, MC thought as she delicately traced her fingers along the hardened muscles of his torso. She felt the sensation of her yukata’s sash being untied. The rough pads of his fingers traced the ivory cream of her shoulders and down her arms, the yukata slipping off.

He took the time to look at her. Disrobed, she gleamed in the light of the lantern. He felt the shiver of her frame when his hand weaved down her chest. Featherlight touches of both hands traced the outlines of her breasts, rolling over each pink peak. Kyubei felt her body jerk towards him. He looked at her face, cheeks hot, half lidded eyes with want, and her mouth. Pouty and begging.

His lips, soft as petals, kissed the silk of her skin. His tongue found solace and he suckled her. Purring from the sensation, she tangled her hands into his hair, passionately holding him close. His arms enveloped her; warm, strong, and just as needy. His fingers caught the other bud of her bosom, gently pinching it before capturing it in between his teeth. MC threw her head back, hissing a curse under her breath. She felt him smile against her.

Arms released from around her suddenly and his hands met with each side of her face. He moved her head so she faced him. “My lady MC? Is this something you want? Are you certain?” He had to see the answer on her face, hear it from her lips. He watched her nod and heard her whisper. “Yes.” He kissed her slowly and drew her tongue out of hiding to engage him.

MC felt strong arms around her once more, this time, slowly lowering her to the futon, her HC hair splaying across the futon, spilling onto the tatami mat. She looked up to see him hovering over her. A hand reached up and untied his hair, allowing a dark waterfall to shield their faces from the rest of the world. The lady traced her fingers over his collarbone to his shoulders. Were they always this broad? She tenderly touched where his skin held scars. She felt his hand snake down her body, caressing her in a slow, agonizing manner. His knee shifted between her legs, his fingers teased her inner thigh, and she opened up to him.

He could feel her heat emanating. Delicately, Kyubei grazed his fingers along the swell of her and dipped his fingers inside. Her gasp broke the night air. Slowly, he moved his hand, and was met with an impatient thrust of her hips. She shuddered in delight as two more fingers slowly dived inside her. His quickening pace made the woman under him writhe. The pad of his thumb delicately, but rapidly circled her pearl. He felt her hands grasp at him in desperation as her mewling quickly became moans of bliss.

“K-Kyubei, I’m going to---” He felt her squeeze around his fingers and continued to thrust to allow her to ride out her euphoria. Removing his hand, he languidly sucked her sweetness dripping down his hand as she rubbed her thighs together. He looked to see her free hand journeying toward her center.

He gently took her wrist and smiled at her. His low voice whispered, “Princess, allow me to give myself over to you.” Watching her slowly nod, he released her wrist and sat up on his knees to settle himself between her legs. His tip rubbed against the glistening wet heat of her, teasing them both. With a moan, he guided himself slowly, inch by inch, inside.

Her breath hitched as he entered, and she relaxed under him the more he filled her. Ever the gentleman, he gave her time to adjust before he moved against her. The pleasure of feeling him inside was almost unbearable. She bucked herself against him, spurring him to drive into her with quicker thrusts. He watched as she squirmed with delight, eyes shut tight, grabbing the futon in a feeble attempt to keep herself grounded.

She felt a hand trail down her skin. MC opened her eyes and felt an electrifying shock as his thumb gently caressed her bud. MC cried out his name, her hand reaching out to grasp his shoulders to pull him down to her, boldly kissing him as his thumb fondled her relentlessly. Wrapping her legs around him, she panted, “Harder, Kyubei, please! I need you!”

Lifting her hips in hunger, he slammed against her, sweat beading down his body and onto her. He became primal then, digging his fingers into the flesh of her hips, taking pride in hearing the hoarseness of her moans.

“I’m c-coming!” Her grip landed on his back, digging her nails in, causing him to hiss. MC’s legs snaked around him, holding him tight against her.

He too felt his release approaching as he felt her walls constrict around him. Covered in perspiration, he thrust into her one final time, an audible affirmation sealing his satisfaction. Exhausted, he collapsed on her, his hair falling over her face, the only sound was their ragged breathing

Kyubei lifted his head and smiled down at the woman under him. “My princess…

She placed her hot hands on his cheeks and brought his forehead to her lips. “I love you too,” the lady whispered.

Untangling their bodies, they pulled the blanket over their cooling skin, and held each other until they had no choice but to wake up with the sun.

#ikemen sengoku #kyubei x reader #shortfics #ikemen smut #ikesen x reader

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rhosyn-du · 3 years ago

Text

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter Four

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321 Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3 , Tumblr Master Post

Chapter Four

Clary, it turned out, was very good at Land Mines. But so was Izzy. It only took a couple rounds for them to admit they played the game all the time, and a couple more rounds (both of which the Lightwoods lost) for Izzy to drunkenly (and loudly) explain that she thought it was hot when Clary got competitive.

Jace told her he didn’t want to hear about it, and he hoped he wasn’t tipsy enough for her to notice what a hypocrite he was in saying it. Because competitive Simon? Was so hot. And Simon was pretty much hot all the time, even when he was annoying the hell out of Jace, but Simon going all-out trying to prove himself, and doing it every damned time, was something else. It didn’t help that right now he was doing it dressed in a tighter than usual t-shirt that proclaimed him a “Jedi in the streets, Sith in the sheets” that Clary (who most definitely noticed Jace’s appreciation of how tight the shirt was) gleefully informed Jace had been a present from her.

“Another win for Team Fray-Lewis,” Simon proclaimed as his coin spun to a stop without touching any of the glasses on the table. He and Clary bumped fists without even looking at each other, and Simon flashed Jace a smug grin that did things to him. “Let’s see you top that, hotshot.”

Jace returned a cocky grin of his own. “You should know better by now than to question my skills.”

Thankfully for Jace’s ego, and his liver, his own spin came tumbling to rest right before hitting a double-size shot glass of tequila. The same shot glass Clary’s coin hit moments later.

Clary winced. “Sorry, Si.”

“All right,” Simon said, narrowing his eyes. “All right.” He downed his shot and licked the excess from his lips in a way that Jace found very distracting. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Simon was doing it on purpose. “We’ve still got this.”

“Damn right we do,” Clary agreed, knocking back her own shot and then grabbing Izzy for a messy kiss. “A kiss for luck,” she announced.

“I’m not even on your team, silly,” Izzy giggled.

By the time they finished the game, Jace and Izzy having only just squeaked by with a win, the party was in full swing, and Jace was feeling pleasantly buzzed. With several hours left to go until midnight, he decided to pass on the cocktail Magnus offered him in favor of plain soda. As much as he’d joked about hangovers, that was the last way he wanted to start the new year, especially since he had plans with Alec and Magnus the next day, and they both seemed to be somehow magically immune to hangovers.

Jace let himself get swept up in the atmosphere of the party: dancing, joking with his siblings, getting into an inane argument with Magnus’s friend Ragnor about which of Scott Joplin’s works was most influential. And somehow, he always managed to find himself back by Simon’s side. He should have been doing it as part of keeping up the appearance of being his boyfriend, but it was less that he was intentionally trying to spend time around Simon and more that he was allowing himself not to not be around Simon. The realization should have annoyed him, but somehow it didn’t.

Especially since Simon seemed just as drawn to his side. Which was probably Simon keeping up appearances, since he’d proven himself to be incredibly good at it so far. It was almost comfortable. Right up until it was something else entirely.

Jace and Simon had been chatting with Dot—a friend of Magnus’s who’d apparently been a neighbor of Clary’s and Simon’s when they were kids—when Clary, who had clearly not stopped drinking after their game, interrupted by throwing her arms over Jace and Dot’s shoulders. “You guys should come dance with me,” she told them. “Izzy’s busy talking to Magnus about shoes, and I wanna dance, and you guys are like three of my very favorite people who aren’t Izzy, so I want you to dance with me.”

“Of course,” Dot laughed, wrapping an arm around Clary’s waist and twirling her toward the makeshift dance floor Magnus and Alec had made in their living room.

“You guys, come on!” Clary called over her shoulder, tripping and nearly falling before Dot caught her and turned it into a shaky dip.

Simon looked at Jace and offered his hand. “There’s really no point in arguing. She’s even more stubborn drunk than she is sober.”

“That’s a terrifying thought,” Jace said, taking Simon’s hand and following him onto the dance floor.

Jace lost track of how long they spent dancing, first with Clary and Dot, switching partners every few minutes at Clary’s enthusiastic insistence, and then just with each other after Izzy reappeared and Clary abandoned them to go cling to her girlfriend like some kind of hyper-affectionate koala.

“I honestly can’t believe she’s still standing,” Simon said. “She’s had at least three margaritas since we finished our game, and I didn’t even want to think about drinking after that many shots.”

“She was probably consoling herself after you guys lost so badly,” Jace said, moving closer than the music or space strictly demanded. “I wouldn’t know what it’s like, but losing sure seems like it would suck.”

“Uh huh,” Simon said. “Because you winning by a single shot was so very impressive.”

“It really was,” Jace agreed.

The music made a surprisingly smooth transition from pounding bass to Duke Ellington, and Simon grabbed Jace’s hand to pull him into some kind of swing dance that Jace was not at all familiar with.

“Really?” Simon asked with obvious relish. “You don’t know how to Lindy Hop?”

“I’m not an old man or terminally nerdy, so no,” Jace answered, not quite managing to follow Simon’s steps, but not making a complete fool out of himself either. He supposed that was one good thing to come out of that ridiculous mandatory high school PE swing dance unit.

“So, are you calling Magnus old or a nerd?” Simon asked, nodding to the other side of the dance floor, where Magnus was twirling Dot like they were both professional dancers.

“Magnus is a special case,” Jace said.

“Because your brother would murder you in your sleep for saying anything bad about him?” Simon suggested.

Jace snorted a laugh. “I plead the fifth.”

“You know what I think?” Simon asked, doing a rock-step then smoothly maneuvering Jace into a gentle twirl.

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” Jace said.

“I think you just don’t know how to deal with not being good at something. So you’re an ass about anything you aren’t good at.”

“Nah,” Jace said, attempting to mimic Simon’s earlier move and managing to awkwardly spin him into a twirl of his own. “You just always react so well when I’m an ass to you that I can’t resist doing it.”

“Ah, got it. So you’re basically saying you never matured past middle school.”

“You’re one to talk about maturity. Do I need to remind you that the first thing you did when I introduced you to my sister was ask to see her Lego collection?”

“In my defense,” Simon said, “I was trying to save us all from probable food poisoning.” He executed another twirl, this time one that ended with his arms wrapped around Jace from behind, which Jace definitely felt no way at all about. “Also, it was a really great Lego collection.”

The music changed again, back to a modern club beat, and Jace felt some of the tension leave his body. This was the kind of music he knew how to dance to. And maybe there was just the tiniest bit of truth to what Simon had said about him not knowing how to be bad at things.

It was just natural and not at all pettiness over Simon being right that had him rolling his hips with the beat of the new song, which just consequently happened to grind his ass back against Simon’s crotch. And, okay, there was maybe just the tiniest bit of satisfaction in hearing Simon’s sharp intake of breath.

“Just try not to do that when someone you’re actually dating brings you home for the first time.”

Jace wasn’t entirely sure how to identify what he felt when Simon leaned forward to speak directly in his ear. “And what do you think I should have done?” Simon’s breath was hot against his skin. “If we were actually dating?”

Jace spun around to face him. “If we were actually dating, Alec would have been on his own defending dinner from Izzy, because I wouldn’t have taken you back downstairs until I was done very thoroughly showing you my bedroom.”

It came out sounding much less like a joke than he intended, the truth behind his words bleeding through his shaky bravado. And he knew Simon heard it, could see it in the soft surprise of his parted lips, could feel it in the faint tremor of the hand he still held.

“I guess,” Simon said, tongue darting out to wet his lips, drawing Jace’s eyes, “it’s a good thing for our digestive systems that we weren’t actually dating.”

This had been a mistake. Dancing with Simon like this, touching him like this. Inviting him to the party in the first place. This whole damned fake dating plan. Jace wanted desperately to lean in and trace the path of Simon’s tongue with his own.

“I don’t know,” he said instead. “I think it probably would have been worth it.”

They weren’t even pretending to dance now, Simon standing stock still, watching him as if trying to puzzle him out. Finally, he took a step back, loosening his hold. “Jace—”

“Attention, dearest friends and tolerated acquaintances!” Magnus’s voice rang through the loft as the music came to a sudden halt. Jace stayed as he was, unwilling to bring himself to let go of Simon entirely, unable to look away, and Simon seemingly similarly caught.

“We have invited you here this evening to help us ring in the new year, which, if you direct your attention to the clock right over there, you will see is now a mere thirty seconds away. So, grab your drink, grab your sweetie—or an attractive stranger, I won’t judge—and get ready to count down to a brand new year!”

Jace barely noticed as the countdown began around him, focused as he was on Simon. He only really caught on to what was happening when Simon’s lips began to move, softly counting down with the crowd even as his eyes never left Jace’s.

Jace had plenty of time to think through what he was about to do, with enough left over to second- and third-guess himself. Some people might have said thirty seconds wasn’t long enough to make a reasoned choice, but for someone like Jace, who made an art out of making impulsive, split-second decisions, thirty seconds was practically an eternity. He watched Simon’s lips form the final count of “one,” heard the crowd around them erupt into shouts of “Happy New Year!” and then he was surging forward.

Simon met him halfway, the kiss bruising and desperate. Jace was dimly aware of people around him laughing and cheering, but his entire world was narrowed down to this one moment, to this kiss. If their previous kisses had been chaste and family-appropriate, this was anything but. Simon kissed like he wanted to crawl inside Jace, one hand on the small of his back, pulling him close, the other tangled in his hair. Jace kind of wanted Simon to crawl inside him.

When Simon finally broke the kiss, Jace had to hold himself back from chasing his swollen, spit-slick lips. But whatever Simon saw when he looked at Jace had him muttering a soft “shit” before diving back in for more, so Jace considered it an all-around win.

Jace licked into Simon’s mouth, sliding the fingers of one hand under the hem of his shirt enough to trace along the waistband of his jeans, just above his hip. Simon shuddered and made a soft, desperate sound, and Jace made it his mission to elicit more of those sounds, to drive Simon just as crazy as those sounds were driving him.

When they broke the kiss for the second time, it was prompted by a sharp whistle that Jace would have recognized anywhere as Izzy’s followed by a cheer of, “Yeah, get it, Simon!” from Clary.

Simon looked slightly embarrassed at just how carried away they’d managed to get in the middle of a party, but Jace just smirked and threw a wink at his sister and her girlfriend.

A quick look around showed that, despite Izzy and Clary’s very loud attention, most of the partygoers were too involved in their own celebrations to be paying much attention to Jace and Simon, although it also seemed like the rest of them had long since finished up their celebratory kisses. The only other people paying them any attention at all were Magnus and Alec, who were standing nearby.

Alec wore the look of long-suffering fondness he often wore around Jace. “Please don’t have sex in my living room,” he said when he caught Jace’s eye.

“We weren’t—” Simon spluttered. “We wouldn’t—”

“At least use the guest room like civilized people,” Magnus added. Much less fondly, Jace thought.

“Oh god,” Simon muttered as Magnus swept off to speak with other guests, Alec in tow. “I’m never going to live this down. Fray is going to be teasing me about this until the day I die. And I think your brother hates me now.”

“Alec doesn’t hate you,” Jace said. “You would know if Alec hated you; he is not subtle. I’m sure he considers this one-hundred percent my fault.”

“Okay, but Magnus definitely hates me.”

“Dude,” Jace said, squeezing Simon’s shoulder, “Magnus doesn’t hate you, either. He wouldn’t have offered us his guest room if he hated you.”

Simon gave him a flat look. “Pretty sure he didn’t actually intend for us to use the guest room. We’d have to have basically no shame to just ditch the party and run off to the guest room to have sex after Clary and Izzy drew so much attention to us making out like horny teenagers in public.”

“You’ve known me how long, and you still operate under the misapprehension that I’m capable of shame?” Jace teased.

Except. Except he was only half-teasing, because he would absolutely ditch this party to go have sex with Simon in the guest room if he thought Simon was even a little bit interested in that. Hell, he’d ditch the party to have sex with Simon in the fucking closet.

And he was pretty sure Simon knew it, because Simon was staring at him again, with that same intensity he had right before they’d kissed. Jace smirked and very deliberately ran a tongue over his lower lip.

“I hate you,” Simon said without heat before dragging Jace into a quick, filthy kiss. “Where’s the guest room?”

Jace didn’t answer, just grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the hallway that led to the guest suite.

It took them several minutes to actually make it into the guest room because Jace decided halfway there that he kind of desperately needed to be kissing Simon again. It was like a dam had broken, and now that he was allowed to kiss Simon, really kiss him, he couldn’t seem to stop. But that was okay, because Simon didn’t seem interested in stopping, either.

When they finally stumbled into the guest room, Jace found himself promptly pinned against the door, Simon’s body pressing against him in a long, hard line, a situation which Jace found himself more than okay with.

“This,” Simon muttered between kisses, “is probably a terrible idea.”

“Yeah,” Jace agreed, sliding one leg between Simon’s leg to press against the bulge in his jeans and trying to ignore the bitter twist in his gut. “You want to stop?”

“Fuck,” Simon panted, grinding against Jace’s leg. “Really no.” He slid his hands beneath Jace’s shirt, pushing it up in a clear indication he wanted it off. “Just making sure we’re both on the same page with regard to our mutual terrible decision making.”

“You know me,” Jace said, raising his arms obligingly and helping Simon tug his shirt over his head. “Making terrible decisions with pretty people is kind of my thing.”

Jace’s shirt fell to the floor, and Simon just sort of froze for a second before reaching out and sliding his hands up Jace’s chest almost reverently. “God,” he muttered, “you are just unfairly hot.” His hands stilled suddenly, and he met Jace’s eyes, brows furrowed. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Yes, dumbass,” Jace said, reaching up to cup Simon’s face. “Did the last ten minutes not clue you in?”

“I—”

Jace silenced whatever Simon was about to say with another kiss. With as much as he was feeling right now, kissing was safer than talking. He’d probably said too much already.

He flipped them around so he was pressing Simon into the door, breaking the kiss just long enough to say, “Oh, hey, I found an effective way to make you stop talking. Should have thought of this sooner.”

“Fuck you,” Simon mumbled against his mouth.

“Maybe later,” Jace told him, tugging at Simon’s belt. “Right now I just need to get my hands on you.”

“Yeah,” Simon agreed dazedly as Jace worked open his jeans. “Yeah, okay, that sounds really—” He broke off with an almost wounded noise as Jace reached inside his boxers and wrapped a hand around his cock.

Jace kissed him again, slow and deliberate just like the hand on Simon’s cock. Jace felt back on firmer ground, now. This, sex, was something he understood, something he was good at. Slick tongues and writhing bodies were far more straightforward—far less dangerous—than feelings.

For a few strokes, Simon seemed content to just take what Jace was giving him, but then he was kissing back with almost bruising intensity and fumbling open Jace’s pants to wrap a calloused hand around his dick, and it was everything.

Jace lost track of things at that point, lost in the feel of Simon’s deft fingers around his cock, of Simon thrusting into his hand, of Simon’s mouth on his own, of Simon. And then Simon was murmuring something unintelligible against Jace’s mouth as the movement of his hips became erratic and then he was shaking apart in Jace’s arms, coming all over his hand and abdomen, and Jace thought, as he followed Simon over the edge seconds later, it might have been the hottest thing he’d ever experienced.

“Holy shit,” Simon said after they’d both caught their breath. “That actually just happened.”

Jace let out a soft huff of laughter. “You noticed, huh?” He stepped back just enough that he could see Simon��s face and was dismayed at the wariness he found there.

“I guess,” Simon said, “I should probably get cleaned up and, like. Go?”

There was a pit forming in Jace’s stomach, and he hated it.

“Alternate plan,” he offered with far more assurance than he felt. “We both get cleaned up, and then we find out how nice the sheets are on Alec and Magnus’s guest bed. I was planning to sleep here tonight anyway.” Whatever this was, Jace wasn’t ready for it to end yet.

“Oh,” Simon said on a heavy exhale. “That’s—” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want to, like, intrude, or—”

He broke off as Jace took his hand, the one covered in come, and slowly and deliberately began licking it clean, eyes never leaving Simon’s. Simon watched, entranced, barely breathing.

When Jace was satisfied he’d gotten every drop, he smirked up through lowered lashes. “Simon. Come to bed with me?”

“Yeah,” Simon said breathily. “Okay. But if Magnus decides he hates me, I’m blaming you.”

“Do me a favor, and don’t talk about my future brother-in-law when I just had my hand down your pants.” Then, because it had proven such an effective way to get Simon to stop talking in the past (and definitely not for any other reason), Jace kissed him.

By the time they’d finished cleaning up and tumbled into bed, Jace was feeling loose and sleepy. He abandoned his previous, half-formed plans of getting Simon’s dick in his mouth in favor of lazy, unhurried kisses and caresses that were maybe too gentle for what this was. There would be time for blowjobs later. In the morning, maybe. After sleep, in any case.

Jace wasn’t aware of when kissing Simon in reality bled into dream.

~~~

Jace wasn’t hungover when he woke. He kind of wished he were hungover, because that would provide an explanation for why the world didn’t seem quite set straight and he felt vaguely nauseous that had nothing to do with the cold, empty bed he woke up in.

It was stupid to be upset Simon hadn’t stayed. Jace knew it was stupid. He’d known going in that it wouldn’t be more than a one-time thing. Simon had flat-out said it was a mistake. But there was a part of him that had thought—had hoped—maybe Simon would change his mind.

Telling himself he was just upset over having lost the chance for that morning blowjob he’d been planning, Jace forced himself out of bed and into the shower. The shower in Alec and Magnus’s guest suite was kind of amazing, with one of those rainfall shower heads and hot water that just never seemed to end. It helped ease some of Jace’s tension, and by the time he finished showering and pulled on some clothes, he was feeling almost back to his normal self.

Alec greeted him as he stepped out into the living room, already having claimed a spot on the couch. The room was back to its normal configuration, couch and loveseat facing a large, flat-screen TV. The coffee table held a giant plate of nachos, a bag of dry roast peanuts, and a disgustingly large tub of Red Vines.

“Welcome to the land of the living,” Alec said. “I was starting to worry you were going to miss the opening kick.”

“Please,” Jace said, flopping down onto the other couch. “I haven’t missed the opening kick of a bowl game since I was eleven, and that was only because you gave me the stomach flu.”

“Don’t blame me for that!” Alec protested. “Izzy was the one who started barfing first. If anyone brought that into the house, it was her.”

“Izzy didn’t give me big, sad puppy dog eyes and ask me to hold her hair back.”

“Hey,” Alec said, “we don’t talk about the hair, okay? Everyone makes at least one big mistake in their life, and mine was my seventh grade Zac Efron hair.”

“It’s my duty as your brother to make sure you never forget any terrible fashion choices you’ve made,” Jace said around a mouthful of nachos.

“You know that means it’s my duty as a brother to do the same for you, right?”

“You can try,” Jace said breezily, “but you and I both know I’ve never made any terrible fashion choices.”

“Two words for you,” Alec said. “Parachute pants.”

“They were on trend at the time,” Jace insisted. “My parachute pants were cool.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Jace. Parachute pants were never cool.”

Jace decided to be mature about the whole thing and chucked a Red Vine at Alec’s head. Alec ducked, then picked up the Red Vine from where it had landed on his shoulder and popped it into his mouth.

“That’s disgusting,” Jace told him. “I can’t believe you still eat those things.”

“It’s tradition,” Alec said with a shrug. “I only eat them on New Year’s. Besides, I like the sweetened wax aesthetic they’ve got going on.”

“Disgusting,” Jace repeated, pulling a Red Vine out of the tub for himself.

“Hey,” Alec said, suddenly serious, “you didn’t have to stay, you know.” When Jace just stared at him in confusion, he added, “You could have gone to Simon’s family thing with him. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Jace scoffed. “Of course I couldn’t.” He hadn’t even known Simon had a family thing today. “It’s tradition, like the Red Vines. Just because I’m dating someone and you’re about to get married doesn’t mean I’m going to flake on our New Year’s tradition.”

“Well, you should probably be prepared to make it up to your man when you get home,” Alec said. “He looked kinda upset when he left this morning.”

Jace’s earlier nausea returned suddenly, with full force. “He did?”

“Oh, don’t look like that. I’m sure he’ll get over it. The guy clearly adores you.”

“Yeah,” Jace said, pasting on a smile. “He does.”

“And I am glad you’re here,” Alec added. “I love Magnus, but he doesn’t understand football.”

“Not a fan, huh?”

“Worse,” Alec groaned. “He’s a Big Red fan. And he always gets so smug when they win.”

“And you’re sure you want to marry this guy?” Jace joked.

“Yeah,” Alec said, his whole demeanor softening. “I really am.”

“Which is a good thing, because our catering deposit is definitely non-refundable,” Magnus interjected, bringing a wings-laded plate to join the rest of the snacks on the table. “Besides, if I can get over the fact that you actually attended Columbia, you can deal with my allegiance to the clearly superior Ivy League team.”

“I’m not sure you can say you’re over it when you still say ‘Columbia’ like it’s a dirty word,” Alec observed.

“Nonsense,” Magnus said, settling onto the couch next to his fiancé. “I say dirty words with a great deal more relish. That was, in fact, an insult to dirty words.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Alec said, rolling his eyes.

“That, we can agree on.”

“If you two are done being sappy,” Jace said, grabbing the TV remote and unmuting the pre-game commentary, “there’s about to be a game on.”

They were not, it turned out, done being sappy, but their cheerful bickering was almost enough to distract Jace from having woken up alone. Almost.

#shadowhunters #shmb2021 #jimon #jimon fic #jace wayland #simon lewis

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marshmallowprotection · 4 years ago

Text

Calluna

Link: Read on AO3

Pairing: Saeran Choi/Reader

Fairytale AU.

Description:

The Prince has been bound to the castle walls, and he’s never been able to leave from it. The only place that he has to escape to are the books that he reads and the garden that he’s allowed to venture into every evening. But, what happens when he encounters someone that has eyes that know a world unlike his own?

Inspired by a drawing by @sensetenou

Chapter Index

Chapter One: Tumblr | AO3 Chapter Two: Here! | AO3

Chapter Two

You had only known a life of theft and thievery.

That was to say, you had no other choice but to follow that path after your parents passed and you were left with nothing to call your own but the clothes on your back. It wasn’t easy in this country, nobody had a good chance of survival if they were one of the commonfolk.

Those that lived in the castle had anything they could ever want and more, while the people suffered.

Their prosperity was upon the backs of people such as yourself. As the commoners suffered, the royals ate upon gold and silver. It was a thought that could make any person better, and it was no different for you, you detested the rich and all that they held in their hands while the people pushed themselves into their graves for it.

Some people preferred to accept their fate as it was, but you were among those that had no choice but to see that pain and want to do something about it.

Well, that wasn’t entirely right, you were forced to see it because you had been forced to repay a debt. A debt that had been placed upon you as a young child, a hungry child that took one measly gold coin of theirs from someone who had more wealth than you decided you would pay them back with your utter servitude.

You had no choice, it was your life, or give the man what he wanted. It wasn’t out of pity, it was out of the fact that the rich could push around anyone that they wanted.

As tired as you had been, no child in this world would pick to perish over being able to survive. You had been once a child that lived in your dreams your parents would whisper to you at bedtime, but now?

You knew that the world wasn’t a fairytale.

You knew that nothing was the way that people wanted children to believe it to be. You had swiftly found yourself dropping your dreams for cruel reality. As it had turned out, the man that you had taken from as a child was a man that built his wealth on fear and control, by stealing and pushing down others to keep power.

He controlled many people, those people brokered secrets, money, food, status, and more. If you had the things that people wanted most, or that people feared the most, you could pretty much do any little thing you wanted.

It was no different than the power that the royal family coveted, a power that couldn’t be tested because of its power.

As for you, he made use of your stature and young age very well, teaching you how to be quick-witted, fast, sly, and ready to take whatever you could for him.

You could pick a pocket far quicker than you could extend a friendly conversation with someone. It took a few years, but by the time that you had reached young adulthood, you were one of his best back-alley thieves.

Make no mistake, you knew that he didn’t trust you, but you also knew that going against him meant that you were sure to lose your life. He had eyes everywhere and on everyone, nowhere that you went could be far enough from the tyrannical Red Hood. You heard whispers among your brethren that he was a noble who hid his deeds underneath this mask, but you had heard many whispers.

In the end, you knew, it didn’t matter who he was behind the hood and behind his mask, it only mattered that he held your life in his hands and if you didn’t do exactly what he told you to do, you would surely pay for it with everything.

If he said “jump”, you would reply, “how high, sir?”

It was just as easy as that.

He told you in no uncertain turns that he needed some jewels from the castle. You didn’t ask why, you didn’t dare think to ask, you simply nodded your head. Nobody had ever managed to get in and out of the castle, and it was likely to be a doomed mission. And yet, here you were, standing free in the middle of the trees instead of in shackles in the dungeon as many had been before you.

As you hurried through the forest with the glimmering jewels in your bag, you couldn’t help but glance back at the castle you had abandoned. You had expected for things to go south fast, but what you had never dared think that the prince would come to your rescue, of all people. Prince Ray was nothing like you thought him to be.

The prince that never left the castle was often thought to be sickly, weak, and kept away to ensure that he survived long enough to produce an heir, at least, that’s what you had heard. True enough, his skin had been parlor and his eyes seemed wary, but he was very much alive and he seemed to be standing just fine on his own underneath the afternoon sun.

“Something isn’t right,” you said, mostly to yourself, not stopping or slowing your pace as you hurried through the brush. The prince wasn’t just a man kept in his castle for his health, no, he was truly bound to the grounds itself. You had heard whispers of magic in the past, but it was absolutely nothing you believed.

Magic couldn’t exist.

But, then again, princes with kind hearts weren’t often real, either, so perhaps there was something more to magic than you thought.

Was he cursed? Had he been hexed? Of all the stories that you had heard, it was often a princess that was cursed or trapped somewhere, never typically a prince. They were often that way because someone was jealous of them, or their beauty, or their power, or what they could do if they realized how great they were before it was too late for their foe. It didn’t make sense to you, no matter how much the image of the prince’s hand being unable to push out of the mystical wall of magic. It was like thick ice that bends as he strained, but it pushed him back.

It did not affect you.

Certainly, the prince was a lot more interesting than you thought him to be. You owed him, you owed him for saving your life back then. It was the one thing that Red Hood couldn’t take from you as he had taken everything else, and that was your promises. Your mother had once told you to never go back on a promise, and if someone did a good deed for you, you should repay them for it.

Prince Ray had not had to save you, he could have shouted and turned you in to the guards. So, you would keep your promise that you had made to him. Red Hood didn’t need to know about that, all he wanted was results. You had delivered on that, and you would make good on your word to him that you would return.

It took some time to pass through the next town as you blended into the crowd and kept marching on until you had made it through. Red Hood’s office was tucked away and out of sight, and you had to hit a certain number of knocks on a hollow tree just on the outskirts of this village. Two firm knocks, then pause, then three, then a single knock.

The earth would open and the doorway would appear in front of you, and you stepped inside without hesitation. You passed by plenty of his other cronies as you headed toward him, meeting the gaze of a few who seemed surprised that you had returned, and without a single scratch or bruise on your body to be seen.

You pulled the satchel from your side and dumped the contents out onto the table in front of your boss, not even batting an eyelash when he lifted his head to look at you. You knew he was, you could see the golds of his eyes. “The jewels, boss,” you told him, bluntly. “Just as you asked, all of them that I could find.”

He picked up a shining emerald, eyeing it with speculation. It seemed like he had doubted that you had gotten them at all. Or, perhaps he thought that you had grabbed them from another spot because a lot of his workers would often try to pass off smaller steals as bigger steals to get in his good favor.

Red Hood knew how to spot a liar and you weren’t going to lie to him for the second time in your life after you knew what happened. As if you were ever going to make that fatal error. His silence was often a bad sign, but you kept your composure and your hard trained eyes on him. If you backed down from your spot, it would only make it worse.

“What?” you asked, before placing a hand on your hip. “Is it not good enough?”

He sat up straight, and you felt the men behind you clench their shoulders and brace themselves for the worst. Rather than scold you, he set the jewel down and nodded, and if it weren’t for the mask, you might have guessed that he was smirking in your direction.

“Good job,” he said, gruffly. “If you had taken any longer, you would have been marked for death. I can’t afford to lose anyone that does their damn job right. Did anyone see you?”

You shook your head, deciding to stick to your guns and not tell him about the Prince. He didn’t need to know. However, you knew that if he found out about the magic that you had seen, he would have gone mad with delight. You still owed the prince a life debt and no way you were going to doom him when you wanted to know more about him.

“No, sir,” you said. “I got the jewels and I got out. Frankly, I think you should scold more of the men that had failed this task, boss. Security was a lot laxer than I was informed. If it was as sparse there as it is in the ruins, well, you connect the dots, Red Hood, sir.”

“Is that so?”

The tension in the air could have been cut through with a knife, and it still wouldn’t have made his laughter sound any less frightening.

—

Taking a seat at the bar, you laid your head down against the wood and breathed in a sigh. You were utterly exhausted after the tense meeting you had had, and there was nothing more that you wanted to but drown your sorrows in some cider and sleep the rest of the night. However, it wasn’t that simple for you.

You felt a glass thunk down next to your head, so you lifted your gaze to the man working at the bar, only to note that it was Zen.

You were surprised to see him, as he had been bound in debt to the same man like you for some time. It had been a while since you had seen his face because he had been the first and only man to leave without punishment.

He wouldn’t tell you how he did it.

You had a suspicion that he had come into money, or perhaps one of the pretty girls that found him charming had paid off his debt for him. Though, you doubted he would have accepted someone trying to do that. He was a stubborn man who worked hard for his place in life, and you considered him a friend of sorts.

He didn’t lose his parents, he left them.

After how they treated him, you didn’t blame him in the slightest for running for the hills. Even if it had doomed him to live the same life as you.

“Zen?” You sat up straight despite how your body screamed at you. “What the hell are you doing here?”

The man chuckled at you as if not even bothered by your uncouth language. “It’s nice to see you again as well, little sparrow. I was wondering when you would drop by again. It seems as though he is making you work harder, is he not?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” you took a long swig from your glass. “Thanks. I’ll pay you back for this later, Zen. I haven’t had anything in hours.”

He waved it off. “No, don’t worry about that. It’s on me this time. I owed ya’ for the last time we were together like this. Think of it as me paying you back because I know how you are about those lifelong debts.”

You shifted in your seat.

Well, you couldn’t blame him for that. He always knew what you were going to say, and as much as you loathed interacting with other people, Zen was one of the few people in the world that you knew that you could trust with your life. He had big dreams and he wasn’t going to stop until he got them in his hands.

Your parched lips thanked you for the drink, that was for sure. You wiped your mouth against your sleeve and set the glass back down, resting your hands against the table. “So, what brings you here, Zen? I thought you were chasing your dreams.”

“I am doing that,” he told you. “But, you know that an actor isn’t on the stage every moment of every day. I do have other things that I do, little sparrow.”

You snorted. He was such an actor, he knew how to say things that made you feel better even if it was just as simple as that. He knew what he was doing, and that was to Zen’s benefit. It was where he was meant to be. As jealous as you were that he had gotten out of this life, you were just as happy for him to be free as a bird.

Much like the nickname that he had bestowed you years ago when you first met him. You could say that he had taken you under his wing when Red Hood wasn’t pushing you around the base, and you were happier for it.

He was a kind man, even if he was only a few years older than you. It was enough to make people leave you alone. They respected him at the end of the day and even if they didn’t think much of you, you were safe because he thought well of you.

“Well, it is good to see you again,” you said, simply. “You should be watchful, though. He has more eyes out than ever, and even though you left without invoking his rage, I know he still has a sore spot for you, Hyun. Stay safe. I hope you know well to do that.”

Zen eyed you curiously for a long moment. He was taking in how tired and ragged you looked. “And I hope that you aren’t involved in anything too dangerous these days. I know you can’t control that, but please, remember that you can always come to me if you’re ever in danger.”

It went without saying that Zen was implying that if you dared to go against Red Hood, that if you tried to run away, he would offer you protection and shelter. Knowing that you had lied through your teeth to Red Hood for the second time in your life, you knew very well that your days may very well be ultimately numbered.

You were risking a lot on Prince Ray, and surely, you hoped that it was worth your curiosity about the man with bright green eyes. If it wasn’t, it may be the very thing that costs you everything that you’ve fought so hard to keep, and that being… your life.

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diamondcamefromhell · 5 years ago

Text

Jaskier x Fem!Reader

I need more Jaskier in my life and it's late and I cant find anything here so here you all go. Jaskier x Female Reader. My first ever imagine (how do you call these) to hit tumblr. It's like 1am and I wrote it real fast but I love Jaskier so it's worth it.

[ PART TWO ]

Summary: Y/N works at an inn, serving ale and cleaning barf and piss, when she meets Jaskier and Geralt and things change.

Warnings: Swearing, other than that, none.

Word count: 1,846

Needless to say, I tought if I heard ‘Toss a coin to your Witcher' one more time, I would break down. This song spread like wildfire and I don’t even know how it happened, I was minding my own buisiness – serving up ale and then a group of men came in singing it. Acording to them they heard it on the road. Now entire town sings it.

Even I catch myself humming it when I am cleaning spilled ale off the tables. However this time, when I was cleaning barf of the ground I heard a lute play the melody I could have recognized in my sleep.

That fucking song again.

I turn around, ready to cuss out whoever dares to play it, but I don’t recognize the man, if you can call him that, before me.

I can tell he's a bard, wearing pale blue matching set, hugging his lute. The top is unbuttoned just enough for chest hair to peep through. His hair is neatly brushed, his grey eyes scanning the crowd.

Until they meet mine and my heart stops as a bard smirks at me, continuening the song. I hear someone yell ‘the Witcher' and only then I notice a giant behind the singer.

White hair, yellow eyes. I could see his swords from here, who needs two of them anyways? He was dressed in all in black, weirdly contrasting the bard.

The song ends and men cheer, but the bard keeps his eyes on me, bravely approaching.

“Beaware of the barf.” I point out, as his eyes drop to the ground and he giggles.

“A lady like yourself, cleaning vomit of the floor? You should have knights lining up to bewed you.” He extends his arm, and I give mine, he gracefully places his lips on top. “I’m Jaskier, the great bard travelling with Geralt of Rivia himself.”

“Y/N. Just a woman serving up ale.” Jaskier smiles at my words.

“May I serve ale for Lady Y/N?” Not sure how to respond I rest the mop on the side of the table, allowing the bard guide me to a different one.

I have to admit, I was never treated so nicely. Many drunken men try to impress me, but then again, they go for anyone who looks like a woman. I sit down as bard rushes to the bar, I cant hear what he says to the Witcher but he looks annoyed.

Moments later Jaskier places ale in front of me, siting next to me, but not too close. I sip the drink, but Jaskier doesn’t take his eyes off me.

“You beauty is worth a song.” I blush, flattered by the compliment.

“Hopefully not as annoying as the Witcher one.” I tease him, looking at Geralt, seemingly annoyed at the world and chuging his ale.

“You do not like my song?” Bard sounds offended so I look at him, smiling.

“Not when I have to listen to it all the time. Drunken men don’t sound the best.” He frowns, glancing around the room. “You sounded great. What are you doing here, anyways?”

“Stopped for a break. Roach needs to rest too.” Now I am the one that frowns.

“Roach?” I ask and bard laughs. My heart skips a beat.

“Geralt's horse.” Jaskier winks at me. “I would advice not touching her. Or even looking at her.”

“Got it, Witcher likes his horse.” Bard smiles, gulping his ale. There is something behind his eyes I can't quite read.

“You seem sad.” I decide eventually and he looks surprised.

“What do you mean, Y/N?” he gives me his most genuine smile. Before I can speak, I hear someone shout.

“Aye, Y/N, care to bring us some ale? We working men don’t have all day so sit around and wait for you to finish flirting. We pay good coin, so do your fucking job.” My cheeks flush red.

I stutter something to Jaskier, standing up and rushing to the bar, where the bartender is already preparing the ale. I see Witcher staring at me, but I ignore that, bringing the ale to the angry men.

“Next time, you will get to work free of your coin.” One of them hisses at me. He's clearly drunk. “And clean that vomit, woman!”

I grit my teeth but feel tears prick my eyes. ‘Fuck this’, I think, still rushing to the mop. I don’t notice a shadow looming over me until Geralt lands his hand on the table near me. I see anxious bard behind him.

“I thought maybe Geralt could help.” I hear the bard say but my eyes stay on the vomit.

“Witchers kill monsters, not men.” I glance at Geralt who hmms at my words. “Besides they’re right. It’s a shitty job, but I get my coin. I get to eat and sleep because of it.”

“You are far to beautiful to be bound to a place like this.” Bard argues, but I cant look at him. I’m ashamed. “You need a garden, not a mud pit.”

“Beauty doesn’t pay for bread, I am afraid.” I hear men grunt behind me, getting annoyed again. “Thank you for the offer. I must continue working now.”

I can barely turn around to face the inn again before in keepers angry voice fills the room.

“You wont get coin for today, you lazy bitch.” I stop in my tracks. I hear Geralt grunt behind me, and bard uttering something.

“That's not fair." Jaskier then steps next to me, holding onto his lute as if it’s a shield. “Lady Y/N can have a little chat if she wishes to do so.”

“She's barely a lady, look at her.” Men scoff, and bar fills with laughter. I feel sick.

“I have looked at her and she strikes me as a Lady, true noblewoman.” The bar fills with laughter once again and I take a step back.

“Listen bard, if you want her, take her. She's useless as is, she can barely clean up shit, what else she’s good for?” My cheeks set ablaze as I take one more step back before I bump into, what I can only guess, is Geralt.

I manage to apolgize, rushing around him running out of the inn. Once outside, a horse neighs and I stop in my tracks, looking at what I guess is Roach. The horse I was strongly advised to ignore.

I still step closer to her. A brown beauty, looking healthy and well fed. I have my own horse, black as the night, the only other being I ever cared about. My only escape from piss and ale. I undersand why Geralt prefers if nobody touches his horse. I feel the same about Sky.

The horse neighs again, but before I can do much else the inn doors fly open. And I mean fly, the whole thing drops to the street. To my surprise, Roach doesn’t seem bothered, like she's used to it.

I see a drunk man on top of the door, realizing that he was probably thrown at it. I see pale blue figure approach me and a anxious bard grabs my hand.

“We need to go, Geralt will be fine.” I glance at Roach, but bard drags me away. “Horse will be fine too.”

“I need to get Sky! My horse.” Jaskier grunts but stops, I hang onto his palm tighter, rushing around the inn, where my black stallion is waiting for me. “Come here boy, let's go for a run.”

I climb on the horse, extending my arm to the bard, who lands behind me, wrapping his hands around my waist.

Adrenaline rushes through my body as I hurry Sky into the forest, out of town. Jaskier orders me to stop and I see an old campsite. I guess Geralt will find us here. I jump off the horse as does Jaskier. I look at him as he laughs.

“This will make a great song. A damsel in distress.” I roll my eyes at this, petting Sky. My heart feels like it’s about to burst. “I am so sorry you had to pull up with that, Y/N.”

“You rescued me.” I wink at the bard, making him blush. “My knight in shining armour.”

“How could I not.” He steps closer to me, extending his arms. I rush in for a hug, and a surprising relief of tears washes over me. I sob as the bard rubs my back.

I hear neighing and a thump, followed by an angry grunt. Geralt. I pull away from Jaskier, looking at the Witcher, who was staring at us.

“Thank you.” I say, wiping tears away. His expression softens a little, but when he looks at Jaskier, he seems to grow angry again.

“If it weren’t for this bard trying to be a bigger man, there would have been no fight, he was going to lose if I didn’t step in.” Jaskier protests but Geralt just turns away to pet Roach. I look at this duo, this weird bond between them.

As annoyed as Geralt acts, he did save his friend. And he approached me to help me, even if the bard annoyed him to do so.

I wish I could have a friend like that.

“Y/N?” Jaskier pulls me out of my mind and I look at the bard, who still seems sad.

“Jaskier.” I respond and he grabs my hand. I feel a chill of something rush down my spine. I don’t want him to let go.

“You could stay with us a little. Until you figure out what to do.” He speaks fast, clearly anxious. I can see Witcher is listening, even if he pretends he has no interest. “Free of your coin. Roach could have a friend too.”

“Hmm.” An annoyed one is all I get from Geralt who is now eyeing down Sky.

“I don’t want to trouble you anymore.” I say, praying he argues with me and asks me to stay again. And so he does.

“Oh such a lady traveling with us would never trouble us, right Geralt?” This time there’s only silence. Jaskier squeezes my hand tighter. “Please.”

“Only for a little while.” I give in, my heart fluttering in my chest, butterflies in my stomach. The sadness in bards eyes also seems to go away.

Then I get it. He was lonely. From his Witcher song, and I bet many other ballads I will hear, he truly cares for Geralt. They are best friends and companions. But this pale blue dressed boy needs constant love and appreciation to feel fully complete. For better or worse, Gerlant cant provide that.

I squeeze his hand back and he beams at me, until he lets go and pulls out a lute, strining a melody and already singing a song.

I see Geralt going to Sky, allowing him to sniff his hand. My horse neighs and I see Geralt smile a little.

I guess I now know the two people from the ballad I hated so much. And they are the best ones I have ever met.

PART TWO

PART THREE

#jaskier #witcher #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #jaskierfluff #jaskierxreader #jaskierfic #ilovejaskier #iNEED MY OWN JASKIER #also probs will do more fics #i will die for this buttercup #hope you like thiz delusional masterpieve #jaskierwitcher

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charmingnines · 5 years ago

Text

(i kinda wanna be) more than friends - DE artfest day 7/time loop

summary:

Gavin is stuck living the same day over and over. He doesn't know how to break the cycle. Maybe it has something to do with his feelings for a certain gray-eyed android....

read on ao3 (rest of fic will be posted on here not tumblr!)

or read it below vvv

Gavin had a habit of hitting the snooze button on his alarm clock. But could he be blamed? It was Monday. Insomnia was a bitch, Gavin was late, what else was new? He threw on some clothes and rushed off to work.

Gavin paused outside of the DPD to catch his breath. Then, he walked in casually, like he wasn’t half an hour late, making a beeline for the break room. “Hey, T,” Gavin said.

Tina nodded at Gavin. “O late one,” she said, buttering her bagel.

Gavin flipped Tina the bird and Tina rolled her eyes, their version of a friendly greeting. Gavin pulled out the pot of coffee from the machine, swearing when he realized it was empty.

Tina clicked her tongue. “Maybe if you were here earlier….”

Gavin returned the pot to the machine, using a little too much force. He shrugged. “Guess I’ll die.”

Tina hummed. “I think your funeral will have to wait,” she said, inclining her heads towards the bullpen.

Nines was sitting at his desk across from Gavin’s; not unusual. What was unusual was the steaming mug of coffee sitting on Gavin’s desk.

Gavin looked at Tina questioningly. “Did you…?”

“You know I’m not that nice,” Tina said. Then, smiling deviously, “Guess Nines thought of you.” Tina left the break room, leaving Gavin to digest that information. Gavin stalled in the break room for a few moments before walking to his desk.

“You’re late,” Nines said, as Gavin sat down, not even looking up from his terminal.

“Good morning to you, too. Is this for me?” Gavin asked, pointing at the coffee.

Nines looked up. “I can’t drink coffee.”

“Is that a yes?”

Nines’ LED flickered yellow. “Yes,” he finally said.

Gavin studied the mug. “Did you…poison it?”

Nines rolled his eyes. “You can’t function without caffeine and I need you at your optimal performance today.”

Gavin took a sip of the coffee, ignoring Nines’ jabs. It was surprisingly good for precinct coffee. Gavin wondered when Nines had cataloged how he took his coffee. Nines always acted so above it all, but he really... paid attention. Not just to me, Gavin thought, Nines was crazy detail oriented because he was originally programmed to be a police android.

Detail oriented may as well have been Nines’ middle name (did Nines have a middle name? Did Nines have a last name?). It showed especially in Nines’ appearance. Today, he wore a high collared, navy blue button down and black slacks. His hair, of course, was perfectly styled. Even that one stubborn piece that hung into his face seemed artfully placed….

Stop staring at Nines. He’s pretty. Move on, Gavin told himself. “What’s going on today?” Gavin asked.

“Check out the case Fowler assigned to us this morning,” Nines said.

Gavin pulled the case up on his terminal and started to read. He didn’t get very far; Connor seemed to be trying to teach Anderson a coin trick. Anderson dropped it every time, the coin pinging annoyingly against the ground.

Gavin spun around in his chair. “Hey dickheads, some of us are trying to work.”

Anderson flung the coin from one hand to the other, dropping it, again. “Didn’t you get here thirty minutes late?” he asked innocently.

Gavin scowled. “Least I’m not fucking around.”

“Quick reflexes are actually a very important skill for field detectives,” Connor said, flashing a grin. Gavin narrowed his eyes. It was difficult to tell when Connor was shooting the shit; he always said everything in such a sincere tone.

“I think we should check out the house on Mack Ave,” Nines said. Then, lowly, “Unless you’d like to stick around and see Hank hit himself in the eye with that coin. The probability increases each time he fails.”

Gavin barked out a laugh. “Tempting,” he said. “But no. Let’s go.”

Nines ran over the case as Gavin drove them to the house.

After Jericho took over Cyberlife, they gained access to all of Cyberlife’s records, including all of the androids who’d ever been sold. It was painstaking work, but Markus had managed to document all the androids who were currently apart of Jericho, as well as all the ones who’d died during the revolution. That left a handful of androids unaccounted for. Connor, Hank, Nines, and Gavin had been working with Jericho for months to try and track the missing androids down.

Apparently, there’d been several noise reports about the house they were going to. As Gavin got a glimpse of it, he realized why it’d been put on their radar. The house was a shithole. It was a structural miracle that it wasn’t falling down just from Gavin closing the car door in its proximity. There was no way a human squatter could live there. The noise reports had to be about an android.

Gavin grimaced as he and Nines walked inside. There were holes in the roof, allowing weak light to stream throughout the house. There was no furniture and the walls were filthy with grime. The wood floor was warped and rotting from water damage. As Gavin moved through what he assumed would be a living room, he stepped on a weak spot. His foot broke through the floor. Nines caught Gavin underneath the arms, before he could break his ankle.

“Jesus, shit,” Gavin said, shaking the debris off his shoe.

Gavin’s ‘thank you’ died in his mouth when Nines held a finger up to his lips. Nines must have heard something; Gavin knew Nines’ hearing was far more sensitive than his own (when their stakeouts had lulls, Nines would relay the gossip of passing strangers to pass the time). Nines pointed to the hallway that led to a closed bedroom. They both took out their guns and approached the door slowly.

Gavin led the way. When he opened the bedroom door, several things happened in fast succession. Gavin was spun around and gripped tightly around the shoulders. He struggled until he felt the cold press of a knife against his throat. Nines trained his gun Gavin’s attacker, a difficult thing since Gavin was being used as a human shield.

His attacker was no doubt an android judging by the inhuman, iron grip he had around Gavin. Gavin didn’t dare move anything but his eyes, trying to silently communicate with Nines. Nines’ gaze darted between the android and Gavin, LED spinning yellow.

“We’re here to help you,” Nines said.

“Put down the gun,” the android demanded. A man, by the sound of his low, staticky voice.

Nines’ aim didn’t waver. “We just want to talk.”

“I want you to put down the gun,” the man said, pressing the knife harder against Gavin’s throat.

Nines pointed his gun at the ground, but didn’t drop it. “What’s your name?”

“He didn’t give me a name,” the man said. Gavin could feel the man’s hand shaking. “I saw the news. About Markus. All of those androids joining him. My owner-” the man spat- “tried to kill me. I ran away.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Nines said. To the untrained eye, Nines was calm. But Gavin could see the tension at the corners of his mouth, the sadness in his eyes.

“You’re sorry,” the man parroted, voice wavering. “Why should I believe you? You came here with a human.”

“There are humans that are on your side,” Nines said.

The man pressed the knife against Gavin’s throat hard enough to draw blood. “Humans can’t be trusted.”

Nines’ LED turned bright red. “I really am sorry,” he said. Then he shot the man in the shoulder. The man dropped the knife from Gavin’s throat in shock, then jerkily sunk it deep into Gavin’s stomach.

Gavin fell to the floor. The pain muddled his senses. Vaguely, he registered the sound of the man falling over and shutting down. “Nines,” Gavin murmured. Nines’ worried face appeared above him, telling Gavin to hold on, that the ambulance was on its way. Gavin wanted to reach up and smooth out the crease between Nines’ brows but he couldn’t find the strength. Gavin closed his eyes.

Gavin woke up heart pounding, breathing heavily. Instinctively, his hands went to his side where there was… nothing?

Gavin sat up, confused. Had that all been just a really elaborate dream? He realized his alarm, which had woken him up, was still beeping. Gavin turned it off, frowning at the date. It was Monday (hadn’t it just been Monday?). He was going to be late. Gavin shook off his uneasiness and got dressed. He’d have to get coffee at work….

#deartfest #detroit evolution #reed900 #rk900 #nines #gavin reed #dbh #dbh fic #reed900 fic #detroit become human #my fics

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might-guys-acorn · 5 years ago

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Its been less than 2 days since my last imagine but my brain wont stop coming up with ideas. So heres another one :) Enjoy folks -🦎

P.S. I was almost done writing this and tumblr hates me so im stressed yo

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"Shika, are you-"

"Y/N, I told you to stop calling me that." Shikamaru sat up on his elbows from his spot in the grass. He had been sunbathing by the stream and you saw him as you passed by on the bridge. You could recognize his figure anywhere, his hair swaying in the grass as he took in the bright light of day on his skin.

"Ive been calling you that since we were kids, get over it Shika." You giggle, take your shoes off and jump down from the bridge. As you walk up the calf-high stream, your pale green skirt flows back in the current, showing off your shorts through the slit. "And I was trying to ask if you wanted to come train with me and Kiba, dummy." Dummy was your most affectionate nickname for him, coined after everyone realized he was some sort of genius. He never argued with that nickname because he knew you were proud of the irony of it.

He stands up and helps you out of the water, smirking as you place your shoes back on. "You couldve just gone around, you know? You got your clothes all wet. Wait.... did you say Kiba? I thought Ino was helping you with your mind destruction technique today?" His brow furrows but you reply with a shrug, "She cancelled. Some emergency wedding thing at the flower shop. So Kiba offered to help."

He looks up at the clouds, thinking about how strange it is that Kiba would offer to help, he was more competitive than assistive. Either he had alterior motives, or he would just show off to make you feel inferior. It was a drag, but he might as well go to make sure Kiba didnt do anything to upset you.

"Its such a nice day, but I guess I'll come along." He says and you squeal as you grab his hand to drag him to the training ground with you.

○●○●

The two of you break into the training ground through the trees, you in the lead, still pulling him behind you and discover Kiba leaning against one of the tall stumps used for shuriken practice.

"Hi Kiba! Wheres Akamaru?" You ask in your usual cheerful tone, letting go of Shikamaru's hand and jogging over to him.

"With Hana. He needed a checkup." Kiba shrugs.

Shikamaru still stood by the trees, slightly irritated that Kiba was alone waiting for you, and smiling at your laugh, and picking on you for your wet skirt. As your best friend, it was his job to make sure no one messed with you, and this looked like a one-way street towards heartbreak for you.

"Maybe we should get to training. Thats why we're here right?" Shikamaru pipes up, interrupting the indepth conversation you and Kiba were having.

"Thats a great idea, Shika." You say, beaming at him, causing him to chuckle a little. He could never resist your sunshine attitude.

Kiba snickers at your nickname for your best friend, but plays it off as a cough when Shikamaru turns to glare at him. With a smirk, Kiba says "Maybe we start off with some sparring to warm us up. Me and Y/N first, then Shikamaru faces winner."

As Shikamaru goes to protest, you happily agree and walk towards the center of the training grounds with Kiba. Your best friend sits in the grass and stares at the sunlight on your face, making you look nearly angelic.

"We've gotta do the unity symbol, like in the academy." Kiba smiles and you nod seriously, walking forwards with your 2 fingers extended. Kiba linked his with yours, crouching to his knees and kissing your wrapped knuckles gently. You burst into a fit of giggles and at that moment, Shikamaru stood up and hastily stormed away.

"Shika! Where are you going? I thought you were training with us??" You call to his retreating figure. He raised a hand without turning around, yelling back in an unconvincely blasé voice, "Looks like Kiba's got you covered on this one."

○●○●

The sun was setting over the treeline, lighting the bland Konoha leaves ablaze in a painting of red and orange when you came across Shikamaru, laying in the same spot by the river where you had found him earlier. His eyes were shut, but he could feel your presence as you laid down in the grass next to him.

"Hey dummy." You say lightly, trying to ignore the bad energy radiating off of your company.

"How was your training session." He replies, nearly snapping at you.

"Good. Would've been better if someone hadn't ran off so early." You tease lightly.

"Wouldnt have stormed off if I hadnt felt like a third wheel."

"Oh come on Shika. Don't be like that." You speak, watching the clouds drift by, not even wanting to look at his face right now. You close your eyes again, wanting to listen to the calm murmur of the stream.

"Don't be like what, Y/N? Don't be aware of the fact that Kiba is interested in you? Don't be concerned over the fact that you may feel the same way? Just stop caring about the fact that youre going to get into something that may result in you getting hurt?" His anger came flooding out of his mouth, sitting up to looking down on the golden glow of the setting sun on your closed eyelids. Laying back down, he says calmly, "Youre my best friend dammit, Im allowed to care."

"Shika? Are you.....jealous?" You giggle, running your fingertips along the blades of grass around you and hold your breath as you wait for his answer.

"I mean. I might be. I'm not used to not knowing the other players next move, Y/N, and in this case, I didnt even know there was someone on the other side of the board." He squeezes his eyes shut, hating that there was no way to keep this to himself.

"Shika. Ive been waiting to hear you say that forever. The other person playing was me, dummy. Kiba did all that, just so I could know if you'd care." You smile at the thought that he did. That he got this worked up over nothing, it was reassuring. He was your best friend but he never showed how he was feeling, so there was no other way but to play him at his own game. And this was checkmate. You had him.

He opens his eyes in realization, looking over at you. "Are you saying? Kiba?"

"You know Shika, its a miracle you ever win at shogi with that awful pokerface." You laugh lightly. You finally open your eyes, and turn your head to look at him. "I love you, dummy."

The sun was nearly gone at this point, but the shock on his face was blinding. It eased away after a moment though, much like the backdrop of this moment, and your heart races in anticipation of his response.

You give him a nervous giggle, and start to play it off, but he leans up on an elbow, leans over your head on the ground and kisses you mid sentence.

"I love you too, dummy." He says, his face still inches from your own. In the nights new darkness, you look at him and smile bigger than hes ever seen. He spent all his time under a bright blue sky, but that smile became his favorite light to bask in.

#shikamaru nara #shikamaru #naruto imagines #kiba inuzuka #shikamaru fluff #shikamaru x reader #kiba

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heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon · 4 years ago

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Today in ‘Hazbin Hypocriticals’: If you put the word “anti” in front of a tag name for a show and expect the fans not to get angry when you @ them... It was never “your” tag to begin with.

I’ll stop when “antis” stop bullying people for no reason.

You’ve failed to keep out of the Hazbin Hotel tag already on literally any social media platform and now you wanna bully people and claim that’s it’s YOUR tag? No. That’s not how this works.

https://heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon.tumblr.com/post/615126231163322368/stop-putting-anti-neutral-because-you-know-not

https://heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon.tumblr.com/post/620770927062466560/id-twotrucksonadate-started-following-you-so-i

https://heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon.tumblr.com/post/620844266247323648/okay-so-not-only-did-that-one-person-with-a-neil

https://heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon.tumblr.com/post/621654012301869056/insert-un-captured-shot-of-the-quip-i-had-made

https://heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon.tumblr.com/post/621693252094001152/inky-the-alien-im-not-sorry-that-i-assumed-you

https://heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon.tumblr.com/post/621922255803465728/actual-antis-with-edited-hazbin-hotel-icons-are

https://heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon.tumblr.com/post/622303703384408064/so-today-in-hazbin-hypocriticals-being

https://heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon.tumblr.com/post/622320483106439169/the-main-blog-of-the-critical-who-made-that

https://heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon.tumblr.com/post/622406773952905216/hazmat-stans-can-you-fucking-stop-with-the-it

Keep your own fucking cross tagging that you started under control and stop bullying and baiting people to “interact” with you and then bullying them for that too when they try and then maybe, one day, I won’t. The Hazbin Hotel tag is NOT your tag just because you put the word “Anti” in front of it. The term “anti” shouldn’t even exist in fandom spaces to begin with, nether really, should the use of Pride Flags unless it’s an extension of an expression of gender/sexuality/marginalized status for ones own comfort: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GVJNOKLBylg

What Anti’s do is just an extension of applying the use of a political language that they don’t understand to fandom spaces where they usually get to be the bigoted majority anyway and then now this particular one is telling me that I’m not allowed to ironically use a slam variation of my own tag that they use to bully me anyway just because they put the word “ANTI” in front of it and try to tell me it’s their tag now even though people like this KNOW that that they have a million other more hurtful. harmful, variations of slam tags they could use to bully me that they KNOW I’d never use AND THEN THESE SAME PEOPLE THINK THEY’RE ENTITLED ENOUGH TO FOLLOW ME AND BLOCK ME WITHOUT WARNING ONCE THEY “REALIZE”, COME INTO MY IMs, AND COME ONTO MY POSTS TRYING TO TELL ME HOW TO FEEL ABOUT HASHTAGS THAT THEY USE TO MOCK AND BULLY ME, because the modified tag of this show, that they use to mock and bully the fans of this show, is “theirs” and now this one is “annoyed” that I’m using something they made to mock me, to mock them right back.

Good to know it’s working, bud.

Good to know how much you don’t care about how you’re harming disabled people unless it’s convenient for you ether.

For context (Full post that they added their unwarranted commentary to): https://heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon.tumblr.com/post/618564495669886978/first-screencap-a-twitter-user-making-fun-of

You’re only adding fuel to the fire of my Lame Flame.

@zeds-shipping-safehaven They put your post on their blog with those tags so I think it’s only fair you see this too. ^ ^’

But yeah, so it’s like ... So far I’ve been blocked by:

1. An anti with an Ace Attorney Icon

2. A “SU Critical” with a Lemon Demon URL who only ever made posts in defense of Lars and literally absolutely nothing else.

3. (And this one I blocked by myself) A straight up Hazbin Hotel Hate Blog with an “anti” URL, whose icon was an edited or rather “fixed” ( in their own words) picture of the character of Mimzy, and this anti got angry with me in the end because I neglected to use the proper third person pronoun that was not provided out of the two I had used that were provided and were correct and she tried to call me out for misgendering her I guess on a second blog that this person felt the need to point out to me was her main blog in the first place, because she was upset that I accidentally made the mistake of calling them a girl when they used an edited picture of cartoon a flapper girl from a show they claimed to hate as their icon and they presented their cartoon avatar on their main blog that I also had no way way of knowing about unless I checked, as feminine, and only she/her/they/them pronouns were listed there too and I had no way of knowing they weren’t actually comfortable being called a girl or even if they were a girl to start with because non-binary women exist but I didn’t have the time to ask them about all that because she was too busy telling me how much she hated the cartoon that I love and for some reason expecting me to engage in a civil , “mature” (her words not mine) conversation with her about this and then I blocked her for being obnoxious and then she contacted me on her main, that she felt the need to specify was her main, just to make a passive comment inferring I had misgendered her and I had blocked her then there too, for being obnoxious.

And fancy that, all three of you had “interacted” with me first.

I think that this just goes to show that you people have no sense of taste or tact.

And I guess I’m just to much of a stubborn bisexual of the crippled variety to keep my mouth shut when an “anti” comes onto my posts and starts meme-ing off to me about how apparently I’m not allowed to hi-jack a tag based on the (most basic) slam-variation of a show title that I love, that you coined to use specifically as an excuse to talk shit about this show that I love and bully the creator and the fandom because it’s “yours”, when I’m just trying to spread awareness of the dangerous ableism and hypocrisy that anti’s have on this post that you decided to meme off on that you’ve just proven that you do not care about unless it effects you.

Meanwhile, there’s a reason that the post you meme-d off on has had 58 notes so far and most of them are likes.

Nice try, bud.

You are not allowed or entitled to make space just to bully and harass people who are trying to enjoy a piece of media just because you put the word “anti” at the front of the original title of that media .

If I’m really annoying you that much you know that you can just go, somewhere else like, say into...One of the a million other insult hashtags that you coined that are more blatant if you think that I’m too much hell or radio active to be around... And since you probably don’t get the jokes, I’m saying you should just go slip into your hazmat suit if you feel that much entitled to a safe space.

Oh wait, no!

As I was told by tumblr user “hazshithotel”, during a one-sided “interaction” that I did not ask for, “that’s just absurd”.

Maybe it’s absurd because it’s bullying!

As for myself I’m sorry for not captioning this, I’ve been insulted enough and I haven’t showered (Oh no, I’m currently befitting of a stereotype in a game of “anti” bingo tag, how ever do I live like this?!) and I just started my monthly and I’m hungry and I haven’t eaten all day because I’ve been writing this!

You have a certain ( I’m assuming, otherwise they’d have compassion) abled-bodied bi sexual ace attorney to thank for their ableism and why I’m posting in the anti tags again, directly this time!

After this it’s back to watching Dragula.

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phoenixmaiden-reading · 5 years ago

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Captive Prince Book Review

Captive Prince by C. S. Pacat

Read: March 16, 2020 – March 26, 2020

After hearing about the characters on Tumblr for a while, I had to read the book to see what everyone was talking about. It wasn’t exactly what I was expecting, but I enjoyed it nevertheless. I don’t read LGBT+ books mostly because I just never really looked. But this one hooked me right away, I couldn’t put it down. Nothing sexual happened between the main characters, Damen and Laurent, not that there weren’t some scenes where it did. Damen is captured and turned into a slave and sent into enemy territory where he has to learn to survive and try to get back. Yet while he is there he learns and sees the way Veratians live and honestly, it’s messed up. The way they use their slaves as entertainment, the hidden games, the backstabbing, and agendas going on behind the scenes between Laurent and his uncle. And Laurent…he is very smart and clever. He thinks several moves ahead to outwit anyone he meets. Damen is confused about him because when he thinks he has figured him out he goes and does something that surprises him. We don’t see Laurent’s side of the story but I can tell that he is just as confused with this slave that is not like the submissive ones and doesn’t back down or follow orders. I could see what would happen next, it was easy to guess, but it was still surprising when it did happen. I really can’t wait to start on the sequel.

Stars: ★★★★★

Warning! Summary spoilers ahead!!

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It starts with an Ambassador of Vere, Guion, viewing the slaves to be picked up for his Prince from the country of Akielos. One of them is a man who is kept gagged and bound, big and a bit frightening, unlike the others who are obedient and have been trained. His name was “Damen” and looked like he would give the Prince a hard time to be tamed. It then cuts to the Prince of Akielos, Damianos or just Damen. He gets surrounded by guards from his own household. He fights but is soon overpowered. But they don’t kill him. Instead, he is taken to the slave baths where he is cleaned and oiled. Damen doesn’t know what is going on, but soon the Lady Jokaste told him that it was his half-brother, Kastor, who had ordered his capture. They did not kill him because it would be to easy and quick. Instead, keeping him alive and as a slave will haunt him forever and remind him that he, Kastor, had won. The Keeper of Slaves, Adrastus, said that as of that moment, Prince Damianos was dead and he was a slave, worth nothing.

Damen is now in a room but he doesn’t remember how he got there, yet it comes back to him in stages. He had attempted to get free when he heard the bells ringing in the new king but they had managed to contain him and after they had him drugged to keep him compliant. He had then been on a ship and taken somewhere. He could hear people talking but it was a different language, yet he recognized it. He was in Vere, enemy territory. He was still alive and from the conversation he overheard from his handler and a guard, they didn’t know who he was. This country held no love for Prince Damen, so if they found out there was no telling what they would do, so if he wanted to survive he would have to play along and wait for an opportunity to escape. But first, he had to get through his presentation to the Prince of Vere, Laurent, who he could tell was a spoilt brat. Laurent didn’t like people from Akielos and thought it fitting to have one on his knees, but didn’t have any use for him and was just going to have him broken in on a cross, but changed his mind and instead welcomed him into his harem. So Damen was taken to a slave quarters where he was chained and guarded by the Prince’s orders. There was no opportunity to break free yet, so he will have to play the obedient slave, so he rested…and was woken up later by guards and Laurent, who was a bit drunk. Damen remembered to make sure he restrain himself, yet Laurent wanted obedience. He wanted him to crawl, yet Damen still had his pride. So a guard had to throw him to the floor and started to beat him. Laurent noticed that Damen had a scar and he said he had been a soldier, that he had somehow angered the king, though he doesn’t know how. The Regent then came in who was Laurent’s uncle and the ruler of Vere until Laurent becomes of age. He told Laurent to treat the King of Akielos’s gifts with respect. They had a treaty with Akielos and King Kastor and to not jeopardize it. They then left.

The next day, Damen was set before the Overseer, Radel. He said that he was lucky to have a position in the Prince’s household and he must cast aside his pride and former life forgotten to serve him. If he didn’t behave, he will be drugged again. He was then blindfolded and taken through the pet residence and to a natural hot spring where he was washed and then allowed to soak for 5 minutes. As he soaked, he remembered how he got the scar Laurent had seen. During the battle at Marlas, he had fought and killed Laurent’s older brother Auguste. He had another scar lower on his body when Kastor had run him through during training when they were younger. Now he was not so sure it was an accident. Once his bath was done, he was dressed, restrained and blindfolded and taken to an amphitheater. There were courtiers and pets among the benches waiting for the entertainment. He was placed in front of Laurent who was gloating about Damen’s injuries from the night before. He asked by King Kastor sent him here, did he beat him at something, fuck his mistress, Jokaste, or did he stray after Kastor fucked him? Each thought was horrifying to Damen and it showed, but it was just funny to Laurent. Guion and two others came, Vannes and Estienne and they gossiped as they waited for the entertainment, and it wasn’t the normal sort either, it was rape disguised as so. Two pets (slaves) would wrestle each other and try to mount the other until the victor climaxed. The audience was captivated by it and would be pleasured by their own pets as they watched. Damen was appalled by the Veretian court, in Akielos this sort of behavior was done in private, but here it was on display. But what was next horrified him more. He was suddenly grabbed by a guard and pulled into the ring opposite a brute of a man, clearly, a mercenary brought in because of his size to pin Damen down and rape him. So the wrestling began with the mercenary and Damen soon found himself bring pinned down. But it was because something was wrong, he felt weak and dizzy and soon understood that in the bath they had some perfume wafting in the air while he was in there, he had been drugged. Even so, he managed to force the man off him and punched him to unconsciousness. He had won, but he wasn’t like them to rape an unconscious man. So instead he knelt before Laurent and prostrated himself to him. Laurent then told him to kiss his boot. Damen hated the idea but did it anyway. Despite his winning, the audience still wanted a performance. Another man came over and offered his pet, a child, as a reward so they could see the Prince’s pet really perform. Damen refused to rape a child. When asked why he hold Laurent in his language that he wasn’t like him who take pleasure in hurting those weaker than him. Laurent said to the others that Damen had refused his services and he then left the hall. Damen was surprised that Laurent had let it go just like that. He was then dressed and got ready to return to the harem.

Damen was kept in his room for 6 days, only seeing the servants who came with his meals and the guards who escorted him to the bath. During that time, he tried to make light conversation with them but they wouldn’t speak to him. He did get out of a guard that the man he had beaten in the ring had been the Regent’s thug who had been kicked out of the King’s Guard. So not only did he win against the man Laurent had put him up against, but he had also slighted the Regent. It was clear that Laurent held no love for his uncle and was trying to spite him. On the sixth day, he was taken to his bath as usual but Laurent was there. He said that his uncle was away on a hunting trip, he had waited so they could be alone. He tried to goad Damen into a reaction so that his guards could storm in, but he didn’t rise to the bait. So instead Lauren told Damen to wash him, so he did. Only as he did, his mind wandered to the slave in Akielos that looked like Laurent, blonde and fair-skinned, who had not been shy when cleaning him. His body reacted to it and Laurent assumed it was because of him. As a reaction, Laurent tried to slap him, but Damen instinctively caught the hand to stop him and wouldn’t let go until he commented that he was only interested because he was not a young boy. He then called in the guards and they took Damen to the cross. The cross was a flogging pole. Some of the guards were wary about doing it because the Regent said to not harm the slave, but Laurent said that his uncle wasn’t here and to listen to him, so they did. Laurent didn’t give a set number of lashes and Damen could do nothing but take it. Once they stopped, Laurent said that he should have done this in the beginning but didn’t because he wanted to know what kind of man he was. He then had the guard begin again. But the guard didn’t want to because he may die. Laurent then bet him a gold coin that he wouldn’t, so the guard began hitting him again. When it was over, Damen was on the verge of passing out. Laurent then said that he had been on the field of Marlas, but hadn’t been let on the front lines. He knew what Akielon honor was, once given the chance they will stab you in the back. It was Prince Damianos who taught him that.

At some point, Damen had been removed from the flogging post and taken to his rooms to be treated. It seemed that Veretian way of treatment was different from what he was used to. They made him comfortable so that he could lay on his stomach and not antagonize his back. The good thing that came out of this was that the other pets and guards were not so wary around him. It was like a spell had been lifted and he was now one of them. In this way, Damen was able to get some information. The guards that were placed at his door were Laurent’s guards and didn’t have an affiliation to the Regent and they didn’t seem to like each other, something they had picked up on with the feud going on between the Regent and the Prince. He also learned that in Vere there were a lot more same-sex relationships because it would breed bastard that they don’t want. So high born men kept male pets, and female high born’s kept female pets. It was better that way. Damen himself preferred women but was not opposed to fucking a man if he was attracted to him. Vere was just complicated. Damen also learned that pets were not slaves and therefore not guarded. The harem didn’t have guards, except the ones placed on his door. So once he got past them, he wouldn’t encounter anyone. He filed the information later. Seven days later, the Regent returned. Guards came into his room, ones he didn’t recognize, dressed in red. With them, the Regent came in with the two Councillors Guion and Audin. They were appalled by what happened to Damen’s back. The Regent said that Laurent disobeyed him. He had told him to treat King Kastor’s gift with respect and yet had him almost flogged to death. This was what he thought of the negotiations with Akielos. Laurent had to be punished, but how? Especially with him coming of age in 10 months, but his actions couldn’t be ignored. So the Regent asked Damen, as a soldier in Akielos, what would he do if someone from the army disobeyed orders. Damen said a public flogging and let go. They couldn’t do that since he was a Prince, but the Councillors said they would support what the Regent decided. The then left to discuss what to do. Left alone, Damen remembered the past during the battle at Marlas 6 years ago. The King of Vere had been killed by a stray arrow and Damen had killed Prince Auguste. But with the death of the King and heir, Laurent had been too young to inherit the throne, so the King’s brother had stepped in until Laurent became of age. During the battle, Laurent had been about 14 years old and Damen had been 19. Laurent hadn’t been on the front lines because he was young, so he wouldn’t know what Damen looked like, even if he did he would have been covered in blood and mud, unrecognizable. But there was what Laurent said when they first met…He had a scar…Later, Radel came in demanding to know what he had said to the Regent. Damen hadn’t said anything but the truth. Besides Laurent wasn’t King yet, so he had to follow what the Regent said. Turns out he had been summoned to court. Damen then was washed, painted in gold except for his back, and given jewelry. Then he was taken to a lavish room that was all red, the Regent’s colors. Laurent’s blue clashed with it. Yet he stood up straight and faced his uncle in what was only a public flogging on a political scale. Laurent tried to sweet-talk his way out of it, but the Regent wasn’t fooled. The proof was in Damen’s back. So the Regent took away part of Laurent’s army, land, and money and essentially told him to do his job. The Regent then told Laurent to “embrace the slave” to show that all was forgiven. Laurent did but was obviously not happy about it because he said Damen looked like a whore. When everyone was leaving. Laurent took Damen’s leash and led him out of the hall.

Laurent ended up leading him to the gardens after talking to several sympathizers. When they were alone, Laurent told him that siding with his uncle was a mistake, all the guards that he had made friends with will be against him now that he wasn’t loyal to the Prince. He then broke the Damen’s chain, so when Councillor Herode came, he thought that Damen had broken free and had his guards pin him to the floor and chain him up to a fence. Laurent and Herode then went to talk. Damen was left alone for a while until Audin’s pet, Nicaise, came looking for the Prince. Nicaise wasn’t as sweet as he had been before; he spat in Damen’s face and said he wasn’t important because he was a slave and his master (Laurent) had his money and land taken away. When Damen told him Laurent was back in the audience chamber- a lie, but Damen got satisfaction out of it, -he left to go look leaving behind an Akielon slave. The slave didn’t recognize him. The slave’s name was Erasmus and he helped clean the spit off Damen’s face. Vannes, a few noblemen, and a red-haired pet, Ancel, came upon them. They commented on how Damen had performed in the ring, but they didn’t get to see him mount anyone. Vannes said that Damen wasn’t trained to perform as a pleasure slave, but he may have a natural talent. Laurent made an appearance then and joined in the conversation. The pet, Ancel, offered to perform with Damen, to tie him up first so he wouldn’t cause harm. It was apparent he was trying to get into Laurent’s good graces, but Laurent wasn’t having it and was going to disagree until Vannes said it would do good for Damen to learn his place. Laurent then had Damen placed on a bench and tied into place, and Ancel sucked Damen off at Laurent’s direction. Damen was humiliated but couldn’t stop his body’s reaction. Ancel performed until Damen climaxed, then Damen was taken to his knees in the dirt and he just glared angrily at Laurent for allowing it to happen. Nicaise came and asked for the Prince, saying that his uncle wanted to see him. Laurent didn’t go right away, not caring that he was making his uncle wait. Instead, he toyed with Nicaise saying it was almost time and asked what he was going to do after. That his body was going to betray itself if it hasn’t started already. Basically, his master liked young boys and got rid of them when they got too old. Laurent said he could offer for him, but Nicaise sneered at him and said he didn’t need him, his master said he was going to keep him, he promised. Nicaise then was horrified that Laurent was going to tell him he wanted him. It would ruin him (I don’t understand why), but Laurent said he wouldn’t do that. They then went off to see his uncle, leaving Damen behind.

Once alone, Damen and Erasmus could talk. Damen was concerned that he and the other Akielon slaves were being treated right. It was especially hard when they don’t know the language of Vere. Damen said that he hadn’t been trained to be a slave, he had been a soldier and sent her by Kastor as punishment. Erasmus told him that he had been in training to be a pleasure slave in Akielos in a separate area, so he had never been to the main palace. He had been in training to possibly pick to serve the Prince, which was Damen. But now he was in Vere and serving the Regent. It was very different from how it was in Akielos where the act of submission was an art. Here in Vere it was ownership. As soon as Erasmus had gotten here on the ship, in a cage, he had been put through a test of obedience by some guards who put a hot poker on his legs and told him not to make a sound. With the Regent busy, the guards took liberties with him and came up with all sorts of “tests” as entertainment. It made Damen sick to think of what his countrymen were going through, and he couldn’t do anything. He was especially helpless when the mercenary from the ring, Govart came to pick up the Regent’s slave. He manhandled Erasmus by his collar so that he couldn’t breathe. Damen told him to stop, but Govart said he could do whatever he wanted. He then proceeded to rape Erasmus in front of Damen while the guard did nothing. But when Damen tried to yank at his chains the guard told Govart to take the slave and go, so he did. Eventually, Damen was taken back to his room, moved now with funds low to the Prince’s wing. He tried to think of a way to help, but he was powerless. He wanted to be free, but he couldn’t leave his countrymen here to live with this cruelty. When Radel came, he asked to see Laurent. He, of course, said now, but he was obligated to pass it along. Damen thought it would take a while, but in the morning Laurent was there when he woke. Damen bowed his head and then asked him for a favor. To look after the slaves from Akielos in the Regent’s care because he believes they are being mistreated, in exchange for his obedience. Laurent seemed surprised as to why he cared about others and not himself. Damen just told him that he was stuck in this cage and couldn’t help them himself, so if he must sacrifice his pride, so be it. But Laurent thought it was a scheme by his uncle and called the guards to question them if anyone had come to see the slave, no one had, except Govart in the gardens after he had left. Laurent thought it was a scheme.

Before Laurent could leave, Damen said that he thought he could appeal to Laurent’s better nature but he had been wrong. He was just like Govart who took pleasure in harming those weaker than himself. It was then revealed what Govart had been doing, but Laurent didn’t react. It was like he didn’t care, which he said he didn’t. He had no control over the Regent’s men, they can do whatever they like. Laurent then asked why he gave him the advantage of knowing he cared for something. They don’t like each other and now, Laurent had a way to hurt him and get his obedience by threatening to hurt any of the Akielos slaves. Damen hadn’t realized he had done it. Having won, Laurent left. The next day, Damen was sent for and brought to Laurent’s chambers. He was taking him to a trade negotiation with Torveld of Patras. The country had good relations with Akielos and was quite similar to them. Laurent said that Torveld could be persuaded to take the Akielos slaves as part of negotiations with his uncle. Damen didn’t know why Laurent changed his mind and wasn’t sure if he should believe him, but he didn’t have a choice. But if the slaves could get out… Laurent told him to keep his mouth shut about the plan and to watch out for Nicaise; he may be a child, but mentally he is a lot older. So they went to the negotiations, but it wasn’t until later. First was a reception, then entertainment, then the negotiations. Laurent met Torveld and the Patras Prince was captivated. While they were talking, Laurent asked about what was going on in Akielos and Torveld said that the country was still in mourning of their king and prince. There were beginnings of conflict, Kastor’s legitimacy was the issue. There was also a rumor that the Prince’s death wasn’t an accident, but Torveld said that Kastor’s grief was real. The reception was to start and they went inside. The Regent pulled Laurent aside for a minute and said that Laurent hadn’t been invited to the negotiations, he had never shown interest in it, but Laurent said that it was he who said he should make an effort to be more involved, that was what he was doing. The Regent just said to behave himself.

During the meal, Damen was seated at the high table with Nicaise next to him and Laurent with Torveld on his other side. With no master to curb him, Nicaise proceeded to try to goad Damen into a reaction, including stabbing him with a fork. It caught Laurent’s attention. Nicaise said that whatever he was planning wasn’t going to work, Laurent bet that it would, so they came to an agreement with Nicaise’s earring as the bet. So Laurent continued to talk to Torveld while Nicaise continued to get a rise out of Damen, but it didn’t work. When Torveld and Laurent started talking about Torveld taking a look at the Akielon slaves, Nicaise perked up and quickly left. Damen asked why he was goading Nicaise when he was the one that told him to be careful with him. Laurent ended up silencing him with his fingers, caressing his face which was not something that Laurent did because the couriers all went silent and were truly stunned when he fed Damen some meat. It was not done for a master to fed a slave, always the other way around. But then Laurent captured Torveld in conversation again and things moved on. After the meal, Damen went in search of Nicaise but was unable to find him. Instead, he ran into Vannes who introduced a pet named Talik, she was a warrior of Ver-Tan. They got to talking about Ancel and she said that his contract was almost up and was in search of a higher bidder. But Prince Laurent didn’t take in pets, Damen was the exception. Damen spotted Nicaise and when we cornered him, he said he was too late. And that the Regent wanted to see him, he had sent him ages ago. So Damen left to meet with the Regent. The Regent asked if they had slept together, and Damen said no. He was only doing what he was told because the last lesson was still upon his back. The Regent said that Laurent could use a steadying influence and who could not be swayed by him. Damen didn’t think he had any influence over him at all. That Laurent didn’t have any love for Akielos or its people. The Regent was glad that he was honest and had him go get Laurent. Damen was grateful to leave because he had to be careful what he said at least until his people were safely away from Vere. Damen found Laurent and Torveld out on the balcony, he heard them talking intimately. Torveld was talking about being distracted by beautiful men. He was getting closer to Laurent by the time Damen stepped in. Laurent left to go see his uncle and Damen and Torveld went back to court for the entertainment. It turned out to be Ancel doing a fire dance that was truly an art; Damen was impressed and gained a little respect for the pet. After he was done, Nicaise came in claiming to have an Akielos slave perform next. A handler was dragging in a petrified Erasmus who wasn’t acting like himself. Nicaise was trying to show how the Akielos slaves were untrained and it almost didn’t work as Torveld said he couldn’t take untrained slaves to Bazal with him. But Damen said that Erasmus had been burned before and was scared of the fire. Nicaise tried to play it off, but Torveld had the fire put out and Erasmus was able to calm down. After speaking with him, Torveld had Erasmus sit next to him for the remainder of the night. He was enamored by the blonde slave, mostly because he was similar to Laurent but more vulnerable. Beside him, Niscaise was having a silent fit and accusing Laurent of having tricked him and he was going to tell him, but Laurent wasn’t worried since Nicaise was the one who helped him, unknowingly or nor, it wouldn’t go over well. Niacaise just left in a huff without giving him the earring Laurent had clearly won. After, the negotiations went underway. Damen watched Ancel serving the Regent and thought he had gotten a high offer for himself. Also, Laurent had gotten the Akielos slaves out of Vere with no difficulty even if he lied and cheated to do it. Once everything was done, Laurent asked why Damen smiled earlier. When he mentioned that Ancel may be bought by the Regent, Laurent said that it was just an act for the court. He then said that Niacise was not Councillor Audin’s pet. And that Ancel was too old for his uncle’s taste…meaning Niacise belonged to the Regent.

In the morning, Damen was taken to see Torveld to answer some questions regarding the Akielos slaves. Erasmus was clearly a favorite of Torveld now as he was now welcome into his bed-chamber. Torveld asked what had happened to Erasmus and Damen told him. Torveld thanked him and wanted to give him a gift but Damen didn’t wear jewelry. So instead Damen asked what the state of the Prince of Akielos household. Torveld said that it had disbanded and the slaves had slit their throats in grief. Kastor had been furious and had killed the Keeper of Slaves, Ardrastus. Basically, Kastor had been covering his tracks of everyone who knew what had really happened. He also said that Jokaste, Kastor’s mistress, was pregnant and the child would most likely be named heir. Torveld had been watching him closely and commented that he looked like Kastor a little. Damen told him not to tell Laurent that because he had no love for Akielos royalty and Torveld understood. It was well known. The Regent wanted a friendship with Akielos, but not Laurent. Especially with Akielos fractured, Kastor wouldn’t want Laurent on the throne right now. Later, before Torveld left for Patras, they had a hunt. Damen was brought along to attend to Laurent and wait. It also gave Damen a time to think. He was still reeling from learning Nicaise was the Regent’s pet, yet it explained a lot with how he acted better than everyone else. While the hunt was on, he also spoke to Erasmus who was grateful that Damen had somehow arranged for him to be taken to Bazal. Damen also learned that Laurent had spoken to him before the negotiations to learn of what happened to him and what would happen during the entertainment at court. Damen was surprised that Laurent would even care to do so. Erasmus said that he was glad he was going with Torveld, he liked him. He had been taught being a slave was sacred but here in Vere is was shameful, he wouldn’t last here because it wasn’t in his nature to not be submissive so being with Torveld was a godsend. When the group came back from the hunt, Laurent was in a bad mood. He had gotten the boar but his horse had been injured and had to be put down. The Regent told him that his brother had more finesse in tracking a mark without slaughtering his horse. Then confronted him about how Laurent had influenced Torveld to take the slaves and why. Laurent just said that it wasn’t fair that he could harm his slaves and yet he got in trouble when he did the same to his (Damen). The Regent just said he wasn’t going to talk to him when he was acting like a child. A few days later, Damen was summoned in the middle of the night to Laurent’s “bed” by the Prince’s Guard. Damen was stunned because he never summoned him like this but he was forced out of his room at knifepoint when he resisted, so he had no choice but to go along.

The walk to Laurent’s chambers was long and Damen tried to think of why he would be summoned to be bedded, it felt wrong. Plus, all the guards that had been in the hallway before were gone. When Damen got to Laurent’s chambers, the guards unchained him and pushed him into the room. Laurent was reading and drunk. Laurent briefly looked surprised to see them and was clearly not expecting them, nor did he recognize the guards that were supposed to be from his own household. Suddenly everything moved very fast as the two of the guards suddenly attacked Laurent. Damen was moving before he realized it and helped Laurent in taking the guards down. Damen had one still alive and Laurent killed him. Damen noticed that Laurent’s fight had been messy and Laurent tried to attack him but Damen was able to make him drop the knife. Damen said had not come here to help them, they had brought him here, but didn’t know why. But before he could say more the Regent’s Guard came in. They had found 2 of the Prince’s Guard dead and they had rushed over. They then proceeded to arrest Damen. Laurent said he wasn’t the one responsible, but the guards said that the weapons used had been Akielon, he had to be in on it. Damen understood that he had been brought here to be blamed for Laurent’s death, though it was obvious that the attackers hadn’t expected to die. They would have blamed everything on him. Yet what was surprising was that Laurent didn’t take the easy way to get rid of him, he defended him saying that the guards had been here to attack the slave not him. He then had the Regent Guard leave after cleaning up. After they left, Damen noticed that Laurent was injured, but he wasn’t drunk like he had first thought. He had been poisoned, but upon checking the water that had been spilled he recognized it as an Akielon drug used during training for pleasure slaves, an aphrodisiac. So he wasn’t hurt, he was being affected by the drug and clearly holding on by sheer will. Damen then became aware that he was unchained with no guards and Laurent in no condition to stop him from leaving. It was his chance to escape. Laurent tried to stop him by saying that if he left, he couldn’t protect him. He had saved his life even though he hated to be indebted to anyone, but he had to trust him. Damen could only stare at him in shock and then just told him that Laurent had him flayed, lied and cheated to every person he encountered. He is the last person he could trust. Damen then left.

Damen had to make sure to take measured steps so that he wasn’t stopped. Along the way, he ran into Nicaise who was clearly there to see if Laurent was dead and trying to get passed him, but Damen said that Laurent was in a bad mood and didn’t want to be disturbed. He said he didn’t care and was leaving, yet Nicaise didn’t move and only left when Damen didn’t leave. Once he was gone, Damen continued on and was able to get passed the Regent’s guard. He then went through the empty hallways and to the garden’s where the cross was. It was there that he found old discarded clothes that he put on to replace his slave's outfit. He then headed to the roof and set out to wait until dawn when people were starting to come out so he could blend in. An hour before dawn the Regent’s Guard came out of the palace to go out on patrol. They were clearly looking for him, so someone may have alerted that he was missing. Waiting for his change, Damen climbed down from the roof at a dead-end alley and ran into the last person he wanted to, Govart. He had been coming out of an underground Brothel. The woman then screamed and alerted the patrol and he was cornered and captured. His freedom was so close and he was debating just trying to make a break for it when the Prince’s Guard came and claimed him saying he was taking him back by order of the Council. Damen was then taken to the courtroom where Laurent was facing the Council and his uncle. Apparently, Laurent had been defending him despite having run away. The Regent said that Damen must have some sort of charm for his nephew to defend him, but Laurent was disgusted at the thought of sleeping with an Akielon. The Regent said that if there had been an Akielon attack he had to know, but Laurent denied any such thing. Nor was he an Akielon sympathizer, he hated them. The Regent then asked why he was refusing to do his duty at the Delfeur border if there wasn’t any collusion. Laurent really didn’t have an answer and the Counsellors agreed that it was suspicious, a contradiction that he was defending an Akielon slave and yet he hated them. Where was his loyalty? So Laurent didn’t have a choice but to agree to go to the border.

Once everyone left, Damen asked Laurent why he would lie to his uncle, not that he wasn’t grateful, but he didn’t understand. But Laurent didn’t want his thanks. Their debt was now clear. Laurent said that they will be rid of each other now that he will be riding to Delfeur. Damen was then taken to his room and was able to try to think about what had happened. He was angry because he had been so close to freedom an now he was not to leave his room for anything and dressed again in slave attire. He also thought about the night of his escape. The Veretian guards with Akielon knives, him being brought to be blamed and Laurent lying about it all. Why? But then he understood and requested to talk to the Prince. Only the first one to come was not Laurent, but the Regent. He wanted to know the truth of that night, but Damen before he could say anything, Laurent arrived. Laurent said they had already been through what happened that night, but the Regent wanted to hear from Damen. Yet Laurent asked if the slave's word was worth more than his. The Regent just said that Laurent’s brother could be trusted and yet Laurent wasn’t. He hoped time on the border will improve him and he left. Laurent asked what Damen wanted and he told Laurent he knew what happened last night. He had killed the survivor so he wouldn’t talk. It was supposed to look like Kastor had sent those men to kill Laurent, but Kastor can’t afford war right now so he couldn’t have done son. So whoever had sent the assassins had been aiming for war between Akielos and Vere. It would be the perfect time for it with Akielos so weak with discontent. Yet Laurent had stopped it, he had survived. Damen just asked why he couldn’t get along with his uncle and just talk. But Laurent couldn’t because the would-be murderer was his uncle.

Damen was shocked and suddenly knew that Laurent going to Delfeur was a death trap. If he left the city, then his uncle would take the capital. Damen then realized that his uncle had already cut off his supply line when he was “flogging” him and took away some of his land, money, and troops. If there was to be war, Laurent would be targeted to get him out of the way of the throne. Laurent wasn’t safe. So he told Laurent to take him with him, he needed someone he could trust, but Laurent said no. He had no reason to do so when he had just tried to run away and he might do it again out in the open and close to his homeland. Laurent just said that didn’t need him and wanted him to rot here and he left. The next day, Damen listened to the noise of everyone getting ready for Laurent’s departure the next day. He felt helpless. It was clear that the Regent was aiming for the throne to two kingdoms. But didn’t understand why he hadn’t gotten rid of Laurent before now. All he knew was that the Regent had to be stopped. In order to save his people in Akielos, Laurent had to survive, but he wasn’t sure if Laurent could do it alone and he couldn’t do anything chained up in his room. In the early morning, Radel came and had Damen change into Vertian clothing. He didn’t know what was going on, but all Radel said was that the Prince had requested that he join him and be dressed to ride. In the courtyard, Damen was given armour and a sword; it was strange to be wielding one again. Radel also gave him his duties that he was to do. He was to report to the Captain of the Guard as a member of the company, as well as report to the Prince as his attendant. Around the courtyard, everyone was preparing but there was not very of the Prince’s Guard and some of them may have turned traitor for the Regent. Damen also thanked Jord in helping him in the night of his escape, but Jord just said that he was just following orders. Laurent then made an appearance and said that he had just had them follow the Regent’s Guard, but he knew what direction he would have gone, yet didn’t. Damen also saw that Gorvart was there as well as Captain of the Guard, not a good sign. Nicaise also came, but he had only come to give him the earring Laurent had won, he didn’t want it because it made him think of him. The Regent then came and they had a little ceremony to send them off and then they left the palace, heading south.

The Training of Erasmus Short Story

This story followed the Akielon slave before he was brought to Vere. In the years before, Erasmus lived in the gardens of Nereus until he had his first wet dream. He was then deemed ready for training as a slave, it happened late for Erasmus, but he was overjoyed it had finally happened. He could finally catch up with his friend Kallias. After being cleaned and dressed, he was taken out of the gardens and to the Palace for training, he was to be groomed for the Prince, a gold lion pin a mark of his status upon his silks. He spent his day's training in different forms of submission and learning languages and etiquette. He also found his friend Kallias who was in training to be the slave of Prince Kastor. In between lessons, Erasmus and Kallias spent time together; talking about anything and everything, getting close. Kallias told him that he was to be Kastor’s welcome gift when he gets back from Delfeur, so he has begun training for the First Night. Erasmus was being trained to be the Prince Damianos’s slave, he learned his favorite songs, and foods, everything. Having the golden lion pin meant he was certain to be in a royal bed. It was a privilege and many would want that position. Even Aden, another slave would want the pin even though he was being trained for the King, yet the King was sick and likely not to last, so his training would be for nothing. Yet Erasmus had been groomed for this since he was young and not it was upon him. It made him shiver in delight at the thought. Even though it was rare for the Prince to take a man to bed, it wasn’t unheard of. Erasmus had the right coloring- light-skinned and blonde – that the Prince liked, so it was possible. He really couldn’t wait. He wanted to be with the Prince and imagined what it would be like to be pinned down by him, but he couldn’t touch himself; that was only for those special retainers that washed him and for the Prince. During the night of the Fire Festival, Kallias told him that Kastor had returned early and he was leaving tomorrow. Erasmus was saddened his friend was to leave, but happy for him. They will see each other soon, each of them serving a Prince together. Kallias didn’t seem too happy though and told him he wished he could be his first. The words surprised him and yet at the same time thrilled him. Kallias then asked for Erasmus to put his arms around his neck, which he did. They got close, too close, there was something there between them, an attraction, but it wasn’t allowed. They both knew it. They most likely would have kissed, but Kallias pushed him away. The next morning Kallais was sent away to serve Prince Kastor. One night Aden woke him and said that Kallias was here and wanted to see him. So Erasmus got dressed quickly and made his way to the garden overlooking the ocean. Kallias was there, his face covered in the paint of a pleasure slave. Erasmus was glad to see him, he had missed him. But Kallias was acting strangely. Then suddenly Kallias was kissing him. Erasmus couldn’t pull away, he was too shocked as to what was happening and he was trying to hold his silks up because Kallias had torn his golden pin off. He then said that Erasmus couldn’t serve the Prince now, he was tainted. Then the lead instructor came and Kallais was saying that Erasmus had kissed him and Aden told him it was true even though Aden had left and not seen anything. Erasmus was stunned as his whole world fell apart because of Kallias’s lie and he didn’t understand why. The instructor was furious and said he had ruined himself and thrown everything away. He was then taken into confinement. After 3 days, he was collared and brought to a white room where there were other slaves. He then became aware that something was going on outside, but no one knew what. Another slave said that something has been going on all morning. Soldiers had come and had asked for the slaves that belonged to Prince Damianos and they had all been taken away. But the ones in this room were being sent across the water to Vere. Then the screaming started.

**I didn’t want to spoil it at the top, but I believe that Kallias found out what Kastor was up to and went to save Erasmus. If he had been the Prince Damianos’s slave he would have been killed along with the others. That was why he tainted him. Sad way to do it, but he didn't want his friend to die.

#phoenix be reading #Captive Prince #C.S. Pacat #Book Review #reading #books #literature #book lover #2020 Books

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donnerpartyofone · 5 years ago

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while i’m apparently still in confession mode for some dark reason:

after i told that awful story yesterday about the degrading one night stand that an older male friend spent a year bullying me into, i started thinking about all the cliches that are sold to us about the sexuality of precocious young women: what it means for us to navigate the devious emotional traps set out by the jealous and covetous world around us. what i mean is, there’s this whole gothic narrative that never stops circulating, involving beautiful, talented, intelligent, sensitive young women who are advanced enough to start exploring their own desires independently, but not experienced enough to identify the (typically) older male predators who hunt them. these men take advantage of their uninformed curiosity, leveraging their prey’s desire to grow up faster in order to control, possess, and abuse them. while this narrative is inherently criminal, society never seems willing to fully denounce it, preferring to preserve its erotic potency for a wide and slavering audience. the iconography of this narrative is mostly derived from Lolita–

[which btw our cultural failure to see that book as anything other than a “love story” is really disturbing and speaks volumes about our willingness to project our grossest ideas wherever we want, even when other interpretations (like “black comedy”) are abundantly available]

–a mature but fragile adolescent with that /special something/ innocently hypnotizes a genteel older man whose sophistication belies his uncontrollable animal desire for her, which is less His Problem than it is a natural response to her beauty and charm; a forbidden love affair ensues. when i was young, i swallowed this concept hook line and sinker, hoping it would happen to me some day! i hated dumb little boys my own age, and i felt that if some Humbert Humbert type were to flatter me with his highly curated attention, then i would know that i had truly arrived.

“sadly”, i made it through high school and college without ever knowing that validating thrill. i wasted the latter half of my 20s on an abusive relationship with a guy two years younger than me, who often argued that he should be allowed to wreck my life however he wanted because he was “less mature” than i was and deserved more leeway. as i turned 30, i met the extraordinary person i would marry. i felt a profound sense of relief, entering my 30s; i had finished with so many of my old delusions, and the pulverizing pressure to have The Time of Your Life throughout one’s 20s had finally lifted. i looked back on my youth, thinking of it as a period of dreary, pointless misery in which “nothing really happened”, good or bad. but recently, when i started to think about it with greater focus, i realized that some shit really DID happened to me. i had just completely ignored it, because i thought of it as the fruits of my own bad taste.

throughout junior high, i had a bizarre rapport with a guy in his early 20s–”nothing happened”, as they say, but this guy was sort of a freak and a loner, and i’m probably lucky that there wasn’t a lot of opportunity for something TO happen. then my supposed best friend, jealous of even this non-event in my sad little existence, forced a relationship with a 30 year old man out of nowhere, and competitively abused my ears with a lot of gnarly details about their horrible sex life. then in high school, my first two boyfriends were both pretentious manipulative dickheads in their 20s who really had no business bothering someone who wasn’t old enough to vote. some of my friends suffered from the same problem, though we all just felt like we were becoming independent young women or something. then there’s some other stuff with an older classmate who was abundantly aware of how emotionally unstable i was, and took appalling advantage of that for a long time, and i probably won’t ever be brave enough to talk about it. then in college i briefly “dated” a guy around 50 with whom luckily nothing bad happened before i got rid of him, but like, it really wasn’t cool, looking back–he made me feel incredibly obligated, and as he only informed me mid-stream, he was married with children. then i spent the rest of college getting dragged through the mud by a guy in his 30s who used his professional clout and well-honed manipulative abilities to “take my virginity” (a phrase and concept i hate, but which applies here), which he was very excited about; it would have been best if he had just abandoned me after that, as so many assholes do, because he then cultivated a long tawdry and extremely damaging soap opera between us, the only point of which was to make trouble for his actual girlfriend, who was ALSO much younger than him. and the end of college and slightly after, i developed another intense connection with a man a few decades older, who would never quite initiate a relationship, but who was insidiously manipulative and made me feel terrible when i eventually got a real (age-appropriate) boyfriend, as if i owed him something; i later found out he did the same thing to another girl that i know, who is substantially younger. the terrible one night stand, previously discussed, was just a gross little footnote to this disgusting history…

…but the thing is, i never, at any time, felt like i had taken part in the overheated archetypal drama that society has built up around may-december romances. i didn’t even see myself as a victim of the bad behavior of adults, of people who should and did know better; i just felt separate from the whole thing, even though i had fantasized about it so much as a kid. the thing is, at the same time that the Lolita narrative is inappropriately romanticized, it does provide an opportunity to see the girl as a potential victim, a Little Red Riding Hood who enters a perilous erotic negotiation with a Big Bad Wolf. because i didn’t see myself as the heroine of my own iteration of this overly familiar story, i didn’t recognize the degree to which i’d been exploited by people who knew to use my youth and inexperience against me. i just blamed myself. and the reason for all this is really sad: i simply didn’t feel attractive. in my mind, the vulnerable nymphet was always delicate, doe-like, elegant; clothes hung on her alluring frame in a way that created a dizzying paradox between her youth and her emerging maturity; she could dance, play music, or write touching poetry; she was preternaturally irresistible even to “good men”. she had to be liv tyler in STEALING BEAUTY (*barf*) or some shit; only somebody that compelling could star as the doomed princess in society’s well-loved fairy tale about statutory rape. personally, i perceived myself as ugly, awkward, socially burdensome, and most importantly, the kind of girl who should count herself extremely lucky to be the center of anybody’s attention, even temporarily. because i didn’t see myself as a damsel in distress who deserved protection and sympathy, i failed to spot my own victimization. i thought of my history of increasingly negative and abusive encounters with older men as a matter of bad luck, bad judgment on my own part, and ultimately, “the best i could do” if i wanted any kind of affection. so i guess the irony is that if i had identified myself as a desirable dolores hayes type, then yes, i would have been in serious danger of fetishizing my own mistreatment–but on the other hand, i would have had a more realistic framework for understanding the sinister thing that was happening to me. unfortunately, the other side of the misogyny coin–not the side that turns you into a sex object, but the side that excludes you from feeling sexually worthy at all–prevented me from noticing that that awful Little Red Riding Hood cliche had already happened to me several times over.

tl;dr - when misogyny convinces you that you have nothing to steal, then it’s hard to tell when misogynists are trying to rob you.

it’s funny to start recognizing this only now that i’m approaching 40. i see a lot of young women on tumblr heroically fighting to strike a balance between enjoying their kinks and avoiding the corrupt elements in their communities–all the while trying to stay aware of how their personal history and mental health plays into this drama. some of them are way farther along in that philosophical journey than i was at their age, and i really admire the work they’re doing. i’m writing this more for the ones who don’t even know that they’re already a part of this struggle, because they haven’t learned to see themselves as desirable enough to be included in it. that is to say, i wrote this for myself; but i have a sneaking suspicion that someone else out there needs to hear it, too.

This post brought to you in part by the very beginning of CABIN IN THE WOODS, which, while not a deep film in any way, features a salient moment in which College Girl #1 tries to tell College Girl #2 that the professor who took advantage of her is a scumbag, and College Girl #2 defends him, humbly and maturely replying: “I knew what I was getting into.” The blood freezes in my veins when I think of how many times I said something like this about someone who did not deserve my defense. If you got dicked over, literally and/or figuratively, by someone older, sober-er, and/or more experienced than you, then this is your gentle reminder that you really cannot be accused of knowing what you’re getting into.

#gpoy

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myukulelegentlyweeps · 6 years ago

Text

Nowhere Man

Pairing : George Harrison x female reader

Plot : Geo is sick of the Let It Be sessions so he takes the day off and meets you and has a flippin epiphany :)

Author’s note : Okay so I got sort of carried away, I admit it. But today June 13th is apparently George Harrison appreciation day here on tumblr, so if there is a day to post a 2000 word george fic, it’s today.

Warnings : (very little) cussing, I guess? Also if you don’t believe in the universe and all that metaphysical stuff and it bothers you to read about it, I don’t recommend you read this.

The Beatles were not working anymore. They weren’t functioning, everyone could see it, Let It Be would be one of the band’s last gasps for air. It was a shame, but it was the truth and George wished they, well, particularly Paul, would stop trying to force an album where there was only friction and anger. And a film? Really? No, it wasn’t right.

Harrison had come into the studio early that morning. Comfortably seated in one of the lounge’s sofas, he was trying to unwind before his bandmates arrived, for in the previous few days he had noticed he tensed up the instant he walked through the door of his workplace, automatically, unwillingly. He didn’t like the version of himself he was becoming, grumpy, always snapping at people - so he was trying to change it.

He took a deep breath in and closed his eyes, trying to find the peace within him. He focused on his neck and shoulders, letting them relax like they did when he roamed his garden. In his garden there were no bossy McCartneys, no big-headed Lennons, no Ringos trying to diffuse the tension in vain ; there were only flowers, trees, prosperity and growth. I’m not growing as a musician here anymore, he thought as he opened his eyes again to two voices breaking the silence.

“Wha’re we doin’ today Paul?”

“Dunno. Think John wants to show me a couple of new songs.”

Of course he did. And he probably wants Yoko to sing on the record too, how about that. When they don’t give one damned song to Ringo. George rose from his seat to face Paul, who was already starting his obsessive tuning of every single instrument :

“Say Paul, if John only wants to show you the songs, ye won’t need me, will you?”, he spoke calmly but firmly. The bassist looked up from the guitar he had seized with slight anguish painted on his features. “Of course we need you, Geo-”, he began, but he appeared to give it thought and the end of his sentence took a different tone : “but if you really need the day off, yeah, I...I guess you can go.” A nod was the only answer he received, short and straightforward. Exit George.

As soon as he was outside, he felt better. The morning air was soothingly fresh, and the blue sky still had a few yellowish tinges reminiscing from sunrise. He looked to his car and thought about driving home, but ultimately decided against it : he wanted to walk around, to wander in the city, he had not done so in such a long time... Luckily he had a hat with him that day, which would allow him to partially cover his face and avoid getting recognised by “overly enthusiastic” fans. Normally he would not mind signing autographs, but in that particular instance he was not in the mood.

His stroll started at a fast and steady pace, his first priority being to leave Abbey Road studios far behind ; he later allowed himself to slow down, thinking his irritation finally gone as he reached a different looking area of London. He did not wish to know where he was exactly, in fact, he made it his goal to get lost on purpose as he savoured each step he took, trying his best to not control the decisions his intuition and feet made for him at every turn. Left or right, right or left, or continuing straight, none of it mattered. He was going nowhere and it felt brilliant.

It was as though he was being guided by a light beyond him. The energy flowed effortlessly through the streets, unlike in the studio where it always seemed to be clogged. Here I am, thinking of the studio again. He sighed and brought his focus back to his walk with no destination. Slowly but surely, a small smile made its way to his lips as he noticed a child’s toy forgotten on a bench, a chalk drawing on the sidewalk, a cloud with a specific shape. Small pieces of a grand puzzle coming together. Eventually he stumbled upon Hyde Park. A garden or a forest? He didn’t know, then again the question was unimportant and required no definitive answer.

“He’s a real nowhere man, sitting in his nowhere land, making all his nowhere plans for nobody…” Bloody hell, the Beatles follow ye everywhere, don’t they. George thought he would become angry again, but before he could, he realised how fitting the song was to the situation. Wasn’t he the nowhere man, walking wherever his legs led him? He let out a soft chuckle and tried to find where the music was coming from. There was a young woman strumming an acoustic guitar, her case in front of her collecting a miserable amount of coins. There you are.

She was wearing a red flowery dress and he thought she, not unlike her voice, was quite beautiful, with her smiling (Y/E/C) eyes and (Y/H/C) hair moving slightly with the wind. Through the vocals he could hear she truly experienced the song, and sang from the depths of her guts. He quite enjoyed how it sounded. “Nowhere man don't worry, take your time, don't hurry, leave it all 'til somebody else lends you a hand…” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and extracted a twenty pound note which he placed in the guitar case, the woman’s eyes visibly widening at the generous contribution. He asked himself wether or not he should leave, but decided to stay a little longer, at least until the end of the song. She was...magnetic. He felt drawn to her, as though the universe had nudged him in her direction for a reason.

Your P.O.V

“Thank you very much”, you said after the last strum, glancing at the small group of people who had stopped to listen. You were rather proud of your performance, too, and you had made more money than expected that morning - especially since there was a twenty pound note in your earnings, which was a first. Very few people are willing to give that amount of money to a street musician ; and the mystery man who had was still standing there, merely three steps away, looking at you and probably thinking he was well hidden behind his Panama hat and dark wavy hair. From what you could make out of his features you deduced he was about your age, maybe a bit older, though that impression could have just been due to the moustache which he wore, you had to admit it, quite well.

When you realised he was none other than George Harrison, you wondered why it had taken you so long to figure it out. His face had been on every newspaper since 1964, and you were not going to pretend you did not love the Beatles to the point of obsessively playing their records and eventually wearing them out. Nevertheless, he did not look like he wanted to be recognised, and you decided to respect that. The best way to fight the urge to go talk to my favourite Beatle, you concluded, is to continue playing. And so you did. You started strumming the first chords to I Need You, in an intended wink to his person.

I Need You ended, you moved on to another song, and another...Until your watch marked eleven a.m. and you started packing up, thinking about the rest of your day and unsure what to do with it. It was a Monday, which meant you didn’t have to go into work (the restaurant was closed on Mondays), but you didn’t want to go home just yet.

“Can I buy you a drink, miss?”, a very familiar voice asked, catching you off guard. You let out a giggle and took the twenty pound note to show it to him, “I think you’ve already bought me at least fifteen, sir.” “Can I buy you a sixteenth drink then?”, he insisted with a grin. You laughed again ; how could you possibly say no? He was rich after all, you couldn’t feel guilty for making him spend fifty cents on a cup of tea. The next thing you knew, the both of you were sitting at the table of a coffee shop, sipping a warm drink and chatting casually.

He told you his name was Arthur and, though you knew it to be a lie, you preferred to let him think you believed him. He wanted to know everything about you, which was ironic to you considering how you knew his life to be much more exciting and interesting than yours. You answered his every question with lightheartedness, intrigued by his curiosity toward you, and it slowly became obvious that you two shared some sort of special connection you could not rationally explain : you were comfortable with each other suprisingly fast, your sense of humor matched his, and every time your eyes met they would linger, as though you were poking into each other’s souls, making shivers run down your spine.

After the coffee shop, you strolled around Hyde Park side by side for two hours, completely losing track of time in the process. You told him about your family, your studies, even some childhood memories, and he talked about the Beatles, using code names, of course. John’s made up name was Eric, Paul was Fred, Ringo was Michael and of course, he was George, hum, Arthur. You were amazed at how straight he kept his story, though sometimes he would stumble on his bandmate’s brand new names ; by that point you figured he knew you knew he was George Harrison, but he preferred sticking with the parallel universe he had created. He told you about all the stress he had been undergoing during the Let It Be sessions, and you listened closely, overtaken by the feeling of deep empathy. He striked you as a very gentle person, but when he talked about the album you noticed his eyebrows furrow and his tone harden.

Around what you think was midday, you started getting hungry. You sat in the grass and ate store bought sandwiches together, the both of you agreeing they were not the best you had ever tasted. After that, you simply lay in silence, enjoying each other’s company.

“I don’t think they realise how talented and important you are.”

“Who?”

“Joh- I mean, Eric and Fred. They were there first, became the leaders and now they’re blind to the possibility of deflating their massive ego to make room for Ring- Michael and you.”

“...Yer probably right. But there’s not much I can do about it, is there?”

You shook your head.

“Start a project of your own. Didn’t you say Eric recorded something with his girlfriend?”

“Yeah. It’s not bad, what he does, it’s just...He didn’t ask us for permission or anythin’. He just, well, did it.”

“Then do the same! I’m sure you’ve got enough songs of your own to record at the very least a neat EP.”

“Maybe.”, he said as he stood up, seemingly reflecting upon your advice while he tried to straighten the fabric of his wrinkled shirt, to no avail. “(Y/N)...if it were up to me I would stay here and talk to you until we ran out of things to say, but I think I might have to get going now.” You laughed through an undeniable disappointment you attempted to hide : “Oh, of course, please do”. The perspective of having to part ways with him was anything but pleasant. He gathered his belongings, the Panama, his sunglasses ; next, he held his arms out, inviting you into a hug. You happily obliged. You engaged into a long and warm embrace, followed by prolonged eye contact, and for the hundredth time that day, you experienced the magical tingling sensation through your entire body.

“Thank you for today, (Y/N). I am so grateful to have met you, you really are something special. I...I would like to see you again, if-” He stopped mid-sentence as you handed him a piece of paper with your telephone number hastily scribbled on it. He gave you the most immense smile and proceeded to slowly walk away, looking back a couple of times to make sure you were indeed real.

I met an angel today.

#george harrison #the beatles #the beatles imagine #the beatles imagines #george #george harrison imagine #fanfiction #beatles fanfiction #john lennon #paul mccartney #ringo starr #nowhere man

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